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Spencer's Synthetic PMiosopliy. 
 
 (1.) FIRST TEmCIPLES 
 
 I. The Unknowable. 
 II. Laws of the Knowable. 
 
 (2.) THE PEINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY. Vol. I. . 
 I. The Data of Biology. 
 II. The Indfctions of Biology. 
 
 III. The Evolution of Llfe. 
 
 (3.) THE PEINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY. Vol. IL 
 
 IV. MOEPnOLOGTCAL DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 V. Physiological Develop^ient. 
 VI. Laws of Mcltiplication. 
 
 (4.) THE PEINCIPLE3 OF PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. I. . 
 I. The Data of Psychology. 
 II. The Inductions of Psychology. 
 
 III. Genep.al Synthesis. 
 
 IV. Special Synthesis. 
 V. Physical Sinthesis. 
 
 (5.) THE PEINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY. Vol. II. 
 VI. Special Analysis. 
 VII. Geneeal Analysis. 
 
 VIII. COEOLLAKIES. 
 
 (6) PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. Vol. I. . 
 I. The Data of Sociology. 
 II. The Inductions of Sociology. 
 III. The DoiEESiic Eelations. 
 
 (T.) PRHsCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. Vol. II. 
 
 I. CE3EiI0NIAX iNSimiTIONB 
 
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 (8.) PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. Vol. III. 
 
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 (9.) PEINCIPLL3 OF MORALITY, 
 I. The Data op Ethics. 
 
 (10.) PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. Vol. II. 
 
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ILLUSTKATIONS 
 
 OF 
 
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 §, ^ait^ 0f §mn$»hn$. 
 
 Hq75 
 .P3 
 
 BY 
 
 c 
 
 HERBERT SPENCER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 'THE PRINCIPLES OP PSYCHOLOGY," "SOCIAL BtATICS,'" "ESSAYS, MOBAL, 
 
 POLITICAL AND ESTHETIC," "EDUCATION," " FIBST PKINCIPLE^J^ 
 
 ETC., ETC., ETC, 
 
 A NOTICE OF SPENCER'S " NEIF BYSTEJMOF PHILO, 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 D. APPLE TON AND jl^A^Y,"''^' 
 
 1, 3, AND 5 BOND ST REE T r''~^»;ii^^,^££^ 
 18 81. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1?CA, 
 
 By D. APPLETON & CO., 
 
 In Uie Clert's Office of the District Court of the United States f.>i 'Jie 
 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
AMERICA]^ NOTICE 
 
 lEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 HERBERT SPENCER. 
 
 The author of the following work, Mr. Herbert Spencer, of 
 England, has entered upon the publication of a new philosoj)hical 
 system, so original and comprehensive as to deserve the attention 
 of all earnest inquirers. He proposes nothing less than to unfold 
 such a complete philosophy of Nature, physical, organic, mental 
 and social, as Science has now for the first time made possible, 
 and which, if successfully executed, will constitute a momentous 
 etep in the progress of thought. 
 
 His system is designed to embrace five works ; each a distinct 
 treatise, but all closely connected in plan, and treating of the fol- 
 lowing subjects in the order presented: 1st, First Principles; 
 2d, Principles of Biology ; 3d, Principles of Psychology ; 4th, 
 Principles of Sociology ; 5th, Principles of Morality. The 
 opening work of the series — First Pnnciples—i\io\x^ somewhat 
 of an introductory character, is an independent and completed 
 
O - NOTICE OF nEEBEET SPENCEE 8 
 
 argument. It consists of two joarts : first, " The Unknowable," and 
 second, " The Laws of the Knowable." Unattractive as these titles 
 may seem, they indicate a discussion of great originality and 
 transcendent interest. 
 
 When public consideration is invited to a system of philosophy 
 so extended as to comprehend the entire scheme of nature and 
 humanity, and so bold as to deal with them in the ripest spirit 
 of science, it is natural that many should ask at the outset how 
 the author stands rcltvted to the problem of Religion. Mr. 
 Spencer finds this the preliminary question of his philosophy, 
 and engages with it at the threshold of his undertaking. Before 
 attempting to work out a philosoiahical scheme, he sees that it is 
 at fii'st necessary to find how far Philosophy can go and where 
 she must stop — the necessary limits of human knowledge, or the 
 circle which bounds all rational and legitimate mvestigation ; and 
 this opens at once the i?rofound and imminent question of the 
 spheres and relation of Religion and Science. 
 
 Mr. Spencer is a leading representative of that school of think- 
 ers which holds that, as man is finite, he can grasp and know 
 only the finite ; — that by the inexorable conditions of thought all 
 real knowledge is relative and phenomenal, and hence that we 
 cannot go behuid phenomena to find the ultimate causes and solve 
 the ultimate mysteiy of being. In such assertions as that " God 
 cannot by any searching be found out ; " that " a God understood 
 would be no God at all ; " and that " to think God is as we think 
 Him to be is blasphemy," we see the I'ecognition of this idea of 
 the inscrutableness of the Absolute Cause. The doctrine itself is 
 neither new nor limited to a few exceptional thinkers. It is 
 widely afiirmed by enlightened science, and pervades nearly all 
 the cultivated theology of the present day. Sir William 
 Hamilton and Dr. Mansel are among its recent and ablest ex- 
 pounders. " With the exception," says Sir William Hamilton, 
 " of a few late absolutist theorizers in Germany, this is perhaps 
 
"VEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. TSi 
 
 the trutn o^ all others lurost harmoniously reechoed hy every 
 philosopher of every school ; " and among these he names Pro- 
 tagoras, Aristotle, St. Augustine, Melanchthon, Scaliger, Bacon, 
 Spinoza, Newton, and Kant. 
 
 But though Mr. S]3encer accepts this doctrine, he has not left' 
 it where he found it. The world is indebted to him for having 
 advanced the argument to a higher and grander conclusion — a 
 conclusion which changes the philosophical aspect of the whole 
 question, and involves the profoundest consequences. Hamilton 
 and Mansel bring us, by their inexorable logic, to the result that 
 we can neither know nor conceive the Infhiite, and that every 
 attempt to do so involves us in contradiction and absurdity ; but 
 having reached this vast negation, their logic and philosophy 
 break down. Accepting their conclusions as far as they go, Mr, 
 Spencer maintains the utter incompleteness of their reasoning, 
 and, pushing the inquiry still farther, he demonstrates that 
 though we cannot grasp the Infinite in tJiougJit, we can realize it 
 m consciousness. He shows that though by the laws of thinking 
 we are rigorously prevented from forming a concejAion of that 
 Incomprehensible, Omnipotent Power by which we are acted 
 upon in all phenomena, yet we are, by the laws of thought, equally 
 prevented from ridding ourselves of the consciousness of this 
 Power. He proves that this consciousness of a Supreme Cause is 
 not negative, but positive — that it is indestructible, and has a 
 higher certainty than any other belief whatever. The Unknow- 
 able, then, m. the view of lIi". Spencer, is not a mere term of nega- 
 tion, nor a word employed only to express our ignorance, but it 
 means that Infinite Reality, that Supreme but Inscrutable Cause, 
 of which the universe is but a manifestation, and which has an 
 ever-present disclosure in human consciousness. 
 
 Having thus found an indestructible basis in human nature 
 for the religious sentiment, Mr. Spencer next shows that all reli- 
 gions rest upon this foundation, and contain a fundamental veritj 
 
nil NOTICE OF HEKBEKT SPEXCEE S 
 
 — a soul of truth, "wliicli remains wlien their conflicting doctrines 
 and discordant peculiarities are mutually cancelled. In the lower 
 and grosser forms of religion this truth is but dimly discerned, 
 but becomes ever clearer the more highly the religion is devel- 
 ojoed, surviving every change, and remaining untouched by the 
 severest criticism. 
 
 ]\Ir. Spencer then proceeds to demonstrate that all science 
 tends to precisely the same great conclusion; — in all directions 
 investigation leads to insoluble mystery. Alike in the external and 
 the internal worlds, the man of science sees himself in the midst 
 of perpetual changes of which he can discover neither the begin- 
 ning nor the end. If he looks inward, he perceives that both 
 ends of the thread of consciousness are beyond his grasp. If he 
 resolve the appearances, properties, and movements of surround- 
 ing things into manifestations of Force in Space and Time, he still 
 finds that Force, Space, and Time pass all understanding. Thus 
 do all lines of argument converge to the same conclusion. 
 Whether we scrutinize internal consciousness or external phenom- 
 ena., or trace to their root the faiths of mankind, we reach that 
 common ground where all antagonisms disappear — that highest 
 and most abstract of all truths, which is affirmed with equal 
 certainty by both religion and science, and in which may be 
 found their full and final reconciliation. 
 
 It is perhaps hardly just to Mr. Silencer to state his position 
 upon this grave subject without giving also the accompanying 
 reasoning ; but so compressed and symmetrical is his argument 
 that it cannot be put into narrower compass without mutilation. 
 To those interested in the advance of thought in this direction, 
 we may say that the discussion will be found vmsurpassed in 
 nobleness of aim, eloquence of statement, philosophic breadth, 
 and depth and j)ower of reasoning. 
 
 This portion of the work embraces five chapters, as follows 
 I. Religion and Science ; II. Ultimate Religious Ideas ; HL 
 
NEW SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. IX 
 
 [Jltimate Scientific Ideas ; IV. The Relativity of all Knowledge ; 
 V. The Reconciliation. 
 
 The second and larger portion of First Princijjles Mr. 
 Bpencer designates " The Laws of the Knowable." By these he 
 understands those fundamental and universal principles reached 
 by scientific investigation, which underlie all phenomena, and 
 are necessary to their explanation. Certain great laws have been 
 established which are found equally true in all departments of 
 nature, and these are made the foundation of his philosophy. 
 The sublime idea of the Unity of the Universe, to which science 
 has long been tending, Mr, Spencer has made peculiarly his own. 
 Through the vast diversities of nature he discerns a oneness of 
 order and method, which necessitates but one philosophy of being ; 
 the same principles being found to regulate the course of celes- 
 tial movement, terrestrial changes, and the phenomena of life, 
 mind, and society. These may all be comprehended iu a single 
 philosophical scheme, so that each shall thi'ow light upon the 
 other, and the mastery of one help to the comprehension of all. 
 
 To Mr. Spencer the one conception which spans the universe 
 and solves the widest range of its problems — which reaches out- 
 ward through boundless space and back through illimitable time, 
 resolving the deepest questions of life, mind, society, history, and 
 civilization, which predicts the glorious possibilities of the future, 
 and reveals the august method by which the Divine Power work? 
 evermore, — this one, all-elucidatmg conception, is expressed by 
 the term Evolution. To this great subject he has devoted his 
 remarkable powers of thought for many years, and stands toward 
 it not only in the relation of an expositor, but also in that of a 
 discoverer. 
 
 The fact that all living beings are developed from a minute 
 Etructureless germ has long been known, while the law which 
 governs their evolution — that the change is ever fi-om the homo- 
 geneous to the heterogeneous— has been arrived at within a gen 
 
r NOTICE OF HEEBEET SPENCEe's 
 
 eration. But tiiis fact of growth is by no means limited to the 
 physical history of plants and animals — it is exemplified upon a 
 far more extended scale. Astronomers hold that the solar system 
 has gone through such a process, and Geologists teach that the 
 earth has had its career of evolution. Animals have a mental 
 as well as a physical development, and there is also a progress of 
 knowledge, of religion, of the arts and sciences, of institutions, 
 manners, governments, and civilization itself. Sir. Spencer has 
 the honour of having first established the universality of the prin- 
 ciple by which all these changes are governed. The law of evo- 
 lution, which has been hitherto limited to plants and animals, he 
 demonstrates to be the law of all evolution. TMs doctrine is 
 unfolded in the first Essay of the present volume, and is more or 
 less fully illustrated in the others ; but it will be found elaborately 
 worked out in the second part of First Principles. 
 
 The course of the discussion in this part of the work will be 
 best shown by enumerating the titles to the chapters, which are 
 as follows : I. Laws in General ; II. The Law of Evolution ; III. 
 The Same continued ; IV. The Causes of Evolution ; Y. Space, 
 Time, Matter, Motion, and Force ; VI. The Indestructibility of 
 Matter ; VII. The Continuity of Motion ; VIII. The Persistence 
 of Force ; IX. The Correlation and Equivalence of Forces ; X. 
 The "Direction of Motion; XI. The Ehythm of Motion; XII. 
 The Cimditions Essential to Evolution ; XIII. The Instability of 
 the Homogeneous ; XIV. The Multiplication of Effects ; XV. 
 Differentiation and Integration ; XVI. Equilibration ; XVIL 
 Summary_and Conclusion. 
 
 A most interesting and fruitful field of thought, it will be 
 seen, is here traversed by our author, and the latest and highest 
 questions of science are discussed under novel aspects and in new 
 relations. Not only do the pages abound with acute suggestions 
 and fresh views, but the entire argument, in its leading demon- 
 
NEW SYSTEM OF PniLOSOniY. XI 
 
 Btrations, and the full breadth of its iDhilosophic scope, is stamped 
 with a high originality. 
 
 Having thus determined the sphere of philosophy and ascer- 
 tained those fundamental principles governing all orders of phe- 
 nomena which are to be subsequently used for guidance and veri- 
 fication, the author proceeds to the second work of the series, 
 which is devoted to Biology, or the Science of Life. He regards 
 life not as a foreign and unintelligible something, thrust into the 
 scheme of nature, of which we can know nothing save its mys- 
 tery, but as an essential part of the universal plan. The har- 
 monies of life are regarded as but phases of the universal har- 
 mony, and Biology is studied by the same methods as other de- 
 partments of science. The great truths of Physics and Chemistry 
 are applied to its elucidation ; its facts are collected, its induc- 
 tions established, and constantly verified by the fii-st principles 
 laid down at the outset. Apart from its connections with the 
 philosophical system, of which it forms a part, this work will 
 have great intiinsic interest. Nothing Avas more needed than a 
 compact and well-digested statement of those general principlea 
 of life to which science has ariived, and Mr. Spencer's presenta- 
 tion is proving to be just what is required. Some idea of his 
 mode of treating the subject may be formed by glancing over a 
 few of his first chapter-headings. P akt First : I. Organic Matter ; 
 II. The Actions of Forces on Organic Matter ; III. The Reactiona 
 of Organic Matter on Forces ; TV. Proximate Definition of Life ; 
 V. The Correspondence between Life and its Circumstances 
 VT. The Degree of Life Varies with the Degree of Correspond- 
 ence ; Vn. Inductions of Biology. Pakt Secostd : I. Growth ; 
 n. Development ; IH. Function ; IV. Waste and Repaii- ; V. 
 Adaptation; VI. Individuality; VH. Genesis; VIH. Heredity; 
 IX. Variation ; X. Genesis, Heredity and Variation ; XI, Classifi 
 cation ; XII. Distribution. 
 
ai NOTICE OF HEKBEET SPENCEE S 
 
 In the scheme of nature Mind is ever associated with Life. 
 The third division of this philosophical system will therefore be 
 Psychology, or the Science of Mind. This great subject will be 
 considered, not by the narrow methods usual with metaphy- 
 eicians, but in its broadest aspects as a phase of nature's order — 
 to be studied by observation and induction through the whole 
 range of psychical manifestation in animated beings. The sub- 
 ject of mind will be regarded in the light of the great truths of 
 Biology previously established ; the connections of mind and life 
 will be traced ; the progress of mentality as exhibited in the ani- 
 mal grades, and the evolution of the intellectual faculties in man 
 will be delineated and the cooperation of mind and nature in the 
 production of ideas and intelligence unfolded. We have no work 
 upon mind of this comprehensive and thoroughly scientific char- 
 acter: the materials are abundant, and the necessity of their 
 organization is widely recognized. That Mr. Spencer is eminently 
 the man to perform this great task is j)roved by the fact that he 
 is already the author of the most profound and able contribu- 
 tion to the advancement of psychological science that has ap- 
 peared for many years. 
 
 In the true philosophic order, Biology and Psychology prepare 
 the way for the study of social science, and hence the fourth part 
 of Mr. Spencer's system will treat of Sociology, or the natural laws 
 of society. As a knowledge of individuals must precede an under- 
 standing of their mutual relations, so an exposition of the laws of 
 life and mind, which constitute the science of human nature, must 
 precede the successful study of social phenomena. In this part 
 will be considered the development of society, or that inteUectual 
 and moral progress which dej)ends upon the growth of human 
 ideas and feelings in their necessary order. The evolution of 
 political, ecclesiastical, and industrial organizations will be 
 traced, and a statement made of those jfrinciples underlying all 
 
NEW SYSTEM OF PUILOSOPIIT. Xlll 
 
 social progress, ■without wliicli there can be no successful regula- 
 tion of the affairs of society. JVIr. Spencer's mind has long been 
 occupied with these important questions, as the reader wiU find 
 by referring to his able work upor " Social Statics," published 
 aeveral years ago. 
 
 Lastly, in Part Fifth, 'Mr. Sj)encer proposes to consider the 
 Pnnciples of Morality^ bringing to bear the truths furnished by 
 Biology, Psychology, and Sociology, to determine the tifirl theory 
 of right living. He will show that the true moral ideal and limit 
 of progress is the attainment of an equilibrium between constitu- 
 tion and conditions of existence, and trace those principles of 
 private conduct, physical, intellectual, moral, and religious that 
 follow from the conditions to comj^lete individual life. Those 
 rules of human action which aU civilized nations have registered 
 as essential laws — the inductions of morality — will be delineated, 
 and also those mutual limitations of men's actions necessitated by 
 their coexistence as units of society, which constitute the founda- 
 tion of justice. i 
 
 4 ■ 
 It cannot be doubted that the order here indicated, as it cor- 
 responds to the method of nature, is the one which Philosophy 
 must pursue in the future. It combines the precision of science 
 with the harmony and unity of universal truth. The time is past 
 when Biology can be considered with no reference to the laws of 
 Physics ; Mind with no reference to the science of Life, and So- 
 ciology, without having previously mastered the foregoing sub- 
 jects. The progress of knowledge is now toward more definite, 
 systematic, and comprehensive views, while it is the highest func- 
 tion of intellect to coordinate and bind together its isolated and 
 fragmentary parts. In carrying out his great plan, therefore, 
 Mr. Spencer is but embodying the large philosophical tendencicj 
 of the age. 
 
nV NOTICE OF HEKBEET SPENCER 8 
 
 J£ it is urged tbat his scheme is too vast for any one man to 
 accomplisli, it may be replied : 1st. That it is not intended to 
 treat the various subjects exhaustively, but only to state general 
 principles with just sufficient details for their clear illustration. 
 2d. A considerable portion of the work is already issued, and 
 much more is ready for publication, while the author is still in 
 the prime of life. 3d. It must be remembered that intellects oc- 
 casionally appear, endowed with that comprehensive grasp and 
 high organizing power which fits them for vast undertakings. 
 The reader will find at the close of the volume Mr. Spencer's 
 Prospectus of his system. That he who has so clearly mapped 
 out his work is the proper one to execute it, we think will be 
 fully apparent to all who peruse the present volume. 
 
 An impression prevails with many that Mr, Spencer belongs 
 to the positive school of M. Auguste Comte. This is an entire 
 misapprehension ; but the position having been assumed by sev- 
 eral of his reviewers, he repels the charge in the following letter, 
 which appeared in the Hew Englander for January, 1864. 
 
 To tlie Editor of tlie Neic Englander : 
 
 Sir:— While recognizing the appreciative tone and genera] 
 candour of the article in your last number, entitled " Herbert Spen- 
 cer on Ultimate Religious Ideas," allow me to point out one error 
 which pervades it. The writer correctly represents the leading 
 positions of my argument, but he inadvertently conveys a wrong 
 impression respecting my tendencies and sympathies. He says 
 of me, " the spirit of his philosophy is evidently that of the so- 
 called positive method which has now many partial disciples, 
 as well as many zealous adherents among the thinkers of Eng- 
 land." Further on I am tacitly classed with " the English ad- 
 mirers and disciples of the great Positivist ; " and it is presently 
 added that " in Mr. Spencer we have an example of a positivist, 
 who does not treat the subject of religion with supercilious neg- 
 lect." Here and throughout, the implication is that I am a fol- 
 lower of Comte. This is a mistake. That M. Comte has given a 
 
NEW SYSTEM OF PIIILOSOrHT. XV 
 
 general exposition of tlie doctriue and metliod elaborated by 
 science, and bas applied to it a name -wbicli has obtained a certain 
 currency, is true. But it is not true that the holders of this doc- 
 trine and followers of this method are disciples of M. Comte. 
 Neither their modes of inquiry nor their views concerning human 
 knowledge in its nature and limits are appreciably different from 
 what they were before. If they are Positivists it is in the sense 
 that all men of science have been more or less consistently Posi- 
 tivists ; and the applicability of M. Comte's title to them no more 
 makes them his disciples than does its applicability to the men of 
 science who lived and died before M. Comte wrote, make them 
 his disciples. 
 
 My own attitude toward M. Comte and his partial adherents 
 has been all along that of antagonism. In an essay on the 
 " Genesis of Science," published in 1854, and republished with 
 other essays in 1857, I ha^e endeavoured to show that his theory 
 of the logical dependence and historical development of the 
 sciences is untrue. I have still among my papers the memoranda 
 of a second review (for which I failed to obtain a place), the pur- 
 pose of which was to show the untenableness of his theory of in- 
 tellectual progress. The only doctrine of importance in which I 
 agree with him — the relativity of all knowledge — is one common to 
 him and sundry other thinkers of earlier date ; and even this I hold 
 in a different sense from that in which he held it. But on all 
 points that are distinctive of his philosophy, I differ from him. I 
 deny his Hierarchy of the Sciences. I regard his division of in- 
 tellectual progress into the three phases, theological, metaphysi- 
 cal, and positive, as superficial. I reject utterly his Religion of 
 Humanity, And his ideal of society I hold in detestation. Some 
 of his minor views I accept ; some of his incidental remarks seem 
 to me to be profound, but from everything which distinguishes 
 Comteism as a system, I dissent entirely. The only influence on 
 my own course of thought which I can trace to M. Comte's writings, 
 is the influence that Results from meeting with antagonistic opin- 
 ions definitely expressed. 
 
 Such being my position, you will, I think, see that by classing 
 Cie as a Positivist, and tacitly including me among the English 
 admirers and disciples of Comte, your reviewer unintentionally 
 mi 'represents me. I am quite ready to bear the odium attaching 
 
XVi NOTICE OF HEKBEKT SPENJEk's 
 
 to opinions wluch I do hold ; but I object to Lave added the 
 odium attaching to opinions whicli I do not hold. If, by publish- 
 ing this letter in your forthcoming number, you will allow me to 
 Bet myself right with the American public on this matter, you will 
 greatly oblige me. I am, Sir, your obedient servant, 
 
 Hekeert Sfekcek. 
 
 We take the liberty of making an extract from a private lettei 
 of Mr. Spencer, which contains some further observations in the 
 same connection : 
 
 " There appears to have got abroad in the United States, a 
 very erroneous impression respecting the influence of Comte's 
 writings in England. I suppose that the currency obtained by 
 the words * Positivism ' and ' Positivist,' is to blame for this. 
 Comte having designated by the term Positive Philosophy all 
 that body of definitely-established knowledge which men of 
 science have been gradually organizing into a coherent body of 
 doctrine, and having habitually placed this in op]Dosition to the 
 incoherent body of doctrine defended by theologians, it has be- 
 come the habit of the theological party to think of the antagonist 
 scientific party imder this title of Positivists applied to them by 
 Comte. And thus, from the habit of calling them Positivists 
 there has grown up the assumption that they call themselves Posi- 
 tivists, and that they are the disciples of Comte. The truth is 
 that Comte and his doctrines receive here scarcely any attenfion. 
 I know something of the scientific world in England, and I cannot 
 name a single man of science who acknowledges himself a fol- 
 lower of Comte, or accepts the title of Positivist. Lest, however, 
 there should be some such who were unknown to me, I have re- 
 cently made inquiries into the matter. To Professor Tyndall I 
 put the question whether Comte had exerted any appreciable in- 
 fluence on his OAvn course of thought : and he replied, ' So far as 
 I know, my own course of thought would have been exactly the 
 same had Comte never existed.' I then asked, ' Do you know 
 any men of science whose views have been aS'ected by Comte's 
 writings ? ' and his answer was : ' His influence on scientific 
 thought in England is absolutely niV To the same questions 
 prof. Huxley returned, in other words, the same answers. Profes- 
 
NEW SYSTEM OF PUILOSOPIir. XVU 
 
 Bors Huxley and Tyndall, being leaders in their respective de- 
 partments, and being also men of general culture and philosophic 
 insight, I think that, joining their impressions with my own, I am 
 justified in saying that the scientific world of England is wholly 
 uninfluenced by Comte. Such small influence as he has had here 
 has been on some literary men and historians — men who were atf 
 tracted by the grand achievements of science, who were charmed 
 by the plausible system of scientific generalizations put forth by 
 Comte, with the usual French regard for symmetry and disregard 
 for fact, and who were, from their want of scientific training, 
 unable to detect the essential fallaciousness of his system. Of 
 these the most notable example was the late Mr. Buckle. Besides 
 him, I can name but seven men who have been in any appreciable 
 degree influenced by Comte ; and of these, four, if not five, arc 
 scarcely known to the public." 
 
 Mr. Spencer's philosophical series is published by D. Appleton 
 & Co., New York, in quarterly parts (80 to 100 pages each), by 
 subscription, at two dollars a year. " First Principles''' is issued 
 in one volume, and four parts of Biology have appeared. We 
 subjoin some notices of his philosophy from American and English 
 reviews. 
 
 From the National Quarterly Review (American.) 
 
 Comte thus founded social science, and opened a path for 
 future discoverers ; but he did not perceive, any more than pre- 
 vious inquii-ers, the fundamental law of human evolution. It was 
 reserved for Herbert Spencer to discover this all-comprehensive 
 law which is found to explain alike all the phenomena of man's 
 history and all those of external nature. This sublime discovery, 
 that the universe is in a continuous process of evolution from the 
 homogeneous to the heterogeneous, with which only Newton's 
 law of gravitation is at all worthy to be compared, underlies not 
 only physics, but also history. It reveals the law to which social 
 changes conform. 
 
 From tfie Christian Examiner. 
 Reverent and bold — reverent for truth, though not for the 
 
gnu NOTICE OF HEEBEKT SPENCEK S 
 
 forms of truth, and not for mucli tliat we hold true — bold iu the 
 destruction of error, though without that joy in destruction which 
 often claims the name of boldness ; — these works are interesting 
 iu themselves and in their relation to the current thought of the 
 time. They seem at first sight to form the turriing point in the 
 positive philosophy, but closer examination shows us that it is 
 only a new and marked stage in a regular growth. It is the 
 positive philosophy reaching the higher relations of our being, 
 and establishing what before it ignored because it had not 
 reached, and by ignoring seemed to deny. This system formerly 
 excluded theology and psychology. In the works of Herbert Spen- 
 cer we have the rudiments of a positive theology and an immense 
 step toward the perfection of the science of psychology. * * =* 
 Such is a brief and meagre sketch of a discussion which we 
 would commend to be followed in detail by every mind interested 
 in theological studies. Herbert Spencer comes in good faith from 
 what has been so long a hostile camp, bringing a flag of truce 
 and presenting terms of agreement meant to be honourable to 
 both parties : let us give him a candid hearing. * * * Iq 
 conclusion, we would remark that the work of Herbert Sj)«ncer 
 referred to (First Principles) is not mainly theological, but will 
 present the latest and broadest generalizations of science, and we 
 would commend to our readers this author, too little known 
 among us, as at once one of the clearest of teachers and one of the 
 wisest and most honourable of opponents. 
 
 From tlie Neio EngJander. 
 
 Though we find here some unwarranted assumptions, as well 
 as some grave omissions, yet this part (Laws of the Knowable) 
 may be considered, upon the wh'ole, as a fine specimen of scien- 
 tific reasoning. Considerable space is devoted to the " Law of 
 Evolution " the discovery of which is the author's chief claim to 
 originality, and certainly evinces great power of generalization. 
 To quote the abstract definition without a full statement of the 
 inductions from which it is derived would convey no fair im- 
 pression of the breadth and strength of the thought which it 
 epitomizes. Of Mr. Spencer's general characteristics as a writer, 
 W€ may observe that his style i'S marked by great purity, clear- 
 
NEW SYSTEM OF PDILOSOI'IIY. XIS 
 
 fless, and force ; tliougli it is somewliat diffuse, and tlie abstract 
 nature of some of his topics occasionally renders his thought diffi- 
 cult of apprehension. His treatment of his subjects is generally 
 thorough and sometimes exhaustive ; his arguments are al^vaT3 
 ingenious if not always convincing ; his illustrations are drawn 
 from almost every accessible field of human knowledge, and his 
 method of " putting things " is such as to make the most of hia 
 materials. He is undoubtedly entitled to a high rank among the 
 speculative and philosophic writers of the presennt day. **=;•• 
 In Mr. Spencer we have the example of a positivist, who does 
 not treat the subject of religion -with supercilious neglect, and 
 who illustrates by his own method of reasoning upon the highest 
 objects of human thought, the value of those metaphysical studies 
 which it is so much the fashion of his school to decry. For both 
 these reasons the volume, which we now propose to examine, 
 deserves the careful attention of the theologian who desires to 
 know what one of the strongest thinkers of his school, commonly 
 thought atheistic in its tendencies, can say in behalf of our ulti- 
 mate religious ideas. For if we mistake not, in spite of the very 
 negative character of his own results, he has furnished some 
 strong arguments for the doctrine of a positive Christian theo- 
 logy. We shall be mistaken if we expect to find him carelessly 
 passing these matters by (religious faith and theological science) 
 as in all respects beyond knowledge and of no practical concern. 
 On the contrary, he gives them profound attention, and arrives 
 at conclusions in regard to them which even the Christian theolo- 
 gian must allow to contain a large measure of truth. While 
 showing the unsearchcible nature of the ultimate facts on which 
 religion depends, he demonstrates their real existence and their 
 great importance. * * * lu answering these questions Mr. 
 Silencer has, we think, arrived nearer to a true philosophy than 
 either Hamilton or Mansel. At least he has indicated in a more 
 satisfactory manner than they have done, the positive datum of 
 consciousness that the unconditioned, though inscrutable, exists. 
 It may be said that JNIr. Spencer is not chargeable with excluding 
 God fi'om the universe, or denying all revelation of Him in His 
 works, since he earnestly defends the truth that an inscrutable 
 power is shown to exist. We certainly would not charge him 
 
KX NOTICE OF nEEBEET SPENCER S 
 
 witli theoretical atheism, holding as he does this ultimate reli- 
 gious idea. 
 
 From the North American Review. 
 
 The law of organic development announced in the early part 
 of the present century, by Goethe, Schelling, and Von Baer, and 
 vaguely expressed in the formula, that " evolution is always from 
 the homogenous to the heterogeneous, and from the simple to the 
 complex," has recently been extended by Herbert Spencer so as 
 to include all phenomena whatsoever. He has shown that this 
 law of evolution is the law of all evolution. "Whether it be in the 
 develoj)ment of the earth or of life upon its surface, in the devel- 
 opment of Society, of government, of manufactures, of commerce, 
 of language, literature, science and art, this same advance from 
 the simple to the comj^lex, through successive diflerentiations, 
 holds uniformly. The stupendous induction from all classes of 
 phenomena by which Mr. SjDencer proceeds to establish and illus- 
 trate his theorem cannot be given here. 
 
 From the Christian Spectator (English). 
 Mr. Spencer claims for his view that it is not only a religious 
 position, but preeminently t?ie religious position ; and we are most 
 thoroughly disposed to agree with him, though we think he does 
 not appreciate the force of his own argument, nor fully under- 
 stand his own words. For let us now attempt to realize the 
 meaning of this fact, of which Mr. Spencer and his compeers have 
 put us in possession ; let us endeavour to see whether its bearings 
 are really favorable or adverse to religion. They are put forward 
 indeed avowedly as adverse to any other religion than a mere 
 reverential acquiescence in ignorance concerning all that truly 
 exists ; but it appears to us that this supposed opposition to reli- 
 gion arises from the fact that the doctrine itself is so profoundly, 
 80 intensely, so overwhelmingly religious, nay, so utterly and en- 
 tirely Christia^st, that its true meaning could not be seen for very 
 glory. Like Moses, when he came down from the Mount, this 
 positive philosophy comes with a veil over its face, that its too 
 divine radiance may be hidden for a time. This is Science that 
 has been conversing with God, and brings in her hand His law 
 written on tables of stone. 
 
NEW SYSTEM OF PniLOSOrHY. SXl 
 
 From the Reader. 
 
 To answer the question of the likeliliood of the permanence 
 of Mr. Mill's philosophic reign, * * * -we should have to take 
 account, among other things, of the differences from Mr, MUl 
 already shown by the extraordinarily able and peculiarly original 
 thinker whose name we have associated with IVIr. l^Iill's at the 
 head of this article. We may take occasion, at another time, to 
 call attention to these speculations of Mr. Herbert Spencer, whose 
 works in the meantime, and especially that new one whose title 
 we have cited, we recommend to all those select readers whose 
 appreciation of masterly exposition, and great reach and boldness 
 of generalization, does not depend on their mere disposition to 
 agree with the doctrines propounded. 
 
 From the British Quarterly Revieic. 
 
 Complete in itself, it is at the same time but a part of a whole, 
 which, if it should be constructed in j)roportion, will be ten times 
 as great. For these First PrinciiDles are merely the foundation 
 of a system of philosophy, bolder, more elaborate and comprehen- 
 sive, perhaps, than any other which has been hitherto designed 
 in England. * * * "V\ridely as it will be seen we differ from 
 the author on some points, we very sincerely hojje he may succeed 
 in accomplishing the bold and magnijBcent project he has 
 mapped out. 
 
 From the Cornhill Magazine. 
 
 Our " Survey," superficial as it is, must include at least the 
 mention of a work so lofty in aim, and so remarkable in execu- 
 tion as the system of Philosophy which Mr. Herbert Spencer is 
 issuing to subscribers. * * * In spite of all dissidence respect- 
 ing the conclusions, the serious reader will applaud the profound 
 earnestness and thoroughness with which these conclusions are 
 advocated ; the universal scientific knowledge brought to bear on 
 them by way of illustration, and the acute and subtle thinking 
 displayed in every chapter. 
 
 From the Parthenon. 
 By these books he has wedged his way into lame in a manner 
 distinctly original, and c;iriously marked. * * * There is a 
 
KXn NOTICE OF SPENCER S PIIlLOSOniY. 
 
 peculiar charm in tliis author's style, in that it sacrifices to no 
 common taste, while at the same time it makes the most abstruse 
 questions intelligible. * * * The book, if it is to be noticed 
 with the slightest degree of fairness, requires to be read and re- 
 read, to be studied apart from itself and with itself. For what- 
 ever may be its ultimate fate — although as the ages go on it shall 
 become but as the lispings of a little child, a little more educated 
 than other lisping children of the same time — this is certain, that, 
 as a book addressed to the present, it lifts the mind far above the 
 ordinary range of thought, suggests new associations, arranges 
 chaotic pictures, strikes often a broad harmony, and even moves 
 the heart by an intellectual struggle as passionless as fate, but as 
 irresistible as time. 
 
 From the Critic. 
 
 Mr. Spencer is the foremost mind of the only philosophical 
 school in England which has arrived at a consistent scheme 
 * * * Beyond this school we encounter an indolent chaotic 
 electicism. IVIr. Spencer claims the respect due to distinct and 
 daring individuality ; others are echoes or slaves. Mr. Spencer 
 may be a usurper, but he has the voice and gesture of a king. 
 
 Froin tJie Medico- Ghirurgical Review. 
 
 Mr. Spencer is equally remarkable for his search after first 
 principles ; for his acute attempts to decompose mental phenomena 
 into their primary elements ; and for his broad generalizations of 
 mental activity, viewed in connection with nature, instinct, and 
 b1: the analogies presented by life in its imiversal aspects. 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE 
 
 The essays contained in tlie present volume were 
 first puLlislied in the Englisli periodicals — cliieflj tlie 
 Quarterly Reviews. Tliej contain ideas of perma- 
 nent interest, and display an amount of thought and 
 labor evidently much greater than is usually bestowed 
 on review articles. They were written with a view to 
 ultimate republication in an enduring form, and w^ere 
 issued in London with several other papers, under the 
 title of " Essays ; Scientific, Political, and Speculative," 
 first and second series ; — the former appearing in 1857, 
 and the latter in 1863. 
 
 The interest created in Mr. Spencer's writings by 
 the publication in this country of his valuable work on 
 " Education," and by criticisms of his other works, has 
 created a demand for these discussions which can only 
 be supplied by their republication. They are now, 
 however, issued in a new form, and are more suited to 
 develop the author's purpose in their preparation ; for 
 
XXIY EDITOIi S PKEFACE. 
 
 while eacli of these essays has its intrinsic and inde- 
 pendent claims npon the reader's attention, they are all 
 at the same time but parts of a connected and compre- 
 hensive argument. Nearly all of Mr. Spencer's essays 
 have relations more or less direct to the general doc- 
 trine of Evolution — a doctrine which he has probably 
 done more to unfold and illustrate than any other 
 thinker. The papers comprised in the present volume 
 are those which deal with the subject in its most ob- 
 vious and prominent asjDects. 
 
 Although the argument contained in the first essay 
 on " Progress ; its Law and Cause," has been published 
 in an amplified form in the author's " First Principles," 
 it has been thought best to prefix it to the present col- 
 lection as a key to the full interpretation of the other 
 essays. 
 
 To those who read this volume its commendation 
 will be superfluous ; we will only say that those who 
 become interested in his course of thought will find it 
 completely elaborated in his new System of Philos- 
 ophy, now in course of publication. 
 
 The remaining articles of Mr. Spencer's first and 
 second series will be shortly published, in a volume en- 
 titled " Essays ; Moral, Political, and Esthetic." 
 
 New ToPvK, Marc\ 1864. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 «♦»- 
 
 PAOU 
 
 I. — ^Peoghess : Its Law and Cause, ... 1 
 
 II. — Mantstees and Easeion, 61 
 
 III. — The Genesis of Science, 116 
 
 lY. — The Physiology of Lattghtee, . . . . 194 
 
 Y. — The Oeigin and Function of Music, . . .210 
 
 VI. — The IsTebuxae Hypothesis, . . - . 239 
 
 VII. — Bain on tke Emotions and the "Will, . . . 288 
 
 VIII. — Illogical Geology, 813 
 
 IX. — The Development Hypothesis, .... 365 
 
 X. — The Social Organism, 372 
 
 XI. — Use and Beauty, 417 
 
 XII. — The Soueces of Aechitectueal Types, . . 422 
 Kill. — The Use of Antheopomoephism, . . . .428 
 
 2 
 
I. 
 
 PROGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 ^'^HE current conception of Progress is somewliat shift- 
 _ ing and indefinite. Sometimes it comprehends little 
 more than simple growth — as of a nation in the number of 
 its members and the extent of tei-ritory over which it has 
 spread. Sometimes it has reference to quantity of material 
 products — as when the advance of agriculture and manu- 
 factures is the topic. Sometimes the superior quality of 
 these products is contemplated : and sometimes the new or 
 improved appliances by which they are produced. When, 
 again, we speak of moral or intellectual progress, we refer 
 to the state of the individual or people exhibiting it ; while, 
 when the progress .of Knowledge, of Science, of Art, ii 
 commented upon, we have in view certain abstract results 
 of human thought and action. Not only, however, is the 
 current conception of Progress more or less vague, but it 
 is in great measure erroneous. It takes in not so much the 
 reahty of Progress as its accompaniments — not so much 
 the substance as the shadow. That progress in intelligence 
 seen during the growth of the child into the man, or the 
 savage into the philosopher, is commonly regarded as con- 
 gisting in the greater number of facts known and laws 
 
2 rKOGEESs : its law and cause. 
 
 understood : whereas tlie actual progress consists in those 
 internal modifications of which this increased knowledge 
 is the expression. Social progress is supposed to consist in 
 the produce of a greater quantity and variety of the arti- 
 cles required for satisfying men's wants ; in the increasing 
 security of person and property; in widening freedom of 
 action : whereas, rightly understood, social progress con- 
 sists in those changes of structure in the social organism 
 which have entailed these consequences. The current con- 
 ception is a teleological one. The phenomena are contem- 
 plated solely as bearing on human happiness. Only those 
 changes are held to constitute progress which directly or 
 indirectly tend to heighten human happiness. And they 
 are thought to constitute progress simply because they tend 
 to heigliten human happiness. But rightly to understand 
 progress, w^e must inquire what is the nature of these 
 changes, considered apart from our interests. Ceasing, for 
 example, to regard the successive geological modifications 
 that have taken place in the Earth, as modifications that 
 have gradually fitted it for the habitation of Man, and as 
 therefore a geological j^rogress, we must seek to determine 
 the character common to these modifications — the law to 
 which they all conform. And similarly in every other case. 
 Leaving out of sight concomitants and beneficial conse- 
 quences, let us ask wdiat Progress is in itself 
 
 In respect to that progress which individual organisms 
 display in the course of their evolution, this question has 
 been answered by the Germans. The investigations of 
 Wolfl', Goethe, and Von Baer, have established the truth 
 that the series of changes gone through during the devel- 
 opment of a seed into a tree, or an ovuui into an animal, 
 constitute an advance from homogeneity of structure to 
 heterogeneity of structure. In its primary stage, every 
 germ consists of a substance that is uniform throughout, 
 both in texture and chemical composition. The first step 
 
IN WHAT TKOGEESS CONSISTS. 3 
 
 IS tlio appearance of a difference between two i^arts uf tliis 
 substance ; or, as the phenomenon is called in j^hysiological 
 language, a differentiation. Each of these differentiated 
 divisions presently begins itself to exhibit some contrast of 
 parts ; and by and by these secondary differentiations be- 
 come as definite as the original one. This process is con» 
 tini.ously repeated — is simultaneously going on in all parts 
 of the growing embryo ; and by endless such differentia- 
 tions there is finally produced that complex combination of 
 tissues and organs constituting the adult animal or j)lant. 
 This is the history of all organisms whatever. It is settled 
 beyond dispute that organic progress consists in a change 
 from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous. 
 
 Now, we propose in the first place to show, that this 
 law of organic progress is the law of all progress. Yv^hether 
 it be in the development of the Earth, in the development 
 of Life upon its surface, in the develoj)ment of Society, of 
 Government, of Manufactures, of Commerce, of Language, 
 Literature, Science, x\rt, this same evolution of the simple 
 into the complex, tlirough successive differentiations, holds 
 throughout. From the earliest traceable cosmical changes 
 dovvm to the latest results of civilization, we shall find that 
 the transformation of the homogeneous into the heteroge- 
 neous, is that in which Progress essentially consists. 
 
 With the view of showing that if the Nebular Hypoth- 
 esis be true, the genesis of the solar system supplies one 
 illustration of this law, let us assume that the matter of 
 which the sun and planets consist was once in a diffused 
 form ; and that from the gravitation of its atoms there 
 resulted a gradual concentration. By the hypothesis, the 
 solar system in its nascent state existed as an indefinitely 
 extended and nearly homogeneous medium — a medium 
 almost homogeneous in density, in temperature, and in 
 other physical attributes. The first advance towards con- 
 solidation resulted in a differentiation between the occupied 
 
i PKOGKESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 space wliicli the nebulous mass still filled, and the unoccu- 
 pied space which it previously filled. There simultaneously 
 resulted a contrast in density and a contrast in tempera- 
 ture, between the interior and the exterior of this rpass. 
 And at the same time there arose throughotit it rotatory 
 movements, whose velocities varied according to their dis- 
 tances from its centre. These diiferentiations increased in 
 number and degree until there was evolved the organized 
 group of sun, planets, and satellites, which we now know — 
 a group which presents numerous contrasts of structure 
 and action among its members. There are tlie immense 
 contrasts between the sun and planets, in bulk and in 
 weight ; as well as the subordinate contrasts between one 
 planet and another, and between the planets and their sat- 
 ellites. There is the similarly marked contrast between 
 the sun as almost stationary, and the planets as moving 
 round him with great velocity ; while there are the sec- 
 ondary contrasts between the velocities and periods of the 
 several planets, and between their simple revolutions and 
 the double ones of their satellites, which have to move 
 round their j)rimaries while moving round the sun. There 
 is the yet further strong contrast between the sun and the 
 planets in respect of temperature ; and there is reason to 
 suppose that the planets and satellites differ from each 
 other in their proper heat, as well as in the heat they re- 
 ceive from the sun. 
 
 "When we bear in mind that, in addition to these various 
 contrasts, the planets and satellites also differ in respect to 
 their distances from each other and their primary ; in respect 
 to the inclinations of their orbits, the inclinations of their 
 axes, their times of rotation on their axes, their specific gri\^- 
 ities, and their physical constitutions ; we see what a high 
 degree of heterogeneity the solar system exhibits, when 
 compared with the almost complete homogeneity of tha 
 nebulous mass out of which it is supposed to have originated, 
 
GEOLOGICAL PEOGKESS OF THE EAETH. O 
 
 Passing from this hypothetical illustration, which must 
 be taken for what it is worth, without prejudice to the 
 general argument, let us descend to a more certain order 
 of evidence. It is now generally agreed among geologists 
 that the Earth was at first a mass of molten matter ; and 
 that it is still fluid and incandescent at the distance of a few 
 miles beneath its surface. Originally, then, it was homo- 
 geneous in consistence, and, in virtue of the circulation 
 that tates place in heated fluids, must have been compara- 
 tively homogeneous in temperature ; and it must have been 
 surrounded by an atmosphere consisting partly of the ele- 
 ments of air and water, and partly of those various other 
 elements which assume a gaseous form at high tempera- 
 tures. That slow cooliiig by radiation which is still going 
 on at an inappreciable rate, and which, though originally 
 far more rapid than now, necessarily required an immense 
 time to produce any decided change, must ultimately have 
 resulted in the solidification of the portion most able to 
 part with its heat — namely, the surface. In the thin crust 
 thus formed we have the first marked difierentiation. A still 
 farther cooling, a consequent thickening of this crust, and an 
 accompanying deposition of all solidifiable elements con 
 tained in the atmosphere, must finally have been followed 
 by the condensation of the water previously existing as 
 vapour. A second marked difierentiation must thus have 
 arisen : and as the condensation must have taken place on 
 the coolest parts of the surface — namely, about the poles — 
 there must thus have resulted the first geographical dis- 
 tinction of parts. To these illustrations of growing hete- 
 rogeneity, which, though deduced from the known laws of 
 matter, may be regarded as more or less hypothetical, 
 Geology adds an extensive series that have been inductively 
 established. Its investigations show that the Earth has 
 been continually becommg more heterogeneous in virtue 
 of the multi^^lication of the strata which form its crust ; 
 
b TEOGKESS : ITS LAW AND CAUflE. 
 
 further, that it has been hecommg more heterogeneous in 
 respect of the composition of these strata, the latter of 
 which, being made from the detritus of the older ones, are 
 many of them rendered highly complex by the mixture of 
 materials they contain ; and that this heterogeneity has 
 been vastly increased by the action of the Earth's still 
 molten nucleus upon its envelope, whence have resulted 
 not only a great variety of igneous rocks, but the tilting 
 up of sedimentary strata at all angles, the formation of 
 faults and metallic veins, the production of endless disloca- 
 tions and irregularities. Yet agam, geologists teach us 
 that the Earth's surface has been growing more varied in 
 elevation — that the most ancient mountain systems are the 
 smallest, and the Andes and Himalayas the most modern ; 
 while in all probability there have been corresponding 
 changes in the bed of the ocean. As a consequence of 
 these ceaseless differentiations, we now find that no consid- 
 erable portion of the Earth's exposed surface is like any 
 other portion, either in contour, in geologic structure, or 
 in chemical composition ; and that in most parts it changes 
 from mile to mile in all these characteristics. 
 
 Moreover, it must not be forgotten that there has been 
 simultaneously going on a gradual differentiation of climates. 
 As fast as the Earth cooled and its crust solidified, there arose 
 appreciable differences in temperature between those parts 
 of its surface most exposed to the sun and those less exposed. 
 Gradually, as the cooling progressed, these differences be- 
 came more pronounced ; until there finally resulted those 
 marked contrasts between regions of perpetual ice and 
 snow, regions where winter and summer alternately reign 
 for periods varying according to the latitude, and regions 
 where summer follows summer with scarcely an appreciable 
 variation. At the same time the successive elevations and 
 subsidences of different portions of the Earth's crust, tend- 
 ing as they have done to the present irregular distribution 
 
TEOGliESS OF TEEEESTEIAL LITE 7 
 
 of land and sea, have entailed various modifications of cli- 
 niate beyond tliose dependent on latitude ; while a yet fur- 
 ther series of such modifications have been produced by 
 increasing differences of elevation in the land, which have 
 in sundry places brought arctic, temperate, and tropical 
 climates to within a few miles of each other. And the 
 general result of these changes is, that not only has every 
 extensive region its own meteorologic conditions, but that 
 every locality in each region differs more or less from oth- 
 ers in those conditions, as in its structure, its contour, its 
 soil. Thus, between our existing Earth, the phenomena of 
 whose varied crust neither geographers, geologists, miner- 
 alogists, nor meteorologists have yet enumerated, and the 
 molten globe out of which it was evolved, the contrast in 
 heterogeneity is sufiiciently striking. 
 
 When from the Earth itself we tarn to the plants and 
 animals that have lived, or still live, upon its surface, we 
 find ourselves in some difficulty from lack of facts. That 
 every existing organism has been developed out of the 
 simple into the complex, is indeed the first established 
 truth of all ; and that every organism that has existed was 
 similarly developed, is an inference which no physiologist 
 will hesitate to draw. But when we pass from individual 
 forms of life to Life in general, and inquire whether the 
 same law is seen in the ensemhle of its manifestations, — 
 wnether modern plants and animals are of more hetero- 
 geneous structure than ancient ones, and whether the 
 Earth's present Flora and Fauna are more heterogeneous 
 than the Flora and Fauna of the past, — we find the evi- 
 dence so fragmentary, that every conclusion is open to 
 dispute. Two-thirds of the Earth's surface being covered 
 by water ; a great part of the exposed land being inaccess- 
 ible to, or untravelled . by, the geologist ; the greater j^art 
 of the remainder having been scarcely more than glanced 
 at ; and even the most fiimiliar portions, as England, hav- 
 
8 PK0GEES8 : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 mg been so imperfectly exjAored that a new series of strata 
 has been added within these four years, — it is manifestly 
 impossible for us to say with any certainty what creaturoi 
 have, and what have not, existed at any particular period. 
 Considering the perishable nature of many of the lower 
 organic foi'ms, the metamorphosis of many sedimentary 
 strata, and the gaps that occur among the rest, we shall 
 see further reason for distrusting our deductions. On the 
 one hand, the repeated discovery of vertebrate remains in 
 strata previously supposed to contain none, — of reptiles 
 v.'here only fish were thought to exist, — of mammals where 
 it was believed there were no creatures higher than rep- 
 tiles, — renders it daily more manifest how small is the 
 value of negative evidence. 
 
 On the other hand, the worthlessness of the assumption 
 that Ave have discovered the earliest, or anything like the 
 earliest, organic remains, is becoming equally clear. That 
 the oldest known sedimentary rocks have been greatly 
 changed by igneous action, and that still older ones have 
 been totally transformed by it, is becoming undeniable. 
 And the fact that sedimentary strata earlier than any we 
 know, have been melted up, being admitted, it must also 
 be admitted that we cannot say how far back in time this 
 destruction of sedimentary strata has been going on. Thus 
 it is manifest that the title, Palceozoic, as applied to the 
 earliest known fossiliferous strata, involves a,2yetitio 2>j'i)ici- 
 pii j' and that, for aught we know to the contrary, only the 
 last few chapters of the Earth's biological history may have 
 come down to us. On neither side, therefore, is the evi- 
 dence conclusive. Nevertheless we cannot but thuik that, 
 scanty as they are, the facts, taken altogether, tend to show 
 both that the more heterogeneous organisms have been 
 evolved in the later geologic periods, and that Life in 
 general has been more heterogeneously manifested as time 
 has advanced. Let us cite, in illustration, the one case of 
 
ADVANCE OF THE ANIMAL EACES. 9 
 
 the vertebrata. The earliest known vertebrate remams, are 
 those of Fishes ; and Fishes are the most homogeneous of 
 the vertebrata. Later and more heterogeneous are Rep- 
 tiles. Later still, and more heterogeneous still, are Mam- 
 mals and Birds. If it be said, as it may fairly be said, that 
 the Palaeozoic deposits, not being estuary deposits, are not 
 likely to contain the remains of terrestrial vertebrata, which 
 may nevertheless have existed at that era, we reply that we 
 are merely pointing to the leading facts, such as they are. 
 But to avoid any such criticism, let us take the mam- 
 malian subdivision only. The earliest known remains of 
 mammals are those of small marsupials, which are the low- 
 est of the mammalian type ; while, conversely, the highest 
 of the mammalian type — Man — is the most recent. The 
 evidence that the vertebrate fauna, as a whole, has become 
 more heterogeneous, is considerably stronger. To the 
 argument that the vertebrate fauna of the Pala30zoic period, 
 consisting, so far as we k?iow, entirely of Fishes, was less 
 heterogeneous than the modern vertebrate fauna, which 
 includes Reptiles, Birds, and Mammals, of multitudinous 
 genera, it may be replied, as before, that estuary deposits 
 of the Palceozoic period, could we find them, might contain 
 other orders of vertebrata. But no such reply can be made 
 to the argument that whereas the marine vertebrata of the 
 Palaeozoic period consisted entirely of cartilaginous fishes, 
 the marine vertebrata of later periods include numerous 
 genera of osseous fishes ; and that, therefore, the later 
 marine vertebrate faunas are more heterogeneous than the 
 oldest known one. Nor, again, can any such reply be made 
 to the fact that there are far more numerous orders and 
 genera of mammalian remains in the tertiary formations than 
 in the secondary formations. Did we wislt merely to make 
 out the best case, we might dwell upon the opinion of Dr. 
 Carpenter, who says that " the general facts of Palaeontol- 
 3gy appear to sanction the belief, that the same plan ma]/ 
 
10 PROGRESS : ITS LA.W AND CAUSE. 
 
 be traced out in what may be called the general life of the 
 glohe^ as in the individual life of every one of the forms of 
 organized being which now people it." Or we might quote, 
 as decisire, the judgment of Professor Owen, who holds 
 that the earlier examples of each group of creatures sever- 
 ally departed less widely from archetypal generality than 
 the later ones — were severally less unlike the fundamental 
 form common to the group as a whole ; that is to say — 
 constituted a less heterogeneous group of creatures ; and 
 ^A ho further upholds the doctrine of a biological jorogres- 
 sion. But in deference to an authority for whom we have 
 the highest respect, who considers that the evidence at 
 present obtained does not justify a verdict either way, we 
 are content to leave the question open. 
 
 Whether an advance from the homogeneous to the 
 heterogeneous is or is not displayed in the biological his- 
 tory of the globe, it is clearly enough displayed in the 
 progress of the latest and most heterogeneous creature — 
 Man. It is alike true that, during the jDcriod in which the 
 Earth has been peopled, the human organism has grown 
 more hetei'ogeneous among the civilized divisions of the 
 species ; and that the species, as a whole, has been grow- 
 ing more heterogeneous in virtue of the multiplication of 
 races and the differentiation of these races from each 
 other. 
 
 In proof of the first of these positions, we may cite 
 the fact that, in the relative development of the limbs, the 
 civilized man departs more widely from the general type 
 of the placental mammalia than do the lower human races. 
 While often possessing well-developed body and arms, the 
 Papuan has extremely small legs : thus reminding us of 
 the quadrumana, in which there is no great contrast in 
 size between the hind and fore limbs. But in the Eu- 
 ropean, the greater length and massiveness of the legs has 
 become very marked — the fore and hind limbs are rela- 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF THE CIVILIZED KACES. 11 
 
 lively more heterogeneous. Again, the greater ratio 
 which the cranial hones hear to the facial hones illustrates 
 the same truth. Among the vertehrata in general, pro- 
 gress is marked by an increasing heterogeneity in the verte- 
 bral column, and more especially in the vertebrae constitut- 
 ing the skull : the higher forms being distinguished by the 
 relatively larger size of the bones which cover the brain, 
 and the relatively smaller size of those which form the 
 jaw, &c. Now, this characteristic, which is stronger in 
 Man than in any other creature, is stronger in the European 
 than in the savage. Moreover, judging from the greater 
 extent and variety of faculty he exhibits, we may infer that 
 the civilized man has also a more complex or hetero- 
 geneous nervous system than the uncivilized man : and 
 indeed the fact is in part visible in the increased ratio 
 which his cerebrum bears to the subjacent ganglia. 
 
 ■ If further el'ucidatmn be needed, we may find it in every 
 nursery. The infant European has sundry marked points 
 of resemblance to the lower human races ; as in the flat- 
 ness of the aloe of the nose, the depression of its bridge, 
 the divergence and forward opening of the nostrils, the 
 form of the lips, the absence of a frontal sinus, the width 
 between the eyes, the smallness of the legs. Now, as the 
 developmental process by which these traits are turned into 
 those of the adult European, is a continuation of that 
 change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous dis- 
 played during the previous evolution of the embryo, which 
 every physiologist will admit ; it follows that the parallel 
 developmental process by which the Hke traits of the bar- 
 barous races have been turned into those of the civilized 
 aces, has also been a continuation of the change from 
 homogeneous to the heterogeneous. The truth of the 
 slifeond position — that Mankind, as a whole, have become 
 more heterogeneous — is so obvious as scarcely to need 
 illustration. Every work on Ethnology, by its divisiona 
 
12 PEOGEESS : ITS LAW JlND CAUSE. 
 
 and subdivisions of races, bears testimony to it. Even 
 were we to admit the hypothesis that Mankind originated 
 from several separate stocks, it would still remain true, 
 that as, from each of these stocks, there have sprung many 
 now widely different tribes, which are proved by philologi- 
 cal evidence to have had a common origin, the race as a 
 whole is far less homogeneous than it once was. Add to 
 which, that we have, in the Anglo-Americans, an example 
 of a new variety arising within these few generations ; 
 and that, if we may trust to the description of observers, 
 we are likely soon to have another such example in Aus- 
 tralia. 
 
 On passing from Humanity under its individual form, to 
 ITumanity as socially embodied, we find the general law still 
 more variously exemplified. The change from the homo- 
 geneous to the lieterogeneous is displayed equally in the 
 progress of civilization as a whole, and in the progress of 
 every tribe or nation ; and is still going on with increasing 
 rapidity. As we see in existing barbarous tribes, society 
 in its first and lowest form is a homogeneous aggregation 
 of individuals having like powers and like functions : the 
 only marked difference of function being that which accom- 
 panies difference of sex. Every man is warrior, hunter, 
 fisherman, tool-maker, builder ; every woman performs 
 the same drudgeries ; every family is self-sufficing, and save 
 for purposes of aggression and defence, might as well live 
 apart from the rest. Very early, however, in the process 
 of social evolution, we find an incipient differentiation be- 
 tween the governing and the governed. Some kind of 
 chieftainship seems coeval with the first advance from the 
 state of separate wandering families to that of a nomadic 
 tribe. The authority of the strongest makes itself felt 
 among a body of savages as in a herd of animals, or a 
 posse of schoolboys. At first, however, it is indefinite, un- 
 certain; is shared by others of scarcely inferior power; 
 
EAULY EVOLUTION OF GOVERNMENTS. 13 
 
 and is unaccompanied by any difference in occupation or 
 style of living : the first ruler kills his own game, makes 
 his own weapons, builds his own hut, and economically con- 
 sidered, does not differ from others of his tribe. Gradual- 
 ly, as the tribe progresses, the contrast between the gov- 
 erning and the governed grows more decided. Supreme 
 power becomes hereditary in one family ; the head of that 
 family, ceasing to provide for his own wants, is served by 
 others ; and he begins to assume the sole office of ruling. 
 
 At the same time there has been arising a co-ordinate 
 species of government — that of Religion. As all ancient re- 
 cords and traditions prove, the earliest rulers are regarded as 
 divine personages. The maxims and commands they uttered 
 during their lives are held sacred after their deaths, and are 
 enforced by their divinely-descended successors ; who in 
 their turns are promoted to the pantheon of the race, there 
 to be worshipped and propitiated along with their prede- 
 cessors : the most ancient of whom is the supreme god, and 
 the rest subordinate gods. For a long time these connate 
 forms of government — civil and religious — continue closely 
 associated. For many generations the king continues to 
 be the chief priest, and the priesthood to be members of 
 the royal race. For many ages religious law continues to 
 contain more or less of civU regulation, and civil law to 
 possess more or less of religioixs sanction ; and even among 
 the most advanced nations these two controlling agencies 
 are by no means completely differentiated from each other. 
 
 Having a common root with these, and gradually diverg- 
 ing from them, we find yet another controlling agency —that of 
 Manners or ceremonial usages. All titles of honour are 
 originally the names of the god-king ; afterwards of God 
 and the king ; still later of persons of high rank ; and fin- 
 ally come, some of them, to be used between man and man. 
 All forms of complimentary address were at first the ex- 
 pressions of submission from prisoners to their conqueror, 
 
14 PKOGEESS : ITS LAW AJSTD CAUSE. 
 
 or from subjects to their ruler, either human or divine — 
 expressions that were afterwards used to propitiate subor- 
 dinate authorities, and slowly descended into ordinary inter- 
 course. All modes of salutation were once obeisances made 
 before the monarch and used in worship of him after his 
 death. Presently others of the god-descended race were sim- 
 ilarly saluted ; and by degrees some of the salutations have 
 become the due of aU.* Thus, no sooner does the originally 
 liomogeneous social mass differentiate into the governed and 
 the governing parts, than this last exhibits an incipient dif- 
 ferentiation into religious and secular — Church and State ; 
 while at the same time there begins to be differentiated 
 from both, that less definite species of government which 
 rules our daily intercourse — a species of government which, 
 as we may see in heralds' colleges, in books of the peerage, 
 in masters of ceremonies, is not without a certain embodi- 
 ment of its own. Each of these is itself subject to succes- 
 sive differentiations. In the course of ages, there arises, as 
 among ourselves, a highly complex political organization of 
 monarch, ministers, lords and commons, with their subor- 
 dinate administrative departments, courts of justice, reve- 
 nue offices, &c., supjDlemented in the jiroviuces by munici- 
 pal governments, county governments, parish or union gov- 
 ernments — all of them more or less elaborated. By its side 
 there grows up a highly complex religious organization, 
 with its various grades of officials, from archbishops down 
 to sextons, its colleges, convocations, ecclesiastical courts, 
 &c. ; to aU which must be added the ever multiplying inde- 
 pendent sects, each with its general and local authorities. 
 And at the same time there is developed a highly complex 
 aggregation of customs, manners, and temporary fashions, 
 enforced by society at large, and serving to control those 
 
 * For detailed proof of tlicse assertions see essay on Manners ana 
 Fashion. 
 
INDUSTKIAIi DEVELOPMENT. 15 
 
 minor transactions between man and man which are not reg- 
 ulated by civil and religious law. Moreover it is to be ob- 
 served that this ever increasing heterogeneity in the gov- 
 ernmental appliances of each nation, has been accompanied 
 by an increasing heterogeneity in the governmental appl- 
 ances of different nations ; all of which are more or less 
 unlike in their political systems and legislation, in their 
 creeds and religious institutions, in their customs and cere- 
 monial usages. 
 
 Simultaneously there has been going on a second dif- 
 ferentiation of a more familiar kind ; that, namely, by 
 which the mass of the community has been segregated into 
 distinct classes and orders of workers. While the govern- 
 ing part has undergone the complex development above 
 detailed, the governed part has undergone an equally com- 
 plex development, which has resulted in that minute divis- 
 ion of labour characterizing advanced nations. It is need- 
 less to trace out this progress from its first stages, up 
 through the caste divisions of the East and the incorporat- 
 ed guilds of Europe, to the elaborate producing and dis- 
 tributing organization existmg among ourselves. Political 
 economists have long since desci'ibed the evolution which, 
 beginning with a tribe whose members severally perform 
 the same actions each for himself, ends with a civilized com- 
 munity whose members severally perform different actions 
 for each other ; and they have further pointed out the 
 changes through which the solitary producer of any one 
 commodity is transformed into a combination of producers 
 ■s^•ho, united under a master, take separate parts in the man- 
 ufacture of such commodity. But there are yet other and 
 higher phases of this advance from the homogeneous to the 
 heterogeneous in the industrial organization of society. 
 
 Long after considerable progress hasbecn made in the di- 
 dsion of labour among different classes of workers, there 
 IS ;till little or no division of labour among the widely scp- 
 
16 PKOGEESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 arated parts of the community ; the nation continues com- 
 paratively homogeneous in the respect that in each district 
 the same occupations are pursued. But when roads and 
 other means of transit become numerous and good, the di]& 
 ferent districts begin to assume different functions, and to 
 become mutually dej^endent. The calico manufacture lo- 
 cates itself in this county, the woollen-cloth manufacture in 
 that ; silks are produced here, lace there ; stockings in one 
 place, shoes in another ; pottery, hardware, cutlery, come 
 to have their special towns ; and ultimately every locality 
 becomes more or less distinguished from the rest by the 
 leading occupation carried on in it. Nay, more, this sub- 
 division of functions shows itself not only among the differ- 
 ent parts of the same nation, but among different nations. 
 That exchange of commodities which free-trade promises 
 so greatly to increase, will ultimately have the effect of 
 specializing, in a greater or less degree, the industry of 
 each people. So that beginning with a barbarous tribe, 
 almost if not quite homogeneous in the functions of its 
 members, the progress has been, and still is, towards an 
 economic aggregation of the w^hole human race ; growing 
 ever more heterogeneous in respect of the separate func- 
 tions assumed by separate nations, the separate functions 
 assumed by the local sections of each nation, the separate 
 functions assumed by the many kinds of makers and traders 
 in each town, and the separate functions assumed by the 
 workers united in producing each cominodity. 
 
 Not only is the law thus clearly exemplified in the evo 
 hition of the social organism, but it is exemjDlified with equal 
 clearness in the evolution of all products of human thought 
 and action, whether concrete or abstract, real or ideal. Let 
 us take Language as our first illustration. 
 
 The lowest form of language is the exclamation, by 
 which an entire idea is vaguely conveyed through a single 
 sound ; as among the lower animals. That human language 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF LANGUAGE. 17 
 
 ever consisted solely of exclamations, and so was strictly ho- 
 mogeneous in respect of its parts of speech, we have no evi- 
 dence. But that language can be traced down to a form 
 m which nouns and verbs are its only elements, is an estab- 
 lished fact. In the gradual multiplication of parts of speech 
 cut of these primary ones — in the diiferentiation of verb? 
 into active and passive, of nouns into abstract and concrete 
 —in the rise of distinctions of mood, tense, person, of num- 
 ber and case — in the foi'mation of auxiliary verbs, of adjec- 
 tives, adverbs, pronouns, prepositions, articles — in the di- 
 vergence of those orders, genera, species, and varieties of 
 parts of speech by which civiUzed races express minute 
 modifications of meaning — we see a change from the homo- 
 geneous to the heterogeneous. And it may be remarked, 
 in jDassing, that it is more esj^ecially in virtue of having 
 carried this subdivision of function to a greater extent and 
 comjileteness, that the English language is superior to all 
 others. 
 
 Another aspect under which we may trace the devel- 
 opment of language is the differentiation of words of 
 allied meanings. Philology early disclosed the truth that 
 in all languages words may be grouped into families having 
 a common ancestry. An aboriginal name applied indiscrim- 
 inately to each of an extensive and ill-defined class of things 
 or actions, presently undergoes modifications by which the 
 chief divisions of the class are expressed. These several 
 names springing from the primitive root, themselves become 
 the j^arents of other names still further modified. And bj 
 ihe aid of those systematic modes which presently arise, 
 of making derivations and forming compound terms ex- 
 pressing still smaller distinctions, there is finally developed 
 a tribe of words so heterogeneous in. sound and meaning, 
 that to the unmitiated it seems incredible that they should 
 have had a common origin. Meanwhile from other roots 
 there are being evolved other such tribes, until there r^- 
 
1 8 PEOGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 suits a language of some sixty thousand oi more unlike 
 words, signifying as many unlike objects, qualities, acts. 
 
 Yet another way in which language in general advances 
 from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, is in the mul 
 tiplication of languages. Whether as Max Miiller and Bun- 
 sen think, all languages have grown from one stock, or 
 whether, as some philologists say, they have grown from 
 two or more stocks, it is clear that since large families of 
 languages, as the Indo-European, are of one parentage, 
 they have become distinct through a process of continuous 
 divergence. The same diffusion over the Earth's surface 
 which has led to the differentiation of the race, has simulta- 
 neously led to a differentiation of their speech : a truth 
 which we see further illustrated in each nation by the pecu- 
 liarities of dialect found in several districts. Thus the pro- 
 gress of Language conforms to the general.law, alike in the 
 evolution of languages, in the evolution of families of words, 
 and in the evolution of parts of speech. 
 
 On passing from spoken to written language, we come 
 upon several classes of facts, all having similar implications. 
 Written language is connate with Painting and Sculj^ture ; 
 and at first all three are appendages of Architecture, and 
 have a direct connection with the primary form of all Gov- 
 ernment — the theocratic. Merely noting by the way the 
 fact that sundry wild races, as for example the Australians 
 and the tribes of South Africa, are given to depicting per- 
 sonages and events upon the walls of caves, which are prob- 
 ably regarded as sacred places, let us jDass to the case of 
 the Egyptians. Among them, as also among the Assyrians, 
 we find mural paintings used to decorate the temple of the 
 god and the palace of the king (which were, indeed, origi- 
 nally identical) ; and as such they were governmental appli- 
 ances in the same sense that state-pageants and religious 
 feasts were. Further, they were governmental appliances 
 in virtue of representing the worship of the god, the tri- 
 
PICTOKIAL GEEMS OF LANGUAGE. 19 
 
 nmplis of the god-king, the submission of his suhjects, and 
 the punishment of the rebellious. And yet again they were 
 governmental, as being the products of an art reverenced 
 by the people as a sacred mystery. From the habitual use 
 of this pictorial reiiresentation there naturally grew up the 
 but slightly-modified practice of picture-writing — a practice 
 ^vhich was found still extant among the Mexicans at the time 
 they were discovered. By abbreviations analogous to those 
 still going on in our own written and spoken language, the 
 most familiar of these pictured figures were successively sim- 
 plified ; and ultimately there grew up a system of symbols, 
 most of which had but a distant resemblance to the things 
 for which they stood. The inference that the hieroglyphics 
 of the Egyptians were thus produced, is confirmed by the 
 fact that the picture-writing of the Mexicans was found to 
 have given birth to a like family of ideographic forms ; and 
 among them, as among the Egyptians, these had been par- 
 tially differentiated into the Jcuriologlcal or imitative, and 
 the tropical or symbolic : which were, however, used to- 
 gether in the same record. In Egypt, written language 
 underwent a further differentiation : whence resulted the 
 hieratic and the epistolo graphic or enchorial : both of which 
 are derived from the original hieroglyphic. At the same 
 time we find that for the expression of proper names which 
 could not be otherwise conveyed, phonetic symbols were 
 employed ; and though it is alleged that the Egyptians 
 never actually achieved complete alphabetic writing, yet it 
 can scarcely be doubted that these phonetic symbols occa- 
 eionally used in aid of their ideographic ones, were the 
 germs out of which alphabetic writing grew. Once having 
 become separate from hieroglyphics, alphabetic writing it' 
 self underwent numerous differentiations — multiplied alpha*' 
 bets were produced; between most of which, however, mere 
 or less connection can still be traced. And m each civil- 
 ized nation there has now grown up, for the representation 
 
20 PEOGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 of one set of sounds, several sets of written signs used for 
 distinct purposes. Finally, through a yet more important 
 differentiation came printing ; which, uniform in kind as it 
 was at first, has since become multiform. 
 
 WhUe written language was passing through its earlier 
 stages of development, the mural decoration w^hich formed 
 its root was being differentiated into Painting and Sculp« 
 ture. The gods, kings, men, and animals represented, were 
 originally marked by indented outlines and coloured. In 
 most cases these outlines were of such depth, and the ob- 
 ject they circumscribed so far rounded and marked out in 
 its leading parts, as to form a species of work intermediate 
 between intaglio and bas-relief. In other cases we see an 
 advance upon this : the raised spaces between the figures 
 being chiselled off, and the figures themselves appropriately 
 tinted, a painted bas-relief was produced. The restored 
 Assyrian architecture at Sydenham exhibits this style of 
 art carried to greater perfection — the persons and things 
 represented, though still barbarously coloured, are carved 
 out with more truth and in greater detail : and in the 
 winged lions and bulls used for the angles of gateways, we 
 may see a considerable advance towards a completely 
 sculptured figure ; which, nevertheless, is still coloured, 
 and still forms jjart of the building. But while in Assyria 
 the production of a statue proper seems to have been lit- 
 tle, if at all, attempted, we may trace in Egyptian art the 
 gradual separation of the sculptured figure from the wall. 
 A walk through the collection in the British Museum will 
 clearly show this ; while it will at the same time afford an 
 opportunity of observing the evident traces which the inde- 
 pendent statues bear of their derivation from bas-relief: 
 seeing that nearly all of them not only display that union 
 of the limbs wdth the body which is the characteristic of 
 bas-relief, but have the back of the statue united from 
 bead to foot with a block which stands in place of the 
 
OEIGIN OF CHRISTIAN AET. 21 
 
 original wall. Greece repeated the leading stages of this 
 progress. As in Egypt and Assyi'ia, these twin arts were 
 at first united with each other and with their parent, Archi- 
 tecture, and were the aids of Religion and Government. 
 On the friezes of Greek temples, we see coloured bas-reliefs 
 representing sacrifices, battles, processions, games — all in 
 some sort religious. On the pediments we see painted 
 sculptures more or less united with the tympanum, and 
 having for subjects the triumphs of gods or heroes. Even 
 when we come to statues that are definitely separated from 
 the buildings to which they pertain, we still find them 
 coloured ; and only in the later periods of Greek civiliza- 
 tion does the difierentiation of sculpture from painting 
 aj)pear to have become complete. 
 
 In Christian art we may clearly trace a jDarallel re gene- 
 sis. All early paintings and sculptures throughout Europe 
 were religious in subject — represented Christs, crucifixions, 
 virgins, holy families, apostles, saints. They formed inte- 
 gral parts of churcb architecture, and were among the 
 means of exciting worship ; as in Roman Catholic countries 
 they still are. Moreover, the early sculptures of Christ on 
 the cross, of virgins, of saints, were coloured : and it needs 
 but to call to mind the painted madonnas and crucifixes 
 still abundant in continental churches and highways, to 
 perceive the significant fact that painting and sculpture 
 continue in closest connection with each other where they 
 continue in closest connection with, their parent. Even 
 when Christian sculpture was pretty clearly difierentiated 
 from painting, it was still religious and governmental in its 
 subjects— was used for tombs in churches and statues of 
 kings : while, at the same time, painting, where not purely 
 ecclesiastical, was applied to the decoration of palaces, and 
 besides representing royal personages, was almost wholly 
 devoted to sacred legends. Only in quite recent timea 
 have painting and sculpture become entirely secular arts. 
 
22 PliOGKESS : ITS I-A^V AND CAUSE. 
 
 Only within these few centuries has painting been divided 
 into historical, landsc&pe, marine, architectural, genre, ani- 
 mal, still-life, &c., and sculpture grown heterogeneouj in 
 respect of the variety of real and ideal subjects with which 
 it occupies itself. 
 
 Strange as it seems then, we find it no less true, that 
 all forms of written language, of painting, and of sculp- 
 ture, have a common root in the politico-religious decora- 
 tions of ancient temples and palaces. Little resemblance 
 as they now have, the bust that stands on the console, the 
 landscape that hangs against the wall, and the copy of the 
 Times lying upon the table, are remotely akin ; not only 
 in nature, but by extraction. The brazen face of the 
 knocker which the postman has just lifted, is related not 
 only to the woodcuts of the Illustrated London Nev^s 
 which he is delivering, but to the characters of the billet- 
 doux which accompanies it. Between the painted window, 
 the prayer-book on which its hght falls, and the adjacent 
 monument, there is consanguinity. The effigies on our 
 coins, the signs over shops, the figures that fill every ledger, 
 the coats of arms outside the carriage panel, and the pla- 
 cards inside the omnibus, are, in common with dolls, blue- 
 books, pajDcr-hangings, lineally descended from the rude 
 sculpture-paintings in which the Egyptians represented the 
 triumphs and worship of their god-kings. Perhaj)S no 
 example can be given which more vividly illustrates the 
 multiplicity and heterogeneity of the products that in 
 course of time may arise by successive differentiations from 
 a common stock. 
 
 Before passing to other classes of facts, it should be 
 observed that the evolution of the homogeneous into the 
 heterogeneous is displayed not only in the separation of 
 Painting and Sculpture from Architecture and from each 
 other, and in the greater variety of subjects they embody, 
 bat it is further shown in the structure of each work. A 
 
ETOLUTIOX OF PAIA'TING AND STATUARY. 23 
 
 modern picture or statue is of far more Loterogeneoua 
 nature than an ancient one. An Egyptian sculpture-fresco 
 represents all its figures as on one plane — tliat is, at the 
 same distance from the eye ; and so is less heterogeneous 
 than a painting that represents them as at various distances 
 from the eye. It exhibits all objects as exposed to the 
 same degree of light ; and so is less heterogeneous than a 
 painting which exhibits different objects and different parts 
 of each object as in different degrees of light. It uses 
 scarcely any but the primary colours, and these in their 
 full intensity ; and so is less heterogeneous than a painting 
 which, introducing the primary colours but sparingly, em- 
 ploys an endless variety of intermediate tints, each of hete- 
 rogeneous composition, and differing from the rest not only 
 in quality but in intensity. Moreover, we see in these ear- 
 liest works a great uniformity of conception. The same 
 arrangement of figures is perpetually reproduced — the 
 same actions, attitudes, faces, dresses. In Egypt the modes 
 of representation were so fixed that it was sacrilege to 
 introduce a novelty ; and indeed it could have been only 
 in consequence of a fixed mode of representation that a 
 system of hieroglyphics became possible. The Assyrian 
 bas-reliefs display parallel characters. Deities, kings, at- 
 tendants, winged figures and animals, are severally depicted 
 in like positions, holding like implements, doing like things, 
 and with like expression or non-expression of face. If a 
 palm-grove is introduced, all the trees are of the same 
 height, have the same number of leaves, and are equidis- 
 tant. When water is imitated, each wave is a counterpart 
 of the rest ; and the fish, almost always of one kind, arc 
 evenly distributed over the surface. The beards of tlici 
 kings, the gods, and the winged figures, are everywhere 
 similar : as are the manes of the lions, and equally so those 
 of the horses. Hair is represented throughout by one form 
 of curl. The king's beard is quite architecturally built 
 
24- TEOGEESS : ITS LA^V AISTD CAUSE. 
 
 up of compound tiers of uniform curls, alternating with 
 twisted tiers placed in a transverse direction, and arranged 
 with perfect regularity ; and the terminal tufts of the bulls* 
 tails are rei^resented in exactly the same manner. With- 
 out tracing out analogous facts in early Christian art, in 
 rvhich, though less striking, they are still visible, the ad- 
 vance in heterogeneity will be sufficiently manifest on 
 remembering that in the pictures of our own day the com- 
 position is endlessly varied ; the attitudes, faces, expres- 
 sions, unlike ; the subordinate objects different in size, form, 
 position, texture ; and more or less of contrast even in the 
 smallest details. Or, if we compare an Egyptian statue, 
 seated bolt upright on a block, with hands on knees, fin- 
 gers outspread and parallel, eyes looking straight forward, 
 and the two sides perfectly symmetrical in every particu- 
 lar, with a statue of the advanced Greek or the modern 
 school, which is asymmetrical in respect of the position of 
 the head, the body, the limbs, the arrangement of the hair, 
 dress, appendages, and in its relations to neighbouring 
 objects, we shall see the change from the homogeneous to 
 the heterogeneous clearly manifested. 
 
 In the co-ordinate origin and gradual differentiation of 
 Poetry, Music and Dancing, we have another series of illus- 
 trations. Rhythm in speech, rhythm in sound, and rhythm 
 in motion, were in the beginning j^arts of the same thing, 
 and have only in j^rocess of time become separate things. 
 Ainong various existing barbarous tribes we find them still 
 united. The dances of savages are accompanied by some 
 kind of monotonous chant, the clapping of hands, the strik- 
 ing of rude instruments : there are measured movements, 
 measured words, and measured tones; and the whole cere- 
 mony, usually having reference to war or sacrifice, is of 
 governmental character. In the early records of the his- 
 toric races we similarly find these three forms of metrical 
 action united in relic-ious festivals. In the Hebrew writinofs 
 
EVOLUTION OF MUSIC AND POETET. 25 
 
 we read that the truimphal ode composed by Moses on the 
 defeat of the Egyptians, was sung to an accompaniment of 
 dancing and timbrels. The IsraeHtes danced and sung " at 
 the inauguration of the golden calf. And as it is generally 
 ^agreed that this representation of the Deity was borrowed 
 from the mysteries of Apis, it is probable that the dancing 
 was copied from that of the Egyptians on those occasions." 
 There was an annual dance in Shiloh on the sacred festival ; 
 and David danced before the ark. Again, in Greece the 
 like relation is everywhere seen : the original type being 
 there, as probably in other cases, a simultaneous chanting 
 and mimetic representation of the life and adventures of 
 the god. The Spartan dances were accompanied by hymns 
 and songs ; and in general the Greeks had " no festivals or 
 religious assemblies but what were accompanied with songs 
 and dances " — both of them being forms of worship used 
 before altars. Among the Romans, too, there were sacred 
 dances : the Salian and LupQrcalian being named as of 
 that kind. And even in Christian countries, as at Limoges, 
 in comparatively recent times, the people have danced in 
 the choir in honour of a saint. The incipient separation 
 of these once united arts from each other and from reli- 
 gion, was early visible in Greece. Probably diverging from 
 dances partly religious, partly warlike, as the Corybantian, 
 came the war dances proper, of which there were various 
 kinds ; and from these resulted secular dances. Mean- 
 while Music and Poetry, though still united, came to have 
 an existence separate from dancing. The aboriginal Greek 
 poems, religious in subject, were not recited, but chanted ; 
 and though at first the chant of the jDoet was accompanied 
 by the dance of the chorus, it ultimately grevv^ into inde- 
 pendence. Later still, when the poem had been diiferen- 
 tiated into epic and lyric — when it became the custom to 
 sing the lyric and recite the epic — poetry proper was born. 
 As during the same period musical instruments were being 
 
26 PEOGEESS : ITS LAW AND CATISE. 
 
 multiplied, we may presume that music came to have an 
 existence apart from words. And both of them were be- 
 ginning to assume other forms besides the religious. Facts 
 having like implications might be cited from the histories 
 of later times and peoples : as the practices of our own 
 early minstrels, who sang to the harp heroic narratives ver- 
 sified by themselves to music of their own composition : 
 thus uniting the now separate offices of poet, comj)oser, vo- 
 calist, and instrumentalist. But, without further illustra- 
 tion, the common origin and gradual differentiation of 
 Dancing, Poetry, and Music will be sufficiently manifest. 
 
 The advance from the homogeneous to the heterogene- 
 ous is displayed not only in the separation of these arts from 
 each other and from religion, but also in the multiplied dif- 
 ferentiations Avhich each of them afterwards undergoes. 
 Not to dwell upon the numberless kinds of dancing that 
 Iiave, in course of time, come into use ; and not to occupy 
 space in detailing the progr.ess of poetry, as seen in the de- 
 velopment of the various forms of metre, of rhyme, and 
 of general organization ; let us confine our attention to 
 music as a type of the group. As argued by Dr. Burney, 
 and as implied by the customs of still extant barbai'oug 
 races, the first musical instruments were, without doubt, 
 percussive — sticks, calabashes, tom-toms — and were used 
 simply to mark the time of the dance ; and in this constant 
 repetition of the same sound, we see music in its most 
 homogeneous form. 
 
 The Egyptians had a lyre with three strings. The 
 early lyre of the Greeks had four, constituting their tetra- 
 chord. In course of some centuries lyres of seven and 
 eight strings were emj^loyed. And, by the expiration of 
 athousand years, they had advanced to their " great system'' 
 of the double octave. Through all which changes there of 
 course arose a greater heterogeneity of melody. Simulta^ 
 ueously there came into use the different modes — Dorian, 
 
EVOLUTION OF JJTTSIC AND POETET. 27 
 
 Ionian, Phrygian, ^olian, and Lyclian — answeriLg to our 
 keys ; and of these there were ultimately fifteen. As yet, 
 however, there was but little heterogeneity in the time of 
 their music. 
 
 Instrumental music during this period being merely the 
 accompaniment of vocal music, and Tocal music being com- 
 pletely subordinated to words, the singer being also the poet, 
 chanting his own compositions and making the lengths of his 
 notes agree with the feet of his verses, — there unavoidably 
 arose a tiresome uniformity of measure, which, as Dr. Bur- 
 ncy says, " no resources of melody could disguise." Lacking 
 the complex rhythm obtained by our equal bars and unequal 
 notes the only rhythm was that produced by the quantity of 
 the syllables and was of necessity comiDaratively monotonous. 
 And furthei", it may be observed that the chant thus result- 
 ing, being like recitative, was much less clearly differen- 
 tiated from ordinary speech than is our modern song. 
 
 ll^evertheless, in virtue of the extended range of notes 
 in use, the variety of modes, the occasional variations of 
 time consequent on changes of metre, and the multiplica- 
 tion of instruments, music had, towards the close of Greek 
 civilization, attained to considerable heterogeneity — not 
 indeed as compared "VN-ith our music, but as compared with 
 that which preceded it. As yet, however, there existed 
 nothing but melody : harmony was unknown. It was not 
 until Christian church-music had reached some develoj)ment, 
 that music in parts was evolved ; and then it came into 
 existence through a very unobtrusive differentiation. Difii- 
 cult as it may be to conceive & priori how the advance 
 from melody to harmony could take place without a sud- 
 den leap, it is none the less true that it did so. The 
 circumstance which prepared the way for it was the em- 
 ployment of two choirs singing alternately the same air. 
 Afterwards it became the practice — very possibly first 
 suggested by a mistake — for the second chou* to com 
 
28 TEOGEESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE, 
 
 raence before the first had ceased ; thus produciug 
 fugue. 
 
 With the simple airs then in use, a partially harmo 
 nious fugue might not improbably thus result : and a verj 
 partially harmonious fugue satisfied the ears of that age, 
 as we know from still preserved examples. The idea hav- 
 ing once been given, the composing of airs productive of 
 fugal harmony Avould naturally grow up ; as in some way 
 it did grow up out of this alternate choir-singing. And 
 from the fugue to concerted music of two, three, four, and 
 more parts, the transition was easy. "Without pointing 
 out in detail the increasing complexity that resulted from 
 introducing notes of various lengths, from the multiplica- 
 tion of keys, from the use of accidentals, from varieties of 
 time, and so forth, it needs but to contrast music as it is, 
 with music as it was, to see how immense is the increase 
 of heterogeneity. We see this if, looking at music in its 
 ensemble^ we enumerate its many different genera and 
 species — if we consider the divisions into vocal, instrumen- 
 tal, and mixed ; and their subdivisions into music for difier- 
 ent voices and difierent instruments — if we observe the 
 many forms of sacred music, from the simple hymn, the 
 chant, the canon, motet, anthem, &c., up to the oratorio ; 
 and the still more numerous forms of secular music, from 
 the ballad up to the serenata, from the instrumental solo up 
 to the symj)hony. 
 
 Again, the same truth is seen on comparing any one 
 sample of aboriginal music with a sample of modern music 
 ' — even an ordinary song for the piano ; which we find to 
 be relatively highly heterogeneous, not only in respect of 
 the varieties in the pitch and in the length of the notes, 
 the number of different notes sounding at the same instant 
 in compan}' with the voice, and the variations of strength 
 with which they are sounded and sung, but in respect of 
 the changes of key, the changes of time, the changes of 
 
EVOLUTION OF LITEEATUKE. 2S 
 
 timbre of the voice, and the many other modifications of 
 expression. While between the old monotonous dance- 
 chant and a grand ojDera of our own day, with its endless 
 orchestral complexities and vocal combinations, the con- 
 trast in heterogeneity is so extreme that it seems scarcely 
 credible that the one should have been the ancestor of th*i 
 other. 
 
 Were they needed, many further illustrations might be 
 cited. Going back to the early time when the deeds of 
 the god-king, chanted and mimetically represented in 
 dances round his altar, were further narrated in picture- 
 writings on the walls of temples and palaces, and so con- 
 stituted a rude literature, we might trace the development 
 of Literature through phases in which, as in the Hebrew 
 Scriptures, it presents in one work theology, cosmogony, 
 history, biography, civil law, ethics, poetry ; through other 
 phases in which, as in the Iliad, the religious, martial, his- 
 torical, the epic, dramatic, and lyric elements are similarly 
 commingled ; down to its present heterogeneous develop- 
 ment, in which its divisions and subdivisions are so numer- 
 ous and varied as to defy complete classification. Or we 
 might trace out the evolution of Science ; beginning with 
 the era in which it was not yet differentiated from Art, 
 and was, in union with Art, the handmaid of Religion ; pass- 
 ing through the era in which the sciences were so few and 
 rudimentary, as to be simultaneously cultivated by the same 
 philosophers ; and ending with the era in which the genera 
 and species are so numerous that few can enumerate them, 
 and no one can adequately grasp even one genus. Or we 
 might do the hke with Architecture, with the Drama, with 
 Dress. 
 
 But doubtless the reader is already weary of illustra- 
 tions ; and our promise has been amply fulfilled. We 
 believe we have shown beyond question, that that which 
 the German physiologists have found to be the law of 
 
30 PR0GEES8 : ns x.aw and causs. 
 
 organic development, is the law of all development. Tlif 
 -idvance from the simple to the complex, through a process 
 of successive differentiations, is seen alike in the earliest 
 changes of the Universe to which we can reason our way 
 back ; and in the earliest changes which we can indue- 
 lively establish ; it is seen in the geologic and climatio 
 evolution of the Earth, and of every single organism on its 
 surtace ; it is seen in the evolution of Humanity, whether 
 contemplated in the civilized individual, or in the aggre- 
 gation of races ; it is seen in the evolution of Society in 
 respect alike of its political, its religious, and its economi- 
 cal organization ; and it is seen in the evolution of all 
 those endless concrete and abstract products of human 
 activity which constitute the environment of our daily life. 
 From the remotest past which Science can fathom, up to 
 the novelties of yesterday, that in which Progress essen- 
 tially consists, is the transformation of the homogeneous 
 into the heterogeneous. 
 
 And now, from this uniformity of procedure, may we 
 not infer some fundamental necessity whence it results ? 
 May we not rationally seek for some all-pervading princi- 
 ple which determines this all-j)ervading process, of things ? 
 Does not the universality of the Icao imply a universal 
 cause ? 
 
 That we can fathom such cause, noumenally considered, 
 is not to be supposed. To do this would be to solve that 
 ultimate mystery which must ever transcend human intelli- 
 gence. But it still may be possible for us to reduce the 
 law of all Progress, above established, from the condition 
 of an empirical generalization, to the condition of a ra- 
 tional generalization. Just as it was possible to interpret 
 Kepler's laws as necessary consequences of the law of gravi- 
 tation ; so it may be possible to interpret this law of Pro- 
 gi'css, in its multiform manifestations, as the necessary con- 
 
NECESSARY NATURE OF THE CAUSE. 31 
 
 sequence of some similarly universal principle. As gravi- 
 tation Avas assignable as the cause of each of the groups of 
 phenomena which Kepler formulated ; so may some equally 
 simple attribute of things be assignable as the cause of each 
 of the groups of phenomena formulated in the foregomg 
 pages. We may be able to affiliate all these varied and 
 complex evolutions of the homogeneous into the heteroge- 
 neous, upon certain simple facts of immediate experi- 
 ence, which, in virtue of endless repetition, we regard aa 
 necessary. 
 
 The probability of a common cause, and the possibility 
 of formulating it, being granted, it will be well, before 
 going further, to consider what must be the general 
 characteristics of such cause, and in what direction we 
 ought to look for it. "We can with certainty predict that 
 it has a high degree of generality ; seeing that it is com- 
 mon to such infinitely varied phenomena : just in propor- 
 tion to the universality of its application must be the 
 abstractness of its character. "VYe need not expect to see 
 in it an obvious solution of this or that form of Progress ; 
 because it equally refers to forms of Progress bearing little 
 apparent resemblance to them : its association with multi- 
 form orders of facts, involves its dissociation from any par- 
 ticular order of facts. Being that which determines Pro- 
 gress of every kind — astronomic, geologic, organic, ethnolo- 
 gic, social, economic, artistic, &c. — it must be concerned 
 with some fundamental attribute possessed in common by 
 these ; and must be expressible in terms of this fundamen- 
 tal attribute. The only obvious respect in which all kinds 
 of Progress are alike, is, that they are modes of change ; and 
 hence, in some characteristic of changes in general, the de- 
 sired solution will probably be found. We may suspect 
 d priori that in some law of change lies the explanation of 
 this universal transformation of the homogeneous into the 
 heterogeneous. 
 
B2 PROGKESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 Thus much premised, we pass at once to the statement 
 of the law, which is this : — Every active force produces 
 more than one change — every cause produces more than one 
 effect. 
 
 Before this law can be duly comprehended, a few exam- 
 ples must be looked at. When one body is struck against 
 another, that which we usually regard as the effect, is a 
 change of position or motion in one or both bodies. But 
 a moment's thought shows us that this is a careless and 
 very incomplete view of the matter. Besides the visible 
 mechanical result, sound is produced ; or, to speak accurate- 
 ly, a vibration in one or both bodies, and in the surround- 
 ing air : and under some circumstances we call this the ef- 
 fect. Moreover, the air has not only been made to vibrate, 
 but has had sundry currents caused in it by the transit of 
 the bodies. Further, there is a disarrangement of the par- 
 ticles of the two bodies in the neighbourhood of their point 
 of collision ; amounting in some cases to a visible conden- 
 sation. Yet more, this condensation is accompanied by the 
 disengagement of heat. In some cases a spark — that is, 
 light — results, from the incandescence of a portion struck 
 off; and sometimes this incandescence is associated with 
 chemical combination. 
 
 Thus, by the original mechanical force expended in the 
 collision, at least five, and often more, different kinds of 
 changes have been produced. Take, again, the lighting of 
 a candle. Primarily this is a chemical change consequent 
 on a rise of temj)erature. The process of combination 
 having once been set going by extraneous heat, there is a 
 continued formation of carbonic acid, water, etc. — in itself 
 a result more complex than the extraneous heat that first 
 caused it. But accompanying this process of combination 
 there is a production of heat ; there is a production of light ; 
 there is an ascending column of hot gases generated ; there 
 are currents established in the surrounding air. Moreover 
 
MULTIPLICATION OF EFFECTS. 33 
 
 the decomposition of one force into many forces does noi 
 end here : each of the several changes produced becomes 
 the parent of further changes. The carhonic acid given 
 off will by and by combine with some base ; or under the 
 influence of sunshine give up its cai'bon to the leaf of a 
 plant. The water will modify the hygrometric state of the 
 air around ; or, if the current of hot gases containing it 
 come against a cold body, will be condensed : altering the 
 temperature, and perhaps the chemical state, of the surface 
 it covers. The heat given out melts the subjacent tallow, 
 and expands whatever it warms. The light, falling on vari- 
 ous substances, calls forth from them reactions by which 
 it is modified ; and so divers colours are produced. Similarly 
 even with these secondary actions, which may be traced out 
 into ever-multiplying ramifications, until they become too 
 minute to be appreciated. And thus it is with all changes 
 whatever. No case can be named in which an active force 
 :loes not evolve forces of several kinds, and each of these, 
 other groups offerees. Universally the effect is more com- 
 plex than the cause. 
 
 Doubtless the reader already foresees, the course of our 
 argument. This multiplication of results, which is displayed 
 in every event of to-day, has been going on from the begin- 
 ning ; and is true of the grandest phenomena of the uni- 
 verse as of the most insignificant. From the law that every 
 active force produces more than one change, it is an inevit- 
 able corollary that through all time there has been an ever- 
 growing complication of things. Starting with the ultimate 
 Ihct that every cause produces more than one effect, we may 
 readily see that throughout creation there must have gout; 
 on, and must still go on, a never-ceasing transformation ol' 
 the homogeneous into the heterogeneous. But let us tract 
 Dut this truth in detail.* 
 
 * A correlative truth which ought also to be taken into account (that 
 tte state of homogeneity is one of unstable equilibria ra), but whirh ii 
 
34 moGKESs : its law and cause. 
 
 Without committing ourselves to it as more than a sjk'C- 
 ulation, though a highly probable one, let us again com- 
 mence with the evolution of the solar system out of a ne- 
 bulous medium.* From the mutual attraction of the atoma 
 of a diffused mass whose form is unsymmetrical, there re- 
 sults not only condensation but rotation : gravitation simul- 
 taneously generates both the centripetal and the centrifugal 
 forces. While the condensation and the rate of rotation 
 are progressively increasing, the approach of the atoms ne- 
 cessarily generates a progressively increasing temperature. 
 As this temperature rises, light begins to be evolved ; and 
 ultimately there results a revolving sphere of fluid matter 
 radiating intense heat and light — a sun. 
 
 There are good reasons for believing that, in consequence 
 of the high tangential velocity, and consequent centrifugal 
 force, acquired by the outer parts of the condensing nebu- 
 lous mass, thei-e must be a periodical detachment of rota- 
 ting rings ; and that, from the breaking up of these nebu- 
 lous rings, there must arise masses which in the course of 
 their condensation repeat the actions of the ^^arent mass, 
 and so produce planets and their satellites — an inference 
 strongly supported by the still extant rings of Saturn. 
 
 Should it hereafter be satisfactorily shown that planets 
 and satellites were thus generated, a striking illustration 
 will be afforded of the highly heterogeneous effects pro- 
 duced by the primary homogeneous cause ; but it will 
 serve our present pui-pose to point to the fact that from the 
 
 would gi'eatly encumber the argument to exemplify in connection with 
 the above, will be found developed in the essay on Trmiscenderdal Phymo- 
 
 *■ The idea that the Nebular Hypothesis has been disproved because 
 what were thought to be existing ncbuloB have been resolved into clusters 
 of stars is almost beneath notice. A priori it was highly improbable, if 
 Qot impossible, that nebulous masses should still remain uncondensed, 
 while others have been condensed millions of years ago. 
 
EFFECTS OF THE EAETh's INCANDESCENCE. 35 
 
 mutual attraction of the particles of an irregular nebulous 
 mass there result condensation, rotation, heat, and light. 
 
 It follows as a corollary from the Nebular Hypothesis, 
 that the Earth must at first have been incandescent ; and 
 whether the Nebular Hypothesis be true or not, this origi 
 nal incandescence of the Earth is now inductively established 
 — or, if not established, at least rendered so highly pro- 
 bable that it is a generally admitted geological doctrine. 
 Let us look first at the astronomical attributes of this once 
 molten globe. From its rotation there result the oblate- 
 iiess of its form, the alternations of day and night, and (un- 
 der the influence of the moon) the tides, aqueous and at- 
 mospheric. From the inclination of its axis, there result 
 the precession of the equinoxes and the many difterences of 
 the seasons, both simultaneous and successive, that pervade 
 its surface. Thus the multij)lication of efiects is obvious. 
 Several of the differentiations due to the gradual cooling 
 of the Earth have been already noticed — as the formation 
 of a crust, the solidification of sublimed elements, the pre- 
 cipitation of water, &c., — and we here again refer to them 
 merely to point out that they are simultaneous efiects of 
 the one cause, diminishing heat. 
 
 Let us now, however, observe the multiplied changes 
 aftei'wards arising from the continuance of this one cause. 
 The cooling of the Earth involves its contraction. Hence the 
 solid crust first formed is presently too large for the shrink- 
 ing nucleus ; and as it cannot support itself, inevitably follows 
 the nucleus. But a spheroidal envelope cannot sink down 
 into contact with a smaller internal spheroid, without disrup- 
 tion ; it must run into wrinkles as the rind of an ajDple does 
 when the bulk of its interior decreases from evaporation. 
 As the cooling ^^rogresses and the envelope thickens, the 
 ridges consequent on these contractions must become 
 greater, rising ultimately into hills and mountains ; and the 
 later systems of mountains thus produced must npt only be 
 
36 PROGEESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 higher, as we find them to be, but they must be longer, as 
 we also find them to be. Thus, leaving out of view other 
 modifying forces, we see what immense heterogeneity of 
 surface has arisen from the one cause, loss of heat — a heto- 
 rogeneity which the telescope shows us to be paralleled oc 
 the face of the moon, where aqueous and atmospheric 
 agencies have been absent. 
 
 But we have yet to notice another kind of heterogeneity 
 of surface similarly and simultaneously caused. While the 
 Earth's crust was still thin, the ridges produced by its con- 
 traction must not only bave been small, but the spaces be- 
 tween these ridges must have rested with great evenness 
 upon the subjacent liquid spheroid ; and the water in those 
 arctic and antarctic regions in which it first condensed, must 
 have been evenly distributed. But as fast as the crust grew 
 thicker and gained corresponding strength, the lines of 
 fracture from time to time caused in it, must have occurred 
 at greater distances apart ; the intermediate surfaces must 
 have followed the contracting nucleus with less uniformity ; 
 and there must have resulted larger areas of land and wa- 
 ter. If any one, after wrapping up an orange in wet tissue 
 paper, and observing not only how small are the wrinkles, 
 but how evenly the intervening spaces lie upon the surface 
 of the orange, will then wrap it up in thick cartridge-paper, 
 and note both the greater height of the ridges and the 
 much larger spaces throughout which the pai:)er does not 
 touch the orange, he will realize the fact, that as the Earth's 
 solid envelope grew thicker, the areas of elevation and de- 
 pression must have become greater. In place of islands 
 more or less homogeneously scattered over an all-embra- 
 cing sea, there must have gradually arisen heterogeneoug 
 arrangements of continent and ocean, such as we now know. 
 
 Or.oe more, this double change in the extent and in the 
 elevation of the lands, involved yet another species of he- 
 terogeneity, that of coast-line. A tolerably even surfaco 
 
CHANGES PKODUCED BY AIR AKD \\ ATER. 37 
 
 raised out of the ocean, mast have a simple, regular sea- 
 margin ; but a surface varied by table-lands and intersected 
 by mountain-chains must, when raised out of the ocean, 
 have an outline extremely irregular both in its leading 
 features and in its details. Thus endless is the accumula- 
 tion of geological and geographical results slowly brought 
 about by this one cause — the contraction of the Earth. 
 
 When we pass from the agency which geologists term 
 Igneous, to aqueous and atmos2:)heric agencies, we see the 
 like ever-growing complications of effects. The denuding 
 actions of air and water have, from the beginning, been 
 modifying every exposed surface ; everywhere causing 
 many different changes. Oxidation, heat, wind, frost, 
 rain, glaciers, rivers, tides, waves, have been unceasingly 
 producing disintegration ; varying in kind and amount ac- 
 cording to local circumstances. Acting vipon a tract of 
 granite, they here work scarcely an appreciable effect ; 
 there cause exfoliations of the surface, and a resulting heap 
 of debris and boulders ; and elsewhere, after decomposing 
 the feldspar into a white clay, carry away this and the ac- 
 companying quartz and mica, and deposite them in separate 
 beds, fluviatile and marine. When the exposed land con- 
 sists of several unlike formations, sedimentary and igneous, 
 the denudation produces changes proportionably more he- 
 terogeneous. The formations being disintegrable in different 
 degrees, there follows an increased irregularity of surface. 
 The areas drained by difierent rivers being differently con- 
 stituted, these rivers carry down to the sea different com- 
 binations of ingredients; and so sundry new strata of 
 distinct composition are formed. 
 
 And here indeed we may see very simply illustrated, 
 the truth, which we shall presently have to trace out in 
 more mvolved cases, that in proportion to the heterogeneity 
 of the object or objects on which any force expends itself, 
 Is the heterogeneity of the results. A continent of com 
 
88 PKOGBESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 plex structure, exposing many strata irregularly distributed, 
 raised to various levels, tilted up at all angles, must, undei 
 the same denuding agencies, give origin to immensely mul- 
 tiplied results ; each district must be differently modified ; 
 each river must carry down a different kind of detritus ; 
 each deposit must be differently distributed by the en- 
 tangled currents, tidal and other, which wash the con« 
 torted shores ; and this multiplication of results must 
 manifestly be greatest where the complexity of the surface 
 is greatest. 
 
 It is out of the question here to trace in detail the genesis 
 of those endless complications described by Geology and 
 Physical Geography : else we might show how the general 
 truth, that every active force produces more than one 
 change, is exemplified in the highly involved flow of the 
 tides, in the ocean currents, in the winds, in the distribu- 
 tion of rain, in the distribution of heat, and so forth. But 
 not to dwell upon these, let us, for the fuller elucidation 
 of this truth in relation to the inorganic world, consider 
 Avhat would be the consequences of some extensive cos- 
 mical revolution — say the subsidence of Central America. 
 
 The immediate results of the disturbance would them- 
 selves be sufficiently complex. Besides the numberless 
 dislocations of strata, the ejections of igneous matter, the 
 propagation of earthquake vibrations thousands of miles 
 around, the loud explosions, and the escape of gases ; there 
 would be the rush of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans to 
 supply the vacant space, the subsequent recoil of enormous 
 waves, which would traverse both these oceans and produce 
 myriads of changes along their shores, the corresponding 
 atmospheric waves complicated by the currents surrounding 
 each volcanic vent, and the electrical discharges with which 
 such disturbances are accompanied. But these temporary 
 effects would be insignificant compared with the permanent 
 or.es. The comj^lex currents of the Atlantic and Pacific 
 
EFFECTS OF A SUBSIDENCE OF THE LAND. 33 
 
 would be altered in direction and amount. The distribu- 
 tion of heat achieved by these ocean currents would be 
 different from what it is. The arrangement of the isother- 
 mal lines, not even on the neighbouring continents, but 
 even throughout Europe, would be changed. The tides 
 would flow differently from what they do now. There 
 would be more or less modification of the winds in their 
 periods, strengths, directions, qualities. Rain would fall 
 scarcely anywhere at the same times and in the same quan- 
 tities as at present. In short, the meteorological conditions 
 thousands of miles off, on all sides, would be more or less 
 revolutionized. 
 
 Thus, without taking into account the infinitude of 
 modifications which these changes of climate would pro- 
 duce upon the flora and fauna, both of land and sea, the 
 reader Avill see the immense heterogeneity of the results 
 wrought out by one force, when that force expends itself 
 upon a previously complicated area ; and he will readily 
 draw the corollary that from the beginning the complica- 
 tion has advanced at an increasing rate. 
 
 Before going on to show how organic progress also 
 depends upon the universal law that every force produces 
 more than one change, we have to notice the manifestation 
 of this law in yet another species of inorganic jDrogress — 
 namely, chemical. The same general causes that have 
 wrought out the heterogeneity of the Earth, physically 
 considered, have simultaneously wrought out its chemical 
 heterogeneity. AVithout dwelling upon the general fact 
 that the forces which have been increasing the variety and 
 complexity of geological formations, have, at the same 
 time, been bringing into contact elements not previously 
 exposed to each other vmder conditions favourable to union, 
 and so have been adding to the number of chemical com- 
 pounds, let us pass to the more important coraplicationa 
 that have resulted from the cooline: of the Earth. 
 
to PEOGEESS: ITS LAW ANT) CAUSE. 
 
 There is every reason to believe that at an extreme heat 
 the elements cannot combine. Even nncler such heat as 
 can be artificially jDrocluced, some very strong affinities 
 yield, as for instance, that of oxygen for hydrogen; and 
 the great majority of chemical compounds are decomposed 
 at much lower temperatures. But without insisting upon 
 the highly probable inference, that when the Eartli was iu 
 its first state of incandescence there were no chemical com- 
 binations at all, it will suffice our purpose to point to the 
 unquestionable fact that the compounds that can exist at 
 the highest temperatures, and which must, therefore, have 
 been the first that were formed as the Earth cooled, are 
 those of the simplest constitutions. The protoxides — in- 
 cluding under that head the alkalies, earths, &g. — are, as a 
 class, the most stable compounds we know : most of them 
 resisting decomposition by any heat we can generate. 
 These, consisting severally of one atom of each component 
 element, are combinations of the simplest order — are but 
 one degree less homogeneous than the elements themselves. 
 More heterogeneous than these, less stable, and therefore 
 later in the Earth's history, are the deutoxides, tritoxides, 
 peroxides, &c. ; in which two, three, four, or more atoms 
 of oxygen are united with one atom of metal or other ele- 
 ment. Higher than these in heterogeneity are the hydrates; 
 in which an oxide of hydrogen, united with an oxide of 
 some other element, forms a substance whose atoms sever- 
 ally contain at least four ultimate atoms of three different 
 kinds. Yet more heterogeneous and less stable still are 
 the salts ; which present us with compound atoms each 
 made up of five, six, seven, eight, ten, twelve, or more 
 atoms, of three, if not more, kinds. Then there are the 
 hydrated salts, of a yet greater heterogeneity, which im- 
 dergo partial decomposition at much lower temperatures. 
 After them come the further-complicated supersalts and 
 double salts, having a stability again decreased ; and so 
 
*♦ 
 
 CUEMICAL EFFECTS OF DECREASING HEAT. 41 
 
 throughout. Without entering into qualifications for 
 v/hich we lack space, we believe no chemist will deny it to 
 be a general law of these inorganic combinations that, 
 other things eqiial^ the stability decreases as the complexit'\ 
 Increases. 
 
 And then when we pass to the compounds of organi': 
 chemistry, we find this general law still further exemplified \ 
 we find much greater complexity and much less stability. 
 An atom of albumen, for instance, consists of 482 ultimate 
 atoms of five diiferent kinds. Fibrine, still more intricate 
 in constitution, contains in each atom, 298 atoms of cai*bon, 
 40 of nitrogen, 2 of sulphur, 228. of hydrogen, and 92 of 
 oxygen — in all, 660 atoms ; or, more strictly speaking — 
 equivalents. And these two substances are so unstable as 
 to decompose at quite ordinary temperatures ; as that to 
 which the outside of a joint of roast meat is exposed. 
 Thus it is manifest that the present chemical heterogene- 
 ity of the Earth's surface has arisen by degrees, as the de- 
 crease of heat has permitted ; and that it has shoAvn itself 
 in three forms — first, in the multi^jlication of chemical com- 
 pounds ; second, in the greater number of difierent ele- 
 ments contained in the more modern of these compounds : 
 and third, in the higher and more varied multiples in which 
 these more numerous elements combine. 
 
 To say that this advance in chemical heterogeneity is 
 due to the one cause, diminution of the Earth's tempera- 
 ture, would be to say too much ; for it is clear that aque- 
 ous and atmospheric agencies have been concerned ; and, 
 further, that the affinities of the elements themselves aro 
 implied. The cause has all along been a composite one : 
 the cooling of the Earth having been simply the most gen- 
 eral of the concurrent causes, or assemblage of conditions. 
 And here, indeed, it may be remarked that in the several 
 classes of facts already dealt with (excepting, perhaps, the 
 6rst), and still more in those with which we shall presently 
 
i2 PKOGEE88 : ITS LAW AJS^D CAUSE. 
 
 deal, the causes are more or less compound ; as indeed are 
 nearly all causes with which we are acquainted. Scarcel) 
 any change can with logical accuracy bo wholly ascribed to 
 oiie agency, to the neglect of the permanent or temporary 
 conditions under which only this agency produces the 
 change. But as it does not matei'ially affect our argument;, 
 Ve prefer, for simplicity's sake, to use throughout the popu- 
 iai mode of exj)ression. 
 
 Perhaps it will be further objected, that to assign loss 
 of heat as the cause of any changes, is to attribute these 
 changes not to a force, but to the absence of a force. And 
 this is true. Strictly speaking, the changes should be at- 
 tributed to those forces which come into action when the 
 antagonist force is withdrawn. But though there is an in- 
 accuracy in saying that the freezing of water is due to the 
 loss of its heat, no practical error arises from it ; nor will 
 a parallel laxity of expression vitiate our statements respect- 
 ing the multiplication of effects. Indeed, the objection 
 serves but to draw attention to the fact, that not only does 
 the exertion of a force produce more than one change, but 
 the withdrawal of a force jDroduces more than one change. 
 And this suggests that perhaps the most correct statement 
 of our general principle would be its most abstract state- 
 ment — every change is followed by more than one othei 
 change. 
 
 Returning to the thread of our exposition, we have next 
 to trace out, in organic progress, this same all-pervading 
 principle. And here, where the evolution of the homoge- 
 neous into the heterogeneous was first observed, the produc- 
 tion of many changes by one cause is least easy to demon- 
 strate. The development of a seed into a jDlant, or an 
 ovum into an animal, is so gradual, while the forces which 
 determine it are so involved, and at the same time so unob- 
 trusive, that it is difficult to detect the multiplication of effects 
 which is elsewhere so obvious. Nevertheless, guided by 
 
MULTIPLIED OEGAl^'IC EFFECTS. 43 
 
 indirect evidence, we may pretty safely reacli the conclu- 
 sion that here too the law holds. 
 
 Observe, first, how numerous are the effects which any 
 marked change works upon an adult organism — a human 
 being, for instance. An alarming sound or sight, besides 
 the impressions on the organs of sense and the nerves, may 
 produce a start, a scream, a distortion of the face, a tremb- 
 ling consequent upon a general muscular relaxation, a 
 burst of perspiration, an excited action of the heart, a 
 rush of blood to the brain, followed possibly by arrest of 
 the heart's action and by syncope : and if the system be 
 feeble, an indisposition with its long train of complicated 
 symptoms may set in. Similarly in cases of disease. A 
 minute portion of the small-pox virus introduced into 
 the system, will, in a severe case, cause, during the first 
 stage, rigors, heat of skin, accelerated pulse, furred 
 tongue, loss of appetite, thirst, epigastric uneasiness, 
 vomiting, headache, pains in the back and limbs, muscular 
 weakness, convulsions, delirium, &c. ; in the second stage, 
 cutaneous eruption, itching, tingling, sore throat, swelled 
 fauces, salivation, cough, hoarseness, dyspnoea, &c. ; and in 
 the third stage, cedematous inflammations, pneumonia, pleuri- 
 sy, diarrhoea, inflammation of the brain, ophthalmia, erysipe- 
 las, &c. : each of which enumerated symptoms is itself more 
 or less complex. Medicines, special foods, better air, might 
 in like manner be instanced as producing multiplied results. 
 
 Now it needs only to consider that the many changes 
 thus wrought by one force upon an adult organism, will be 
 in part paralleled in an embryo organism, to understand 
 how here also, the evolution of the homogeneous into the 
 heterogeneous may be due to the production of many 
 eflfects by one cause. The external beat and other agen- 
 cies' which determine the first complications of the gei'iii, 
 may, by acting upon these, superinduce further complica- 
 tions ; iipon these still higher and more numei'ous ones ; 
 
44: PEOGEESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 and so on continually : each organ as it is developed ser« 
 ving, "by its actions and reactions upon the rest, to initiate 
 new complexities. The first pulsations of the foetal heart 
 must simultaneously aid the unfolding of every part. The 
 growth of each tissue, by taking from the blood special 
 proportions of elements, must modify the constitution of 
 ihe blood ; and so must modify the nutrition of all the 
 other tissues. The heart's action, implying as it does a cer- 
 tain waste, necessitates an addition to the blood of effete 
 matters, which must influence the rest of the system, and 
 perhaps, as some think, cause the formation of excretory 
 organs. The nervous connections established among the 
 viscera must further multiply their mutual influences : and 
 so continually. 
 
 Still stronger becomes the probability of this view when 
 we call to mind the fact, that the same germ may be 
 evolved into different forms according to circumstances. 
 Thus, during its earlier stages, every embryo is sexless — 
 becomes either male or female as the balance of forces act- 
 ing upon it determines. Again, it is a well established fact 
 that the larva of a working-bee will develop into a queen- 
 bee, if, before it is too late, its food be changed to that on 
 which the larvae of queen-bees are fed. Even more remark- 
 able is the case of certain entozoa. The ovum of a tape- 
 worm, getting into its natural habitat, the intestine, unfolds 
 into the well-known form of its parent ; but if carried, as 
 it frequently is, into other parts of the system, it becomes 
 a sac-like creature, called by naturalists the JEchinococcus 
 — a creature so extremely different from the tape-worm in 
 aspect and structure, that only after careful investigations 
 has it been proved to have the same origin. All which 
 instances imply that each advance in embryonic complica- 
 tion results from the action of incident forces npon the 
 complication previously existing. 
 
 Indeed, we may find d priori reason to think that the 
 
MULTIPLIED OKGANKJ EI'iECIfi. 45 
 
 evolution jjroceeds after this manner. For since it is new 
 known that no germ, animal or vegetable, contains the 
 slightest rudiment, trace, or indication of the future organ- 
 ism — now that the microscope has shown us that the first 
 process set up in every fertilized germ, is a process of re- 
 peated spontaneous fissions ending in the production of a 
 mass of cells, not one of which exhibits any special charac- 
 ter : there seems no alternative but to suppose that the 
 partial organization at any moment subsisting in a growing 
 embryo, is transformed by the agencies acting upon it into 
 the succeeding phase of organization, and this into the 
 next, until, through ever-increasing complexities, the ulti- 
 mate form is reached. Thus, though the subtilty of the 
 forces and the slowness of the results^ prevent us from 
 directly showing that the stages of increasing heterogeneity 
 through which every embryo passes, severally arise from 
 the production of many changes by one force, yet, indi' 
 rectly, we have strong evidence that they do so. 
 
 "We have marked how multitudinous are the efiects 
 which one cause may generate in an adult organism ; that 
 a like m^iltiplication of efiects must hajjpen in the unfold- 
 ing organism, we have observed in sundry illustrative 
 cases ; further, it has been pointed out that the ability 
 which like germs have to originate unlike forms, implies that 
 the successive transformations result from the new changes 
 superinduced on previous changes ; and we have seen that 
 structureless as every germ originally is, the development 
 of an organism out of it is otherwise incomprehensible 
 Not indeed that we can thus really explain the production 
 of any plant or animal. We are still in the dark respect- 
 ing those mysterious properties in virtue of which the 
 germ, when subject to fit influences, undergoes the special 
 changes that begin the series of transformations. All wc 
 aim to show, is, that given a germ possessing these myste- 
 rious properties, the evolution of an organism from it. 
 
irt PP.OGEESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 probably depends upon that multiplication of effects Tvhich 
 we have seen to be the cause of progress in general, so far 
 as we have yet traced it. 
 
 When, leaving the development of single plants and 
 animals, we pass to that of the Earth's flora and fauna, the 
 course of our argument again becomes clear and simple. 
 Though, as was admitted in the first part of this article, 
 the fragmentary facts Palceontology has accumulated, do 
 not clearly warrant us in saying that, in the lapse of geo- 
 logic time, there have been, evolved more heterogeneous 
 organisms, and more heterogeneous assemblages of organ- 
 isms, yet we shall now see that there oniist ever have been 
 a tendency towards these results. We shall find that the 
 production of many effects by one cause, which, as already 
 shown, has been all along increasing the physical hetero- 
 geneity of the Earth, has further involved an increasing 
 heterogeneity in its flora and fiiuna, individually and col- 
 lectively. An illustration will make this clear. 
 
 Suppose that by a series of upheavals, occurring, as 
 they are now known to do, at long intervals, the East In- 
 dian Archipelago were to be, step by step, raised into a 
 continent, and a chain of mountains formed along the axis 
 of elevation. By the first of these upheavals, the plants 
 and animals inhabiting Borneo, Sumatra, New Guinea, and 
 the rest, would be subjected to slightly modified sets of 
 conditions. The climate in general would be altered in 
 temperature, in humidity, and in its periodical variations ; 
 while the local differences would be multiplied. These 
 modifications would affect, perhaps inappreciably, the entire 
 flora and fauna of the region. The change of level would 
 produce additional modifications : varying in different spe- 
 cies, and also in different members of the same species, 
 according to their distance from the axis of elevation. 
 Plants, growing only on the sea-shore in special localities, 
 might become extinct. Others, living only in swamjDs of a 
 
CHA.MGES OF THF EAETh's FLOEA AND FAUNA. 47 
 
 certain humidity, would, if they survived at all, probably 
 andergo visible changes of appearance. While still greater 
 alterations would occur in the plants gradually spreading 
 over the lands newly raised above the sea. The animals 
 and insects living on these modified plants, would them- 
 selves be in some degree modified by change of food, as 
 well as by change of climate ; and the modification would 
 be more marked where, from the dwindling or disappear- 
 ance of one kind of plant, an allied kind was eaten. In the 
 lapse of the many generations arising before the next up- 
 heaval, the sensible or insensible alterations thus produced 
 in each species would become organized — there would be 
 a more or less complete adaptation to the new conditions. 
 The next uj)heaval would superinduce further organic 
 changes, implying wider divergences from the primary 
 forms ; and so repeatedly. 
 
 But now let it be observed that the revolution thus 
 resulting would not be a substitution of a thousand more 
 or less modified species for the thousand original species ; 
 but in place of the thousand original species there would 
 arise several thousand species, or varieties, or changed 
 forms. Each species being distributed over an area of 
 some extent, and tending continually to colonize the new 
 area exposed, its difl:erent members would be subject to 
 different sets of changes. Plants and animals spreading 
 towards the equator would not be affected in the same way 
 with others spreading from it. Those spreading towards 
 the new shores would undergo changes unlike the changes 
 undergone by those spreading into the mountains. Thus, 
 each original race of organisms, would become the root 
 from which diverged several races differing more or le.v- 
 from it and from each other ; and while some of thoso 
 might subsequently disappear, probably more than one 
 would survive in the next geologic period : the very disper- 
 sion itself increasing the chances of survi\'al. Not only 
 4 
 
48 PKOGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 would there be certaiu modifications thus caused by change 
 of physical conditions and food, but also in some cases 
 other modifications caused by change of habit. The fauna 
 of each island, peopling, step by step, the newly-raised 
 tracts, wovdd eventually come in contact with the faunas 
 of other islands ; and some members of these other faunas 
 would be unlike any creatures before seen. Herbivores 
 meeting with new beasts of prey, would, in some cases, be 
 led into modes of defence or escape differing from those 
 previously used ; and simultaneously the beasts of prey 
 would modify their modes of pursuit and attack. We 
 know that when circumstances demand it, such changes of 
 habit do take place in animals ; and we know that if the 
 new habits become the dominant ones, they must eventually 
 in some degree alter the organization. 
 
 Observe, now, however, a further consequence. There 
 must arise not simply a tendency towards the difi^erentia- 
 tion of each race of organisms into several races ; but also 
 a tendency to the occasional production of a somewhat 
 hisrher organism. Taken in the mass these divers-ent varie- 
 ties which have been caused by fresh physical conditions 
 and habits of life, will exhibit changes quite indefinite in 
 kind and degree ; and changes that do not necessarily con- 
 stitute an advance. Probably in most cases the modified 
 type will be neither more nor less heterogeneous than the 
 original one. In some cases the habits of life adopted 
 being simpler than before, a less heterogeneous structure 
 will result : there will be a retrogradation. But it 'must 
 now and then occur, that some division of a species, falling 
 iilto circumstances which give it rather more complex expe- 
 riences, and demand actions somewhat more involved, will 
 have certain of its organs further differentiated in propor- 
 tionately small degrees, — will become slightly more hetero- 
 geneous. 
 
 Thus, in the natural course of things, there will from 
 
TNCKEASING DIVEEGENCE OF THE ANIMAL KACE8. 49 
 
 time to time arise an increased heterogeneity both of tha 
 Earth's flora and fauna, and of individual races included in 
 them. Omitting detailed explanations, and allowing for 
 the qualifications which cannot here be S]3ecified, we think 
 it is clear that geological mutation?* have all along tended 
 to complicate the forms of life, whether regarded sepa- 
 rately or collectively. The same causes which have led to 
 the evolution of the Earth's crust from the simple into the 
 complex, have simultaneously led to a parallel evolution of 
 the Life upon its surface. In this case, as in previous oneSj 
 we see that the transformation of the homogeneous into 
 the heterogeneous is consequent upon the universal princi- 
 ple, that every active force produces more than one change. 
 
 The deduction here drawn from the established truths 
 of geology and the general laws of life, gains immensely 
 in weight on finding it to be in harmony with an induction 
 drawn from direct experience. Just that divergence of 
 many races from one race, which we inferred must have 
 been continually occurring during geologic time, we know 
 to have occurred during the pre-historic and historic pe- 
 riods, in man and domestic animals. And just that multi- 
 plication of effects which we concluded must have pro- 
 duced the first, we see has produced the last. Single 
 causes, as famine, pressure of population, war, have period- 
 ically led to further dispersions of mankind and of depend- 
 ent creatures : each such dispersion initiating new modifi. 
 cations, new varieties of type. "Whether all the human 
 races be or be not derived from one stock, philology makes 
 it clear that whole groups of races now easily distinguisha- 
 ble from each other, were originally one race, — that the 
 diffusion of one race into different climates and conditions 
 of existence, has produced many modified forms of it. 
 
 Similarly with domestic animals. Though in some cases 
 —as that of dogs — community of origin will perhaps be 
 disputed, yet in other cases — as that of the sheej) or the 
 
50 PKOGEESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 cattle of our own country — it will not he questioned that 
 local differences of climate, food, and treatment, have trans- 
 formed one original breed into numerous breeds now be- 
 come so far distinct as to produce unstable hybrids. More- 
 over, through the complications of effects flowing from 
 single causes, we here find, what we before inferred, not 
 only an increase of general heterogeneity, but also of spe- 
 cial heterogeneity. While of the divergent divisions and 
 subdivisions of the human race, many have undergone 
 changes not constituting an advance ; while in some the 
 type may have degraded ; in others it has become decidedly 
 more heterogeneous. The civilized European departs more 
 widely from the vertebrate archetype than does the savage. 
 Thus, both the law and the cause of progress, which, from 
 lack of evidence, can be but hypothetically substantiated 
 in respect of the earlier forms of life on our globe, can bo 
 actually substantiated in respect of the latest forms. 
 
 If the advance of Man towards greater heterogeneity 
 is traceable to the production of many effects by one cause, 
 still more clearly may the advance of Society towards 
 greater heterogeneity be so explained. Consider the 
 growth of an industrial organization. When, as must oc- 
 casionally happen, some individual of a tribe displays un- 
 usual aptitude for making an article of general use — a 
 weapon, for instance — which was before made by each man 
 for himself, there arises a tendency towards the differentia- 
 tion of that individual into a maker of such weapon. His 
 companions — warriors and hunters all of them, — severally 
 feel the importance of having the best weapons that can 
 bo made ; and are therefore certain to offer strong induce- 
 ments to this skilled individual to make weajDons for them. 
 He, on the other hand, having not only an unusual foculty, 
 but an unusual liking, for making such weapons (the talent 
 and the desire for any occupation being commonly associa- 
 ted), is predisposed to fulfil these commissions on tlie offer 
 
SOCIAL DLFFEEENTIATIONS. 51 
 
 of an adequate reward : especially as his love of distinction 
 is also gratified. This first specialization of function, once 
 commenced, tends ever to become more decided. On the 
 side of the weapon-maker continued practice gives increased 
 skill — increased superiority to his products : on the side of 
 iiis clients, cessation of practice entails decreased skill. 
 Thus the influences that determine this division of labour 
 grow stronger in both ways ; and the incipient heterogenc" 
 ity is, on the average of cases, likely to become permanent 
 for that generation, if no longer. 
 
 Observe now, however, that this process not only dif- 
 ferentiates the social mass into two parts, the one monopo- 
 Uzing, or almost monopolizing, the performance of a certain 
 function, and the other having lost the habit, and in some 
 measu.re the power, of performing that function ; but it 
 tends to imitate other differentiations. The advance wo 
 have described implies the introduction of barter, — the 
 maker of weapons has, on each occasion, to be paid in such 
 other articles as he agrees to take in exchange. But he 
 will not habitually take in exchange- one kind of article, 
 but many kinds. He does not want mats only, or skins, or 
 fishing gear, but he wants all these ; and on each occasion 
 will bargain for the particular things he most needs. What 
 follows ? If among the members of the tribe there exist 
 any slight differences of skill in the manufacture of these 
 various things, as there are almost sure to do, the weapon- 
 maker will take from each one the thing which that one ex» 
 eels in making : he will exchange for mats with him whose 
 mats are superior, and will bargain for the fishing gear of 
 whoever has the best. But he who has bartered away his 
 mats or his fishing gear, must make other mats or fishing 
 gear for himself; and in so doing must, in some degree, 
 further develop his ajDtitude. Thus it results that the 
 amall speciaUties of faculty possessed by various members 
 of the tribe, will tend to grow more decided. If such 
 
52 PEOGEEss : irs law and cause. 
 
 transactions are from time repeated, these specializations 
 may become appreciable. And whether or not there en- 
 sue distinct differentiations of other individuals into makers 
 of particular articles, it is clear that incipient differentiations 
 take place throughout the tribe : the one original c&,uso 
 produces not only the first dual effect, but a number cf 
 secondary dual effects, like in kind, but minor in degree. 
 This process, of which traces may be seen among groups 
 of schoolboys, cannot well produce any lasting efffects in 
 an unsettled tribe ; but where there grows up a fixed and 
 multii^lying community, these differentiations become per- 
 manent, and increase with each generation. A larger poira- 
 lation, involving a greater demand for every commodity, 
 intensifies the functional activity of each specialized person 
 or class ; and this renders the specialization more definite 
 where it already exists, and establishes it where it is nascent. 
 By increasing the pressure on the means of subsistence, 
 a larger population again augments these results ; seeing 
 that each person is forced more and more to confine him- 
 self to that which he can do best, and by which he can gain 
 most. This industrial progress, by aiding future produc- 
 tion, opens the way for a further growth of population, 
 which reacts as before : in all wbicli the multiplication of 
 effects is manifest. Presently, under these same stimuli, 
 new occujDations arise. Competing workers, ever aiming 
 to produce improved articles, occasionally discover better 
 processes or raw materials. In weapons and cutting tools, 
 the substitution of bronze for stone entails upon him who 
 first makes it a great increase of demand — so great an :n- 
 crease that he presently finds all his time occupied in making 
 the bronze for the articles he sells, and is obliged to depute 
 the fashioning of these to others : and, eventually, tha 
 making of bronze, thus gradually differentiated from a pre- 
 existing occupation, becomes an occupation by itself. 
 
 But now mark the ramified changes which follow this 
 
MULTIPLICATION OF INDUSTEIAL EFFECTS. 53 
 
 change. Bronze soon replaces stone, not only in the arti- 
 cles it was first used for, hut in many others — in arms, tools, 
 and utensils of various kinds ; and so affects the manufac- 
 ture of these things. Further, it affects the processes 
 which these utensils suhserve, and the resulting products — 
 modifies huildings, §arvings, dress, personal decorations 
 Yet again, it sets going sundry manufactures which were 
 before impossible, from lack of a material fit for the requi- 
 site tools. And all these changes react on the people — in- 
 crease their manipulative skill, their intelligence, their com- 
 fort, — refine their habits and tastes. Thus the evolution of 
 a homogeneous society into a heterogeneous one, is clearly 
 consequent on the general principle, that many effects are 
 produced by one cause. 
 
 Our limits will not allow us to follow out this process in 
 its higher complications : else might we show how the lo- 
 calization of sj^ecial industries in special parts of a king- 
 dom, as well as the minute subdivision of labour in the 
 making of each commodity, are similarly determined. Or, 
 turning to a somewhat diflerent order of illustrations, we 
 might dwell on the multitudinous changes — material, intel- 
 lectual, moral, — caused by printing ; or the further exten- 
 sive series of changes wrought by gunpowder. But leaving 
 the intermediate phases of social development, let us take 
 a few illustrations from its most recent and its passing pha- 
 ses. To trace the effects of steam-power, in its manifold 
 applications to mining, navigation, and manufactures of all 
 kinds, would carry us into unmanageable detail. Let us 
 confine ourselves to the latest embodiment of steam-power 
 ■ — the locomotive engine. 
 
 This, as the proximate cause of our railway system, has 
 changed the face of the country, the course of trade, and 
 the habits of the people. Consider, first, the complicated 
 sets of changes that precede the making of every railway — 
 the provisional arrangements, the meetings, the registra- 
 
54: PEOGKESS : ITS LAW AND CATJSE. 
 
 tion, the trial section, the parliamentary survey, the litlio 
 graphed plans, the books of reference, the local deposits and 
 notices, the application to Parliament, the passing Standing- 
 Orders Committee, the first, second, and third readings : 
 each of which brief heads indicates a multiplicity of transac- 
 tions, and the development of sundry pccupations — as those 
 of engineers, surveyors, lithographers, parliamentary agents, 
 share-brokers; and the creation of sundry others — as those 
 of traffic-takers, reference-takers. Consider, next, the yet 
 more marked changes implied in railway construction — the 
 cuttings, embankings, tunnellings, diversions of roads ; the 
 building of bridges and stations ; the laying down of bal- 
 last, sleepers, and rails ; the making of engines, tenders, 
 carriages and waggons : which processes, acting upon nu- 
 merous trades, increase the importation of timber, the 
 quarrying of stone, the manufacture of iron, the miuing of 
 coal, the burning of bricks : institute a variety of special 
 manufactures weekly advertised in the Hailway Times y 
 and, finally, open the way to sundry new occupations, as 
 those of drivers, stokers, cleaners, plate-layers, Ac, &c. 
 And then consider the changes, more numerous and in- 
 volved still, which railways in action produce on the com- 
 munity at large. The organization of every business is 
 more or less modified : ease of communication makes it bet- 
 ter to do directly what was before done by proxy ; agencies 
 are established where previously they would not have paid ; 
 goods are obtained from remote wholesale houses instead 
 of near retail ones ; and commodities are used which dis- 
 tance once rendered inaccessible. Again, the rapidity and 
 small cost of carriage tend to specialize more than ever the 
 industries of different districts — to confine each manufac- 
 ture to the parts in wdiich, from local advantages, it can be 
 best carried on. Further, the diminished cost of carriage, 
 facilitating distribution, equalizes prices, and also, on the 
 average, lowers prices : thus bringing divers articles within 
 
EFFEtJTS OF THE LOCOMOTIVE ENGINE. 55 
 
 the means of those before unable. to buy them, and so in- 
 creasing their comforts and improving their habits. At the 
 same time the practice of travelling is immensely extended. 
 Classes who never before thought of it, take annual trips 
 to the sea ; visit their distant relations; make tours ; and 
 so we are benefited in body, feelings, and intellect. More- 
 over, the more prompt transmission of letters and of news 
 produces further changes — makes the pulse of the nation 
 faster. Yet more, there arises a wide dissemination of cheap 
 literature through railway book-stalls, and of advertise- 
 ments in railway carriages : both of them aiding ulterior 
 progress. 
 
 And all the innumerable changes here briefly indicated 
 are consequent on the invention of the locomotive engine 
 The social organism has been rendered more heterogeneous 
 in virtue of the many new occupations introduced, and the 
 many old ones further specialized ; prices in every place 
 have been altered ; each trader has, more or less, modified 
 his way of doing business ; and almost every person has 
 been affected in his actions, thoughts, emotions. 
 
 Illustrations to the same efiect might be indefinitely ac- 
 cumulated. That every influence brought to bear upon so- 
 ciety works multiplied effects-; and that increase of hetero- 
 geneity is due to this multiplication of effects ; may be seen 
 in the history of every trade, every custom, every belief. 
 But it is needless to give additional evidence of this. The 
 only further fact demanding notice, is, that we here see still 
 more clearly than ever, the truth before pointed out, that 
 in proportion as the area on which any force expends itself 
 becomes heterogeneous, the results are in a yet higher de- 
 gree multiplied in number and kind. While among the 
 primitive tribes to whom it was first known, caoutchouc 
 caused but a few changes, among ourselves the changes 
 have been so many and varied that the histoiy of them oc 
 
56 PKOGEESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 cupies a volume.* Upon the small, homogeneous commu 
 nity inhabiting one of the Hebrides, the electric telegraph 
 would produce, were it used, scarcely any results ; but in 
 England the results it produces are multitudinous. The 
 comparatively simple organization under which our ances^ 
 tors lived five centuries ago, could have undergone but few 
 modifications from an event like the recent one at Canton ; 
 but now the legislative decision respecting it sets up many 
 hundreds of complex modifications, each of which will be 
 the parent of numerous future ones. 
 
 Space permitting, we could willingly have pursued the 
 argument in relation to all the subtler results of civilization. 
 As before, we showed that the law of Progress to which 
 the organic and inorganic worlds conform, is also conformed 
 to by Language, Sculpture, Music, &c. ; so might we here 
 show that the cause which we have hitherto found to de- 
 termine Progress holds in these cases also. We might 
 demonstrate in detail how, in Science, an advance of one 
 division presently advances other divisions — how Astron- 
 omy has been immensely forwarded by discoveries in Op^ 
 tics, while other optical discoveries have initiated Micro- 
 scopic Anatomy, and greatly aided the growth of Physiol- 
 ogy — how Chemistry has indirectly increased our knowl- 
 edge of Electricity, Magnetism, Biology, Geology — how 
 Electricity has reacted on Chemistry and Magnetism, de- 
 veloped our views of Light and Heat, and disclosed sundry 
 laws of nervous action. 
 
 In Literature the same truth might be exhibited in the 
 manifold efiects of the primitive mystery-play, not only as 
 originating the modern drama, but as affecting through it 
 other kinds of poetry and fiction ; or in the still multiplv- 
 ing forms of periodical literature that have descended from 
 the first newspaper, and which have severally acted and 
 
 * " Personal Narrative of the Origin of the Caoutchouc, or IndiarRub 
 ber Manufacture in England." By Thomas Hancock. 
 
VAST APPLICABILITY OF THE PEINCIPLE. 5^ 
 
 reacted on other forms of literature and on each other. 
 The influence which a new school of Pamting — as that of 
 the pre-Raffaelites — exercises upon other schools ; the hints 
 which all hinds of jDictorial art are deriving from Photo- 
 graphy ; the complex results of new critical doctrmes, as 
 those of Mr. Ruskin, might severally he dwelt upon aa 
 displaying the like multijDlication of effects. But it would 
 needlessly tax the reader's patience to pursue, in their 
 many ramifications, these various changes : here become 
 so involved and subtle as to be followed with some diffi. 
 ci^lty. 
 
 Without fui-ther evidence, we venture to think our case 
 is made out. The imperfections of statement which brevity 
 has necessitated, do not, we believe, militate against the 
 propositions laid down. The qualifications here and there 
 demanded would not, if made, affect the inferences. 
 Though in one instance, where sufficient evidence is not 
 attainable, we have been unable to show that the law of 
 Progress applies; yet there is high probability that the same 
 generalization holds which holds throughout the rest of 
 creation. Though, in tracing the genesis of Progress, we 
 have frequently spoken of complex causes as if they were 
 simple ones ; it still remains true that such causes are far 
 less complex than their results. Detailed criticisms can- 
 not afifect our main position. Endless facts go to show 
 that every kind of progress is from the homogeneous to 
 the heterogeneous ; and that it is so because each chano-e 
 is followed by many changes. And it is significant that 
 where the facts are most accessible and abundant, there 
 are these truths most manifest. 
 
 However, to avoid committing ourselves to more than 
 18 yet proved, we must be content with saying that such 
 are the law and the cause of all progress that is known to 
 ns. Should the Nebular Hypothesis ever be established, 
 then it will become manifest that the Universe at large, 
 
58 PEOGKESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 like every organism, was once homogeneous ; that as a 
 whole, and in every detail, it has unceasingly advanced 
 towards greater heterogeneity ; and that its heterogeneity 
 is still increasing. It will be seen that as in each event of 
 to-day, so from the beginning, the decomposition of every 
 expended force into several forces has been perpetually 
 producing a higher comphcation ; that the increase of 
 heterogeneity so brought abotit is still going on, and must 
 continue to go on ; and that thus Progress is not an acci- 
 dent, not a thing within human control, but a beneficent 
 necessity. 
 
 A few words must be added on the ontological bear- 
 ings of our argument. Probably not a few will conclude 
 that here is an attempted solution of the great questions 
 with which Philosophy in all ages has perplexed itself 
 Let none thus deceive themselves. Only such as know not 
 the scope and the limits of Science can fall into so grave 
 an error. The foregoing generalizations apply, not to the 
 genesis of things in themselves, but to their genesis as 
 manifested to the human consciousness. After all that has 
 been said, the ultimate mystery remains just as it was. 
 The explanation of that which is explicable, does but bring 
 out into greater clearness the inexplicableness of that 
 which remains behind. However we may succeed in re- 
 ducing the equation to its lowest terms, we are not thereby 
 enabled to determine the unknown quantity : on the con- 
 trary, it only becomes more manifest that the unknown 
 quantity can never be found. 
 
 Little as it seems to do so, fearless inquiry tends con- 
 iinually to give a firmer basis to all true Religion. The 
 timid sectarian, alarmed at the progress of knowledge, 
 obliged to abandon one by one the superstitions of his 
 ancestors, and daily finding his cherished behefs more and 
 more shaken, secretly fears that all things may some daji 
 
NECESSARY LIMITS OF INVESTIGATION. 59 
 
 bo explained ; and has a corresponding dread of Science : 
 thus evincing the profoundest of all infidelity — the fear lest 
 the truth be bad. On the other hand, the sincere man of 
 science, content to follow whei*ever the evidence leads him, 
 becomes by each new inquiry more profoundly convinced 
 that the Universe is an insoluble problem. Alike in the 
 external and the internal worlds, he sees himself in tha 
 midst of perpetual changes, of which he can discover 
 neither the beginning nor the end. If, tracing back the 
 evolution of things, he allows himself to entertain the 
 hypothesis that all matter once existed in a diffused form, 
 he finds it utterly impossible to conceive how this came to 
 be so ; and equally, if he speculates on the future, he can 
 assign no limit to the grand succession of phenomena ever 
 unfolding themselves before him. On the other hand, if 
 he looks inward, he perceives that both terminations of 
 the thread of consciousness are beyond his grasp : he can- 
 not remember when or how consciousness commenced, 
 and he cannot examine the consciousness that at any mo- 
 ment exists; for only a state of consciousness that is 
 already past can become the object of thought, and never 
 one which is passing. 
 
 "When, again, he turns from the succession of phenom- 
 ena, external or internal, to their essential nature, he is 
 equally at fault. Though he may succeed in resolving all 
 properties of objects into manifestations of force, he is not 
 thereby enabled to realize what force is ; but finds, on the 
 contrary, that the more he thinks about it, the more he is 
 bafiled. Similarly, though analysis of mental actions may 
 finally bring him down to sensations as the original ma- 
 terials out of which all thought is woven, he is none the 
 forwarder ; for he cannot in the least comprehend sensa- 
 tion — cannot even conceive how sensation is possible. In- 
 ward and outward things he thus discovers to be alike 
 inscrutable in their ultimate genesis and nature. lie soch 
 
60 PKOGEESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 that the Materialist and Spiritualist controversy is a mere 
 war of words ; the disputants being equally absurd — each 
 believing he understands that which it is impossible for 
 any man to understand. In all directions his investigations 
 eventually bring him face to face with the unknowable ; 
 and he ever more cleai'ly perceives it to be the unknowable. 
 He learns at once the greatness and the Uttleness of human 
 intellect — its power in dealing with all that comes within 
 the range of experience ; its impotence in dealing with all 
 that transcends experience. Pie feels, with a vividness 
 w^hich no others can, the utter incomprehensibleness of 
 the simplest fact, considered in itself. He alone truly 
 sees that absolute knowledge is impossible. He alone 
 knows that under all things there lies an impenetrable 
 mystery. 
 
II. 
 
 MANNERS AND FASHION. 
 
 'TTT'IIOEVER has studied tlie physiognomy of political 
 V V meetings, cannot fail to have remarked a connection 
 between democratic opinions and peculiarities of costume. 
 At a Chartist demonstration, a lecture on Socialism, or a 
 soirSe of the Friends of Italy, there will be seen many 
 among the audience, and a still larger ratio among the 
 speakers, who get themselves up in a style more or less 
 unusual. One gentleman on the platform divides his hair 
 down the centre, instead of on one side ; another brushes 
 it back off the forehead, in the fashion known as " bringing 
 out the intellect ; '' a third has so long forsworn the scis- 
 sors, that his locks sweep his shoulders. A considerable 
 sprinkling of moustaches may be observed; here and th«re 
 an imperial ; and occasionally some courageous breaker of 
 conventions exhibits a full-grown beard.* This noncon- 
 formity in hair is countenanced by various nonconformities 
 in dress, shown by others of the assemblage. Bare necks, 
 shirt-collars a la Byron, waistcoats cut Quaker fashion, 
 wonderfully shaggy great coats, numerous oddities in form 
 and colour, destroy the monotony usual in crowds. Ever 
 those exhibiting no conspicuous peculiarity, frequently in 
 
 * This was written before moustaches and beards had become commou. 
 
62 MANNERS AND FASHION. 
 
 dicate by something in the pattern or make-up of theii 
 clothes, that they pay small regard to what their tailors 
 tell them about the prevailing taste. And when the 
 gathering breaks up, the varieties of head gear displayed 
 — the number of caps, and the abundance of felt hats 
 —suffice to prove that were the world at large like-minded, 
 the black cylinders which tyrannize over us would soon be 
 deposed. 
 
 The foreign correspondence of our daily press showa 
 that this relationship between political discontent and the 
 disregard of customs exists on the Continent also. Red 
 republicanism has always been distinguished by its hirsute- 
 ness. The authorities of Prussia, Austria, and Italy, alike 
 recognize certain forms of hat as indicative of disaffection, 
 and fulminate against them accordingly. In some places 
 the wearer of a blouse runs a risk of being classed among 
 the suspects; and in others, he who would avoid the bureau 
 of police, must beware how he goes out in any but the 
 ordinary colours. Thus, democracy abroad, as at home, 
 tends towards personal singularity. 
 
 iNor is this association of characteristics peculiar to 
 modern times, or to reformers of the State. It has always 
 existed ; and it has been manifested as much in religious 
 agitations as in political ones. Along with dissent from 
 the chief established opinions and arrangements, there has 
 ever been some dissent from the customary social practices. 
 The Puritans, disapproving of the long curls of the Cava- 
 liers, as of their j^rinciples, cut their own hair short, and so 
 gained the name of "Roundheads." The marked religious 
 nonconformity of the Quakers was accomjoanied by an 
 equally-marked nonconformity of manners — in attire, in 
 speech, in salutation. The early Moravians not only 
 believed differently, but at the same time dressed dif- 
 ferently, and lived differently, from their fellow Christians. 
 
 That the association between political independence 
 
EELATION BETWEEN mEAS AND COSTUMES. 63 
 
 aud independence of personal conduct, is not a phenome- 
 non of to-day only, we may see alike in the appearance ol 
 Franklin at the French court in plain clothes, and in the 
 Avhite hats worn by the last generation of radicals. Origi- 
 nality of nature is sure to show itself in more ways than 
 one. The mention of George Fox's suit of leather, or 
 Pestalozzi's school name, "Harry Oddity," will at once 
 suggest the remembrance that men who have in great 
 things diverged from the beaten track, have frequently 
 done so in small things likewise. Minor illustrations of 
 this truth may be gathered in almost every circle. "We 
 believe that whoever will number up his reforming and 
 rationalist acquaintances, will find among them more than 
 the usual proportion of those who in dress or behaviour 
 exhibit some degree of what the world calls eccentricity. 
 
 If it be a fact that men of revolutionary aims in politics 
 or religion, are commonly revolutionists in custom also, 
 it is not less a fact that those whose office it is to uphold 
 established arrangements in State and Church, are also 
 those who most adhere to the social forms and obser- 
 vances bequeathed to us by past generations. Practices 
 elsewhere extinct still lingev about the headquarters of 
 government. The monarch still gives assent to Acts of 
 Parliament in the old French of the Normans ; and Nor- 
 man French terms are still used in law. Wigs, such as 
 those we see depicted in old portraits, may yet be found 
 on the heads of judges and barristers. The Beefeaters 
 at the Tower wear the costume of Henry VHth's body- 
 guard. The University dress of the present year varies 
 but little from that worn soon after the Reformation. 
 The claret-coloured coat, knee-breeches, lace shirt frills, 
 ruffles, white silk stockings, and buckled shoes, which 
 once formed the usual attire of a gentleman, still survive 
 as the court-dress. And it need scarcely be said that at 
 levees and drawing-rooms, the ceremonies are prescribed 
 
64 MAJSTNEES AND FASHION. 
 
 witli an exactness, and enforced with a rigour, not else 
 where to be found. 
 
 Can we consider these two series of coincidences as 
 accidental and unmeaning ? Must we not rather conclude 
 that some necessary relationship obtains between them ? 
 Are there not such things as a constitutional conservatism, 
 and a constitutional tendency to change? Is there not a 
 class which clings to the old in all things ; and another 
 class so in love with progress as often to mistake novelty 
 for improvement ? Do we not find some men ready to 
 bow to established authority of whatever kind ; while 
 others demand of every such authority its reason, and 
 reject it if it fails to justify itself? And must not the 
 minds thus contrasted tend to become respectively con- 
 formist and nonconformist, not only in politics and religion, 
 but in other things ? Submission, whether to a govern- 
 ment, to the dogmas of ecclesiastics, or to that code of 
 behaviour which society at large has set uj), is essentially 
 of the same nature ; and the sentiment which induces 
 resistance to the desjootism of rulers, civil or spiritual, like- 
 wise induces resistance to the despotism of the world's 
 opinion. Look at them fundamentally, and all enactments, 
 alike of the legislature, the consistory, and the saloon — all 
 regulations, formal or virtual, have a common character : 
 they are all limitations of men's freedom. " Do this — 
 Refrain from that," are the blank formulas into which they 
 may all be written : and in each case the understanding is 
 that obedience will bring approbation here and paradise 
 hereafter ; while disobedience will entail imprisonment, or 
 sending to Coventry, or eternal torments, as the case may 
 be. And if restraints, however named, and through what- 
 ever apparatus of means exercised, are one in their action 
 upon men, it must happen that those who are patient under 
 one kind of restraint, are likely to be patient under another; 
 and conversely, that those impatient of restraint in general, 
 
OEIGIN OF LAW, RELIGION, AND MANNERS. 65 
 
 will, on the average, tend to show their impatience in all 
 directions. 
 
 That Law, Religion, and Manners are thus related— 
 that their respective kinds of operation come under one 
 generalization — that they have in certain contrasted charac- 
 teristics of men a common support and a common danger 
 ■ — will, however, be most clearly seen on discovering that 
 they have a common origin. Little as from present ap- 
 pearances we should suppose it, we shall yet find that at 
 first, the control of religion, the control of laws, and the 
 control of manners, were aU one control. However in- 
 credible it may now seem, we believe it to be demonstrable 
 that the rules of etiquette, the provisions of the statute- 
 book, and the commands of the decalogue, have grown 
 from the same root. If we go far enough back into the 
 ages of primeval Fetishism, it becomes manifest that 
 originally Deity, Chief, and Master of the ceremonies were 
 identical. To make good these positions, and to show 
 their bearing on what is to follow, it will be necessary 
 here to traverse ground that is in part somewhat beaten, 
 and at first sight irrelevant to our topic. "We will pass 
 over it as quickly as consists with the exigencies of the 
 argument. 
 
 That the earliest social aggregations were ruled solely 
 by the will of the strong man, few dispute. That from the 
 strong man proceeded not only Monarchy, but the concep- 
 tion of a God, few admit : much as Carlyle and others have 
 said in evidence of it. If, however, those who are vmable 
 to believe this, will lay aside the ideas of God and man in 
 which they have been educated, and study the aboriginal 
 deas of them, they will at least see some probability in 
 the hypothesis. Let them remember that before experl 
 ence had yet taught men to distinguish between the possi- 
 ble and the impossible ; and while they were ready on the 
 
66 MANNERS AND FASHION. 
 
 slightest suggestion to ascribe unknown powers to any ob 
 ject and make a fetish of it ; their conceptions of human- 
 ity and its capacities were necessarily vague, and without 
 specific limits. The man who hy unusual strength, or cun 
 ning, achieved something that others had failed to achieve, 
 or something which they did not understand, was considered 
 by them as differing from themselves ; and, as we see in the 
 Vielief of some Polynesians that only their chiefs have souls, 
 or in that of the ancient Peruvians that their nobles were di- 
 vine by birth, the ascribed difference was apt to be not one of 
 degree only, but one of kind. 
 
 Let them remember next, how gross were the notions 
 of God, or rather of gods, prevalent during the same era 
 and afterwards — how concretely gods were conceived as 
 men of specific aspects dressed in specific ways — how their 
 names were literally " the strong," " the destroyer," " the 
 powerful one," — how, according to the Scandinavian my- 
 thology, the "sacred duty of blood-revenge" was acted 
 on by the gods themselves, — and how they were not only 
 human in their vindictiveness, their cruelty, and their 
 quarrels with each other, but were supposed to have amours 
 on earth, and to consume the viands placed on their altars. 
 Add to which, that in various mythologies, Greek, Scandi- 
 navian, and others, the oldest beings are giants ; that ac- 
 cording to a traditional genealogy the gods, demi-gods, 
 and in some cases men, are descended from these after the 
 human fashion ; and that while in the East we hear of sons of 
 God who saw the daughters of men that they were fair, 
 the Teutonic myths tell of unions between the sons of men 
 and the daughters of the gods. 
 
 Let them remember, too, that at first the idea of death 
 differed widely from that which we have ; that there are 
 Btill tribes who, on the decease of one of their number, at- 
 tempt to make the corpse stand, and put food into his mouth ; 
 that the Peruvians had feasts at which the mummies of their 
 
PEIMITIVE KELIGIOUS IDEAS. G7 
 
 dead Incus presided, when, as Prescott says, they paid atten- 
 tion " to these insensible remains as if they were instinct with 
 life ; " that among the Fejees it is believed that every enemy 
 has to be killed twice ; that the Eastern Pagans give exten- 
 sion and figure to the soul, and attribute to it all the same sub* 
 stances, both solid andliquid, of which our bodies are compos- 
 ed ; and that it is the custom among most barbarous races to 
 bury food, weapons, and trinkets along with the dead body, 
 under the manifest belief that it will presently need them. 
 
 Lastly, let them remember that the other world, as ori- 
 ginally conceived, is simply some distant part of this world 
 — some Elysian fields, some happy hunting-ground, accessi- 
 ble even to the living, and to which, after death, men 
 travel in anticipation of a life analogous in general charac- 
 ter to that which they led before. Then, co-ordinating these 
 general facts — the ascription of unknown powers to chiefs 
 and medicine men ; the belief in deities having human 
 -forms, passions, and behaviour ; the imperfect comprehen- 
 sion of death as distinguished from life ; and the proximity 
 of the future abode to the present, both in position and 
 character — let them reflect whether they do not almost un- 
 avoidably suggest the conclusion that the aboriginal god 
 is the dead chief: the chief not dead in our sense, but 
 gone away carrying with him food and weapons to some 
 rumoured region of plenty, some promised land, Avhither he 
 had long intended to lead his followers, and whence he will 
 presently return to fetch them. 
 
 This hypothesis once entertained, is seen to harmonize 
 with all primitive ideas and practices. The sons of the dei- 
 fied chief reigning after him, it necessarily happens that all 
 early kings are held descendants of the gods ; and the fact 
 that alike in Assyria, Egypt, among the Jews, Phoenicians, 
 and ancient Britons, kings' names were formed out of the 
 names of the gods, is fully explained. The genesis of Poly- 
 theism out of Fetishism, by the successive migrations of 
 
68 MANNERS AND FASHION. 
 
 the race of god-kings to the other world — a genesis illus- 
 trated in the Greek mythology, alike by the precise gene- 
 alogy of the deities, and by the specifically asserted apothe- 
 osis of the later ones — tends further to bear it out. It ex- 
 plains the fact that in the old creeds, as in the still extant 
 creed of the Otaheitans, every family has its guardian 
 spirit, who is supposed to be one of their departed rela- 
 tives ; and that they sacrifice to these as minor gods — a 
 practice still pursued by the Chinese and even by the Rus- 
 sians. It is perfectly congruous with the Grecian myths 
 concerning the wars of the Gods with the Titans and their 
 final usurpation ; and it similarly agrees with the fact that 
 among the Teutonic gods proper was one Freir who came 
 among them by adoption, " but was born among the Vanes, a 
 somewhat mysterious other dynasty of gods, who had been 
 conquered and superseded by the stronger and more wai'like 
 Odin dynasty." It harmonizes, too, with the belief that there 
 are different gods to different territories and nations, as there 
 were different chiefs ; that these gods contend for supremacy 
 as chiefs do; and it gives meaning to the boast of neighbour- 
 ing tribes — "Our god is greater than your god." It is con- 
 firmed by the notion universally current in early times, that 
 the gods come from this other abode, in which they common- 
 ly live, and appear among men — speak to them, help them, 
 punish them. And remembering this, it becomes manifest 
 that the prayers put up by primitive peoples to their gods for 
 aid in battle, are meant literally — that their gods are expect- 
 ed to come back from the other kingdom they are reigning 
 over, and once more fight the old enemies they had before 
 warred against so implacably ; and it needs but to name the 
 Uiad, to remind every one how thoroughly they believed the 
 expectation fulfilled. 
 
 All government, then, being originally that of the 
 rtrong man who has become a fetish by some manifestation ol 
 superiority, there arises, at his death — his supposed dopar- 
 
SEPARATION OF CIVIL FKOM EELIGIOUS AUTHORITY. 69 
 
 tare on a long projected expedition, in which he is accom- 
 panied by his slaves and concubines sacrificed at his tomb 
 — there arises, then, the incipient division of religious from 
 political control, of civil rule from spiritual. His son be- 
 comes deputed chief during his absence ; his authority is 
 cited as that by which his son acts; his vengeance is invok- 
 ed on all who disobey his son ; and his commands, as pre- 
 viously known or as asserted by his son, become the germ 
 of a moral code : a fact we shall the more clearly perceive 
 if we remember, that early moral codes inculcate mainly 
 the virtues of the warrior, and the duty of exterminating 
 some neighbouring tribe whose existence is an offence to 
 the deity. 
 
 From this j)oint onwards, these two kinds of authority, 
 at first complicated together as those of principal and agent, 
 become slowly more and more distinct. As experience ac- 
 cumulates, and ideas of causation grow more precise, kings 
 lose their supernatural attributes ; and, instead of God- 
 king, become God-descended king, God-appointed king, 
 the Lord's anointed, the vicegerent of heaven, ruler reign- 
 ing by Divine right. The old theory, however, long clings 
 to men in feeling, after it has disappeared in name ; and 
 " such divinity doth hedge a king," that even now, many, 
 on first seing one, feel a secret surprise at finding him an 
 ordinary sample of humanity. The sacredness attaching 
 to royalty attaches afterwards to its appended institutions 
 — to legislatures, to laws. Legal and illegal are synony- 
 mous with right and wrong ; the authority of Parliament 
 is held unlimited ; and a lingering faith in governmental 
 power continually generates unfounded hopes from its en- 
 actments. Political scepticism, however, having destroyed 
 the divine prestige of royalty, goes on ever increasing, 
 and promises ultimately to reduce the State to a purely 
 Secular institution, whose regulations are limited in their 
 sphere, and have no other authority than the general will 
 
70 MANNERS AND FASHION. 
 
 Meanwhile, the religious control has been little by little 
 separating itself from the civil, both in its essence and in 
 its forms. While from the God-king of the savage have 
 arisen in one direction, secular rulers who, age by age, 
 ha,ve been losing the sacred attributes men ascribed to 
 them ; there has arisen in another direction, the conception 
 of a deity, who, at first human in all things, has been grad- 
 nally losing human materiality, human form, human passions, 
 human modes of action : until now, anthropomorphism has 
 become a reproach. 
 
 Along with this wide divergence in men's ideas of the 
 divine and civil ruler has been taking place a corresponding 
 divergence in the codes of conduct respectively proceeding 
 from them. While the king was a deputy-god — a governor 
 such as the Jews looked for in the Messiah — a governor 
 considered, as the Czar still is, " our God upon Earth," — 
 it, of course, followed that his commands were the supreme 
 rules. But as men ceased to believe in his supernatural 
 origin and nature, his commands ceased to be the highest ; 
 and there arose a distinction between the regulations made 
 by him, and the regulations handed down from the old 
 god-kings, who were rendered ever more sacred by time 
 and the accumulation of myths. Hence came respectively. 
 Law and Morality : the one growing ever more concrete, 
 the other more abstract ; the authority of the one ever on 
 the decrease, that of the other ever on the increase ; origi- 
 nally the same, but now placed daily in more marked an- 
 tagonism. 
 
 Simultaneously there has been going on a separation of 
 the institutions administering these two codes of conduct. 
 While they were yet one, of course Church and State were 
 one ; the king was arch-priest, not nominally, but really- 
 alike the giver of new commands and the chief interpreter 
 of the old commands ; and the deputy-j)riests coming out 
 of his family were thus simply expounders of the dictates 
 
BEPARATK»N OF CUUECH AND STATE, 71 
 
 of their ancestry : at first as recollected, and afterwards as 
 ascertained by professed interviews with them. This union 
 — which still existed practically during the middle ages, 
 when the authority of kings w"as mixed up with the author- 
 ity of the pope, when there were bishop-rulers having all 
 the powers of feudal lords, and when priests punished b} 
 penances — has been, step by step, becoming less close. 
 Though monarchs are still " defenders of the faith," 
 and ecclesiastical chiefs, they are but nominally such. 
 Though bishops still have civil power, it is not what they 
 once had. Protestantism shook loose the bonds of union ; 
 Dissent has long been busy in organizing a mechanism for 
 the exercise of religious control, wholly independent of 
 law ; in America, a sej)arate organization for that purpose 
 already exists ; and if anything is to be hoped from the 
 Anti State-Church Association — or, as it has been newly 
 named, " The Society for the Liberation of Religion from 
 State Patronage and Control " — we shall presently have a 
 separate organization here also. 
 
 Thus alike In authority, in essence, and in form, politi- 
 cal and spiritual rule have been ever more widely diverging 
 from the same root. That increasing division of labour 
 which marks the progress of society in other things, marks 
 it also in this separation of government into civil and reli- 
 gious ; and if we observe how the morality which forms the 
 substance of religions in general, is beginning to be puri- 
 fied from the associated creeds, we may anticipate that this 
 division will be ultimately carried much further. 
 
 Passing now to the third species of control— that of 
 Manners — we shall find that this, too, while it had a com- 
 mon genesis with the others, has gradually come to have a 
 distinct sphere and a special embodiment. Among early 
 aggregations of men before yet social observances existed, 
 the sole forms of courtesy known were the signs of sub- 
 mia^iion to the strong man ; as the sole law was his will, 
 5 
 
72 MANNEE8 AND FASIIIOX. 
 
 and the sole religion the awe of his supposed supernatural- 
 ness. Originally, ceremonies were modes of behaviour to 
 the god-king. Our commonest titles have been derived 
 from his names. And all salutations were primarily wor- 
 ship paid to him. Let us trace out these truths in detail, 
 beginning with titles. 
 
 The fact already noticed, that the names of early kings 
 among divers races are formed by the addition of certain 
 syllables to the names of their gods — which certain sylla- 
 bles, like our 3Iac and Fltz, probably mean " son of," or 
 "descended from" — at once gives meaning to the term 
 Father as a divine title. And when we read, in Seldcn, 
 that " the composition out of these names of Deities was 
 not only proper to Kings : their Grandes and more honora- 
 ble Subjects" (no doubt members of the royal race) " had 
 sometimes the like ; " we see how the term Father, prop- 
 erly used by these also, and by their multiplying descend- 
 ants, came to be a title used by the people in general. And 
 it is significant as bearing on this j)oint, that among the 
 most barbarous nation in Europe, where belief in the di- 
 vine nature of the ruler still lingers, Father in this higher 
 sense is still a regal distinction. When, again, we remem- 
 ber how the divinity at first ascribed to kings was not a 
 complimentary fiction but a supposed fact ; and how, fui*- 
 ther, under the Fetish philosophy the celestial bodies are 
 believed to be personages who once lived among men ; we 
 see that the appellations of oriental rulers, " Brother to the 
 Sun," &c., were probably once expressive of a genuine be- 
 lief; and have simply, like many other things, continued in 
 use after all meaning has gone out of them. We may 
 infer, too, that the titles God, Lord, Divinity, were given 
 to primitive rulers literally — that the nostra dimnitas ap- 
 plied to the Roman emperors, and the various sacred des 
 ignations that have been borne by monarchs, doAvn to the 
 Btill extant phrase, '• Our Lord the King," are tlie dead and 
 
DESrV^ATION OF HONOEAKY TITLES. 73 
 
 dying forms of what were once living facts. From these 
 names, God, Father, Lord, Divinity, originally belonging 
 to the God-king, and afterwards to God and the king, the 
 derivation of our commonest titles of respect is clearly 
 traceable. 
 
 There is reason to think that these titles were originally 
 proper names. Not only do we see among the Egyptians, 
 There Pharaoh was synonymous with king, and among the 
 Romans, where to be CiEsar, meant to be Emperor, that 
 the proper names of the greatest men were transferred to 
 their successors, and so became class names ; but in the 
 Scandinavian mythology we may trace a human title of 
 honour u]5 to the proper name of a divine personage. In 
 Anglo-Saxon JeaZc^or, or haldor^ means Lord j and Balder 
 is the name of the favourite of Odin's sons — the gods who 
 with him constitute the Teutonic Pantheon. How these 
 names of honour became general is easily understood. 
 The relatives of the primitive kings — the grandees de- 
 scribed by Selden as having names formed on those of the 
 gods, and shown by this to be members of the divine race 
 — necessarily shared in the epithets, such as Lord^ descrip- 
 tive of superhuman relationships and nature. Their ever- 
 multiplying offspring inheriting these, gradually rendered 
 them comparatively common. And then they came to be 
 applied to every man of power : partly from the fact that, 
 in these early days when men conceived divinity simply as 
 a stronger kind of humanity, great joersons could be called 
 by divine epithets with but little exaggeration ; partly from 
 the fact that the unusually potent Avere apt to be consid- 
 ered as unrecognized or illegitimate descendants of " the* 
 strong, the destroyer, the powerful one ;" and partly, also, 
 from conipliment and the desire to propitiate. 
 
 Progressively as superstition diminished, this last be- 
 came the sole cause. And if we remember that it is the 
 nature of compliment, as we daily hear it, to attribute 
 
74: MANNERS AND FASHION. 
 
 more tkan is due — that in the constantly widening applica« 
 tion of " esquire," in the perpetual repetition of " your 
 honour" by the fawning Irishman, and in the use of the 
 name " gentleman" to any coalheaver or dustman by the 
 lower classes of London, we have current examples of the 
 depreciation of titles consequent on compliment — and that 
 in barbarous times, when the wish to propitiate was stronger 
 than now, this effect must have been greater ; we shall see 
 that there naturally arose an extensive misuse of all early 
 distinctions. Hence the facts, that the Jew^s called Herod 
 a god ; that Father, in its higher sense, was a term used 
 among them by servants to masters ; that Lord was appli- 
 cable to any person of worth and power. Hence, too, the 
 fact that, in the later periods of the Roman Empire, e\ery 
 man saluted his neighbour as Dominus and Hex. 
 
 But it is in the titles of the middle ages, and in the 
 growth of our modern ones out of them, that the process 
 is most clearly seen. Herr, Don, Signior, Seigneur, Sen- 
 nor, were all originally names of rulers — of feudal lords. 
 By the complimentary use of these names to all who could, 
 on any pretence, be supposed to merit them, and by suc- 
 cessive degradations of them from each step in the descent 
 to a still lower one, they have come to be common forms 
 of address. At first the phrase in which a serf acosted his 
 despotic chief, mein Jierr is now familiarly applied in Ger- 
 many to ordinary j)eople. The Spanish title Don, once 
 jDroper to noblemen and gentlemen only, is now accorded 
 to all classes. So, too, is it with Signior in Italy. Seigneur, 
 and Monseigneur, by contraction in Sieur and Monsieur^ 
 have produced the term of respect claimed by every 
 Frenchman. And whether Sire be or be not a like con- 
 traction of Signior, it is clear that, as it was borne by sun- 
 dxy of the ancient feudal lords of France, Avho, as Seldea 
 says, " affected rather to bee stiled by the name of Sirt 
 than Baron, as Xe Sire cle Montmorencie, Le Sire de 
 
DEPRECIATION OF HONOEATJY TITLES. 75 
 
 Beauieic, and the like," and as it has been commonly used 
 to monarclis, our word Sh', which is derived from it, ori- 
 ginally meant lord or king. Thus, too, is it with feminine 
 titles. Lady^ which, according to Home Tooke, means ea> 
 alted^ and was at first given only to the few, is now given 
 to all women of education. Dame, once an honourable 
 name to which, in old books, we find the epithets of " high- 
 born " and " stately " affixed, has now, by repeated widen- 
 ings of its application, become relatively a term of contempt. 
 And if we trace the compound of this, ma Dame, through 
 its contractions — Madam, ma^am,, mam, mum,, we find that 
 the " Yes'm " of Sally to her mistress is originally equiva- 
 lent to "Yes, my exalted," or "Yes, your highness." 
 Throughout, therefore, the genesis of words of honour has 
 been the same. Just as with the Jews and with the Ro- 
 mans, has it been with the modern Europeans. Tracing 
 these everyday names to their primitive significations of 
 lord and kiny, and remembering that in aboriginal societies 
 these were applied only to the gods and their descendants, 
 we arrive at the conclusion that our familiar Sir and 3fon- 
 sieiir are, in their primary and expanded meanings, terms 
 of adoration. 
 
 Further to illustrate this gradual depreciation of titles, 
 and to confirm the inference drawn, it may be well to no- 
 tice in passing, that the oldest of them have, as might be 
 expected, been depreciated to the greatest extent. Thus, 
 Master — a word proved by its derivation and by the simi- 
 larity of the connate words in other languages (Fr., maitre 
 for master ; Russ., master ^ Dan., meester ^ Ger,, meister) 
 to have been one of the earliest in use for expressing 
 lordship — has now become applicable to children only, 
 and under the modification of " Mister," to persons next, 
 above the labourei*. Again, knighthood, the oldest kind 
 of dignity, is also the lowest ; and Knight Bachelor, which 
 IS the lowest order of knighthood, is more ancient thau 
 
TQ MAISTNEES AJSTD lASniON. 
 
 any other of the orders. Similarly, too, with the peerage 
 Baron is alike the earliest and least elevated of its divi 
 sions. This continual degradation of all names of honor has, 
 from time to time, made it requisite to introduce new ones 
 having that distinguishing effect which the originals had 
 lost by generality of use ; just as our habit of misapplying 
 superlatives has, by gradually destroying their force, entail- 
 ed the need for fresh ones. And if, within the last thousand 
 years, this process has produced effects thus marked, we 
 may readily conceive how, during previous thousands, the 
 titles of gods and demi-gods came to be used to all pei'sons 
 exercising power ; as they have since come to be used to 
 persons of respectability. 
 
 If from names of honour we turn to phrases of honour, 
 we find similar facts. The Oriental styles of address, ap- 
 plied to ordinary people — " I am your slave," " All I have is 
 yours," " I am your sacrifice " — attribute to the individual 
 spoken to the same greatness that 3Io7isieiir and 3fy Lord 
 do : they ascribe to him the character of an all-powerful 
 ruler, so immeasurably superior to the speaker as to be his 
 owner. So, likewise, with the Polish expressions of resiDect 
 — "I throw myself under your feet," "I kiss your feet." 
 In our now meaningless subscription to a formal letter — 
 " Your most obedient servant," — the same thing is visible. 
 Nay, even in the familiar signature " Yours faithfully," the 
 " yom^s," if interpreted as originally meant, is the exj^res- 
 sion of a slave to his master. 
 
 All these dead forms were once living embodiments of 
 fact — were primarily the genuine indications of that submis- 
 sion to authority which they verbally assert ; were after- 
 wards naturally used by the weak and cowardly to pro- 
 pitiate those above them ; gradually grew to be considered 
 the due of such ; and, by a continually wider misuse, have 
 lost their meanings, as Sir and Master have done. That, 
 like titles, they were in the beginning used only to the 
 
ORiam OF PHEASES OF HOXOUE. 77 
 
 God-king, is indicated by the fact that, like titles, they were 
 subsequently used in common to God and the king. Re- 
 ligious worship has ever largely consisted of professions of 
 obedience, of being God's servants, of belonging to him to 
 do what he will with. Like titles, therefore, these common 
 phrases of honour had a devotional origin. 
 
 Perhaps, however, it is in the use of the word you as a 
 singular pronoun that the popularizing of what were once 
 supreme distinctions is most markedly illustrated. Thi? 
 speaking of a single individual in the plural, was origi 
 nally an honour given only to the highest — was the recipro- 
 cal of the imperial " we " assumed by such. Yet now, by 
 being applied to successively lower and lower classes, it 
 has become all but universal. Only by one sect of Chris- 
 tians, and in a few secluded districts, is the primitive thou 
 still used. And the yon, in becoming common to all ranks 
 has simultaneously lost every vestige of the honour once 
 attaching to it. 
 
 But the genesis of Manners out of forms of allegiance 
 and worship, is above all shown in men's modes of salutation. 
 Note first the significance of the word. Among the Romans, 
 the salutatio was a daily homage paid by clients and infe- 
 riors to superiors. This was alike the case with civilians 
 and in the army. The very derivation of our word, there- 
 fore, is suggestive of submission. Passing to particular 
 forms of obeisance (mark the word again), let us begin with 
 the Eastern one of baring the feet. This was, primarily, a 
 mark of reverence, alike to a god and a king. The act of 
 Moses before the burning bush, and the practice of Mahom- 
 etans, who are sworn on the Koran with their shoes oiF, ex- 
 emplify the one employment of it ; the custom of the Per- 
 sians, who remove their shoes on entering the presence of 
 their monarch, exemplifies the other. As usual, however, 
 this homage, paid rext to inferior rulers, has descended 
 from grade to grade. In India, it is a common mark of 
 
78 MANNERS AND FASHION, 
 
 respect ; a polite man in Turkey always leaves his shoes at 
 the door, while the lower orders of Turks never enter the 
 ]iresence of their superiors but in their stockings; and in 
 Japan, this baring of the feet is an ordinary salutation of 
 man to man. 
 
 Take another case. Selden, describing the ceremonies 
 of the Romans, says : — " For whereas it was usual either to 
 kiss the Images of their Gods, or adoring them, to stand 
 somewhat off" before them, solemnly moving the right hand 
 to the lips, and then, casting it as if they had cast kisses, to 
 tuime the body on the same hand (which was the right forme 
 of Adoration), it grew also by custom, first that the emperors, 
 being next to Deities, and by some accounted as Deities, 
 had the like done to them -in acknowledgment of their 
 Greatness." If, now, we call to mind the awkward salute 
 of a village school-boy, made by putting his open hand up 
 to his face and describing a semicircle with his forearm ; 
 and if we remember that the salute thus used as a form of 
 reverence in country districts, is most likely a remnant of 
 the feudal times ; we shall see reason for thinking that our 
 common wave of the hand to a friend across the street, re- 
 presents what w^as primarily a devotional act. 
 
 Similarly have originated all forms of respect depend- 
 ing uj^on inclinations of the body. Entire prostration is 
 the aboriginal sign of submission. The passage of Scrip- 
 ture, " Thou hast put all under his feet," and that other one, 
 BO suggestive in its anthropomorphism, " The Lord said 
 unto my Lord, sit thou at my right hand, until I make thine 
 enemies thy footstool," imply, what the Assyrian sculptures 
 fully bear out, that it was the j^ractice of the ancient god- 
 kings of the East to trample upon the conquered. And 
 when we bear in mind that there are existing savages 
 who signify submission by placing the neck under the foot 
 of the person submitted to, it becomes obvious that all 
 prostration, especially when accompanied by kissing the 
 
HOW FOKMS OF SALUTATION HAVE OKIGINATED. TO 
 
 lot, expressed a willingness to be trodden upon — was an at- 
 tempt to mitigate wrath by saying, in signs, " Tread on me 
 if you will." Remembering, further, that kissing the foot, 
 as of the Pope and of a saint's statue, still continues m 
 Europe to be a mark of extreme reverence ; that prostra 
 tion to feudal lords was once general ; and that its dis 
 appearance must have taken place, not abruptly, but by 
 gradual modification into something else ; we have ground 
 for deriving from these deepest of humiliations all inclina- 
 tions of respect ; especially as the transition is traceable. 
 The reverence of a Russian serf, who bends his head to 
 the ground, and the salaam of the Hindoo, are abridged 
 prostrations ; a bow is a short salaam ; a nod is a short 
 bow. 
 
 Should any hesitate to admit this conclusion, then per- 
 haps, on being reminded that the lowest of these obeisances 
 are common where the submission is most abject; that 
 among ourselves the profundity of the bow marks the 
 amount of respect ; and lastly, that the bow is even now 
 used devotionally in our churches — ^by Catholics to their 
 altars, and by Protestants at the name of Christ — they will 
 see sufficient evidence for thinking that this salutation also 
 was originally worship. 
 
 The same may be said, too, of the curtsy, or courtesy, 
 as it is otherwise written. Its derivation from courtoisle, 
 courteousness, that is, behaviour like that at court, at once 
 shows that it was primarily the reverence paid to a mon* 
 arch. And if we call to mind that falling upon the knees, 
 or upon one knee, has been a common obeisance of subjects 
 to rulers ; that in ancient manuscripts and tapestries, ser- 
 vants are depicted as assuming this attitude while offering 
 the dishes to their masters at table ; and that this same at- 
 titude is assumed towards our own queen at every presen- 
 tation ; we may infer, what the character of the curtsj' 
 itself suggests, that it is an abridged act of kneeling. As 
 
BO MANNERS ANE tf-ASHION. 
 
 the word has been contracted from courtoisie into curtsj, 
 so the motion has been contracted from a placing of the 
 knee on the floor, to a lowering of the knee towards the 
 floor. Moreover, when we compare the curtsy of a lady 
 with the awkward one a peasant girl makes, which, if con- 
 tinued, would bring her down on both knees, we may 
 see in this last a remnant of that greater reverence re- 
 quired of serfs. And when, from considering that simple 
 kneeling of the "West, still represented by the curtsy, we 
 pass Eastward, and note the attitude of the Mahomedan 
 worshipper, who not only kneels but bows his head to the 
 ground, we may infer that the curtsy also, is an evanescent 
 form of the aboriginal prostration. 
 
 In further evidence of this it may be remarked, that 
 there has but recently disappeared from the salutations of 
 men, an action having the same proximate derivation with 
 the curtsy. That backward sweep of the foot with which 
 the conventional stage-sailor accompanies his bow — a move- 
 ment which prevailed generally in past generations, when 
 " a bow and a scrape " went together, and which, within 
 the memory of living persons, was made by boys to their 
 schoolmaster with the eflTcct of wearing a hole in the floor 
 — is pretty clearly a preliminary to going on one knee. A 
 motion so ungainly could never have been intentionally in- 
 troduced ; even if the artificial introduction of obeisances 
 were possible. Hence we must regard it as the remnant of 
 something antecedent : and that this something antecedent 
 was humiliating may be inferred from the phrase, " scraping 
 an acquaintance ; " which, being used to denote the gaining 
 of favour by obsequiousness, implies that the scrape was 
 considered a mark of servility — that is, of serf-\Y\tj. 
 
 Consider, again, the uncovering of the head. Almost 
 everywhere this has been a sign of reverence, alike in tem- 
 ples and before potentates ; and it yet preserves among us 
 some of its original meaning. Whether it rains, hails, oi 
 
OBIGIN OF CEKKMONIxiL ATTITUDES. 8.1 
 
 shines, you must keep your bead bare while speaking to the 
 monarch; and on no plea may you remain covered in a 
 place of worship. As usual, however, this ceremony, at 
 first a submission to gods and kings, has become in process 
 of time a common civility. Once an acknowledgment ot 
 another's unlimited supremacy, the removal of the hat is 
 now a salute accorded to very ordinary persons, and that 
 uncovering, originally reserved for entrance into " the house 
 of God," good manners now dictates on entrance into the 
 house of a common labourer. 
 
 Standing, too, as a mark of respect, has undergone like 
 extensions in its application. Shown, by the practice in 
 our churches, to be intermediate between the humiliation 
 signified by kneeling and the self-respect which sitting im- 
 plies, and used at courts as aform of homage when more active 
 demonstrations of it have been made, this posture is now em- 
 ployed in daily life to show consideration ; as seen alike in 
 the attitude ot a servant before a master, and in that rising 
 which politeness prescribes on the entrance of a visitor. 
 
 Many other threads of evidence might have been woven 
 into our argument. As, for example, the significant fact, 
 that if we trace back our stUl existing law of primogeni- 
 ture — if we consider it as displayed by Scottish clans, in 
 which not only ownership but government devolved from 
 the beginning on the eldest son of the eldest — if we look 
 further back, and observe that the old titles of lordship, 
 Signor^ Seigneur^ Sennor, Sire, Siew\ all originally mean, 
 senior, or elder — if we go Eastward, and find that Sheick 
 has a like derivation, and that the Oriental names for priests, 
 as Pir, for instance, are literally interpreted old man — if 
 we note in Hebrew records how primeval is the ascribed 
 superiority of the first-born, how great the authority of 
 elders, and how sacred the memory of patriarchs — and if, 
 then, we remember that among divine titles are " Ancient 
 of Days," and ''■ Fatlicr of Gods and men ; "— vre see \\o\^ 
 
82 MANNERS AND FASHION. 
 
 completely these facts harmonize ^vith the hypothesis, th.it 
 the aboriginal god is the first man suificiently great to be- 
 come a tradition, the earliest whose power and deeds made 
 him remembered ; that hence antiquity unavoidably became 
 associated with superiority, and age with nearness in blood 
 to " the powerful one ; " that so there naturally arose that 
 domination of the eldest which characterizes all history, 
 and that theory of human degeneracy which even yet sur- 
 vives. 
 
 We might farther dwell on the facts, that Lord signi- 
 fies high-born, or, as the same root gives a word meaning 
 heaven, possibly heaven-born ; that, before it became com- 
 mon, Sir or S>ire^ as well as Father^ was the distinction of 
 a priest ; that v^orshlp^ originally worth-ship — a term of 
 respect that has been used commonly, as well as to magis- 
 trates — is also our term for the act of attributing greatness 
 or worth to the Deity ; so that to ascribe worth-ship to a 
 man is to worship him. "We might make much of the evi- 
 dence that all early governments are more or less distinct- 
 ly theocratic ; and that among ancient Eastern nations even 
 the commonest forms and customs ap^^ear to have been in- 
 fluenced by religion. AYc might enforce our argument re- 
 specting the derivation of ceremonies, by tracing out the 
 aboriginal obeisance made by putting dust on the head, 
 which probably symbolizes putting the head in the dust : 
 by affiliating the practice prevailing among certain tribes, 
 of doing another honour by presenting him with a portion 
 of hair torn from the head — an act which seems tantamount 
 to saying, "I am your slave ; " by investigating the Oriental 
 custom of giving to a visitor any object he speaks of ad- 
 miringly, which is pretty clearly a carrying out the compli- 
 ment, " All I have is yours." 
 
 Without enlarging, however, on these and many minor 
 facts, we venture to think that the evidence already assign- 
 ed is sufficient to justify our position. Had the proofs been 
 
THREEFOLD BEANCHING OF PEIMITIVE GOVERNMENT. 83 
 
 few or of one kind, little faith could have heen placed io 
 the inference. But numerous as they are, alike in the case 
 of titles, in that of complimentary phrases, and in that of 
 salutes — similar and simultaneous, too, as the process of de» 
 preciation has been in all of these ; the evidences become 
 strong by mutual confirmation. And when we recollect, 
 also, that not only have the results of this process been vis- 
 ible in various nations and in all times, but that they are 
 occurring among ourselves at the present moment, and that 
 the causes assigned for previous depreciations may be seen 
 daily working out other ones — when we recollect this, it 
 becomes scarcely possible to doubt that the process has 
 been as alleged ; and that our ordinary words, acts, and 
 phrases of civility were originally acknowledgments of sub- 
 mission to another's omnijiotence. 
 
 Thus the general doctrine, that all kinds of government 
 exercised over men were at first one government — that the 
 political, the religious, and the ceremonial forms of control 
 are divergeiit branches of a general and once indivisible 
 control — begins to look tenable. When, with the above 
 facts fresh in mind, we read primitive records, and find that 
 " there were giants in those days " — when we remember 
 that in Eastern traditions Nimrod, among others, figures 
 in all the characters of giant, king, and divinity — when Ave 
 turn to the sculptures exhumed by Mr. Layard, and con- 
 templating in them the effigies of kings driving over 
 enemies, trampling on prisoners, and adored by prostrate 
 slaves, then observe how their actions correspond to the 
 primitive names for the divinity, " the strong," " the 
 destroyer," " the powerful one " — when we find that the 
 earliest temples were also the residences of the kings — and 
 when, lastly, we discover that among races of men still liv- 
 ing, there are current superstitions analogous to those which 
 old records and old buildings indicate ; we begin to realize 
 whe probability of the hypothesis that has been set forth. 
 
8± ilANNEES Am) FASHIOiSr. 
 
 Going back, in imagination, to the remote era wlien 
 men's theories of things were yet unformed ; and conceiv- 
 ing to ourselves the conquering chief as dimly figured in 
 ancient myths, and poems, and ruins ; we may see that all 
 rules of conduct whatever spring from his will. Alike 
 legislator and jiidge, all quarrels among his subjects are 
 decided by him ; and his words become the Law. Awe of 
 bim is the incipient Keligion ; and his maxims furnish its 
 first precepts. Submission is made to him in the forms 
 he prescribes ; and these give birth to Manners. From 
 the first, time developes political allegiance and the ad- 
 ministration of justice ; from the second, the w^orship 
 of a being whose personality becomes ever more vague, 
 and the inculcation of precepts ever more abstract ; 
 from the third, lorms of honour and the rules of eti- 
 quette. 
 
 In conformity with the law of evolution of all organ- 
 ized bodies, that general functions are gradually separated 
 into the special functions constituting them, there have 
 grown up in the social organism for the better performance 
 of the governmental ofiice, an apparatus of law-courts, 
 judges, and barristers; a national church, with its bishops 
 and priests ; and a system of caste, titles, and ceremonies, 
 administered by society at large. By the first, overt 
 aggressions are cognized and punished ; by the second, 
 the disposition to commit such aggressions is in some 
 degree checked ; by the third, those minor breaches of 
 good conduct, which the others do not notice, are de- 
 nounced and chastised. Law and Religion control be- 
 haviour in its essentials : Manners control it in its detaiJs- 
 For regulating those daily actions which are too nu- 
 merous and too imimportant to be ofiicially directed, 
 there comes into play this subtler set of restraints. And 
 when we consider what these restraints are — when we 
 analj'ze the words, and phrases, and salutes employed 
 
GOVERNMENT REQUIRED BY THE ABORIGINAL MAN. 85 
 
 we see that in origin as in effect, the system is a setting 
 up of temporary governments between all men who come 
 in contact, for the purpose of Letter managing the inter- 
 course between them. 
 
 From the proposition, that these several kinds of gov- 
 ernment arc essentially one, both in genesis and function, 
 may be deduced several important corollaries, directly 
 bearing on our special topic. 
 
 Let us first notice, that there is not only a common 
 origin and office for all forms of rule, but a common neces- 
 sity for them. The aboriginal man, coming fresh 
 from the killing of bears and from lying in ambush for 
 his enemy, has, by the necessities of his condition, a nature 
 requiring to be curbed in its every impulse. Alike in war 
 and in the chase, his daily discij)line has been that of 
 sacrificing other creatures to his own needs and passions. 
 His character, bequeathed to him by ancestors who led 
 similar lives, is moulded by this discipline — is fitted to this 
 existence. The unlimited selfishness, the love of inflicting 
 pain, the bloodthirstiness, thus kept active, he brings w^itb 
 him into the social state. These dispositions put him in 
 constant danger of conflict with his equally savage neigh- 
 bour. In small things as in great, in words as in deeds, 
 he is aggressive ; and is hourly liable to the aggressions 
 of others like natured. Only, therefore, by the most 
 rigoi'ous control exercised over all actions, can the j^rimi- 
 tive unions of men be maintained. There must be a 
 ruler strong, remorseless, and of indomitable will ; there 
 must be a creed terrible in its threats to the disobedi- 
 ent ; and there must be the most servile submission of 
 all inferiors to superiors. The law must be cruel ; the 
 religion must be stern ; the ceremonies must be strict. 
 
 The co-ordinate necessity for these several kinds of re- 
 straint might be largely illustrated fi-om history were there 
 
%Q MANNEKS AND FASHION, 
 
 space. SuiSce it to point out, that where the civil powci 
 has been weak, the multiplication of thieves, assassins, and 
 banditti, has indicated the approach of social dissolution ; 
 that when, from the corruptness of its ministi-y, religion 
 has lost its influence, as it did just before the Flagellants 
 appeared, the State has been endangered ; and that the 
 disregard of established social observances has ever been 
 an accompaniment of political revolutions. Whoever 
 doubts the necessity for a government of manners propor- 
 tionate in strength to the co-existing political and religious 
 governments, will be convinced on calling to mind that 
 until recently even elaborate codes of behaviour failed to 
 keep gentlemen from quarrelling in the streets and fighting 
 duels in taverns ; and on remembering further, that even now 
 people exhibit at the doors of a theatre, where there is no 
 ceremonial law to rule them, a degree of aggressiveness 
 which would produce confusiou if carried into social inter- 
 course. 
 
 As might be expected, we find that, having a common 
 origin and like general functions, these several controlling 
 agencies act during each er^ with similar degrees of vigour. 
 Under the Chinese despotism, stringent and multitudinous 
 in its edicts and harsh m the enforcement of them, and 
 associated with which there is an equally stern domestic 
 despotism exercised by the eldest surviving male of the 
 family, there exists a system of observances alike compli- 
 cated and rigid. There is a tribunal of ceremonies. Pre- 
 vious to presentation at court, ambassadors pass many days 
 in practising the required forms. Social intercourse is 
 cumbered by endless compliments and obeisances. Class 
 distinctions are strongly marked by badges. The chief 
 regret on loping an only son is, that there will be no one to 
 perform the sepulchral rites. And if there vrants a definite 
 measure of the respect paid to social ordinances, we have 
 it in the torture to which ladies submit in having their feel 
 
CEREMONIAL CONTKOL IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 87 
 
 crushed. In India, and indeed throughout the East, there 
 exists a like connection between the pitiless tyranny of 
 rulers, the dread terrors of immemorial creeds, and the 
 rigid restraint of imchangeable customs : the caste regula- 
 tions continue still unalterable ; the fashions of clothes and 
 furniture have remained the same for ages ; suttees are so 
 ancient as to be mentioned by Strabo and Diodorus Siculusj 
 justice is still administered at the palace-gates as of old ; 
 in short, " every usage is a precept of religion and a maxim 
 of jurisprudence." 
 
 A similar relationship of i^henomena was exhibited in 
 Europe during the Middle Ages. While all its govei'n- 
 ments were autocratic, while feudalism held sway, while 
 the Church was unshorn of its power, while the criminal 
 code was full of horrors and the hell of the popular creed 
 full of terrors, the rules of behaviour were both more 
 numerous and more carefully conformed to than now. Dif- 
 ferences of dress marked divisions of rank. Men were 
 limited by law to a certain width of shoe-toes ; and no one 
 below a specified degree might wear a cloak less than so 
 many inches long. The symbols on banners and shields 
 were carefully attended to. Heraldry was an important 
 branch of knowledge. Precedence was strictly insisted on. 
 And those various salutes of which we now use the abridg- 
 ments were gone through in full. Even during our own 
 last century, with its corrupt House of Commons and little- 
 curbed monarchs, we may mark a corresj^ondence of social 
 formalities. Gentlemen were still distinguished from lower 
 classes by dress ; peoj^le sacrificed themselves to inconven- 
 ient requirements — as powder, hooped petticoats, and tow- 
 ering head-dresses ; and children addressed their parents 
 as /Sir and Madam. 
 
 A further corollary naturally following this last, and 
 almost, indeed, forming part of it, is, that these several 
 kinds of government decrease in stringency at the same 
 
88 MAKNEES AND FASHION. 
 
 rate. Simultaneously with the decline in the influence of 
 priesthoods, and in the fear of eternal torments — simulta- 
 neously with the mitigation of jDolitical tyranny, the growth 
 of popular jDower, and the amelioration of criminal codes ; 
 has taken place ".hat diminution of formalities and that 
 fading of distinctive marks, now so observable. Looking 
 at Lome, we may note that there is less attention to prece- 
 dence than there used to be. No one in our day ends an 
 interview with the phrase " your humble servant." The 
 emj^loyment of the word Sir, once general in social inter- 
 course, is at present considered bad breeding ; and on the 
 occasions calling for them, it is held vulgar to use the 
 words " Your Majesty," or " Your Royal Highness," more 
 than once in a conversation. Peoj^le no longer formally drink 
 each other's healths; and even the taking wine with each 
 other at dinner has ceased to be fashionable. The taking- 
 off of hats between gentlemen has been gradually falling 
 into disuse. Even when the hat is removed, it is no longer 
 swejDt out at arm's length, but is simply lifted. Hence the 
 remark made upon us by foreigners, that we take off our 
 hats less than any other nation in Europe — a remark that 
 should be coupled with the other, that we are the freest 
 nation in Europe. 
 
 As already implied, this association of facts is not acci- 
 dental. These titles of address and modes of salutation, 
 bearing about them, as they all do, something of that ser- 
 vility which marks their origin, become distasteful in pro- 
 portion as men become more independent themselves, and 
 Bympathise more with the independence of others. The 
 feeling which makes the modern gentleman tell the labourer 
 standing bareheaded before him to put on his hat — the 
 feeling which gives us a dislike to those who cringe and 
 fawn — the feeling which makes us alike assert our own dig- 
 nity and respect that of others — the feeling which thus 
 leads us more and more to discountenance aU forms and 
 
DECLINE OF CEEEMOKIAL mELUENCE. 89 
 
 names which confess mferiority and submission ; is the same 
 feeling which resists despotic power and inaug-urates popu- 
 lar government, denies the authority of the Church arte 
 establishes the right of private judgment. 
 
 A fourth fact, akin to the foregoing, is, that these sev- 
 eral kinds of government not only decline together, bu< 
 corrupt together. By the same process that a Court of 
 Chancery becomes a place not for the administration of 
 justice, but for the withholding of it — by the same process 
 that a national church, from being an agency for moral con^ 
 trol, comes to be merely a thing of formulas and tithes and 
 bishoprics — by this same process do titles and ceremonies 
 that once had a meaning and a power become empty forms. 
 
 Coats of arms which served to distinguish men in bat- 
 tle, now figure on the carriage panels of retired grocers. 
 Once a badge of high military rank, the shoulder-knot has 
 become, on the modern footman, a mark of servitude, 
 The name Banneret, which once marked a partially-created 
 Baron — a Baron who had passed his military " little go" — 
 is now, under the modification of Baronet, applicable to 
 any one favoured by wealth or interest or party feeling. 
 Knighthood has so far ceased to be an honour, that men 
 now honour themselves by declining it. The military dig- 
 nity Escuyer has, in the modern Esquire, become a wholly 
 unmilitary affix. Not only do titles, and jihrases, and sa- 
 lutes cease to fulfil their original functions, but the whole 
 apparatus of social forms tends to become useless for it3 
 original purpose — the facilitation of social intercourse. 
 Those most learned in ceremonies, and most precise in the 
 observance of them, are not always the best behaved ; aa 
 those deepest read in creeds and scriptures are not there- 
 fore the most religious ; nor those who have the clearest 
 notions of legality and illegality, the most honest. Just 
 as lawyers are of all men the least noted for probity ; aa 
 cathedral towns have a lower moral charactei than most 
 
90 MANNEE8 AND FASHION. 
 
 others ; sOj if Swift is to be believed, courtiers are " tha 
 most insignificant race of people that the island can afford, 
 and with the smallest tincture of good manners." 
 
 But perhaps it is in that class of social observancei 
 comprehended under the term Fashion, which we must 
 here discuss parenthetically, that this process of corruption 
 is seen with the greatest distinctness. As contrasted with 
 Manners, which dictate our minor acts in relation to other 
 persons, Fashion dictates our minor acts in relation to our- 
 selves. While the one prescribes that part of our deport- 
 ment which directly affects our neighbours ; the other pre- 
 scribes that part of our deportment which is primarily per- 
 sonal, and in which our neighbours are concerned only as 
 spectators. Thus distinguished as they are, however, the 
 two have a common source. For while, as we have shown, 
 Manners originate by imitation of f ne behaviour pursued 
 toivards the great ; Fashion originates by imitation of the 
 behaviour of the great. While the one has its derivation 
 in the titles, phrases, and salutes used to those in power ; 
 the other is derived from the habits and appearances exhib' 
 ited hy those in power. 
 
 The Carrib mother who squeezes her child's head into 
 a shape like that of the chief; the young savage who makes 
 marks on himself similar to the scars carried by the war- 
 riors of his tribe (which is probably the origin of tattoo- 
 ing) ; the Ilighlander who adopts the plaid worn by the 
 head of his clan ; the courtiers w^ho affect greyness, or limp, 
 or cover their necks, in imitation of their king ; and the 
 people who ape the courtiers ; are alike acting under a kind 
 of government connate with that of Manners, and, like it 
 too, primarily beneficiak For notwithstanding the num- 
 berless absurdities into which this copyism has led the joeo- 
 pie, from nose-rings to ear-rings, from painted faces to 
 beauty-spots, from shaven heads to powdered ^\igs, from 
 filed teeth and stained nails to bell-girdles, peaked shoes 
 
OOKEUrTION OF THE CIlEEMONIAL KL LE. 91 
 
 and breeches stulBTed with bran, — it must yet be conchided, 
 that as the strong men, the successful men, the men of will, 
 intelligence, and originality, who have got to the top, are, 
 on the average, more likely to show judgment in their hab- 
 its and tastes than the mass, the imitation of such is advan- 
 tageous. 
 
 By and by, however. Fashion, corrupting like these 
 other forms of rule, almost wholly ceases to be an imitation 
 of the best, and becomes an imitation of quite other than 
 the best. As those who take orders are not those having 
 a special fitness for the priestly office, but those who see 
 their way to a living by it ; as legislators and public func- 
 tionaries do not become such by virtue of their political 
 insight and power to rule, but by virtue of birth, acreage, 
 and class influence ; so, the self-elected clique who set the 
 fashion, gain this i:)rerogative, not by their force of nature, 
 their intellect, their higher worth or better taste, but gain 
 it solely by their unchecked assumption. Among the ini- 
 tiated are to be found neither the noblest in rank, the 
 chief in power, the best cultured, the most refined, nor 
 those of greatest genius, wit, or beauty ; and their re- 
 unions, so far from being superior to others, are noted 
 for their inanity. Yet, by the examj)le of these sham 
 great, and not by that of the truly great, does society at 
 large now regulate its goings and comings, its hours, its 
 dress, its small usages. As a natural consequence, these 
 have generally little or none of that suitableness which the 
 theory of fashion implies they should have. But instead 
 of a continual progress towards greater elegance and con- 
 venience, which might be expected to occur did people 
 copy the ways of the really best, or follow their own ideas 
 if propriety, we have a reign of mere whim, of unreason, 
 of change for the sake of change, of wanton oscillations 
 from either extreme to the other — a reign of usages with- 
 out meaning, times without fitness, dress without taste 
 
.92 MANNEES AND FASHION. 
 
 And thus life d la mode, instead of being life conducted in 
 the most rational manner, is life regulated by spendthrifts 
 and idlers, milliners and tailors, dandies and silly women. 
 
 To these several corollaries — that the various orders of 
 control exercised over men have a common origin and a 
 common function, are called out by co-ordinate necessitiea 
 and co-exist in like stringency, decline together and corrupt 
 together — it now only remains to add that they become need- 
 less together. Consequent as all kinds of government are 
 upon the unfitness of the aboriginal man for social life; and 
 diminishing in coerciveness as they all do in projoortion as this 
 unfitness diminishes ; they must one and all come to an end as 
 humanity acquires complete adaptation to its new conditions. 
 That discipline of circumstances which has already wrought 
 out such great changes in ns, must go on eventually to 
 work out yet greater ones. That daily curbing of the low- 
 er nature and culture of the highei*, which out of cannibals 
 and devil worshippers has evolved philanthropists, lovers 
 of peace, and haters of superstition, cannot fail to evolve put 
 of these, men as much superior to them as they are to their 
 progenitors. The causes that have produced past modifica- 
 tions are still in action ; must continue in action as long as 
 there exists any incongruity between man's desires and the 
 requirements of the social state ; and must eventually make 
 him organically fit for the social state. As it is now need- 
 less to forbid man-eating and Fetishism, so will it ultimate- 
 ly become needless to forbid murder, theft, and the minor 
 oflences of our ci'iminal code. When human nature has 
 grown into conformity with the moral law, there will need 
 no judges and statute-books; when it spontaneously takes 
 the right course in all things, as in some things it docs al- 
 ready, prospects of future reward or punishment will not 
 be wanted as incentives ; and when fit behaviour has become 
 instinctive, there will need no code of ceremonies to saj 
 how behaviour shall be reo-ulated. 
 
KEVOLT AGAINST CEEEMOKIAL IIUI.E. 93 
 
 Thus, then, may be recognised the meaning, the natural 
 ncss, the necessity of those various eccentricities of reform 
 ers which we set out by describing. They are not acci- 
 dental ; they are not mere personal caprices, as people are 
 apt to suppose. On the contrary, they are inevitable re- 
 sults of the law of relationship above illustrated. That 
 community of genesis, function, and decay which all forms 
 of restraint exhibit, is simply the obverse of the fact at 
 first pointed out, that they have in two sentiments of hu- 
 man nature a common preserver and a common destroyer. 
 Awe of power originates and cherishes them all : love of 
 freedom undermines and periodically weakens them all. 
 The one defends despotism and asserts the supremacy of 
 laws, adheres to old creeds and supports ecclesiastical au- 
 thority, pays respect to titles and conserves forms ; the 
 other, putting rectitude above legality, achieves periodical 
 instalments of political liberty, inaugurates Protestantism 
 and works out its consequences, ignores the senseless dic- 
 tates of Fashion and emancipates men from dead customs. 
 
 To the true reformer no institution is sacred, no belief 
 above criticism. Everything shall conform itself to equity 
 and reason ; nothing shall be saved by its prestige. Con- 
 ceding to each man liberty to pursue his own ends and sat- 
 isfy his own tastes, he demands for himself like hberty ; and 
 consents to no restrictions on this, save those which other 
 men's equal claims involve. No matter whether it be an 
 ordinance of one man, or an ordinance of all men, if it 
 trenches on his legitimate sj^here of action, he denies its 
 validity. The tyranny that would impose on him a partic- 
 ular style of dress and a set mode of behaviour, he resists 
 equally with the tyranny that would limit his buyings and 
 sellings, or dictate his creed. Whether the regulation be 
 formally made by a legislature, or informally made by so- 
 siety at large — whether the i^enalty for disobedience be im- 
 prisonment, or frowns and social ostracism, he sees to be a 
 
94: MANNERS AND FASnrON. 
 
 question of no moment. He will utter his belief notwith 
 standing the threatened punishment ; he will break conven- 
 tions spite of the petty persecutions that will be visited on 
 him. Show him that his actions are inimical to his fellow- 
 men, and he will pause. Prove that he is disregardmg 
 their legitimate claims — that he is doing what in the nature 
 of things must produce unhappiness ; and he will alter his 
 course. But until you do this — until you demonstrate that 
 his proceedings are essentially inconvenient or inelegant, 
 essentially irrational, unjust, or ungenerous, he will perse- 
 vere. 
 
 Some, indeed, argue that his conduct is unjust and un- 
 generous. They say that he has no right to annoy other 
 people by his whims ; that the gentleman to whom his let- 
 ter comes with no " Esq." appended to the address, and the 
 lady whose evening party he enters with gloveless hands, 
 are vexed at what they consider his want of respect, or want 
 of breeding ; that thus his eccentricities cannot he indulged 
 save at the expense of his neighbours' feelings ; and that 
 hence his nonconformity is in plain terms selfishness. 
 
 He answers that this position, if logically developed, 
 would deprive men of all liberty whatever. Each must 
 conform all his acts to the public taste, and not his own. 
 The public taste on every point having been once ascer- 
 tained, men's habits must thenceforth remain for ever 
 fixed ; seeing that no man can adopt other habits without 
 sinning against the public taste, and giving people disagree- 
 able feelings. Consequently, be it an era of pig-tails or high- 
 heeled shoes, of starched ruflTs or trunk-hose, all must con- 
 tinue to wear pig-tails, high-heeled shoes, starched ruffs, or 
 trunk-hose to the crack of doom. 
 
 If it be still urged that he is not justified in breaking 
 through others' forms that he may establish his own, and 
 so sacrificing the wishes of many to the wishes of one, he 
 replies that all religious and political changes might be 
 
THE cunvention-breakee's vindicatio:n^. 95 
 
 negatived on like grounds. He asks whether Luther's 
 sayings and doings were not extremely offensive to the 
 mass of his contemporaries ; whether the resistance of 
 Hampden was not disgusting to the time-servers around 
 him ; whether every reformer has not shocked men's 
 j^rejudices, and given immense displeasure by the opinions 
 he uttered. The affirmative answer he follows up by 
 demanding what right the reformer has, then, to utter 
 these opinions ; whether he is not sacrificing the feelings 
 of many to the feelings of one : and so proves that, to 
 be consistent, his antagonists must condemn not only 
 all nonconformity in actions, but all nonconformity in 
 thoughts. 
 
 His antagonists rejoin that his position, too, may be 
 pushed to an absurdity. They argue that if a man may 
 oifend by the disregard of some forms, he may as legiti- 
 mately do so by the disregard of all ; and they inquire — 
 Why should he not go out to dinner in a dirty shirt, and 
 with an unshorn chin ? Why should he not spit on the 
 drawing-room carpet, and stretch his heels up to the man- 
 tel-shelf? 
 
 The convention-breaker answers, that to ask this, im- 
 plies a confounding of two widely-different classes of 
 actions — ^the actions that are essentially displeasurable to 
 those around, with the actions that are but incidentally 
 disi^leasurable to them. He whose skin is so unclean as to 
 offend the nostrils of his neighbours, or he who talks so 
 loudly as to disturb a whole room, may be justly com- 
 plained of, and rightly exx-luded by society from its assem- 
 blies. But he v.'ho presents himself in a surtout in place 
 of a dress-coat, or in brown trousers instead of black, givea 
 offence not to men's senses, or their innate tastes, but 
 merely to their prejudices, their bigotry of convention. It 
 cannot be said that his costume is less elegant or less 
 intrinsically appropriate than the one prescribed ; seeing 
 6 
 
96 MANNERS AND FASHION, 
 
 that a feTV hours earlier in the day it is admired. It Is the 
 implied rebelhon, therefore, that annoys. How little the 
 cause of quarrel has to do with the dress itself, is seen in 
 the fact that a century ago black clothes would have been 
 thought preposterous for hours of recreation, and that 
 a few years hence some now forbidden style may be nearer 
 the requirements of Fashion than the present one. Thus 
 the reformer explains that it is not against the natural 
 restraints, but against the artificial ones, that he pro- 
 tests ; and that manifestly the fire of sneers and angry 
 glances which he has to bear, is poured upon him be- 
 cause he will not bow down to the idol which society has 
 set up. 
 
 Should he be asked how we are to distinguish between 
 conduct that is absolutely disagreeable to others, and con- 
 duct that is relatively so, he answers, that they will distin- 
 guish themselves, if men will let them. Actions intrin- 
 sically repugnant will ever be frowned upon, and must 
 ever remain as exceptional as now. Actions not intrin- 
 sically repugnant will establish themselves as proper. No 
 relaxation of customs will introduce the practice of going 
 to a party in muddy boots, and with imwashed hands; for 
 the dislike of dirt would continue were Fashion abolished 
 to-morrow. That love of approbation which now makes 
 people so solicitous to be en regie would still exist — would 
 still make them careful of their personal appearance — 
 would still induce them to seek admiration by making 
 themselves ornamental — would still cause them to respect 
 the natural laws of good behaviour, as they now do the 
 artificial ones. The change would simply be from a rej^ul- 
 sive monotony to a picturesque variety. And if there be 
 any regulations resj^ecting which it is uncertain whether 
 they are based on reality -or on convention, experiment 
 will soon decide, if due scope be allowed. 
 
 "When at length the controversy conies round, as con 
 
THE JONVEIS^TION-BEEAKEk's VINDICATION. 97 
 
 troversies often do, to the point whence it started, and the 
 " party of order " repeat their charge against the rebel, 
 that he is sacrificing the fecHngs of others to the gratifica 
 tion of his own wilfulness, he replies once for all that they 
 cheat themselves by mis-statements. He accuses them of 
 being so despotic, that, not content with being masters 
 over their own ways and habits, they would be masters 
 over his also ; and grumble because he will not let them. 
 He merely asts the same freedom w^hich they exercise ; 
 they, however, propose to regulate his course as well as 
 their own — to cut and clip his mode of life into agreement 
 with their approved pattern ; and then charge him with 
 wilfulness and selfishness, because he does not quietly 
 submit ! He warns them that he shall resist, never- 
 theless ; and that he shall do so, not only for the asser- 
 tion of his own independence, but for their good. He tells 
 them that they are slaves, and know it not ; that they 
 are shackled, and kiss their chains ; that they have lived 
 all their days in prison, and complain at the walls being 
 broken down. He says he must persevere, however,- 
 with a view to his own release ; and in spite of their 
 present expostulations, he prophesies that when they have 
 recovered from the fright which the prospect of free- 
 dom produces, they will thank him for aiding in their 
 emancipation. 
 
 Unamiable as seems this find-fault mood, offensive as is 
 this defiant attitude, we must beware of overlooking the 
 truths enunciated, in dislike of the advocacy. It is an un- 
 fortunate hindrance to all innovation, that in virtue of 
 their very function, the innovators stand in a position of 
 antagonism ; and the disagreeable manners, and sayings, 
 and doings, which this antagonism generates, are com- 
 monly associated with the doctrines promulgated. Quite 
 forgetting that whether the thing attacked be good or 
 bad, the combative spirit is necessarily repulsive; and qultti 
 
BS MANNEES AOTD FASHION. 
 
 forgetting that the toleration of ahuses seems amiable 
 merely from its passivity ; the mass of men contract a bias 
 against advanced views, and in favour of stationary ones, 
 from intercourse with their respective adherents. " Con- 
 servatism," as Emerson says, " is debonnair and social ; 
 reform is individual and imperious." And this remains 
 true, however vicious the system conserved, however 
 righteous the reform to be effected. N"ay, the indigna- 
 tion of the purists is usually extreme in proportion as 
 the evils to be got rid of are great. The more urgent 
 the required change, the more intemperate is the vehe- 
 mence of its promoters. Let no one, then, confound with 
 the principles of this social nonconformity the acerbity 
 and the disagreeable self-assertion of those who first dis- 
 play it. 
 
 The most plausible objection raised against resistance 
 to conventions, is grounded on its impolicy, considered 
 even from the progressist's point of view. It is urged by 
 tnany of the more liberal and intelligent — usually those 
 who have themselves shown some independence of be- 
 haviour in earlier days — that to rebel in these small 
 matters is to destroy your own power of helping on 
 reform in greater matters. " If you show yourself eccen- 
 tric in manners or dress, the world," they say, " will not 
 listen to you. You will be considered as crotchety, and 
 impracticable. The opinions you express on important 
 subjects, which might have been treated with respect had 
 you conformed on minor points, will now inevitably be 
 put down among your singularities; and thus, by dissent- 
 ing in trifles, you disable yourself from spreading dissent 
 in essentials." 
 
 Only noting, as we joass, that this is one of those antici- 
 pations which bring about their own fulfilment — that it is 
 booause most who disapprove these conventions do not show 
 
CONSEQUENCKS OF MES. GPvCTNDy's TTKAKNT. 99 
 
 their disapproval, that the few who do show it look eccen- 
 trie — and that did all act out their convictions, no such in 
 ference as the above would be drawn, and no such evil 
 would result ; — noting this as we pass, we go on to reply 
 that these social restraints, and forms, and requirements, 
 •are not small evils, but among the greatest. Estimate their 
 sum total, and we doubt whether they would not exceed 
 most others. Could we add up the trouble, the cost, the 
 jealousies, vexations, misunderstandings, the loss of time 
 and the loss of pleasure, which these conventions entail — 
 could we clearly realize the extent to which we are all dai- 
 ly hampered by them, daily enslaved by them ; we should 
 perhaps come to the conclusion that the tyranny of Mrs. 
 Grundy is worse than any other tyi-anny we suffer under. 
 Let us look at a few of its hurtful results ; beginning with 
 those of minor importance. 
 
 It produces extravagance. The desire to be comme U 
 fautf which underlies all conformities, whether of manners, 
 dress, or styles of entertainment, is the desire which makes 
 many a spendthrift and many a bankrupt. To " keep up 
 appearances," to have a house in an approved quarter fur- 
 nished in the latest taste, to give expensive dinners and 
 crowded soirees, is an ambition forming the natui'al outcome 
 of the conformist spirit. It is needless to enlarge on these 
 follies : they have been satirized by host? of writers, and in 
 every drawing-room. All that here concerns us, is to point 
 out that the respect for social observances, which men think 
 so praiseworthy, has the same root with this effort to be 
 fashionable in mode of living ; and that, other things equal, 
 the last cannot be diminished without the first being dimin- 
 ished also. If, now, we consider all that this extravagance 
 entails — if we count up the robbed tradesmen, the stinted 
 governesses, the ill-educated children, the fleeced relatives, 
 who have to suffer from it — if we mark the anxiety and the 
 many moral delinquencies which its perpetrators involve 
 
LOO MANNERS AJSTD FASHION. 
 
 themselves in ; we shall see that this regard for conventions 
 is not quite so innocent as it looks. 
 
 Again, it decreases the amount of social intercourse. 
 Passing over the reckless, and those who make a great dis- 
 play on speculation with the occasional result of getting on 
 in the world to the exclusion of much, better men, we come 
 to the far larger class who, being prudent and honest 
 enough not to exceed their means, and yet having a strong 
 wish to be " respectable," are obliged to limit their enter- 
 tainments to the smallest p)ossible number ; and that each 
 of these may be turned to the greatest advantage in meet- 
 ing the claims upon their hospitality, are induced to issue 
 their invitations with little or no regard to the comfort or 
 mutual fitness of their guests. A few inconveniently- large 
 assemblies, made up of people mostly strange to each other 
 or but distantly acquainted, and having scarcely any tastes 
 in common, are made to serve in place of many small par- 
 ties of friends intimate enough to have some bond of . 
 thought and sympathy. Thus the quantity of intercourse 
 is diminished, and the quality deteriorated. Because it is 
 the custom to make costly preparations and provide costly 
 refreshments ; and because it entails both less expense and 
 less trouble to do this for many persons on a few occasions 
 than for few persons on many occasions ; the reunions of 
 our less wealthy classes are rendered alike infrequent and 
 tedious. 
 
 Let it be further observed, that the existing formalities 
 of social intercourse drive away many who most need its 
 refining influence : and drive them into injurious habits and 
 associations. Not a few men, and not the least sensible men 
 either, give up in disgust this going out to stately dinners, 
 and stifi" evening-parties ; and instead, seek society in clubs, 
 and cigar-divans, and taverns. " I 'm sick of this standing 
 about in drawing-rooms, talking nonsense, and trying to 
 look happy," will answer one of them when taxed with his 
 
AN ESTIMATE OF FASHIONABLE PARTIES. 101 
 
 desertion. " Wliy should I any longer waste time and 
 money, and temper ? Once I was ready enough to rush 
 home from the office to dress ; I sported embroidered shirts, 
 submitted to tight boots, and cared nothing for tailors' and 
 haberdashers' bills. I know better now. My patience last- 
 ed a good while ; for though I found each night pass sta 
 pldly, I always hoped the next would make amends. But 
 I'm undeceived. Cab-hire and kid gloves cost more than 
 any evening party pays for ; or rather — it is worth the cost 
 of them to avoid the party. Xo, no; I'll no more of it. 
 "Why should I pay five shillings a time for the privilege of 
 being bored ? " 
 
 If, now, we consider that this very common mood tends 
 towards billiard-rooms, towards long sittings over cigars 
 and brandy-and-water, towards Evans's and the Coal Hole, 
 towards every place where amusement may be had ; it be- 
 comes a question whether these precise observances which 
 hamper our set meetings, have not to answer for much of 
 the prevalent dissoluteness. Men must have excitements 
 of some kind or other ; and if debarred from higher ones 
 wUl fall back upon lower. It is not that those who thus 
 take to irregular habits are essentially those of low tastes. 
 Often it is quite the reverse. Among half a dozen intimate 
 friends, abandoning formalities and sitting at ease round 
 the fire, none will enter with greater enjoyment into the 
 nighest kind of social intercourse — the genuine communion 
 of thought and feeling; and if the circle includes women of 
 intelligence and refinement, so much the greater is theii 
 pleasure. It is because they will no longer be choked with 
 the mere dry husks of conversation which society ofiers 
 them, that they fly its assemblies, and seek those with whom 
 they may have discourse that is at least real, though unpol- 
 ished. The men who thus long for substantial mental sym- 
 pathy, and will go where they can get it, are often, indeed, 
 •nuch better at the core than the men who are content with 
 
102 MANNERS AND FASHION. 
 
 the inanities of gloved and scented party-goers — men who 
 feel no need to come morally nearer to their fellow crea- 
 tures than they can come while standing, tea-cup in hand, 
 answering trifles with trifles; and who, by feeling no such 
 need, prove themselves shallow-thoughted and cold-hearted- 
 It is true, that some who shun drawing-rooms do so from 
 inability to bear the resti-aints prescribed by a genuine re- 
 finement, and that they would be greatly improved by being 
 kept under these restraints. But it is not less true that, by 
 adding to the legitimate restraints, which are based on con- 
 venience and a regard for others, a host of foctitious re- 
 straints based only on convention, the refining discij^line, 
 which would else have been borne with benefit, is rendered 
 unbearable, and so misses its end. Excess of government 
 invariably defeats itself by driving away those to be gov- 
 erned. And if over all who desert its entertainments in 
 disgust either at their emptiness or their formality, society 
 thus loses its salutary influence — if such not only fail to re- 
 ceive that moral culture which the company of ladies, when 
 rationally regulated, would give them, but, in default of 
 other relaxation, are driven into habits and companionships 
 which often end in gambling and drunkenness ; must we 
 not say that here, too, is an evil not to be passed over as 
 insignificant ? 
 
 Then consider what a blighting eflTect these multitudi- 
 nous preparations and ceremonies have upon the pleasures 
 they profess to subserve. Who, on calling to mind the o<.> 
 casions of his highest social enjoyments, does not find them 
 to have been wholly informal, perhaps impromptu ? How 
 delightful a picnic of friends, who forget all observances 
 riave those dictated by good nature ! How pleasant the 
 tittle unpretended gatherings of book-societies, and the 
 like ; or those purely accidental meetings of a few people 
 well known to each other ! Then, indeed, we may see that 
 " a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend." Cheeks 
 
CONDITIONS OF SOCIAL ENJOYMENT. 103 
 
 flush, and eyes sparkle. The witty grow brilliant, and even 
 the dull are excited into saying good things. There is an 
 overflow of topics ; and the right thought, and the right 
 wards to put it in, spring up unsought. Grave alternates 
 with gay : now serious converse, and now jokes, anecdotes, 
 and playful raillery. Everyone's best nature is shown 
 everyone's best feelings are in pleasurable activity; and, 
 for the time, life seems well worth having. 
 
 Go now and dress for some half-past eight dinner, or 
 some ten o'clock " at home ; " and present yourself in spot- 
 less attire, with every hair arranged to perfection. How 
 great the difference ! The enjoyment seems in the inverse 
 ratio of the preparation. These figures, got up with such 
 finish and precision, appear but half alive. They have fro- 
 zen each other by their primness ; and your faculties feel 
 the numbing efiiects of the atmosphere the moment you 
 enter it. All those thoughts, so nimble and so apt awhile 
 since, have disappeared — have suddenly acquired a preter- 
 natui'al power of eluding you. If you venture a remark to 
 your neighbour, there comes a trite rejoinder, and there it 
 ends. No subject you can hit upon outlives half a dozen 
 sentences. Nothing that is said excites any real interest in 
 you ; and you feel that all you say is listened to with apathy. 
 By some strange magic, things that usually give pleasure 
 seem to have lost all charm. 
 
 You have a taste for art. Weary of frivolous talk, you 
 turn to the table, and find that the book of engravings and 
 the portfolio of photographs are as flat as the conversation. 
 You are fond of music. Yet the singing, good as it is, you 
 hear with utter indiflference ; and say " Thank you" with a 
 sense of being a profound hypocrite. Wholly at ease 
 though you could be, for your own part, you find that your 
 eympathies Avill not let you. You see young gentlemen 
 feeling whether their ties are properly adjusted, looking 
 vacantly round, and considering what they shall do next. 
 
104 MANNEES AND FASHION. 
 
 You see ladies sitting disconsolately, waiting for some one 
 to speak to them, and wishing they had the wherewith to 
 occupy their fingers. You see the hostess standing about 
 the doorway, keeping a factitious smile on her face, and 
 racking her brain to find the requisite nothings with which 
 to greet her guests as they enter. You see numberless 
 traits of weariness and embarrassment ; and, if you have any 
 fellow feeling, these cannot fail to produce a feeling of dis- 
 comfort. The disorder is catching ; and do what you will 
 you cannot resist the general infection. You struggle 
 against it ; you make spasmodic efforts to be lively ; but 
 none of your sallies or your good stories do more than 
 raise a simper or a forced laugh : intellect and feeling are 
 alike asphyxiated. And when, at length, yielding to your 
 disgust, you rush away, how great is the relief when you 
 get into the fresh air, and seethe stars ! How you " Thank 
 God, that's over ! " and half resolve to avoid all such bore- 
 dom for the future ! 
 
 What, now, is the secret of this perpetual miscarriage 
 and disappointment ? Does not the fault lie with all these 
 needless adjuncts — these elaborate dressings, these set 
 forms, these expensive preparations, these many devices 
 and arrangements that imply trouble and raise expectation? 
 Who that has lived thirty years in the world has not dis- 
 covered that Pleasure is coy ; and must not be too directly 
 pursued, but must be caught unawares ? An air from a 
 street-piano, heard while at work, will often gratify more 
 than the choicest music played at a concert by the most 
 accomplished musicians, A single good picture seen in a 
 dealer's window, may give keener enjoyment than a whole 
 exhibition gone through with catalogue and pencil. By 
 the time we have got ready our elaborate apparatus by 
 which to secure happiness, the happiness is gone. It is too 
 Bubtle to be contained in these receivers, garnished with 
 comphments, and fenced round with etiquette. The more 
 
CONDITIONS OF SOCIAL ENJOYMENT. 105 
 
 we multiply and complicate appliances, the more <;ertain 
 are we to drive it away. 
 
 The reason is jDatent enough. These higher emotions; 
 to which social intercourse ministers, are of extremely com- 
 plex nature ; they consequently depend for their productioo 
 upon very numerous conditions ; the more numerous thb 
 conditions, the greater the liability that one or other of 
 them will be disturbed, and the emotions consequently pre- 
 vented. It takes a considerable misfortune to destroy ap- 
 petite ; but cordial sympathy with those around may be ex- 
 tinguished by a look or a word. Hence it follows, that the 
 more multiplied the umiecesscoy requirements with which 
 social intercourse is surrounded, the less likely are its 
 pleasures to be achieved. It is difficult enough to fulfil 
 continuously all the essentials to a pleasurable communion 
 with others : how much more difficult, then, must it be 
 continuously to fulfil a host of 7i07i-essentlals also ! It is, 
 indeed, impossible. The attempt inevitably ends in the 
 sacrifice of the first to the last — the essentials to the non- 
 essentials. What chance is there of getting any genuine 
 response from the lady who is thinking of your stupidity in 
 taking her in to dinner on the wrong arm ? IIow are you 
 likely to have agreeable converse with the gentleman who 
 is fuming inter^ially because he is not placed next to the 
 hostess ? Formalities, familiar as they may become, neces- 
 sarily occupy attention — necessarily multiply the occasions 
 for mistake, misunderstanding, and jealousy, on the part of 
 one or other — necessarily distract all minds from the 
 thoughts and feelings that should occupy them — necessa- 
 rily, therefore, subvert those conditions under which only 
 any sterling intercourse is to be had. 
 
 And this indeed is the fatal mischief which these con- 
 ventions entail — a mischief to which every other is sec- 
 ondary. They destroy those highest of our pleasvirea 
 which they profess to subserve. All institutions are alike 
 
106 MANNERS AND FASHION. 
 
 ill this, that however useful, and needful even, they origi' 
 ually were, they not only in the end cease to be so, but be- 
 come detrimental. While humanity is growing, they con- 
 tinue fixed ; daily get more mechanical and unvital ; and 
 by and by tend to strangle what they before preserved. 
 It is not sim2)ly that they become corrupt and fail to act 
 they become obstructions. Old forms of government finally 
 grow so oppressive, that they must be thrown off even at 
 the risk of reigns of terror. Old creeds end in being dead 
 formulas, which no longer aid but distort and arrest the 
 general mind; while the State-churches administering them, 
 come to be instruments for subsidizing conservatism and 
 repressing progress. Old schemes of education, incarnated 
 in public schools and colleges, continue filling the heads of 
 new generations with what has become relatively useless 
 knowledge, and, by consequence, excluding knowledge 
 which is useful. Not an organization of any kind — politi- 
 cal, religious, literary, philanthropic — but what, by its ever- 
 multiplying regulations, its accumulating wealth, its yearly 
 addition of officers, and the creeping into it of patronage 
 and party feeling, eventually loses its original spirit, and 
 sinks into a mere lifeless mechanism, worked with a view 
 to private ends — a mechanism which not merely fails of its 
 first purpose, but is a positive hindrance to it. 
 
 Thus is it, too, with social usages. "We read of the Chi- 
 nese that they have " ponderous ceremonies transmitted 
 from time immemorial," which make social intercourse a 
 burden. The court forms prescribed by monarchs for their 
 own exaltation, have, in all times and places, ended in con- 
 suming the comfort of their lives. And so the artificial 
 observances of the dining-room and saloon, in proportion 
 as they are many and strict, extinguish that agreeable com- 
 munion which they were originally intended to secure. 
 The dislike with which people commonly speak of society 
 that is " formal," and " stiff," and " ceremonious," implies 
 
THE TRUE SOCIAL EEQUIEEMENT. 107 
 
 the general recognition of this fact ; and this recognition, 
 logically developed, involves that all usages of behaviour 
 which are not based on natural requirements, are injurious. 
 That these conventions defeat their o^Yn ends is no new 
 assertion. Swift, criticising the manners of his day, says — 
 " Wise men are often more uneasy at the over-civility of 
 these refiners than they could possibly be in the conversa- 
 tion of peasants and mechanics." 
 
 But it is not only in these details that the self-defeating 
 action of our arrangements is traceable : it is traceable in 
 the very substance and nature of them. Our social inter- 
 course, as commonly managed, is a mere semblance of the 
 reality sought. What is it that we want ? Some sympa- 
 thetic converse with our fellow-creatures : some converse 
 that shall not be mere dead words, but the vehicle of living 
 thoughts and feelings — converse in which the eyes and the 
 face shall speak, and the tones of the voice be full of mean- 
 ing — convei'se which shall make us feel no longer alone, 
 but shall draw us closer to another, and double our own 
 emotions by adding another's to them. Who is there that 
 has not, from time to time, felt how cold and flat is all this 
 talk about politics and science, and the new books and the 
 new men, and how a genuine utterance of fellow-feeling 
 outweighs the whole of it ? Mark the words of Bacon : — 
 " For a crowd is not a company, and faces are but a gallery 
 of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is 
 no love." 
 
 If this be true, then it is only after acquaintance has 
 grown into intimacy, and intimacy has ripened into friend- 
 ship, that the real communion which men need becomes 
 possible. A rationally-formed circle must consist almost 
 wholly of those on terms of familiarity and regard, with 
 but one or two strangers. What folly, then, underlies the 
 whole system of our grand dinnei's, our " at homes," our 
 evening parties — assemblages made up of many who nevei 
 
108 MANNERS ANT> FASHION. 
 
 met before, many others who just bow to each other, many 
 others who though familiar feel mutual indifference, with 
 just a few real friends lost in the general mass ! You need 
 but look round at the artificial expressions of face, to sec 
 at once how it is. All have their disguises on ; and how 
 can there be sympathy between masks ? No wonder that 
 in j^rivate every one exclaims against the stupidity of these 
 gatherings. No wonder that hostesses get them up rather 
 because they must than because they wish. No wonder 
 that the invited go less from the expectation of pleasure 
 than from fear of giving offence. The whole thing is a gi- 
 gantic mistake — an organized disappointment. 
 
 And then note, lastly, that in this case, as in all others^ 
 when an organization has become effete and inoperative for 
 its legitimate purpose, it is emjDloyed for quite other ones 
 — quite opposite ones. What is the usual plea put in for 
 giving and attending these tedious assemblies ? "I admit 
 that they are stupid and frivolous enough," replies every 
 man to your criticisms ; '" but then, you know, one must 
 keep up one's connections." And could you get from his 
 wife a sincere answer, it would be — ■" Like you, I am sick 
 of these frivolities ; but then, we must get our daughters 
 married." The one knows that there is a pi'ofession to 
 push, a practice to gain, a business to extend : or parlia- 
 mentary influence, or county patronage, or votes, or office, 
 to be got : position, berths, favours, jDrofit. The other's 
 thoughts runs upon husbands and settlements, wives and 
 dowries. Worthless for their ostensible purpose of daily 
 bringing human beings into pleasurable relations with each 
 other, these cumbrous appliances of our social intercourse 
 are now perseveringly kept in action with a view to the 
 pecuniary and matrimonial results which they indirectly 
 produce. 
 
 Who then shall say that the reform of our system of 
 observances is unimportant ? When we see how this sys- 
 
KEFOEMATION OF SOCIAL OBSERVANCES. 109 
 
 tern induces fashionable extravagance, with its entailed 
 bankruptcy and ruin — when we mark how greatly it limits 
 the amount of social intercourse among the less wealthy 
 classes — when we find that many who most need to be dis- 
 ciplined by mixing with the refined are driven away by it, 
 and led into dangerous and often fatal courses — when we 
 count up the many minor evils it inflicts, the extra work 
 which its costliness entails on all professional and mercan- 
 tile men, the damage to public taste in dress and decora- 
 tion by the setting up of its absurdities as standards for 
 imitation, the injury to health indicated in the faces of its 
 devotees at the close of the London season, the mortality 
 of milliners and the like, which its sudden exigencies yearly 
 involve ; — and when to all these vre add its fatal sin, that it 
 blights, withers up, and kills, that high enjoyment it pro- 
 fessedly ministers to — that enjoyment which is a chief end 
 of our hard struggling in life to obtain — shall we not con- 
 clude that to reform our system of etiquette and fashion, is 
 an aim yielding to few in urgency ? 
 
 There needs, then, a protestantism in social usages. 
 Forms that have ceased to facilitate and have become ob- 
 structive — whether political, religious, or other — have ever 
 to be swept away ; and eventually are so swept away in all 
 cases. Signs are not wanting that some change is at hand. 
 A host of satirists, led on by Thackeray, have been for years 
 engaged in bringing our sham-festivities, and our fashiona- 
 ble follies, into contempt ; and in their candid moods, most 
 men laugh at the frivolities with which they and the world 
 in general are deluded. Ridicule has always been a revo- 
 lutionary agent. That which is habitually assailed with 
 sneers and sarcasms cannot long survive. Institutions that 
 have lost their roots in men's respect and flxith are doomed; 
 and the day of their dissolution is not far off. The time ia 
 approaching, then, when our sj^stcm of social observances 
 
110 MANNEK8 AND FASHION. 
 
 must pass through some crisis, out of which it will come 
 purified and comparatively simple. 
 
 How this crisis will be brought about, no one can with 
 any certainty say. Whether by the continuance and in- 
 crease of individual protests, or whether by the union of 
 many persons for the practice and propagation of some 
 better system, the future alone can decide. The influence 
 of dissentients acting without co-operation, seems, under 
 the present state of things, inadequate. Standing severally 
 alone, and having no well-defined views ; frowned on by 
 conformists, and expostulated with even by those who 
 secretly sympathize with them ; subject to petty persecu- 
 tions, and unable to trace any benefit produced by their 
 example ; they are apt, one by one, to give up their attempts 
 as hopeless. The young convention-breaker eventually 
 finds that he pays too heavily for his nonconformity. Hat- 
 ing, for example, everything that bears about it any rem- 
 nant of servility, he determines, in the ardour of his inde- 
 pendence, that he will uncover to no one. But what he 
 means simply as a general protest, he finds that ladies in- 
 terpret into a personal disrespect. Though he sees that, 
 from the days of chivalry downwards, these marks of su- 
 preme consideration paid to the other sex: have been but 
 a hypocritical counterj^art to the actual subjection in which 
 men have held them — a pretended submission to compen- 
 sate for a real domination ; and though he sees that 
 when the true dignity of women is recognised, the mock 
 dignities given to them will be abolished ; yet he does 
 not like to be thus misunderstood, and so hesitates in his 
 practice. 
 
 In other cases, again, his courage fails him. Such of 
 ills unconventionalities as can be attributed only to eccen- 
 tricity, he has no qualms about : for, on the whole, he feels 
 rather complimented than otherwise in being considered a 
 disregarder of public opinion. But when they are liable tc 
 
DIFFICULTIES OF THE SOCIAL NONCONFOKMIST. Ill 
 
 be put down to ignorance, to ill-breeding, or to poverty, 
 he becomes a coward. However clearly the recent innova- 
 tion of eating some kinds of fish with knife and fork proves 
 the fork-and-bread practice to have had little but caprice 
 for its basis, yet he dares not wholly ignore that practice 
 while fashion partially maintains it. Though he thinks 
 that a silk handkerchief is quite as appropriate for drawing- 
 room use as a white cambric one, he is not altogether at 
 ease in acting out his opinion. Then, too, he begins to 
 perceive that his resistance to prescription brings round 
 disadvantageous results which he had not calculated upon. 
 He had expected that it would save him from a great deal 
 of social intercourse of a frivolous kind — that it would 
 offend the fools, but not the sensible people ; and so would 
 serve as a self-acting test by which those worth knowing 
 would be separated from those not worth knowing. But 
 the fools prove to be so greatly in the majority that, by 
 offending them, he closes against himself nearly all the 
 avenues though which the sensible people are to be 
 reached. Thus he finds, that his nonconformity is fre- 
 quently misinterpreted ; that there are but few directions 
 in which he dares to cany it consistently out ; that the 
 annoyances and disadvantages w^iich it brings upon him 
 are greater than he anticipated ; and that the chances of 
 his doing any good are very remote. Hence he gradually 
 loses resolution, and lapses, step by step, into the ordinary 
 routine of observances. 
 
 Abortive as individual protests thus generally turn out, 
 it may possibly be that nothing effectual will be done until 
 there arises some organized resistance to this invisible 
 despotism, by which our modes and habits are dictated. 
 It may happen, that the government of Manners and Fash- 
 ion will be rendered less tyrannical, as the political and 
 religious governments have been, by some antagonistic 
 union. Alike in Church and State, men's first emancipa 
 
112 1IANNEE8 AND FASHION. 
 
 tions from excess of restriction were achieved by numbers, 
 bound together by a common creed or a common ]oolitical 
 faith. What remained undone while there were but indivi- 
 dual schismatics or rebels, was effected when there came 
 to be many acting in concert. It is tolerably clear that 
 these earliest instalments of freedom could not have been 
 obtained in any other way ; for so long as the feeling of 
 personal independence was weak and the rule strong, there 
 could never have been a sufficient number of separate dis- 
 sentients to produce the desired results. Only in these 
 later times, during which the secular and spiritual conti'ols 
 have been growing less coercive, and the tendency towards 
 individual liberty greater, has it become possible for smaller 
 and smaller sects and j^arties to fight against established 
 creeds and laws ; until now men may safelj'' stand even 
 alone in their antagonism. 
 
 The failure of individual nonconformity to customs, as 
 above illustrated, suggests that an analogous series of 
 changes may have to be gone through in this case also. It 
 is true that the lex non scrlpta differs from the lex scripta 
 in this, that, being unwritten, it is more readily altered ; 
 and that it has, from time to time, been quietly ameliorated. 
 Nevertheless, we shall find that the analogy holds substan- 
 tially good. For in this case, as in the others, the essen- 
 tial revolution is not the substituting of any one set of 
 restraints for any other, but the limiting or abolishing the 
 authority which prescribes restraints. Just as the funda- 
 mental change inaugurated by the Reformation, was not a 
 superseding of one creed by another, but an ignoring of 
 the arbiter who before dictated creeds — just as the funda- 
 mental change which Democracy long ago commenced, 
 was not from this particular law to that, but from the 
 despotism of one to the freedom of all ; so, the paralled 
 change yet to be wrought out in this suj)plementary gov* 
 ernment of which we are treating, is not the replacing of 
 
A PEOTESTANTISM IN SOCIAL USAGES NEEDED. 113 
 
 absurd usages by sensible ones, but the dethronement of 
 that secret, ii-responsible power which now imposes our 
 usages, and the assertion of the right of all individuals to 
 choose their own usages. In rules of living, a West-end 
 clique is our Pope ; and we are all papists, with but a mere 
 sprinkling of heretics. On all who decisively rebel, comet 
 down the penalty of excommunication, with its long 
 catalogue of disagreeable and, indeed, serious conse- 
 quences. 
 
 The liberty of the subject asserted in our constitution, 
 and ever on the increase, has yet to be wrested from this 
 subtler tyranny. The right of private judgment, which 
 our ancestors wrung from the church, remains to be 
 claimed from this dictator of our habits. Or, as before 
 said, to free us from these idolatries and superstitious con- 
 formities, there has still to come a protestantism in social 
 nsages. Parallel, therefore, as is the change to be 
 wrought out, it seems not improbable that it may be 
 wrought out in an analogous way. That influence which 
 solitary dissentients fail to gain, and that perseverance 
 which they lack, may come into existence when they unite. 
 That persecution which the world now visits upon them 
 from mistaking their nonconformity for ignorance or dis- 
 respect, may diminish when it is seen to result from 
 principle. The penalty which exclusion now entails may 
 disappear when they become numerous enough to form 
 visiting circles of their own. And when a successful 
 stand has been made, and the brunt of the opj^osition 
 has passed, that large amount of secret dislike to our 
 observances which now pervades society, may manifest 
 itself with sufiicient power to effect the desired eman- 
 cipation. 
 
 Whether such will be the process, time alone can de- 
 cide. That community of origin, growth, supremacy, and 
 decadence, which we have found among all kinds of gov* 
 
114 MANNERS AND FASHION. 
 
 emment, suggests a community in modes of change also 
 On the other hand, Nature often performs substantially 
 similar operations, in ways apparently different. Hence 
 these details can never be foretold. 
 
 Meanwhile, let us glance at the conclusions that have 
 been reached. On the one side, government, originally 
 one, and afterwards subdivided for the better fulfilment of 
 its function, must be considered as having ever been, in all 
 its branches — political, religious, and ceremonial — bene- 
 ficial ; and, indeed, absolutely necessary. On the other 
 side, government, under all its forms, must be regarded as 
 subserving a temporary office, made needful by the unfit- 
 ness of aboriginal humanity for social life ; and the succes- 
 sive diminutions of its coerciveness in State, in Church, and 
 in Custom, must be looked upon as steps towards its final 
 disappearance. To complete the conception, there requires 
 to be borne in mind the third fact, that the genesis, the 
 maintenance, and the decline of all governments, however 
 named, are alike brought about by the humanity to be con- 
 trolled : from which may be drawn the inference that, on 
 the average, restrictions of every kind cannot last much 
 longer than they are wanted, and cannot be desti'oyed 
 much faster than they ought to be. 
 
 Society, in all its developments, undergoes the process 
 of exuviation. These old forms which it successively 
 throws off, have all been once vitally united with it — have 
 severally served as the protective envelopes within which 
 a higher humanity was being evolved. They are cast 
 aside only when they become hindrances — only when some 
 inner and better envelope has been formed ; and they be- 
 queath to us all that there was in them good. The periodi- 
 cal abolitions of tyrannical laws have left the administration 
 of justice not only uninjured, but purified. Dead and 
 buried creeds have not carried with them the essential 
 
ONLY THE DEAD FORMS PASS AWAY. 115 
 
 morality they contained, Avliich still exists, uncontaminated 
 by the sloughs of superstition. And all that there is of 
 justice and kindness and beauty, embodied in our cum- 
 brous forms of etiquette, will live perennially when the 
 forms themselves have been forgotten. 
 
III. 
 THE GENESIS OE SCIENCE. 
 
 TIIERE has ever prevailed among men a vague notion 
 that scientific knowledge differs in nature from ordinary 
 knowledge. By the Greeks, with whom Mathematics — 
 literally things learnt — was alon<i considered as knowledge 
 proper, the distinction must have been strongly felt ; and 
 it has ever since maintained itself in the general mind. 
 Though, considering the contrast between the achievements 
 of science and those of daily uumetliodic thinking, it is not 
 surprising that such a distinction has been assumed; yet it 
 needs but to rise a little above the common point of view, 
 to see that no such distinction can really exist : or that at 
 best, it is but a superficial distinction. The same faculties 
 are employed in both cases ; and in both cases their mode 
 of operation is fundamentally the same. 
 
 If we say that science is organized knowledge, we are 
 met b}^ the truth that all knowledge is organized in a great- 
 ei' or less degree — that the commonest actions of the house° 
 hold and the field presuppose facts colligated, inferences 
 drawn, results expected ; and that the general success of 
 these actions proves the data by which they were guided 
 to have been correctly put together. If, again, we say 
 tliat science is jDrevision; — is a seeing beforehand — is a know* 
 
TDE GEEAI OF SCIENCE LSI OEDLNAEY KN0WLEDG:\ 117 
 
 tng in what times, places, combinations, or sequences, spe- 
 cified phenomena will be found ; we are yet obliged to con 
 fess that the definition includes much that is utterly fioreign 
 to science in its ordinary acceptation. For example, a child's 
 knowledge of an apple. This, as far as it goes consists iu 
 previsions. When a child sees a certain form and colours, 
 it knows that if it puts out its hand it will have certain im- 
 pressions of resistance, and roundness, and smoothness; 
 and if it bites, a certain taste. And manifestly its general 
 acquaintance with surrounding objects is of like nature — is 
 made up of facts concerning them, so grouped as that any 
 part of a group being perceived, the existence of the other 
 facts included in it is foreseen. 
 
 If, once more, we say that science is exact prevision, we 
 still fail to establish the supposed difference. Xot only do 
 wo find that much of what we call science is not exact, 
 and that some of it, as physiology, can never become exact ; 
 but we find further, that many of the previsions constitu- 
 ting the common stock alike of wise and ignorant, are ex- 
 act. That an unsupported body will fall ; that a lighted candle 
 will go out when immersed in water ; that ice will melt 
 when thrown on the fire — these, and many like predictions 
 relating to the familiar properties of things have as high a 
 degree of accuracy as predictions are capable of. It is true 
 that the results predicated are of a very general character ; 
 but it is none the less tn^e that they are rigox'ously correct 
 as far as they go : and this is all that is requisite to fulfil 
 the definition. There is perfect accordance between the 
 anticipated phenomena and the actual ones ; and no more 
 than this can be said of the highest achievements of the 
 sciences specially characterised as exact. 
 
 Seeing thus that the assumed distinction between scien- 
 tific knowledge and common knowledge is not logically 
 justifiable ; and yet feeling, as we must, tliat however im- 
 possible it may be to draw a line between thorn, the two 
 
118 
 
 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 are not practically identical ; there arises tlie question— 
 WTiat is the relationship that exists between them ? A 
 partial answer to this question may be drawn from the il- 
 lustrations just given. On reconsidering them, it will be 
 observed that those portions of ordinary knowledge which 
 are identical in character with scientific knowledge, com- 
 prehend only such combinations of phenomena as are direct- 
 ly cognizable by the senses, and are of simple, invariable 
 nature. That the smoke from a fire which she is lighting 
 will ascend, and that the fire will presently boil water, are 
 previsions which the servant-girl makes equally well with 
 the most learned physicist ; they are equally certain, 
 equally exact with his ; but they are previsions concerning 
 phenomena in constant and direct relation — phenomena 
 that follow visibly and immediately after their antecedents 
 — phenomena of which the causation is neither remote nor 
 obscure — phenomena which may be predicted by the sim- 
 plest possible act of reasoning. 
 
 If, now, we pass to the previsions constituting what is 
 commonly known as science — that an ecliiDse of the moon 
 will haj^pen at a specified time ; and when a barometer is 
 taken to the top of a mountain of known height, the mer- 
 curial column will descend a stated number of inches ; that 
 the poles of a galvanic battery immersed in water will give 
 off, the one an inflammable and the other an inflaming gas, 
 in definite ratio — we perceive that the relations involved 
 are not of a kind habitually presented to our senses; that 
 they depend, some of them, upon special combinations of 
 causes ; and that in some of them the connection between 
 antecedents and consequents is established only by an ela- 
 borate series of inferences. The broad distinction, there- 
 fore, between the two orders of knowledge, is not in theii 
 nature, but in their remoteness from perception. 
 
 If we regard the cases in their most general aspect, we 
 see that the labourer, who, on hearing certain notes in the 
 
DEFINITION OF SCIENCE. 119 
 
 adjacent hedge, can describe the particular form and col- 
 ours of the bird making them ; and the astronomer, who, 
 having calcuhited a transit of Venus, can dehueate the black 
 spot entering on the sun's disc, as it will appear through 
 the telescope, at a specified hour ; do essentially the same 
 thing. Each knows that on fulfilling the requisite condi- 
 tions, he shall have a preconceived impression — that after a 
 definite series of actions will come a group of sensations of 
 a foreknown kind. The diflferonce, then, is not in the funda- 
 ?^iental character of the mental acts ; or in the correctness 
 of the previsions accomplished by them ; but in the com- 
 plexity of the processes required to achieve the previsions. 
 Much of our commonest knowledge is, as far as it goes, rig- 
 orously precise. Science does not increase this precision ; 
 cannot transcend it. "What then does it do ? It reduces 
 other knowledge to the same degree of precision. That 
 certainty which direct perception gives us respecting coex- 
 istences and ' sequences of the simplest and most accessi- 
 ble kind, science gives us respecting coexistences and se- 
 quences, complex in their dependencies or inaccessible to 
 immediate observation. In brief, regarded from this point 
 of view, science may be called cm extension of the percep- 
 tio7is hy means of reasoning. 
 
 On further considering the matter, however, it will per- 
 haps be felt that this definition does not exj^ress the whole 
 fact — that inscpai'able as science may be from common 
 knowledge, and completely as we may fill up the gap be- 
 tween the simplest previsions of the child and the most re- 
 condite ones of the natural philosopher, by interposing a 
 series of previsions in -which the complexity of reasoning 
 involved is greater and greater, there is yet a difference 
 between the two beyond that which is here described. And 
 this is true. But the difference is still not such as enables 
 us to draw the assumed line of demarcation. It is a differ- 
 ence not between common knowledge and scientific knowl- 
 7 
 
120 THE GENESIS OF SCIEKCE, 
 
 edge ; but between the successive phases of science itself, 
 or knowlec\t;e itself — whichever we choose to call it. In 
 it-? earlier phases science attains only to certainty of fore- 
 knowledge ; in its later phases it farther attains to corn- 
 plticness. We begin by discovering a relation: we end 
 by discovering the relation. Our first achievement is to 
 foretell the Jclnd of phenomenon which will occur imder 
 sjDecific conditions : our last achievement is to foretell not 
 only the kind, but the amount. Or, to reduce the proposi 
 tion to its most definite form — undeveloped science is qual- 
 itative prevision : develoj^ed science is quantitative provi 
 si on. 
 
 This will at once be perceived to express the remaining 
 distinction between the lower and the higher stages of posi- 
 tive knowledge. The prediction that a piece of lead will 
 take more force to lift it than a piece of wood of equal size, 
 exhibits certainty, but not completeness, of foresight. The 
 kind of efibct in which the one body will exceed the other 
 is foreseen; but not the- amount by which it Avill exceed. 
 There is qualitative prevision only. On the other hand, the 
 prediction that at a stated time two particular planets will 
 be in conjunction ; that by means of a lever having arras in 
 a given ratio, a known force will raise just so many pounds ; 
 that to decompose a specified quantity of sulphate of iron 
 by carbonate of soda w^ill require so many grains — these 
 predictions exhibit foreknowledge, not only of the nature 
 of the effects to be produced, but of the -magnitude, either 
 of the effects themselves, of the agencies producing them, 
 or of the distance in time or space at which they will be 
 produced. There is not only qualitative but quantitative 
 prevision. 
 
 And this is the unexpressed difference which leads us 
 to consider certain orders of knowledge as especially scien- 
 tific when contrasted with knowledge in general. Are the 
 phenomena measurable ? is the test which "\ve unconsciously 
 
SCIENCE ADVANCES TO MEASUREMENT. 121 
 
 employ. Space is measurable : hence Geometry. Force 
 and space are measurable : hence Statics. Time, force, and 
 space are measurable : hence Dynamics. The invention of 
 the barometer enabled men to extend the principles of me- 
 chanics to the -atmosphere ; and Aerostatics existed. When 
 a thermometer was devised there arose a science of heat, 
 which was before impossible. Such of our sensations as we 
 have not yet found modes of measuring do not originate 
 sciences. We have no science of smells ; nor have we one 
 of tastes. "VYe have a science of the relations of sounds 
 differing in pitch, because we have discovered a way to 
 measure them ; but we have no science of sounds in respect 
 to their loudness or their timbre^ because we have got no 
 measures of loudness and timhre. 
 
 Obviously it is this reduction of the sensible phenomena 
 it represents, to relations of magnitude, which gives to any 
 division of knowledge its especially scientific character. 
 Originally men's knowledge of weights and forces was in 
 the same condition as their knowledge of smells and tastes 
 is now — a knowledge not estendlng beyond that given by 
 the unaided sensations ; and it remained so until Aveighing 
 instruments and dynamometers were invented. Before 
 there were hour-glasses and clepsydras^ most phenomena 
 could be estimated as to their durations and intervals, with 
 no greater precision than degrees of hardness can be esti- 
 mated by the fingers. Until a thermometric scale was con- 
 trived, men's judgments respecting relative amounts of 
 heat stood on the same footing with their present judg- 
 ments respecting relative amounts of sound. And as in 
 these initial stages, with no aids to observation, only the 
 roughest comparisons of cases could be made, and only the 
 most marked differences perceived ; it is obvious that only 
 the most simple laws of dependence could be ascertained — 
 only those laws which being uncomplicated with otlieru, 
 and not disturbed in their manifestations, required no nice- 
 
122 THE GENESIS OF SCIEXCE. 
 
 ties of observation to disentangle them. Whence it ap- 
 pears not only that in projiortion as knowledge becomes 
 quantitative do its previsions become complete as well as 
 certain, but that until its assumption of a quantitative char- 
 acter it is necessarily confined to the most elementary rela- 
 tions. 
 
 Moreover it is to be remarked that while, on the one 
 hand, we can discover the laws of the greater proportion 
 of phenomena only by investigating them quantitatively ; 
 on the other hand we can extend the range of our quanti- 
 tative previsions only as fast as we detect the laws of the 
 results we predict. For clearly the ability to specify the 
 magnitude of a result inaccessible to direct measurement, 
 implies knowledge of its mode of dependence on something 
 Avhich can be measured — implies that we know tlie particu- 
 lar fact dealt with to be an instance of some more general 
 fact. Thus the extent to which our quantitative previsions 
 have been carried in any direction, indicates the depth to 
 which our knowledge reaches in that direction. And here, 
 as another aspect of the same fact, we may further observe 
 that as we pass from qualitative to quantitative j^revision, 
 we pass from inductive science to deductive science. Sci- 
 ence while purely inductive is purely qualitative : when in- 
 accurately quantitative it usually consists of j^art induction, 
 part deduction: and it becomes accurately quantitative only 
 when wholly deductive. We do not mean that the deduct- 
 ive and the quantitative are coextensive ; for there is mani- 
 festly much deduction that is qualitative only. We mean 
 that all quantitative prevision is reached deductively ; and 
 that induction can achieve only qualitative prevision. 
 
 Still, however, it must not be supposed that these dis- 
 tinctions enable ns to separate ordinary knowledge from 
 science ; much as they seem to do so. AVhile they show in 
 what consists the broad contrast between the extreme forms 
 of the two, thoy yet lead us to recognise their essential iden- 
 
SCIENCE AN OUTGROWTH OF CO^SDION KNOWLEDGE. 123 
 
 lity ; and once more prove the difference to be one of de- 
 gree only. For, on the one hand, the commonest positive 
 kno'wledge is to some extent quantitative; seeing that the 
 amount of the 'foreseen result is known within certain M'ide 
 limits. And, on the other hand, the highest quantitative 
 prevision does not reach the exact truth, but only a very 
 near approximation to it. Without clocks the savage 
 knoAvs that the day is longer in the summer than in the 
 winter ; without scales he knows that stone is heavier than 
 flesh : that is, he can foresee respecting certain results that 
 their amounts Avill exceed these, and be less than those — he 
 knows about Avhat they Avill be. And, Avith his most deli- 
 cate instruments and most elaborate calculations, all that 
 the man of science can do, is to reduce the difference be- 
 tween the foreseen and the actual results to an unimportant 
 quantity. 
 
 Moreover, it must be boi-ne in mind not only that all 
 the sciences are quahtatiA^e in their first stages, — not only 
 that some of them, as Chemistry, have but recently reached 
 the quantitative stage — but that the most adA^anced sciences 
 have attained to their present poAver of determining quan- 
 tities not present to the senses, or not directly measurable, 
 by a slow process of improA^ement extending through thou- 
 sands of years. So that science and the knoAA^ledge of the 
 uncultured are alike in the nature of their previsions, widely 
 as they differ in range ; they possess a common imperfec- 
 tion, though this is immensely greater in the last than in 
 the first ; and the transition from the one to the other has 
 been through a scries of steps by Avhich the imperfection 
 has been rendered continually less, and the range continu- 
 ally wider. 
 
 These facts, that science and the positive knoAA^ledge of 
 the uncultured cannot be separated in nature, and that the 
 one is but a perfected and extended form of the other, 
 must necessarily underlie the AA'hole theory of science, its 
 
1 2 J: THE GEiS^ESIS OF SCIEKCE. 
 
 progress, and the relations of its parts to eacli other. 
 There must be serious incompleteness in any history of the 
 sciences, which, leaving out of view the first steps of their 
 genesis, commences with them only when they assume defi- 
 nite forms. There must be grave defects, if not a general 
 untruth, in a j^hilosophy of the sciences considered in their 
 interdependence and development, which neglects the in- 
 quiry how they came to be distinct sciences, and how they 
 were severally evolved out of the chaos of primitive ideas. 
 
 Not only a direct consideration of the matter, but all 
 analogy, goes to show that in the eai'lier and simpler stages 
 inust be sought the key to all subsequent intricacies. The 
 time was when the anatomy and physiology of the human 
 being were studied by themselves — when the adult man 
 Avas analyzed and the relations of parts and of functions 
 investigated, Avithout reference either to the relations ex- 
 hibited in the embryo or to the homologous relations exist- 
 ing in other creatures. Now, however, it has become 
 manifest that no true conceptions, no true generalizations, 
 are possible under such conditions. Anatomists and phys- 
 iologists now find that the real natures of organs and tis- 
 sues can be ascertained only by tracing their early evolu- 
 tion ; and that the afiinities between existing genera can 
 be satisfactorily made out only by examining the fossil gen- 
 era to which they are allied. Well, is it not clear that the 
 like must be true concerning all things that undergo devel- 
 opment ? Is not science a growth ? Has not science, too, 
 its embryology ? And must not the neglect of its embry- 
 ology lead to a misunderstanding of the principles of its 
 evolution and of its existing organization ? 
 
 There are a 2yTiorl reasons, therefore, for doubting the 
 truth of all philosophies of the sciences which tacitly pro- 
 ceed upon the common notion that scientific knowledge 
 and ordinary knowledge are separate ; instead of com- 
 mencing, as they should, by affiliating the one upon the 
 
oken's classification of the sciences. 125 
 
 other, and showing how it gradually came to be distin- 
 guishable from the other. We may expect to find theii 
 generalizations" essentially artificial ; and we shall not be 
 deceived. Some illustrations of this may here be fitly in- 
 troduced, by way of preliminary to a brief sketch of the 
 genesis of science from the point of view indicated. And 
 we cannot more readily find such illustrations than by 
 glancing at a few of the various classifications of the sci- 
 ences that have from time to time been proposed. To con- 
 sider all of them would take too much space : we must 
 content ourselves with some of the latest. 
 
 Commencing with those which may be soonest disposed 
 of, let us notice first the arrangement propounded by Oken 
 An abstract of it runs thus : — 
 
 Part I. Mathesis. — Pncumatogeny : Primary Art, Primary 
 Consciousness, God, Primary Eest, Time, Polarity, Mo- 
 tion, Man, Space, Point, Line, Surface, Globe, Potation. 
 — Eylogeny : Gravity, Matter, Ether, Heavenly Bodies, 
 Light, Heat, Fire. 
 
 (He explains that Mathesis is the doctrine of the whole ; 
 Pneumatogeny being tLe doctrine of immaterial totalities, and 
 Hylogeny that of material totalities.) 
 
 Part n. Ontology. — Cosmogeny : Eest, Centre, Motion, Line, 
 Planets, Form, Planetary System, Comets. — Stochio- 
 geny : Condensation, Simple Matter, Elements, Air, 
 "Water, Earth. — StdcJiiology : Functions of the Elements, 
 &c. &c. — Kingdoms of Nature : Individuals. 
 
 (He says in explanation that " Ontology teaches us the 
 phenomena of matter. The first of these are the heavenly 
 bodies comprehended by Cosmogeny. These divide into ele- 
 ments — Stdchiogcny. The earth element divides into miner- 
 s,h— Mineralogy. These unite into one collective body — 
 Geogeny. The ^vl:ole in singulars is the living, or Organic,^ 
 
126 THE Oi-NESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 which again divides into plants and animals. Biology, there 
 fore, divides into Organogeny^ PJtyt08op?iy^ Zoosojihy .'''') 
 
 FiKST Kingdom. — ]*Iixeuals. Mineralogy, Geology. 
 Part III. Biology. — Organonophy, Phytogeny, Pltyfo-jtliysiology^ 
 Pltytology, Zoogeny, Physiology, Zoology, Psychology.'' 
 
 A glance over this confused schenie shows that it is an 
 attempt to classify knowledge, not after the order in which 
 it has been, or may be, built up in the human conscious- 
 ness ; but after an assumed order of creation. It is a 
 pseudo-scientific cosmogony, akin to those which men have 
 enunciated from the earliest times downwards ; and only a 
 little more respectable. As such it will not be thought 
 worthy of much consideration by those who, like ourselves, 
 hold that experience is the sole origin of knowledge. Oth- 
 erwise, it might have been needful to dwell on the incon- 
 gruities of the arrangements — ^to ask how motion can be 
 treated of before space ? how there can be rotation "with- 
 out matter to rotate ? how polarity can be dealt with with- 
 out involving points and lines ? But it will serve our pres- 
 ent purpose just to i:)oint out a few of the extreme absurdi- 
 ties resulting from the doctrine which Oken seems to hold 
 in common with Hegel, that " to philosophize on Nature is 
 to rc-think the great thought of Creation." Here is a sam- 
 ple : — 
 
 " Mathematics is the universal science ; so also is Phys- 
 io-philoso2)hy, although it is only a part, or rather but a 
 condition of the universe ; both are one, or mutually con- 
 gruent. 
 
 " Mathematics i-, however, a science of mere forms 
 without substance. Physio-philosophy is, therefore, mathe- 
 matics endoiced loith stcbstance.''^ 
 
 From the English point of view it is sufficiently amus- 
 ing to find such a dogma not only gravely stated, but 
 Stated as an unquestionable truth. Here we see the expe- 
 
ESTIMATE OF OKEn's SCHEME. 127 
 
 riences of quantitative relations Avhich men have gathered 
 from surrounding bodies and generalized (experiences 
 which had been scarcely at all generalized at the beginning 
 of the historic period) — we find these generalized expe- 
 riences, these intellectual abstractions, elevated into con 
 Crete actualities, projected back into Nature, and consid- 
 ered as the internal frame-work of things — the skeleton by 
 which matter is sustained. But this new form of the old 
 realism, is by no means the most startling of the physio- 
 philosophic principles. "We presently read that, 
 
 " The highest mathematical idea, or the fundamental 
 principle of all mathematics is the zero = 0." * * * 
 
 " Zero is in itself nothing. Mathematics is based upon 
 nothing, and, consequently^ arises out of nothing. 
 
 " Out of nothing, therefore^ it is possible for somethmg 
 to arise ; for mathematics, consisting of propositions, is 
 something, in relation to 0." 
 
 By such " consequentlys" and " therefores" it is, that 
 men philosophize when they " re-think the great thought 
 of creation." By dogmas that pretend to be reasons, noth- 
 ing is made to generate mathematics ; and by clothing 
 mathematics with matter, we have the universe ! If now 
 we deny, as we do deny, that the highest mathematical idea 
 is the zero ; — if, on the other hand, we assert, as we do 
 assert, that the fundamental idea underlying all mathemat- 
 ic;S, is that of equality ; the whole of Oken's cosmogony 
 disappears. And here, indeed, we may see illustrated, the 
 distinctive peculiarity of the German method of j^rocedure 
 in these matters — the bastard a pi'ioH method, as it may 
 be termed. The legitimate a />n'ori method sets out witli 
 propositions of which the negation is inconceivable ; the a 
 priori method as illegitimately applied, sets out either witli 
 propositions of which the negation is not inconceivable, o;' 
 with propositions like Oken's, of which the affirmation ia 
 inconceivable. 
 
L28 niE GENESIS or science. 
 
 It is needless to proceed further with the analysis ; else 
 might we detail the steps by which Okcn arrives at the 
 conclusions that " the planets are coagulated colours, for 
 they are coagulated light ; that the sj)here is the expanded 
 nothing ; " that gravity is " a weighty nothing, a heavy es- 
 sence, striving towards a centre ; " thai " the earth is the 
 identical, water the indifferent, air the different ; or the 
 first the centre, the second the radius, the last the peri- 
 phery of the general globe or of fire." To comment on 
 them would be nearly as absurd as are the propositions 
 themselves. Let us pass on to another of the German sys- 
 tems of knowledge — that of Hegel. 
 
 The simple fact that Hegel puts Jacob Boehme on a par 
 with Bacon, suffices alone to show that his stand-point is 
 far remote from the one usually regarded as scientific : so 
 far remote, indeed, that it is not easy to find any common 
 basis on which to found a criticism. Those who hold that 
 the mind is moulded into conformity with surrounding 
 things by the agency of surrounding things, are necessarily 
 at a loss how to deal with those, who, like Schelling and 
 Hegel, assert that surrounding things are solidified mind — 
 that Nature is " petrified intelhgence." However, let us 
 briefly glance at Hegel's classification. He divides philoso- 
 phy into three parts : — 
 
 1. Logic., or the science of the idea in itself, the pure 
 idea. 
 
 2. Tlie Philosophy of Nature., or the science of the idea 
 considered under its other form — of the idea as ITature. 
 
 3. The Philosophy of the Mind., or the science of the 
 idea m its return to itself 
 
 Of these, the second is divided into the natural sciences, 
 commonly so called ; so that in its more detailed form the 
 series runs thus: — Logic, Mechanics, Physics, Organic Phy- 
 sics, Ptsychology. 
 
 Now, if we believe with Hegel, first, that thought is tl e 
 
Hegel's scheme of knowledge^ 129 
 
 true essence of man ; second, that tliouglit is the essence of 
 the world ; and that, therefore, there is nothing but thought; 
 his classification, beginning with the science of pure thought, 
 may be acceptable. But otherwise, it is an obvious objec- 
 tion to his arrangement, that thought implies things thought 
 of — that there can be no logical forms without the substance 
 of experience — that the science of ideas and the science of 
 things must have a simultaneous origin. Hegel, however, 
 anticipates this objection, and, in his obstinate idealism, re- 
 plies, that the contrary is true ; that all contained in the 
 forms, to become something, requires to be thought : and 
 that logical forms are the foundations of all things. 
 
 It is not surprising that, starting from such premises, and 
 reasoning after this fashion, Hegel finds his way to strange 
 conclusions. Out of space and tbne he proceeds to build up 
 motion, matter, re^ndslon, attraction, loeight, and inertia. 
 He then goes on to logically evolve the solar system. In 
 doing this he widely diverges from the Newtonian theory ; 
 reaches by syllogism the conviction that the planets are the 
 most perfect celest ial bodies ; and, not being able to bring 
 the stars within his theory, says that they are mere formal 
 existences and not living matter, and that as compared with 
 the solar .system they are as little admirable as a cutaneous 
 eruption or a swarm of flies.* 
 
 Results so outrageous might be left as self-disproved, 
 were it not that speculators of this class are not alarmed by 
 any amount of incongruity with established beliefs. The 
 only eflicient mode of treating systems like this of Hegel, is 
 to show that they are self-destructive — that by their first 
 steps they ignore that authority on which all their subse- 
 quent steps depend. If Hegel professes, as he manifestly 
 does, to develop his scheme by reasoning — if he presente 
 
 * It is somewhat curious tliat the author of " The Plurality of Worlds,'' 
 with quite other aims, should have persuaded himself into similar conclu 
 sions. 
 
L30 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE, 
 
 Buccessive mierences as necessarily following from cert ".in 
 premises ; he implies the postulate that a belief which ne- 
 cessarily follows after certain antecedents is a true belief: 
 and, did an opponent reply to one of his inferences, that, 
 though it was impossible to think the opposite, yet the 
 opposite was true, he would consider the reply irrational 
 The procedure, however, which he would thus condemn as 
 destructive of all thinking whatever, is just the procedure 
 exhibited in the enunciation of his own first principles. 
 
 Mankind find themselves unable to conceive that there 
 can be thought without things thought of Hegel, how- 
 ever, asserts that there ccm be thought without things 
 thought of That ultimate test of a true proposition — the 
 inability of the human mind to conceive the negation of it 
 — which in all other cases he considers valid, he considers 
 invalid where it suits his convenience to do so ; and yet at 
 the same time denies the right of an ojoponent to follow his 
 example. If it is competent for him to posit dogmas, which 
 are the direct negations of what human consciousness recog- 
 nises; then is it also competent for his antagonists to stoj? 
 him at every step in his argument by saying, that though 
 the particular inference he is drawing seems to his mind, 
 and to all minds, necessarily to follow from the premises, 
 yet it is not true, but the contrary inference is true. Or, 
 to state the dilemma in another form : — If he sets out with 
 inconceivable propositions, then may he with equal propri- 
 ety make all his succeeding propositions inconceivable ones 
 ■ — may at every step throughout his reasoning draw exactly 
 the opposite conclusion to that which seems involved. 
 
 Hegel's mode of procedure being thus essentially sui- 
 cidal, the Hegelian classification which depends upon 
 It, falls to the ground. Let us consider next that ot 
 -M, Comte, 
 
 As all his readers must admit, M. Comte presents us 
 with a scheme of the sciences which, unlike the foregoing 
 
HIGnEK CLAIMS OF M. COMTE. Ie3l 
 
 ones, demands respectful consideration. Widely as we 
 difler from liim, ^ye cheerfully bear witness to the largeness 
 of bis views, the clearness of bis reasoning, and tbe value 
 of bis si^eculations as contributing to intellectual progress. 
 Did we believe a serial arrangement of tbe sciences to be 
 possible, tbat of M. Comte would certainly be tbe one we 
 should adopt. His fundamental propositions are thor- 
 oughly intelligible ; and if not true, have a great semblance 
 of truth. His successive steps are logically co-ordinated ; 
 and be supports his conclusions by a considerable amount of 
 evidence — evidence which, so long as it is not critically exam- 
 ined, or not met by counter evidence, seems to substantiate 
 his positions. But it only needs to assume that antagon- 
 istic attitude which ought to be assumed towards new 
 doctrines, in the belief that, if true, they will pi'osper by 
 conquering objectors — it needs but to test his leading 
 doctrines either by other facts than those he cites, or by 
 his own facts differently applied, to at once show that they 
 will not stand. We will proceed thus to deal with the 
 general principle on which he bases bis hierarchy of the 
 sciences. 
 
 In the second chapter of his Coxirs de PliUosopMe Posi- 
 tive, M. Comte says : — " Our problem is, then, to find 
 the one rational order, amongst a host of possible sys- 
 tems." ..." This order is determined by the degree 
 of simplicity, or, what comes to tbe same thing, of general- 
 ity of their phenomena." And the arrangement be de- 
 duces runs thus: Mathematics, Astronomy, Physics, Chem- 
 istry, Physiology, Social Physics. This he asserts to be 
 " the true filiation of the sciences." He asserts further, 
 that the principle of progression from a greater to a less 
 degree of generality, " which gives this or'der to tbe whole 
 body of science, arranges tbe parts of each science." And, 
 finally, he asserts that the gradations thus established d 
 priori among tbe sciences, and tbe parts of each science, "is 
 
132 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 in essential conformity with the order which has sponta 
 neously taken place among the branches of natural philoso 
 phy ; " or, in other words — corresponds with the order of 
 historic development. 
 
 Let us compare these assertions with the facts. That 
 there may be perfect fairness, let us make no choice, but 
 take as the field for our comparison, the succeeding section 
 treating of the first science — Mathematics ; and let us use 
 none but M. Comte's own facts, and his own admissions. 
 Confinhig ourselves to this one science, of course our com- 
 parisons must be between its several parts. M. Comte says, 
 that the parts of each science must be arranged in the 
 order of their decreasing generality; and that this oider 
 of decreasing generality agrees with the order of historic 
 development. Our inquiry must be, then, whether the his- 
 tory of mathematics confirms this statement. 
 
 Carrying out his principle, M. Comte divides Mathe- 
 matics into " Abstract Mathematics, or the Calculus (tak- 
 ing the word in its most extended SQnse) and Concrete 
 Mathematics, which is composed of General Geometry and 
 of Rational Mechanics.'' The subject-matter of the first of 
 these is niiniber ; the subject-matter of the second includes 
 sjMce, time, motion, force. The one possesses the highest 
 possible degree of generality ; for all things whatever 
 admit of enumeration. The others are less general ; see- 
 ing that there are endless j^henomena that are not cogniza- 
 ble either by general geometry or rational mechanics. In 
 conformity with the alleged law, therefore, the evolution 
 of the calculus must throughout have preceded the evolu- 
 tion of the concrete sub-sciences. Xow somewhat awk- 
 wardly for him, the first remark M. Comte makes bearing 
 upon this point is, that " from an historical point of view, 
 mathematical analysis ajypears to have risen out q/'the con- 
 templation of geometrical and mechanical facts." True, 
 he goes on to say that, " it is not the less independent of 
 
comte's theory of its evolution. 133 
 
 these sciences logically speaking ; " for that " analytical 
 ideas are, above all others, universal, abstract, and simple • 
 and geometrical conceptions are necessarily founded on 
 them." 
 
 Vfe will not take advantage of this last passage to 
 charge M. Comte with teaching, after the fashion of Hegel, 
 that there can be thought without things thought of We 
 are content simply to compare the two assertions, that 
 analysis arose out of the contemplation of geometrical and 
 mechanical facts, and that geometrical conceptions are 
 founded upon analytical ones. Literally interpreted they 
 exactly cancel each other. Interpreted, however, in a 
 liberal sense, they imply, what we believe to be de- 
 monstrable, that the two had a &imultaneous origin. The 
 passage is either nonsense, or it is an admission that 
 abstract and concrete mathematics are coeval. Thus, 
 at the very first step, the alleged congruity between the 
 order of generality and the order of evolution, does not 
 hold good. 
 
 But may it not be that though abstract and concrete 
 mathematics took their rise at the same time, the one 
 afterwards developed more rapidly than the other ; and 
 has ever since remained in advance of it ? No : and again 
 we call M. Comte himself as witness. Fortunately for his 
 argument he has said nothing respecting the early stages 
 of the concrete and abstract divisions after their diver- 
 gence from a common root ; otherwise the advent of 
 Algebra long after the Greek geometry had reached a high 
 development, would have been an inconvenient fact for 
 him to deal with. But passing over this, and limiting 
 om-selves to his own statements, we find, at the opening of 
 the next chapter, the admission, that " the historical de- 
 velopment of the abstract portion of mathematical science 
 has, since the time of Descartes, been for the most part 
 determined \)\ that of th.e concrete." Further on we read 
 
134 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 respecting algebraic functions that "most functions were 
 concrete in their origin — even those ■u-hich are at present 
 the most jiurely abstract ; and the ancients discovered 
 only through geometrical definitions elementary algebraic 
 properties of functions to which a numerical value was not 
 attached till long afterwards, rendering abstract to u3 
 what was concrete to the old geometers." How do these 
 statements tally with his doctrine? Again, having divided 
 the calculus into algebraic and arithmetical, M. Comte 
 admits, as perforce he must, that the algebraic is more 
 general than the arithmetical ; yet he will not say that 
 algebra preceded arithmetic in point of time. And again, 
 having divided the calculus of functions into the calculus 
 of direct functions (common algebra) and the calculus of 
 indirect functions (transcendental analysis), he is obliged 
 to speak of this last as possessing a higher generality than 
 the first ; yet it is far more modern. Indeed, by implica- 
 tion, M. Comte himself confesses this incongruity ; for he 
 says : — " It might seem that the transcendental analysis 
 ought to be studied before the ordinary, as it provides the 
 equations which the other has to resolve ; but though the 
 transcendental is logically independent of the ordinary^ it 
 is best to follow the usual method of study, taking the 
 ordinary fij-st." In all these cases, then, as well as at the 
 close of the section where he jDredicts that mathematicians 
 will in time " create procedures of a vAder generality^'' M. 
 Comte makes admissions that are diametrically opposed to 
 the alleged law. 
 
 In the succeeding chapters treating of the concrete de- 
 partment of mathematics, we find similar contradictions. 
 M. Comte himself names the geometry of the ancients spe- 
 cial geometry, and that of moderns the general geometiy. 
 Tie admits that while " the ancients studied geometry with 
 reference to the bodies under notice, or specially ; the 
 moderns study it with reference to the pjhenortiena to be 
 
OBJECTIONS TO comte's tiieoet. 135 
 
 considered, or- generally." He admits that while "the an 
 cients extracted all they could out of one line or surface 
 before passing to another," " the moderns, since Descartes, 
 employ themselves on questions which relate to any figure 
 whatever." These facts are the reverse of what, according 
 to his theory, they should be. So, too, in mechanics. Be- 
 fore dividing it into statics and dynamics, M. Comte treats 
 of the three laws of motion^ and is obliged to do so ; for 
 statics, the more general of the two divisions, though it 
 does not mvolve motion, is impossible as a science until the 
 laws of motion are ascertained. Yet the laws of motion 
 pertain to dynamics, the more special of the divisions. 
 Further on he points out that after Archimedes, who dis- 
 covered the law of equilibrium of the lever, statics made 
 no progress until the establishment of dynamics enabled ua 
 to seek " the conditions of equilibrium through the laws of 
 the composition of forces." And he adds — " At this day 
 this is the method universally employed. At the first glance 
 it does not ajopear the most rational — dynamics being more 
 complicated than statics, and precedence being natural to the 
 simpler. It would, in fact, be more philosoj)hical to refer 
 dynamics to statics, as has since been done. " Sundry dis- 
 coveries are afterwards detailed, showing how completely 
 the development of statics has been achieved by consider- 
 ing its problems dynamically ; and before the close of the 
 section M, Comte remarks that " before hydrostatics could 
 be comprehended under statics, it was necessary that the 
 abstract theory of equilibrium should be made so general 
 as to a2:)ply directly to fluids as well as solids. This was ac- 
 complialied when Lagrange supplied, as the basis of the 
 whole of rational mechanics, the single principle of virtual 
 velocities." In Avhich statement we have two facts directly 
 at variance with M. Comte's doctrine ; — first, that the sim- 
 pler science, statics, reached its present development only 
 by the aid of the principle of virtual velocities, which be- 
 
136 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 longs to the more complex science, dynamics ; and that this 
 " single pvinciple " underlying all rational mechanics — this 
 most general for ')n which includes alike the relations of stat- 
 ical, hydrostatical, and dynamical forces— was reached so 
 late as the time of Lagrange. 
 
 Thus it is not true that the historical succession of the 
 divisions of mathematics has corresponded with the order 
 of decreasing generality. It is not true that abstract math- 
 ematics was evolved antecedently to, and independently 
 of concrete mathematics. It is not true that of the sub- 
 divisions of abstract mathematics, the more general came 
 before the more special. And it is not true that concrete 
 mathematics, in either of its two sections, began with the 
 most abstract and advanced to the less abstract truths. 
 
 It may be well to mention, parenthetically, that in de- 
 fending his alleged law of progression from the general to 
 the special, M. Comte somewhere comments uj)on the two 
 meanings of the word general^ and the resulting liability to 
 confusion. Without now discussing whether the asserted 
 distinction can be maintained in other cases, it is manifest 
 that it docs not exist here. In sundry of the instances 
 above quoted, the endeavors made by M. Comte himself to 
 disguise, or to explain away, the precedence of the special 
 over the general, clearly indicate that the generality spoken 
 of, is of the kind meant by his formula. And it needs but 
 a brief consideration of the matter to show that, even did 
 he attempt it, he could not distinguish this generality, which, 
 as above proved, frequently comes last, from the generality 
 which he says always comes first. For what is the nature 
 of that mental process by which objects, dimensions, 
 weights, times, and the rest, are found capable of having 
 their relations expressed numerically ? It is the formation 
 of certain abstract conceptions of unity, duality and multi- 
 plicity, which are applicable to all things alike. It is the 
 invention of general symbols serving to exjiress the numer- 
 
DIVISIONS OF MATHEMATICS, HOW RELATED. 137 
 
 leal relations of entities, whatever be their special charac- 
 ters. And what is the nature of the mental process by 
 which numbers are found capable of having their relation? 
 expressed algebraically? It is just the same. It is the for- 
 mation of certain abstract conceptions of numerical func 
 tions which are the same whatever be the magnitudes o[ 
 the numbers. It is the invention of general symbols serv- 
 mg to express the relations between numbers, as numbers 
 exjjress the relations between things. And transcendental 
 analysis stands to algebra in the same position that algebra 
 stands in to arithmetic. 
 
 To briefly illustrate their respective powers ; — arithme- 
 tic can express in one formula the value of a particular 
 tangent to 2^ particular curve ; algebra can express in one 
 formula the values of all tangents to a particular curve ; 
 transcendental analysis can express in one formula the val- 
 ues of all tangents to all curves. Just as arithmetic deals 
 with the common properties of lines, areas, bulks, forces, 
 periods ; so does algebra deal with the common properties 
 of the numbers which arithmetic presents ; so does tran- 
 scendental analysis deal with the common properties of the 
 equations exhibited by algebra. Thus, the generality of 
 the higher branches of the calculus, when compared with 
 the lower, is the same kind of generality as that of the lower 
 branches when compared with geometry or mechanics. 
 And on examination it will be found that the like relation 
 exists in the various other cases above given. 
 
 Having shown that M. Comte's alleged law of progres- 
 sion does not hold among the several parts of the same 
 science, let us see how it agrees with the facts when applied 
 to separate sciences. " Astronomy," says M. Comte, at the 
 opening of Book III., " was a positive science, in its geo- 
 metrical aspect, from the earliest days of the school of Alex- 
 andria ; but Physics, which we are now to consider, had no 
 positive character at all til! Galileo made his great discov- 
 
138 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 eries on tbe fall of heavy bodies." On this, our comment la 
 simply that it is a misrepresentation based, upon an arbi- 
 trary misuse of words — a mere verbal artifice. By choosing 
 to exclude from terrestrial physics those laws of magnitude, 
 motion, and position, which he includes in celestial physics, 
 M. Comte makes it appear that the one owes nothing to 
 the other. Not only is this altogether unwarrantable, but 
 it is radically inconsistent with his OAvn scheme of divisions. 
 At the outset he says — and as the point is important we 
 quote from the original — " Pour la physique inorganique 
 nous voyons d'abord, en nous conformant toujours ^ I'ordre 
 de goneralite et de descendance des phenomenes, qu't-Ile doit 
 etro partagee en deux sections distinctes, suivant qu'elle 
 considere les phenomenes generaux de I'univers, ou, en par- 
 ticulier, ceux que j)rcscntent les corps terrestres. D'ou la 
 physique celeste, ou I'astronoraie, soit geometrique, soit 
 mechanique ; et la physique terrestre." 
 
 Here then we have inorganiG pJiysics clearly divided 
 into celestial 2'>hysics and terrestrial physics — the pheno- 
 mena presented by the universe, and the phenomena pre- 
 sented by earthly bodies. If now celestial bodies and ter- 
 restrial bodies exhibit sundry leading phenomena in com- 
 mon, as they do, how can the generalization of these com- 
 mon phenomena be considered as pertaining to the one class 
 rather than to the other ? If inorganic jjhysics includes 
 geometry (which M. Comte has made it do by comprehend- 
 ing geometrical astronomy in its sub-section — celestial phy- 
 sics) ; and if its sub-section — terrestrial physics, treats of 
 things having geometrical jDroperties ; how can the laws of 
 geometrical relations be excluded from terrestrial physics ? 
 Clearly if celestial physics includes tlie geometry of ob- 
 jects in the heavens, terrestrial physics includes the geometry 
 of objects on the earth. And if terrestrial physics includes 
 terrestrial geometry, while celestial physics includes celestial 
 geometry, then the geometrical part of terrestrial physics 
 
TEKRESTRIAL MECH^INICS PKECEDES CELESTIAL. 139 
 
 precedes the geometrical part of celestial physics ; see- 
 ing that geometry gained its first ideas from surrounding 
 objects. Until men had learnt geometrical relations from 
 bodies on the earth, it was impossible for them to under- 
 stand the geometrical relations of bodies in the heavens. 
 
 So, too, -with celestial mechanics, which had terrestrial 
 mechanics for its parent. The very conception o^ force, 
 which underlies the whole of mechanical astronomy, is bor- 
 rowed from our earthly experiences ; and the leading laws 
 of mechanical action as exhibited in scales, levers, projec- 
 tiles, &c., had to be ascertained before the dynamics of the 
 solar system could be entered upon. What were the laws 
 made use of by Xewton in working out his grand discovery? 
 The law of fixlling bodies disclosed by Galileo ; that of the 
 composition of forces also disclosed by Galileo ; and that 
 of centrifugal force found out by Huyghens — all of them 
 generalizations of terrestrial physics. Yet, with facts like 
 these before him, M. Comte places astronomy before phy- 
 sics in order of evolution ! He does not compare the geo- 
 metrical parts of the two together, and the mechanical 
 parts of the two together ; for this would by no means 
 suit his hypothesis. But he comj)ares the geometrical part 
 of the one with the mechanical part of the other, and so 
 gives a semblance of truth to his position. He is led away 
 by a verbal delusion. Had he confined his attention to the 
 things and disregarded the words, he would have seen that 
 before mankind scientifically co-ordinated any one class of 
 phenomena displayed in the heavens, they had previously 
 co-ordinated a parallel class of phenomena displayed upon 
 the surface of the earth. 
 
 Were it needful we could fill a score pages with the in- 
 congruities of M. Comte's scheme. But the foregoing sam- 
 ples will sufiice. So far is his law of evolution of the 
 sciences from being tenable, that, by following his exam- 
 ple, and arbitrarily ignoring one class of facts, it would be 
 
140 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 possible to present, with great plausibility, just the opposite 
 gontralization to that which he enunciates. While he as- 
 serts that the rational order of the sciences, like the ordei 
 of their historic development, " is determined by the de- 
 gree of simplicity, or, what comes to the same thing, of 
 generality of their phenomena;" it might contrariwise be 
 asserted, that, commencing with the complex and the spe- 
 cial, mankind have progressed step by step to a knowledge 
 of greater simplicity and wider generality. So much evi- 
 dence is there of this as to have drawn from Whewell, in 
 his History of the Inductive Sciences.^ the general remark 
 that " the reader has already seen repeatedly in the course 
 of this history, complex and derivative principles present- 
 ing themselves to men's minds before simple and elemen- 
 tary ones." 
 
 Even from M. Comte's own work, numerous facts, ad 
 missions, and arguments, might be picked out, tending to 
 show this. We have already quoted his words in proof 
 that both abstract and concrete mathematics have pro- 
 gressed towards a higher degree of generality, and that he 
 looks forward to a higher generality still. Just to strength- 
 en this adverse hypothesis, let us take a further instance. 
 From the particular case of the scales, the law of equilibri- 
 um of which was familiar to the earliest nations known, Ar- 
 chimedes advanced to the more general case of the unequal 
 lever with miequal weights ; the law of equilibrium of 
 which includes that of the scales. By the help of Galileo's 
 iiscovery concerning the composition of forces, D'Alembert 
 ''established, for the first time, the equations of equilibrium 
 of any S3'stem of forces applied to the different points of a 
 solid body " — equations which include all cases of levers 
 and an infinity of cases besides. Clearly this is progress 
 towards a higher generality — towards a knowledge more 
 independent of special circumstances — towards a study of 
 phenomena " the most disengaged from the incidents of 
 
TWOFOLD PEOGEESS OF SCIEXCE. l-il 
 
 particular cases ; " wliich is M. Comte's definition of " tlie 
 most simple phenomena." Does it not indeed follow from 
 the familiarly admitted fact, that mental advance is from 
 the concrete to the abstract, from the particular to the gen- 
 eral, that the universal and therefore most simple truths are 
 the last to be discovered ? Is not the government of the 
 solar system by a force varying inversely as the square of 
 the distance, a simpler conception than any that preceded 
 it ? Should we ever succeed in reducing all orders of phe- 
 nomena to some single law — say of atomic action, as M. 
 Corate suggests — must not that law answer to his test of 
 being independent of all others, and therefore most simple ? 
 And would not such a law generalize the phenomena of 
 gravity, cohesion, atomic affinity, and electric repulsion, just 
 as the laws of number generalize the quantitative phenom- 
 ena of space, time and force ? 
 
 The possibility of saying so much in support of an hypo- 
 tliesis the very reverse of 31. Comte's, at once proves that 
 his generalization is only a half-truth. The fact is, that 
 neither proposition is correct by itself; and the actuality is 
 expressed only by putting the two together. The progress 
 of science is duplex : it is at once from the special to the 
 genei'al, and from the general to the special : it is analytical 
 and synthetical at the same time. 
 
 M. Comte himself obser^'es that the evolution of science 
 has been accomplished by the division of labour; but he 
 quite misstates the mode in which this division of labour 
 has operated. As he describes it, it has simply been an ar- 
 rangement of phenomena into classes, and the study of each 
 class by itself. He does not recognise the constant effect 
 of progress in each class upon all other classes ; but only on 
 the class succeeding it in his hierarchical scale. Or if he 
 occasionally admits collateral influences and intercommuni- 
 cations, he does it so grudgingly, and so quickly puts the 
 admissions out of sight and forgets them, as to leave the 
 
142 ' THE GEN"ESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 impression that, with but trifling exceptions, the sciences 
 aid each otlier only in the order of their alleged succession. 
 The fact i^, however, that the division of labour in science, 
 like the division of labour in society, and like the " physio- 
 logical division of labour " in individual organisms, has been 
 not only a specialization of functions, but a continuous help- 
 ing of each division by all the others, and of all by each. 
 Every particular class of inquirers has, as it were, secreted 
 its own particular order of truths from the general mass of 
 material which observation accumulates ; and all other 
 classes of inquirers have made use of these truths as fast 
 as they were elaboi-ated, with the effect of enabling them 
 the better to elaborate each its own order of truths. 
 
 It was thus in sundry of the cases we have quoted as at 
 variance with M. Comte's doctrine. It was thus with the 
 application of Huyghens's optical discovery to astronomical 
 observation by Galileo. It was thus with the application 
 of the isochronism of the pendulum to the making of in- 
 strviments for measuring intervals, astronomical and other. 
 It was thus when the discovery that the refraction and dis- 
 persion of light did not follow the same law of variation, 
 afiected both astronomy and physiology by giving us achro- 
 matic telescopes and microscopes. It was thus when Brad- 
 ley's discovery of the aberration of light enabled him to 
 make the first step towards ascertaining the motions of the 
 stars. It was thus when Cavendish's torsion-balance ex- 
 periment determined the specific gravity of the earth, and 
 so gave a datum for calculating the specific gravities of the 
 sun and planets. It was thus when tables of atmospheric 
 refraction enabled observers to write down the real places 
 of the heavenly bodies instead of their apparent places. It 
 was thus when the discovery of the different exi^ansibilities 
 of metals by heat, gave ns the means of correcting our 
 chronometrical measurements of astronomical periods. It 
 was thus when the lines of the prismatic spectrum were 
 
COJiTDITIONS OF ASTKO^!OMIC PllOGRESS. 143 
 
 used to distinguish the heavenly bodies that are of like na- 
 ture with the suu from those which are not. It was thug 
 when, as recently, an electro-telegra[)hiG instrument was in- 
 vei>ted for the more accurate registration of meridional 
 transits. It was thus when the diflerence in the rates of a 
 clock at the equator, and nearer the poles, gave data for 
 calculating the oblateness of the earth, and accounting for 
 the precession of the equinoxes. It was thus — but it is 
 needless to continue. 
 
 Here, within our own limited knowledge of its history, we 
 have named ten additional cases in which the single science 
 of astronomy has owed its advance to sciences coming after 
 it in M. Comte's series. Not only its secondary steps, but 
 its greatest revolutions have been thus determined. Kep- 
 ler could not have discovered his celebrated laws had it not 
 been for Tycho Brahe's accurate observations ; and it was 
 only after some progress in physical and chemical science 
 that the improved instruments with which those observa- 
 tions were made, became possible. The heliocentric theory 
 of the solar system had to wait until the invention of the 
 telescope before it could be finally established. Xay, even 
 the grand discovery of all— the law of gravitation — depend- 
 ed for its proof upon an operation of physical science, the 
 measurement of a degree on the Earth's surface. So complete- 
 ly indeed did it thus depend, that Newton had actually 
 abandoned his hypothesis because the length of a degree, 
 as then stated, brought out wrong j-esults ; and it was only 
 after Picart's more exact measurement was published, that 
 he retui'ned to his calculations and proved his great gener- 
 alization. Now this constant intercommunion, which, for 
 brevity's sake, we have illustrated in the case of one science 
 only, has been taking place with all the sciences. Through- 
 ont the wdiole course of their evolution there has been a 
 contmuous consensus of the sciences — a consensus exhibit- 
 ing a general correspondence with the co?isensus of focul 
 8 
 
144 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 ties in each i:)liase of mental developraent ; the one being 
 an objective registry of the subjective state of the other. 
 
 From our present point of view, then, it becomes obvi- 
 ous that the conception of a serial arrangement of the sci- 
 ences is a vicious one. It is not simply that the schemes 
 WQ have examined are untenable; but it is that the sciences 
 cannot be rightly placed in any linear order whatever. It 
 is not simply that, as M. Comte admits, a classification 
 " will always involve something, if not arbitrary, at least 
 artificial ; " it is not, as he would have us believe, that, 
 neglecting minor imperfections a classification may be sub- 
 stantially true ; but it is that any groujDing of the sciences 
 in a succession gives a radically erroneous idea of their 
 genesis and their dependencies. There is no " one ratiorml 
 order among a host of possible systems." There is no 
 " true filiation of the sciences." The whole hypothesis is 
 fundamentally false. Indeed, it needs but a glance at its 
 origin to see at once how baseless it is. Why a series f 
 What reason have we to suppose that the sciences admit 
 of a linear arrangement? Where is our warrant for 
 assuming that there is some succession in which they can 
 be placed? There is no reason; no warrant. Whence 
 then has arisen the supposition ? To use M. Comte's own 
 phraseology, we should say, it is a metaphysical conception. 
 It adds another to the cases constantly occurring, of the 
 human mind being made the measure of Nature. We are 
 obliged to think in sequence ; it is the law of our minds 
 that we must consider subjects separately, one after 
 another : therefore Nature must be serial — therefore the 
 sciences mast be classifiable in a succession. See here the 
 birth of the notion, and the sole evidence of its truth. 
 Men have been obliged when arranging in boohs their 
 schemes of education and systems of knowledge, to choose 
 soma order or other. And from inquiring wliat is the best 
 
THE SEEIAL OEDER EEROXEOUS. 145 
 
 order, have naturally fallen into the helief that there is an 
 order which truly represents the facts — have persevered in 
 seeking such an order; quite overlooking the previous 
 question whether it is likely that Nature has consulted the 
 convenience of book-making. 
 
 For German philosophers, who hold that Nature is 
 '• petrified intelligence," and that logical forms are the 
 foundations of all things, it is a consistent hypothesis that 
 as thought is serial, Nature is serial ; but that M. Comte, 
 who is so bitter an opponent of all anthropomorphism, 
 even in its most evanescent shapes, should have committed 
 the mistake of imposing upon the external world an ar- 
 rangement which so obviously springs from a limitation of 
 the human consciousness, is somewhat strange. And it is 
 the more strange when we call to mind how, at the outset, 
 M. Comte remarks that in the beginning " toutes les sciences 
 sont cullivees simuUanement ^^a/' les mtmes es]orits / " that 
 this is " inevitable et meme indispenscihle y " and how he 
 further remarks th.it the different sciences are " comme 
 les diverses branches d'lm tronc unique^ Were it not 
 accounted for by the distorting influence of a cherished 
 hypothesis, it would be scarcely possible to understand 
 how, after recognising truths like these, M. Comte should 
 have persisted in attempting to construct " une echelle en- 
 cyclopedique.'''' 
 
 The metaphor which M. Comte has here so inconsis- 
 tently used to express the relations of the sciences — 
 branches of one trunk — is an approximation to the truth, 
 though not the truth itself. It suggests the facts that the 
 sciences had a common origin ; that they have been de- 
 veloping simultaneously ; and that they have been from 
 time to time dividing and sub-dividing. But it does not 
 suggest the yet more important fact, that the divisions and 
 sub-divisions thus arising do not remain separate, but now 
 and again re-unite in direct and indirect ways. They 
 
IttG THE GENESIS OF SCIES^CE. 
 
 inosculate ; they severally send off and receive connecting 
 growths ; and the intercommunion has been ever becom- 
 ing more frequent, more intricate, more widely ramified. 
 There has all along been higher specialization, that there 
 might be a larger generalization ; and a deeper analysis, 
 that there might be a better synthesis. Each larger gen- 
 eralization has lifted sundry specializations still higher ; and 
 each better synthesis has prepared the way for still deeper 
 analysis. 
 
 And here we may fitly enter upon the task awhile since 
 indicated — a sketch of the Genesis of Science, regarded as 
 a gradual outgrowth from common knowledge — an exten- 
 sion of the perceptions by the aid of the reason. We pro- 
 pose to treat it as a psychological process historically dis- 
 played ; tracing at the same time the advance from qualita- 
 tive to quantitative prevision ; the progress from concrete 
 facts to abstract facts, and the application of such abstract 
 facts to the analysis of new orders of concrete facts ; the 
 simultaneous advance in gereralization and specialization; 
 the continually increasing subdivision and reunion of the 
 sciences ; and their constantly improving consensus. 
 
 To trace out scientific evolution from its deepest roots 
 would, of course, involve a complete analysis of the mind. 
 For as science is a development of that common knowledge 
 acquired by the unaided senses and uncultured reason, so 
 is that common knowledge itself gradually built up out of 
 the simplest perceptions. "We must, therefore, begin 
 someV'here abruptly ; and the most appropriate stage 
 to take for our j^oint of departure will be the adult mind 
 of the savage. 
 
 Commencing thus, without a proper preliminary analy- 
 sis, we are naturally somewhat at a loss how to present, in 
 a satisfactory manner, those fundamental processes of 
 thought out of which science ultimatelv orioinates. Per- 
 
WHEKE INTELLIGENCE BEGEN'S, 117 
 
 haps our argument may be best initiated by the proposi 
 tion, that all intelligent action whatever depends upon the 
 discerning of distinctions among surrounding things. The 
 condition under which only it is possible for any creature 
 to obtain food and avoid danger is, that it shall be differ- 
 ently affected by different objects — that it shall be led to 
 act in one way by one object, and in another way by 
 another. In the lower orders of creatures this condition is 
 i'ulfilled by means of an apparatus which acts automatically. 
 In the higher orders the actions are partly automatic, 
 partly conscious. And in man they are almost wholly 
 conscious. 
 
 Throughout, however, there must necessarily exist a 
 certain classification of things according to their properties 
 ■ — a classification which is either organically registered in 
 the system, as in the inferior creation, or is formed by 
 experience, as in ourselves. And it may be further re- 
 marked, that the extent to which this classification is 
 carried, roughly indicates the height of intelligence — that, 
 while the lowest organisms are able to do little more than 
 discriminate organic from inorganic matter ; while the 
 generality of animals carry their classifications no further 
 than to a limited number of plants or creatures serving 
 for food, a limited number of beasts of prey, and a limited 
 number of places and materials ; the most degraded of the 
 human race possess a knowledge of the distinctive natures 
 of a great variety of substances, plants, animals, tools, per- 
 sons, &c., not only as classes but as individuals. 
 
 "What now is the mental process by which classification 
 is effected ? Manifestly it is a recognition of the likeness 
 or unlikeness of things, either in respect of their sizes, 
 colours, forms, weights, textures, tastes, &c., or in respect 
 ol their modes of action. By some special mark, sound, or 
 motion, the savage identifies a certain four-legged crea- 
 ture he sees, as one that is good for food, and to be caught 
 
i.48 THE GEXESI3 OF SCiEXCE. 
 
 in a particular way ; or as one ttat is dangerous ; and acts 
 accordingly. He has classed together all the creatures 
 that are cdihG in this particular. And manifestly in choos- 
 ing the wood out of which to form his bow, the plant with 
 which to poison his arrows, the bone from which to make 
 his fish-hooks, he identifies them through their chief sensi- 
 ble proioerties as belonging to the general classes, wood, 
 plant, and bone, but distinguishes them as belonging to 
 sub-classes by virtue of certain properties in which they are 
 unlike the rest of the general classes they belong to; and so 
 forms genera and species. 
 
 And here it becomes manifest that not only is classifica- 
 tion carried on by grouping together in the mind things 
 that are like / but that classes and sub-classes are formed 
 and arranged according to the degrees ofunlikeness. Things 
 widely contrasted are alone distinguished in the lower 
 stages of mental evolution ; as may be any day observed in 
 an infant. And gradually as the powers of discrimination 
 increase, the widely contrasted classes at first distinguished, 
 come to be each divided into sub-classes, differing from 
 each other less than the classes difier ; and these sub-classes 
 are again divided after the same manner. By the continu- 
 ance of Avhich process, things are gradually arranged into 
 groups, the members of which are less and less xmlike / 
 ending, finally, in groups whose members differ only as 
 individuals, and not specifically. And thus there tends 
 ultimately to arise the notion of complete likeness. For 
 manifestly, it is impossible that groui^s should continue to 
 be sub-divided in virtue of smaller and smaller differences, 
 without there being a simultaneous approximation to the 
 notion of no difference. 
 
 Let us next notice that the recognition of likeness and 
 unlikeness, which underlies classification, and out of which 
 continued classification evolves the idea of complete like- 
 ness — let us next notice that it also underlies the process 
 
THE ROOT OF PEIiriTIYE LA^TGUAGE. 149 
 
 of nami7ig, and by consequence language. For all lan- 
 guage consists, at the beginning, of symbols which are as 
 like to the things symbolized as it is practicable to make 
 them. The language of signs is a inoans of conveying ideas 
 by mimicking the actions or peculiarities of the things re- 
 ferred to. Verbal language is also, at the beginning, a 
 mode of suggesting objects or acts by imitating the sounds 
 which the objects make, or with which the acts are accom- 
 panied. Originally these two languages were used simul- 
 taneously. It needs but to watch the gesticulations with 
 which the savage accompanies his sj)eech — to see a Bush- 
 man or a Kaffir dramatizing before an audience his mode 
 of catching game — or to note the extreme paucity of 
 words in all primitive vocabularies ; to infer that at first, 
 attitudes, gestures, and sounds, were all combined to pro 
 duce as good a likeness as possible, of the things, animals, 
 persons, or events described ; and that as the sounds came 
 to be understood by themselves the gestures fell into dis- 
 use : leaving traces, however, in the manners of the more 
 excitable civilized races. But be this as it may, it suffices 
 simply to observe, how many of the words current among 
 barbarous peoples are like the sounds appertaining to the 
 things signified ; how many of our own oldest and simplest 
 words have the same peculiarity ; how children tend to in- 
 vent imitative words ; and how the sign-language sponta- 
 neously formed by deaf mutes is invariably based upon 
 imitative actions — to at once see that the notion of likeness 
 is that from which the nomenclature of objects takes its 
 rise. 
 
 "Were there space we might go on to point out how this 
 law of life is traceable, not only in the origin but in the de- 
 velopment of language ; how in primitive tongues the plu- 
 ral is made by a duplication of the singular, which is a 
 multiplication of the word to make it like the multiplicity 
 of the things ; how the use of metaphor — that prolific 
 
l50 TUE GENESIS OF SCIEXCE. 
 
 Boui'ce of new words — is a suggesting of ideas that are liJct 
 the ideas to be conveyed in some respect or other ; and 
 how, in the copious use of simile, fable, and allegory among 
 uncivilized races, we see that complex conceptions, which 
 there is yet no direct language for, are rendered, by pre- 
 senting known conceptions more or less like them. 
 
 This view is further confirmed, and the predominance 
 of this notion of likeness in primitive times farther illus- 
 trated, by the fact that our system of presenting ideas to 
 the eye originated after the same fashion. Writing and 
 printing have descended from picture-language. The eai'- 
 ]iest mode of permanently registering a flict was by depict- 
 ing it on a wall ; that is — by exhibiting something as like to 
 the thing to be remembered as it could be made. Grad- 
 ually as the practice grew habitual and extensive, the most 
 frequently repeated forms became fixed, and presently ab- 
 breviated ; and, passing through the hieroglyphic and ideo- 
 graphic phases, the symbols lost all apparent relations to 
 the things signified : just as the majority of our spoken 
 words have done. 
 
 Observe again, that the same thing is true respecting 
 the genesis of reasoning. Tlie likeness that is j)erceived to 
 exist between cases, is the essence of all early reasoning 
 and of much of our present reasoning. The savage, hav- 
 ing by experience discovered a relation between a certain 
 object and a certain act, infers that the like relation will be 
 found in future cases. And the expressions we constantly 
 use in our arguments — " analogy implies," " the cases are 
 not 2yctrallel,^^ " hj parity of reasoning," " there is no simi- 
 larity,'''' — show how constantly the idea of likeness under- 
 lies our ratiocinative processes. 
 
 Still more clearly will this be seen on recognising the 
 fact that there is a cei'tain parallelism between reasoning 
 and classification ; that the two have a common root ; and 
 Ihat neither can 2;o on without the other. For on the one 
 
THE NATUEE ^OF LIKENESS IN REASONING AND AKT. 151 
 
 hand, it is a familiar trutli that the attributing to a body in 
 consequence of some of its properties, all those other prop- 
 erties in virtue of which it is referred to a particular class, 
 is an act of inference. And, on the other hand, the form- 
 ing of a generalization is the putting together in one class, 
 all those cases which present like relations ; while the draw- 
 ing a deduction is essentially the i^erception that a particu- 
 lar case belongs to a certain class of cases previously gener- 
 alized. So that as classification is a grouping together of 
 like tilings y reasoning is a grouping together of liJce rela- 
 tions among things. Add to which, that while the perfec- 
 tion gradually achieved in classification consists in the form- 
 ation of groups of objects which are completely alihe ; the 
 perfection gradually achieved in reasoning consists in the 
 formation of groups of cases which are completely alike. 
 
 Once more we may contemplate this dominant idea of 
 likeness as exhibited in art. All art, civilized as well as 
 savage, consists almost wholly in the making of objects like 
 other objects ; either as found in Nature, or as pi'oduced 
 by previous art. If we trace back the varied art-products 
 now existing, we find that at each stage the divergence 
 from previous patterns is but small when compared with 
 the agreement ; and in the earliest art the persistency of 
 imitation is yet more conspicuous. The old forms and 
 ornaments and symbols were held sacred, and perpetually 
 copied. Indeed, the strong imitative tendency notoriously 
 displayed by the lowest human races, ensures among them 
 a constant reproducing of likenesses of things, forms, signs, 
 sounds, actions, and whatever else is imitable ; and we may 
 even suspect that this aboriginal peculiarity is in some way 
 connected with the culture and development of this gen- 
 eral conception, which we have found so deep and wide- 
 spread in its applications. 
 
 And now let us go on to consider how, by a further 
 ojAfolding of this same fundamental notion, there is a grad- 
 
1.52 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 aal formation of the first germs of science. Tliis idea of 
 likeness which miderlies classification, nomenclature, lan- 
 guage spoken and written, reasoning, and art ; and which 
 plays so important a part because all acts of intelligence 
 are made possible only by distinguishing among surround- 
 ing things, or grouping them into like and unlike ; — this 
 idea- we shall find to be the one of which science is the es- 
 pecial product. Already during the stage we have been 
 describing, there has existed qualitative prevision in re- 
 spect to the commoner phenomena with which savage life 
 is familiar ; and we have now to inquire how the elements 
 of quantitative prevision are evolved. We shall find that 
 they originate by the perfecting of this same idea of like- 
 ness ; that they have their rise in that concepjtion of com- 
 plete liketiess which, as we have seen, necessarily results 
 from the continued process of classification. 
 
 For when the process of classification has been carried 
 as far as it is possible for the uncivilized to carry it — when 
 the animal kingdom has been grouped not merely into 
 quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and insects, but each of these di- 
 vided into kinds — when there come to be sub-classes, in 
 each of which the members diflor only as individuals, and 
 not specifically ; it is clear that there must occur a frequent 
 observation of objects which differ so little as to be indis- 
 tinguishable. Among several creatures w^hich the savage 
 has killed and carried home, it must often happen that 
 some one, which he wished to identify, is so exactly like 
 another that he cannot tell which is which. Thus, then, 
 there originates the notion of equality. The things which 
 among ourselves are called equal — whether lines, angles, 
 weights, temiDeratures, sounds or colours — are things which 
 produce in us sensations that cannot be distinguished from 
 each other. It is true that we now apply the word equal 
 chiefly to the separate phenomena which objects exhibit, 
 and not to groups of phenomena ; but this limitation of the 
 
IDEAS OF EQUALITY AXD SDIILAEITY. 153 
 
 idea has evidently arisen by subsequent analysis. And that 
 the notion of equality did thus originate, will, we think, 
 become obvious on remembering that as there were no ar- 
 tificial objects from which it could have been abstracted, it 
 must have been abstracted from natural objects ; and that 
 the various families of the animal kingdom chiefly furnish 
 those natural objects which display the requisite exactitude 
 of likeness. 
 
 The same order of experiences out of which this gene- 
 ral idea of equality is evolved, gives birth at the same time 
 to a more complex idea of equahty ; or, rather, the process 
 just described generates an idea of equality which further 
 experience sejxarates into two ideas — equality of things ^ndi 
 tqucdity of relations, "While organic, and more especially 
 animal forms, occasionally exhibit this perfection of likeness 
 out of which the notion of simple equality arises, they more 
 frequently exhibit only that kind of likeness which we call 
 similarity j and which is really compound equality. For 
 the similarity of two creatures of the same species but of 
 diflerent sizes, is of the same nature as the similarity of two 
 geometrical figures. In either case, any two parts of the 
 one bear the same ratio to one another, as the homologous 
 parts of the other. Given in any species, the proportions 
 found to exist among the bones, and we may, and zoologists 
 do, predict from any one, the dimensions of the rest ; just as, 
 when knoTt"ing the proj^ortions subsisting among the parts 
 of a geometrical figure, we may, from the length of one, 
 calculate the others. And if, in the case of similar geome- 
 trical figures, the similarity can be established only by 
 proving exactness of proportion among the homologoua 
 parts ; if we express this relation between two parts in the 
 one, and the corresponding parts in the other, by the for- 
 mula A is to B as a is to b ; if we otherwise write this, A 
 to V>—a to h ; if, consequently, the fiict we prove is that 
 the relation of A to B equals the relation of a to b ; then 
 
154: THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 it is manifest that the fundamental conception of similarity 
 is equality of relations. 
 
 With this explanation we shall be uiiderstoocl when we 
 say that the notion of equality of relations is the basis of 
 all exact reasoning. Already it has been shown that reasoning 
 in general is a recognition of likeness of relations ; and 
 here we further find that while the notion of likeness of 
 things ultimately evolves the idea of simple equality, tho 
 notion of likeness of relations evolves the idea of equality 
 of relations : of which the one is the concrete germ of ex- 
 act science, while the other is its abstract germ. 
 
 Those who cannot understand how the recognition of 
 similarity in creatures of the same kind, can have any alli- 
 ance with reasoning, Avill get over the difficulty on remem- 
 bering that the phenomena among which equality of rela- 
 tions is thus perceived, are phenomena of the same order 
 and are present to the senses at the same time ; while those 
 among which developed reason perceives relations, are gen- 
 erally neither of the same order, nor simultaneously present. 
 And if further, they will call to mind how Cuvier and Owen, 
 from a single part of a creature, as a tooth, construct the 
 rest by a process of reasoning based on this equality of re- 
 lations, they will see that tlie tvv'o things are intimately 
 connected, remote as they at first seem. But we anticipate. 
 What it concerns us here to observe is, that from famiUari- 
 ty with organic forms there simultaneously arose the ideas 
 of simple equality .^ and equality of relations. 
 
 At the same time, too, and out of the same mental j^ro- 
 cesses, came the first distinct ideas of number. In the earli- 
 i^st stages, the presentation of several like objects produced 
 merely an indefinite conception of multiplicity ; as it stil] 
 does among Australians, and Bushmen, and Damaras, when 
 the number presented' exceeds three or four. With sucli a 
 fact before us we may safely infer that the first clear numer- 
 ical conception was that of duahty as contrasted with uni- 
 
THE GERM OF NUMERICAL IDEAS. 155 
 
 ty. And tliis notion of duality must necessarily have grown 
 up side by side with those of likeness and equality ; seeing 
 that it is impossible to recognise the likeness of two things 
 without also perceiving that there are two. From the 
 very beginning. the conception of number must have been, 
 as it is still, associated with the likeness or equality of 
 the things numbered. If we analyze it, we find that sim- 
 ple enumeration is a registration of repeated impres- 
 sions of any kind. That these may be capable of enu 
 raeration it is needful that they be more or less alike ; and 
 before any absolutely true numerical results can be reach- 
 ed, it is requisite that the units be absolutely equal. The 
 only way in which we can establish a numerical relation- 
 ship between things that do not yield us like impressions, 
 is to divide them into parts that do yield us like impres- 
 sions. Two unlike magnitudes of extension, force, time, 
 weight, or what not, can have their relative amounts esti- 
 mated, only by means of some small unit that is contained 
 many times in both ; and even if we finally write down the 
 greater one as a unit and the other as a fraction of it, we 
 state, in the denominator of the fraction, the number of 
 parts into which the unit must be divided to be compara- 
 ble with the fraction. 
 
 It is, indeed, true, that by an evidently modern process of 
 abstraction, we occasionally apply numbers to unequal units, 
 as the furniture at a sale or the various animals on a farm, 
 simply as so many separate entities ; but no true result can 
 be brought out by calculation with units of this order. 
 And, indeed, it is the distinctive peculiarity of the calculus 
 in general, that it proceeds on the hypothesis of that abso- 
 lute equality of its abstract units, which no real units pos- 
 sess ; and that the exactness of its results holds only in 
 virtue of this hypothesis. The first ideas of number must 
 necessarily then have been derived from like or equal mag- 
 nitudes as seen cliiefly in organic object? ; and as the like 
 
150 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 magnitudes most frequently observed were raagnitades of 
 extension, it follows that geometry and arithmetic had a 
 simultaneous origin. 
 
 Not only are the first distinct ideas of number co-ordin 
 ate with ideas of likeness and equality, but the first efforts 
 at numeration disjjlayed the same relationship. On read- 
 ing the accounts of various savage tribes, we find that the 
 method of counting by the fingers, still followed by many 
 children, is the aboriginal method. Neglecting the several 
 cases in which the ability to enumerate does not reach even 
 to the number of fingers on one hand, there are many cases 
 in which it does not extend beyond ten — the limit of the 
 simple finger notation. The fact that in so many instances, 
 remote, and seemingly unrelated nations, have adopted te7i 
 as their basic number ; together w^ith the fact that in the re- 
 maining instances the basic number is either^ye (the fingers 
 of one hand) or tioenty (the fingers and toes) ; almost of 
 themselves show that the fingers were the original units of 
 numeration. The still surviving use of the word digit, as 
 the general name for a figure in arithmetic, is significant ; 
 and it is even said that our word ten (Sax. tyn ; Dutch, 
 tien ; German, zehn) means in its primitive expanded form 
 two hands. So that originally, to say there were ten things, 
 was to say there were two hands of them. 
 
 From all which evidence it is tolerably clear that the 
 earliest mode of conveying the idea of any number of 
 things, was by holding up as many fingers as there were 
 things ; that is — using a symbol which waseg'i^a?, in respect 
 of multiplicity, to the group symbolized. For which infer- 
 ence there is, indeed, strong confirmation in the recent 
 statement that our own soldiers are even now siDontaneous- 
 ly adopting this device in their dealings with the Turks. 
 And here it should be remarked that in this recombination 
 of the notion of equality with that of multiplicity, by which 
 the first steps in numeration are efliected, we may see one 
 
EAELT INTELLECTUAL GE0WTH3 NON-SEEIAL. 157 
 
 of the earliest of those inosculations between the diverging 
 branches of science, which are afterwards of perpetual occur- 
 rence. ■ 
 
 Indeed, as this observation suggests, it will be well, be- 
 fore tracing the mode in which exact science finally emerges 
 from the merely approximate judgments of the senses, and 
 showing the non-serial evolution of its divisions, to note 
 the non-serial character of those preliminary processes of 
 which all after development is a continuation. On re-con- 
 sidering them it will be seen that not only are they diver- 
 gent growths from a common root, — not only are they sim- 
 ultaneous in their progress ; but that they are mutual aids ; 
 and that none can advance without the rest. That com- 
 pleteness of classification for which the unfolding of the 
 perceptions paves the way, is impossible without a corre- 
 S2")onding progress in language, by which greater varieties 
 of objects are thinkable and expressible. On the one hand 
 it is impossible to carry classification far Avithout names by 
 which to designate the classes ; and on the other hand it 
 is impossible to make language faster than things are classi- 
 fied. 
 
 Again, the multiplication of classes and the consequent 
 narrowing of each class, itself involves a greater likeness 
 among the things classed together ; and the consequent ap- 
 proach towards the notion of complete likeness itself allows 
 classification to be carried higher. Moreover, classification 
 necessarily advances pari passu with rationality — the clas- 
 sification of thinffs with the classification of relations. For 
 things that belong to the same class are, by implication, 
 things of which the properties and modes of behaviour — 
 the co-existences and sequences — are more or less the same ; 
 and the recognition of this sameness of co-existences and 
 sequences is reasoning. Whence it follows that the advance 
 of classification is necessarily proportionate to the advance 
 of generalization? Yet further, the notion of likeness^hoth 
 
L58 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 in tilings and relations, simultaneously evolves by one pro- 
 cess of culture the ideas of equality of things and equality 
 of relations ; which are the respective bases of exact con- 
 crete reasoning and exact abstract reasoning — Mathematics 
 and Logic. And once more, this idea of equality, in the 
 very process of being formed, necessarily gives origin to 
 two series of relations — those of magnitude and those of 
 number: from which arise geometry and the calculus. Thus 
 the process throughout is one of perpetual subdivision and 
 perpetual intercommunication of the divisions. From the 
 very first there has been that consensus of different kinds of 
 knowledge, answering to the consejisus of the intellectual 
 faculties, which, as already said, must exist among the sci- 
 ences. 
 
 Let us now go on to observe how, out of the notions of 
 equality and numher^ as arrived at in the manner described, 
 there gradually arose the elements of quantitative prevision. 
 
 Equality, once having come to be definitely conceived, 
 was readily applicable to other phenomena than those of 
 magnitude. Being predicable of all things producing indis- 
 tinguishable impressions, there 'naturally grew up ideas of 
 equahty in weights, sounds, colours, &c. ; and indeed it can 
 scarcely be doubted that the occasional experience of equal 
 weights, sounds, and colours, had a share in developing the 
 abstract conception of equality — that the ideas of equality 
 in size, relations, forces, resistances, and sensible projDcr- 
 ties in general, were evolved during the same period. 
 But however this may be, it is clear that as fast as the no- 
 tion of equality gained definiteness, so fast did that lowest 
 kind of quantitative prevision which is achieved without 
 any instrumental aid, become possible. 
 
 The ability to estimate, however roughly, the amount 
 of a foreseen result, implies the conception tliat it will be 
 i.qual to a certain imagined quantity ; and the correctness 
 ^f the estimate will manifestly depend upon the accuracy at 
 
QrAJNTITATIVE EVOLUTION OF KNOWLEDGE. 159 
 
 which tho perceptions of sensible equality have arrived. A 
 savage with a piece of stone in his hand, and another piece 
 lying before him of greater bulk but of the same kind (a 
 fact which he infers from the equality of the two in colour 
 and texture) knows about what effort he must put forth to 
 raise this other piece; and he judges accurately in propor- 
 tion to the accuracy with which he perceives that the one 
 is twice, three times, four times, &c. as large as the other ; 
 that is — in proportion to the precision of his ideas of equali- 
 ty and number. And here let us not omit to notice that 
 even in these vaguest of quantitative previsions, the concep- 
 tion oi equality of relations is also involved. For it is only 
 in virtue of an undefined perception that the relation be- 
 tween bulk and weight in the one stone is equal to the re- 
 lation between bulk and weight in the other, that even the 
 roughest approximation can be made. 
 
 But how came the transition from those uncertain per- 
 ceptions of equality which tho unaided senses give, to the 
 certain ones with which science deals ? It came by placing 
 the things compared in juxtaposition. Equality being pre- 
 dicated of things which give us indistinguishable impres- 
 sions, and no accurate comparison of impressions being 
 possible unless they occur in immediate succession, it re- 
 sults that exactness of equality is ascertainable in propor- 
 tion to the closeness of the compared things. Hence the 
 fact that when we wish to judge of two shades of colour 
 whether they are alike or not, we place them side by side ; 
 hence the fact that we cannot, Avith any precision, say which 
 of two allied sounds is the louder, or the higher in pitch, 
 unless we hear the one immediately after the other; hence 
 the fact that to estimate the ratio of Aveights, we take one 
 m each hand, that we may compare their pressures by rap- 
 idly alternating in thought from the one to the other ; hence 
 the fact, that in a piece of music, we ca'A continue to make 
 equal beats when the first beat has been given, but cannot 
 
ICO THE GENESIS OF SCIEJS^CE. 
 
 ensure commencing with the same length of beat on a fu- 
 ture occasion ; and hence, lastly, the fact, that of all magni- 
 tudes, those of linear extension are those of which ih» 
 equality is most accurately ascertainable, and those to 
 which by consequence all others have to be reduced. For 
 it is the peculiarity of linear extension that it alone allows 
 its magnitudes to be placed in absolute juxtaposition, or, 
 rather, in coincident position ; it alone can test the equality 
 of two magnitudes by observing whether they will coalesce, 
 ,as two equal mathematical lines do, when placed between 
 the same points ; it alone can test equality by trying wheth- 
 er it will become identity. Hence, then, the fact, that all 
 exact science is reducible, by an ultimate analysis, to results 
 measured in equal units of linear extension. 
 
 Still it remains to be noticed in what manner this deter- 
 mination of equality by comparison of linear magnitudes 
 originated. Once more may we perceive that surrounding 
 natural objects supplied the needful lessons. From the be- 
 ginning there must have been a constant experience of like 
 things placed side by side — men standing and walking to- 
 gether ; animals from the same herd ; fish from the same 
 shoal. And the ceaseless repetition of these experiences 
 could not fail to suggest the observation, that the nearer 
 together any objects were, the more visible became any in- 
 equality between them. Hence the obvious device of put- 
 ting in apposition, things of which it was desired to ascer- 
 tain the relative magnitudes. Hence the idea of measure. 
 And here we suddenly come upon a group of facts which 
 afford a solid basis to the remainder of our argument; while 
 they also furnish strong evidence in support of the forego- 
 ing speculations. Those who look sceptically on this at- 
 tempted rehabilitation of the earliest epochs of mental de- 
 velopment, and who more esj^ecially think that the derivation 
 of so many primary notions from organic forms is somewhat 
 strained, will perhaps see more j^i'obability in the severa' 
 
DEVELOPMEXT OF THE IDEA OF MEASITBE. 161 
 
 liypothvcses that have been ventured, on discoyering that all 
 measures o? extension and/brce originated from the lengths 
 and weights of organic bodies ; and all measures of time 
 from the periodic phenomena of either organic or inorganic 
 bodies. 
 
 Thus, among linear measures, the cubit of the Hebrews 
 was the length of the forearm from the elbow to the end 
 of the middle finger ; and the smaller scriptural dimensions 
 are expressed in hand-hreadths and spans. The Egyptian 
 cubit, which was similarly derived, was divided into digits, 
 which were finger-hreadths ; and each finger-breadth was 
 more definitely expressed as being equal to four grains of 
 barley placed breadthwise. Other ancient measures were 
 the orgyia or stretch of the arms, the pace, and the palm. 
 So persistent has been the use of these natural units of 
 length in the East, that even now some of the Arabs mete 
 out cloth by the forearm. So, too, is it with European 
 measures. The foot prevails as a dimension throughout 
 Europe, and has done since the time of the Romans, by 
 whom, also, it was used : its lengths in difierent places va- 
 rying not much more than men's feet vary. The heights 
 of horses are still expressed in hands. The inch is the 
 length of the terminal joint of the thumb ; as is clearly 
 shown in France, where pouce means both thumb and inch. 
 Then we have the inch divided into three barley-corns. 
 
 So completely, indeed, have these organic dimensions 
 served as the substrata of all mensuration, that it is only 
 by means of them that we can form any estimate of some 
 of the ancient distances. For example, the length of a 
 degree on the Earth's surface, as determined by the Ara- 
 bian astronomers shortly after the death of Haroun-al-Ras- 
 chid, was fifty-six of their miles. "We know nothing of 
 their mile furtlier than that it M'as 4000 cubits ; and whether 
 these Averc sacred cubits or common cubits, would remain 
 ioubtful, but that the length of the cubit is civen as twen- 
 
162 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 ty-seveu inches, and each inch defined as the thickness o£ 
 six harley-grains. Thus one of the eai'liest measurements 
 of a degree comes down to us in barley-grains. Not oaly 
 did organic lengths furnish those approximate measures 
 which satisfied men's needs in ruder ages, but they fur- 
 nished also the standard measures required in later 
 times. One instance occurs in our own history. To 
 remedy the irregularities then prevailing, Henry I. com- 
 manded that the ulna, or ancient ell, which answers to 
 the modern yard, should be made of the exact length of 
 Ills 01071 arm. 
 
 Measures of weight again had a like derivation. Seeds 
 seem commonly to have supplied the imit. The original 
 of the carat used for weighing in India is a small hean 
 Our own systems, both troy and avoirdupois, are derived 
 primarily from wheat-corns. Our smallest weight, the 
 grain, is a grain of lolieat. This is not a speculation ; it i.'i 
 an historically registered fact. Henry III, enacted that an 
 ounce shou.ld be the weight of 640 dry grains of wheat 
 from the middle of the ear. And as all the other weights 
 are multiples or sub-multiples of this, it follows that the 
 grain of wheat is the basis of our scale. So natural is it to 
 use organic bodies as weights, before artificial weights 
 have been established, or where they are not to be had, 
 that in some of the remoter parts of Ireland the peojile 
 are said to be in the habit, even now, of putting a man 
 into the scales to serve as a measure for heavy com- 
 modities. 
 
 Similarly with time. Astronomical periodicity, and the 
 periodicity of animal and vegetable life, are simultaneously 
 used in the first stages of progress for estimating epochs. 
 The simplest unit of time, the day, nature supplies ready 
 made. The next simplest period, the mooneth or month, 
 is also thrust upon men's notice by the conspicuous changes 
 constituting u lunation. For larger divisions than these, 
 
PEIMITIVE MEASUEEMENTS OF TIME. 1G3 
 
 the i^henomena of the seasons, and the chief events from 
 time to time occurring, have been used by early and un- 
 civilized races. Among the Egyptians the rising of the 
 Nile served as a mark. The New Zealanders were found 
 to begin their year from the reappearance of the Pleiadca 
 above the sea. One of the uses ascribed to birds, by the 
 Greeks, was to indicate the seasons by their migrations, 
 Barrow describes the aboriginal Hottentot as denoting 
 periods by the number of moons before or after the ripen- 
 ing of one of his chief articles of food, lie further states 
 that the Kaffir chronology is kept by the moon, and is 
 registered by notches on sticks — the death of a favourite 
 chief, or the gaining of a victory, serving for a new era. 
 By which last fact, we are at once reminded that in eai-ly 
 history, events are commonly recorded as occurring in cer- 
 tain reigns, and in certain years of certain reigns: a proceed- 
 ing which practically made a king's reign a measure of 
 duration. 
 
 And, as further illustrating the tendency to divide time 
 by natural phenomena and natural events, it may be no- 
 ticed that even by our own peasantry the definite divisions 
 of months and years are but little used ; and that they 
 habitually refer to occurrences as " b.efore sheep-shearing," 
 or " after harvest," or " about the time when the squire 
 died." It is manifest, therefore, that the more or less 
 equal periods perceived in Nature gave the first units of 
 measure for time ; as did Nature's more or less equal 
 lengths and weights give the first units of measure for space 
 and force. 
 
 It remains only to observe, as further illustrating the 
 evolution of quantitative ideas after this manner, that 
 measures of value were similarly derived. Barter, in one 
 form or other, is found among all but the very lowest hu- 
 man races. It is obviously based upon the notion of 
 equality of xoorth. And as it gradually merges into trade 
 
16 i THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE, 
 
 by the introduction of some kind of currency, we find 
 that the measures of worth, constituting this currency, 
 are organic bodies ; in some cases cowries, in others 
 cocoa-nuts, in others cattle, in others pigs, among the 
 American Indians peltry or sk'ms, and in Iceland dried 
 Jish. 
 
 Notions of exact equality and of measure having been 
 reached, there came to be definite ideas of relative magni- 
 tudes as being multiples one of another ; whence the prac- 
 tice of measurement by direct apposition of a mecsure. 
 The determination of linear extensions by this process can 
 scarcely be called science, though it is a step towards it ; 
 but the determination of lengths of time by an analogous 
 process may be considered as one of the earliest samj^les of 
 quantitative prevision. For when it is first ascertained 
 that the moon completes the cycle of her changes in about 
 thirty days— a fact known to most uncivilized tribes that 
 can count beyond the number of their fingers — it is mani- 
 fest that it becomes possible to say in what number of days 
 any specified phase of the moon will recur ; and it is also 
 manifest that this prevision is efiected by an opposition of 
 two times, after the same manner that linear space is meas- 
 ured by the opposition of two lines. For to express the 
 moon's jDcriod in days, is to say how many of these miits 
 of measure are contained in the period to be measured — is 
 to ascertain the distance between two points in time by 
 means of a scale of days, just as we ascertain the distance 
 between two points in space by a scale of feet or inches : 
 and in each case the scale coincides with the thing meas- 
 ured — mentally in the one ; visibly in the other. So that 
 in this simplest, and perhaps earliest case of quantitative 
 prevision, the phenomena are not only thrust daily upon 
 men's notice, but Nature is, as it were, perpetually repeat- 
 ing that process of measurement by observing which 
 the prevision is efix'cted. And thus there may be signi- 
 
PlirMITIVE MEASUREMENTS OF TIME. 1G5 
 
 ficance in the remark which some have made, that ahke 
 in Hebre^r, Greek, and Latin, there is an affinity be- 
 tween the word meaning moon, and that meaning measure. 
 
 This fact, that in very early stages of social progress it 
 is known that the moon goes through her changes in about 
 thirty days, and that in about twelve moons the seasons 
 return — this fact that chronological astronomy assumes a 
 certain scientific character even before geometry does ; 
 while it is partly due to the circumstance that the astro- 
 nomical divisions, day, month, and year, are ready made 
 for us, is partly due to the further circumstances that 
 agricultural and other operations were at first regulated 
 astronomically, and that from the supposed divine nature 
 of the heavenly bodies their motions determined the 
 periodical religious festivals. As instances of the one we 
 have the observation of the Egyptians, that the rising of 
 the Nile corresponded Avith the heliacal rising of Sirius ; 
 the directions given by Hcsiod for reaping and ploughing, 
 according to the positions of the Pleiades ; and his maxim 
 that " fifty days after the turning of the sun is a seasonable 
 time for beginning a voyage." As instances of the other, 
 we have the naming of the days after the sun, moon, and 
 planets ; the early attempts among Eastern nations to 
 regulate the calendar so that the gods might not be offend- 
 ed by the displacement of their sacrifices ; and the fix- 
 ing of the great annual festival of the Peruvians by the 
 position of the sun. In all which facts we see that, 
 at first, science Avas simply an ai:)pliance of religion and 
 industry. 
 
 After the discoveries that a lunation occupies nearly 
 thirty days, and that some twelve lunations occupy a year 
 — discoveries of Avhich there is no historical account, but 
 which may be inferred as the earliest, from the fact that 
 existing uncivilized races have made them — we come to 
 the first known astronomical records, -vAhich are those of 
 
IGG THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 eclipses. The Chaldeans were able to predict these. 
 " This they did, probably," says Dr. Whewell in his useful 
 history, from which most of the materials we are about to 
 use will be drawn, " by means of their cycle of 223 months, 
 or about eighteen years ; for at the end of this time, the 
 eclipses of the moon begin to return, at the same intervals 
 and in the same order as at the beginning." Now this meth- 
 od of calculating eclipses by means of a recurring cycle, — 
 the Saros as they called it — is a more complex case of pre- 
 vision by means of coincidence of measures. For by what 
 observations must the Chaldeans have discovered this 
 cycle ? Obviously, as Delambre infers, by inspecting their 
 registers ; by comparing the successive intervals ; by find- 
 ing that some of the intervals were alike ; by seeing that 
 these equal intervals were eighteen years apart ; by discov- 
 ering that all the intervals that were eighteen years apart 
 were equal ; by ascertaining that the intervals formed a 
 series which repeated itself, so that if one of the cycles of 
 intervals were superposed on another the divisions would 
 fit. This once perceived, and it manifestly became possi- 
 ble to use the cycle as a scale of time by which to measure 
 out future periods. Seeing thus that the process of so pre- 
 dicting eclipses, is in essence the same as that of predicting 
 the moon's monthly changes by observing the number of 
 days after which they repeat — seeing that the two differ 
 only in the extent and irregularity of the intervals, it is not 
 difficult to understand how such an amount of knowledge 
 should so early have been reached. And wo shall be less 
 surprised, on remembering that the only things involved 
 in these previsions were time and number y and that the 
 time was in a manner self-numbered. 
 
 Still, the ability to predict events recurring only after 
 so long a period as eighteen years, implies a considerable 
 advance in civiHzation — a considerable development of gen- 
 eral knowledge ; and we have now to inquire what progress 
 
KNOWLEDGE IMPLIED BY EARLY ASTEOXOMY. 167 
 
 in Other sciences accompanied, and was necessary to, these 
 astronomical previsions. In the first place, there must 
 clearly have been a tolerably efficient system of calculation. 
 Mere finger-counting, mere head-reckoning, even with the 
 aid of a regular decimal notation, could not have sufficed 
 for numbering the days in a year ; much less the years, 
 months, and days between eclipses. Consequently there 
 must have been a mode of registering numbers ; probably 
 even a system of numerals. The earliest numerical rec- 
 ords, if we may judge by the practices of the less civilized 
 races now existing, were probably kept by notches cut on 
 sticks, or strokes marked on walls ; much as public-house 
 scores are kept now. And there seems reason to believe 
 that the first numerals used were simply groups of straight 
 strokes, as some of the still-extant Roman ones are ; lead- 
 ing us to suspect that these groups of strokes were used to 
 represent groups of fingers, as the groups of fingers had 
 been used to represent groups of objects — a supposition 
 quite in conformity with the aboriginal system of picture 
 writing and its subsequent modifications. Be this so or 
 not, however, it is manifest that before the Chaldeans dis- 
 covered their jSaros, there must have been both a set of 
 written symbols serving for an extensive numeration, and 
 a familiarity with the simpler rules of arithmetic. 
 
 Not only must abstract mathematics have made some 
 progress, but concrete mathematics also. It is scarcely 
 possible that the buildings belonging to this era should 
 have been laid out and erected without any knowledge of 
 geometry. At any rate, there must have existed that ele 
 mentary geometry which deals with direct measurement — 
 with the apposition of lines ; and it seems that only after 
 the discovery of those simple proceedings, by which riglit 
 angles are drawn, and relative positions fixed, could so reg- 
 ular an architecture be executed. In the case of the other 
 
 division of concrete mathematics — mechanics, we have defi- 
 9 
 
1G8 TKE GENESIS OF SCIEA'CE. 
 
 nite evidenco of progress. We know that the lever ^nd 
 the inclined plane were employed during this period : im- 
 plying that there was a qualitative prevision of their effects, 
 though not a quantitative one. But we know more. We 
 read of weights in the earliest records ; and we find weights 
 in ruins of the highest antiquity. Weights imply scales, 
 of which we have also mention ; and scales involve the 
 primary theorem of mechanics in its least complicated form 
 — involve not a qualitative but a quantitative prevision of 
 mechanical effects. And here we may notice how mechan- 
 ics, in common with the other exact sciences, took its rise 
 from the simplest application of the idea of equality. For 
 the mechanical proposition which the scales involve, is, that 
 if a lever with equal arms, have equal weights suspended 
 from them, the weights will remain at equal altitudes. 
 And we may further notice, how, in this first step of ra- 
 tional mechanics, we see illustrated that truth awhile since 
 referred to, that as magnitudes of linear extension are the 
 only ones of which the equality is exactly ascertainable, the 
 equalities of other magnitudes have at the outset to be de- 
 termined by means of them. For the equality of the 
 weights which balance each other in scales, wholly depends 
 upon the equality of the arms : we can know that the 
 weights are equal only by proving that the arms are equal. 
 And when by this means we have obtained a system of 
 weights, — a set of equal units of force, then does a science 
 of mechanics become possible. Whence, indeed, it follows^ 
 that rational mechanics could not possibly have any other 
 Btarting-point than the scales. 
 
 Let us further remember, that during this same period 
 there was a limited knowledge of chemistry. The many 
 arts which we know to have been carried on must have 
 been impossible without a generalized experience of the 
 modes in which certain bodies affect each other under spe- 
 cial conditions. In metallurgy, which was extensively 
 
THE IMPLICATIONS OF EAELY ASTEONOSIY. 1G9 
 
 practised, this is abundantly illustrated. And we even 
 have evidence that in some cases the knowledge possessed 
 was, in a sense, quantitative. For, as we find by analysis 
 that the hard alloy of which the Egyptians made their cut- 
 ting tools, was composed of copper and tin in fixed pro- 
 portions, there must have been an established prevision that 
 such an alloy was to be obtained only by mixing them in 
 these proportions. It is true, this was but a simple empiri- 
 cal generalization ; but so was the generalization respecting 
 the recurrence of eclipses ; so are the first generalizations 
 of every science. 
 
 Respecting the simultaneous advance of the sciences 
 during this early epoch, it only remains to remark that 
 even the most complex of them must have made some 
 progress — perhaps even a greater relative progress than 
 any of the rest. For under what conditions only were the 
 foregoing developments possible ? There first required an 
 established and organized social system. A long continued 
 registry of eclipses ; the building of palaces ; the use of 
 scales ; the j^ractice of metallurgy — alike imj^ly a fixed and 
 populous nation. The existence of such a nation not only 
 presupposes laws, and some administration of justice, which 
 we know existed, but it presupposes successful laws — laws 
 conforming in some degree to the conditions of social sta- 
 bility — laws enacted because it was seen that the actions 
 forbidden by them were dangerous to the State. We do 
 not by any means say that all, or even the greater part, of 
 the laws were of this nature ; but we do say, that the fun- 
 damental ones were. It cannot be denied that the laws 
 aifecting life and property were such. It cannot be denied 
 that, however little these were enforced between class and 
 class, they were to a considerable extent enforced between 
 members of the same class. It can scarcely be questioned, 
 that the administration of them between members of the 
 5ame class was seen by rulers to be necessary for keeping 
 
L70 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 their subjects together. And knowing, as we do, that, 
 otlier things equal, nations prosper in proportion to the 
 justness of their arrangements, we may fairly infer that 
 the very cause of the advance of these earliest nations out 
 of aboriginal barbarism, was the greater recognition among 
 them of the claims to life and property. 
 
 But supposition aside, it is clear that the habitual recog- 
 ni'ion of these claims in their laws, implied some prevision 
 of social phenomena. Even thus early there was a certain 
 amount of social science. Nay, it may even be shown that 
 tliere was a vague recognition of that fundamental princi- 
 ple on which all the true social science is based — the equal 
 rights of all to the free exercise of their faculties. That 
 same idea of equality^ which, as we have seen, underlies 
 all other science, underlies also morals and sociology. The 
 conception of justice, which is the primary one in morals; 
 and the administration of justice, which is the vital condi- 
 tion of social existence ; are impossible, without the recog- 
 nition of a certain likeness in men's claims, in virtue of their 
 common humanity. Eqiiity literally means equalness / and 
 if it be admitted that there were even the vaguest ideas of 
 equity in these primitive eras, it must be admitted that 
 there was some appreciation of the equalness of men's lib- 
 erties to pursue the objects of life — some appreciation, 
 therefore, of the essential principle of national equilibrium. 
 Thus in this initial stage of the positive sciences, before 
 geometry had yet done more than evolve a few empirical 
 rules — before mechanics had passed beyond its first theo- 
 rem — before astronomy had advanced from its merely chro- 
 nological phase into the geometrical ; the most involved of 
 the sciences had reached a certain degree of development 
 — a development without which no progress in other sci- 
 ences was possible- 
 Only noting as we pass, liow, thus early, we may see 
 that the progress of exact science was not only towards an 
 
OEIGET OF GEOMETKICAL ASTItONOMY. 171 
 
 increusiug number of i^revisions, but towards previsions 
 more accurately quantitative — how, in astronomy, tlie re- 
 curring period of the moon's motions was by and by more 
 correctly ascertained to be nineteen years, or two hundred 
 and thirty-five lunations ; how Callipus further corrected 
 this Metonic cycle, by leaving out a day at the end of every 
 seventy-six years ; and how these successive advances im 
 plied a longer continued registry of observations, and the 
 co-ordination of a greater number of facts — let us go on to 
 inquire how geometrical astronomy took its rise. 
 
 The first astronomical instrument was the gnomon 
 This was not only early in use in the East, but it was found 
 also among the Mexicans ; the sole astronomical observa- 
 tions of the Peruvians were made by it ; and we read that 
 1100 B.C., the Chinese found that, at a certain place, the 
 length of the sun's shadow, at the summer solstice, was to 
 the height of the gnomon, as one and a half to eight. 
 Here again it is observable, not only that the instrument is 
 found ready made, but that Nature is perpetually perform- 
 ing the process of measurement. Any fixed, erect object 
 — a column, a dead palm, a pole, the angle of a building — 
 serves for a gnomon ; and it needs but to notice the chang- 
 ing position of the shadow it daily throws, to make the 
 first step in geometrical astronomy. How small this first 
 step was, may be seen in the fact that the only things as- 
 certained at the outset were the periods of the summer 
 and winter solstices, which corresponded with the least and 
 greatest lengths of the mid-day shadow ; and to fix which, 
 it was needful merely to mark the point to which each 
 day's shadow reached. 
 
 And now let it not be overlooked that in the observing 
 at what time during the next year this extreme limit of the 
 shadow was again reached, and in the inference that the 
 sun had then arrived at the same turning point in his an- 
 Qual course, we have one of the simjjlest instances of tha*' 
 
172 THE GENESIS OF SCIEXCE. 
 
 combined use of equal magnitudes and equal relations^ by 
 which all exact science, all quantitative prevision, is reached. 
 For the relation observed was between the length of the 
 Buu's shadow and his position in the heavens ; and the in- 
 ference drawn was that when, next year, the extremity of 
 his shadow came to the same point, he occupied the same 
 place. That is, the ideas involved were, the equality of the 
 shadows, and the equality of the relations between shadow 
 and sun in successive years. As in the case of the scales, 
 the equality of relations here recognized is of the simplest 
 order. It is not as those habitually dealt with in the higher 
 kinds of scientific reasoning, which answer to the general 
 type — the relation between two and three equals the rela- 
 tion between six and nine ; but it follows the type — the re- 
 lation between two and three, equals the relation between 
 two and three ; it is a case of not simply equal relations, 
 but coincidmg relations. And hei'e, indeed, we may see 
 beautifully illustrated how the idea of equal relations takes 
 its rise after the same manner that that of equal magnitude 
 does. As already shown, the idea of equal magnitudes 
 arose from the observed coincidence of two lengths placed 
 together ; and in this case we have not only two coincident 
 lengths of shadows, but two coincident relations between 
 sun and shadows. 
 
 From the use of the gnomon there naturally grew up 
 the conception of angular measurements ; and with the 
 advance of geometrical conceptions there came the hemi- 
 sphere of Berosus, the equinoctial armil, the solstitial armil, 
 and the quadrant of Ptolemy — all of them employing shad- 
 ows as indices of the sun's position, but in combination 
 with angular divisions. It is obviously out of the question 
 for us here to trace thc«e details of progress. It must suf- 
 fice to remark that in all of them we may see that notiau 
 of equality of relations of a more complex kind, which ia 
 best illustrated in the astrolabe, an instrument which con- 
 
P.EOGKESS OF GE0MET2ICAL ASTKOJSTOMY. 173 
 
 Eisted " of circular rims, moveable one within the other, or 
 about poles, and contained circles which were to be brought 
 into the position of the ecliptic, and of a plane passing 
 through the sun and the poles of the ecliptic" — an instru- 
 ment, therefore, which represented, as by a model, the rel- 
 ative positions of certain imaginary lines and planes in tho 
 heavens; which was adjusted by putting these representa- 
 tive lines and planes into parallelism and coincidence with 
 the celestial ones ; and which depended for its use upon the 
 perception that the relations between these representative 
 lines and planes were equal to the relations between those 
 represented. 
 
 Were there space, we might go on to point out how the 
 conception of the heavens as a revolving hollow sphere, 
 the discovery of the globular form of the earth, the expla- 
 nation of the moon's phases, and indeed all the successive 
 steps taken, involved this same mental process. But we 
 must content ourselves with referring to the theory of ec- 
 centrics and epicycles, as a further marked illustration of 
 it. As first suggested, and as proved by Ilipparchus to af- 
 ford an explanation of the leading irregularities in the ce- 
 lestial motions, this theory involved the perception that 
 the progressions, retrogressions, and variations of velocity 
 seen in the heavenly bodies, might be reconciled with their 
 assumed uniform movement in circles, by supposing that 
 the earth was not in the centre of their orbits ; or by sup- 
 posing that they revolved in circles whose centres revolved 
 round the earth ; or by both. The discovery that this 
 would account for the appearances, was the discovery that 
 in certain geometrical diagrams the relations were such, 
 that the uniform motion of a point would, when looked at 
 from a particular position, present analogous irregularities ; 
 and the calculations of Ilipparchus involved the belief that the 
 relations subsisting among these geometrical curves were 
 cgiiaJ, to the relations subsisting among the celestial orbits. 
 
174 ' THE GENESIS OF SCIESTCE. 
 
 Leaving here these details of astronomical progress, and 
 the philosophy of it, let us observe how the relatively con- 
 crete science of geometrical astronomy, having been thus 
 far helped forward by the development of geometry in gen- 
 eral, reacted upon geometry, caused it also to advance, and 
 was again assisted by it. Ilipparchus, before making hie 
 solar and lunar tables, had to discover rules for calculating 
 the relations between the sides and angles of triangles — 
 trigonornetry a subdivision of pure mathematics. Further, 
 the reduction of the doctrine of the sphere to the quanti- 
 tative form needed for astronomical purposes, required the 
 formation of a spherical trigonometry, which was also 
 achieved by Ilipparchus. Thus both plane and spherical 
 trigonometry, which are parts of the highly abstract and 
 simple science of extension, remained undeveloped until 
 the less abstract and more complex science of the celestial 
 motions had need of them. The fact admitted by M. 
 Comte, that since Descartes the progress of the abstract 
 division of mathematics has been determined by that of 
 the concrete division, is paralleled by the still more signifi- 
 cant fact that even thus early the progress of mathematics 
 was determined by that of astronomy. 
 
 And here, indeed, we may see exemplified the truth, 
 fvhich the subsequent history of science frequently illus- 
 trates, that before any more abstract division makes a fur- 
 ther advance, some more concrete division must suggest 
 the necessity for that advance — must present the new order 
 of questions to be solved. Before astronomy presented 
 Ilipparchus with the problem of solar tables, there was 
 nothing to raise the question of the relations between lines 
 nnd angles ; the subject-matter of trigonometry had not 
 been conceived. And as there must be subject-matter be- 
 fore there can be investigation, it follows that the progress 
 of the concrete divisions is as necessary to that of the ab- 
 etiact, as the progress of the abstract to that of the concrete. 
 
EVCLUTION OF ALGEBKA AJS^D MECHANICS. 175 
 
 Just incidentally noticing tlie circumstance that the 
 epoch we are describing witnessed the evolution of algebra, 
 a comparatively abstract division of mathematics, by the 
 union of its less absti'act divisions, geometry and arithme- 
 tic — a fact proved by the earliest extant samples of alge- 
 bra, which are half algebraic, half geometric — we go on to 
 observe that during the era in which mathematics and 
 astronomy were thus advancing, rational mechanics made 
 its second step ; and something was done towards giving a 
 quantitative form to hydrostatics, optics, and harmonics. 
 In each case we shall see as before, how the idea of equal- 
 ity underlies all quantitative prevision ; and in what simple 
 forms this idea is first applied. 
 
 As already shown, the first theorem established in me- 
 chanics was, that equal weights susi^cnded from a lever with 
 equal arms would remain in equilibrium. Archimedes dis- 
 covered that a lever with unequal arms was in equilibrium 
 when one weight was to its arm as the other arm to its 
 weight ; that is — when the numerical relation between one 
 weight and its arm was equal to the numerical relation be- 
 tween the other arm and its weight. 
 
 The first advance made in hydrostatics, which we also 
 owe to Archimedes, was the discovery that fluids press 
 equally in all directions ; and from this followed the solu- 
 tion of the problem of floating bodies : namely, that they 
 are in equilibrium when the upward and downward pres- 
 sures are equal. 
 
 In optics, again, the Greeks found that the angle of in- 
 cidence is equal to the angle of reflection ; and their knowl- 
 edge reached no further than to such simple deductions 
 from this as their geometry sufficed for. In harmonics 
 they ascertained the fact that three strings of equal lengths 
 would yield the octave, fifth and fourth, when strained by 
 weights having certain definite ratios ; and they did not 
 progress much beyond this. In the one of which cases v.'f 
 
L7Q THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 see geometry used in elucidation of the laws of light ; and 
 in the other, geometry and arithmetic made to measure the 
 phenomena of sound. 
 
 Did space j^ermit, it would be desirable here to de- 
 scribe the state of the less advanced sciences — to point out 
 how, while a few had thus reached the first stages of quau' 
 titative prevision, the rest were progressing in qualitativo 
 prevision — ^how some small generalizations were made re- 
 specting evaporation, and heat, and electricity, and mag- 
 netism, which, empirical as they were, did not in that re- 
 spect differ from the first generalizations of eveiy science — 
 how the Greek physicians had made advances in physiology 
 and pathology, which, considering the great imperfection 
 of our present knowledge, are by no means to be despised 
 — how zoology had been so far systematized by Aristotle, 
 as, to some extent, enabled him from the presence of cer- 
 tain organs to predict the presence of others — ^how in Aris- 
 totle's Politics, there is some progress towards a scientific 
 conception of social phenomena, and sundry previsions re- 
 specting them — and how in the state of the Greek socie- 
 ties, as well as in the writings of Greek philosophers, we 
 may recognise not only an increasing clearness in that con- 
 fieption of equity on whicli the social science is based, but 
 also some appreciation of the fact that social stability de- 
 pends upon the maintenance of equitable regulations. We 
 might dwell at length upon the causes which retarded the 
 development of some of the sciences, as for example, chemis- 
 try ; showing that relative complexity had nothing to do 
 with it — that the oxidation of a piece of iron is a simpler 
 phenomenon than the recurrence of eclipses, and the dis- 
 covery of carbonic acid less difficult than that of the pre- 
 cession of the equinoxes — but that the relatively slow ad- 
 vance of chemical knowledge was due, partly to the fact 
 that its phenomena were not daily thrust on men's notice 
 as those of astronomy were ; partly to the fict that Nature 
 
WHY CHEMISTRY DEVELOPED SO SLOWLY. 1Y7 
 
 does not habitually sui:)ply the means, and suggest the 
 modes of investigation, as in the sciences dealing with time 
 extension, and force ; and partly to the fact that the great 
 majority of the materials with which chemistry deals, in 
 etead of being ready to hand, are made known only by tht 
 arts in their slow growth ; and partly to the fact that even 
 when known, their chemical properties are not self-exhibit 
 ed, but hare to be sought out by experiment. 
 
 Merely indicating all these considerations, however, let 
 MS go on to contemplate the progress and mutual influence 
 of the sciences in modern days ; only parenthetically no- 
 ticing how, on the revival of the scientific spirit, the suc- 
 cessive stages achieved exhibit the dominance of the same 
 law hitherto traced — how the primary idea in dynamics, a 
 uniform force, was defined by Galileo to be a force which 
 generates equal velocities in equal successive times — how 
 the uniform action of gravity was first experimentally de- 
 termined by showing that the time elapsing before a body 
 thrown up, stopped, was equal to the time it took to fall — 
 how the first fact in compound motion which Galileo ascer- 
 tained was, that a body projected horizontally will have a 
 uniform motion onwards and a uniformly accelerated mo- 
 tion downwards ; that is, will describe equal horizontal 
 spaces in equal times, compounded with equal vertical in- 
 crements in equal times — how his discovery respecting the 
 pendulum was, that its oscillatiofis occupy eqical intervals 
 of time whatever their length — how the principle of virtual 
 velocities which he established is, that in any machine the 
 weights that balance each other, are reciprocally as their 
 virtual velocities ; that is, the relation of one set of weights 
 to their velocities equals the relation of the other set of 
 velocities to their weights ; — and how thus his achieve- 
 ments consisted in showing the equalities of cei'tain magni- 
 tudes and relations, M'hose equalities had not been pre- 
 viously recognised. 
 
178 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 When mechanics had reached the point to which Galileo 
 brought it — when the simple laws of force had been dis- 
 entangled from the friction and atmospheric resistance by 
 which all their earthly manifestations are disguised — when 
 progressing knowledge o? physics had given a due insight 
 into these disturbing causes — when, by an effort of abstrac- 
 tion, it was perceived that all motion would be uniform 
 and rectilinear unless interfered with by external forces — ■ 
 and when the various consequences of this perception hid 
 been worked out ; then it became joossible, by the union of 
 geometry and mechanics, to initiate physical astronomy. 
 Geometry and mechanics having diverged from a common 
 root in men's sensible experiences ; having, with occasional 
 inosculations, been separately developed, the one partly in 
 connexion with astronomy, the other solely by analyzing 
 terrestrial movements ; now join in the investigations of 
 Newton to create a true theory of the celestial motions. 
 And here, also, we have to notice the important fact that, 
 in the very process of being brought jointly to bear upon 
 astronomical problems, they are themselves raised to a 
 higher phase of development. For it Avas in dealing with 
 the questions raised by celestial dynamics that the then 
 incipient infinitesimal calculus was unfolded by Newton and 
 his continental successors ; and it was from inquiries into 
 the mechanics of the solar system that the general theorems 
 of mechanics contained in the " Principia," — many of them 
 of purely terrestrial application — took their rise. Thus, as 
 in the case of Hipparchus, the presentation of a new order 
 of concrete facts to be analyzed, led to the discovery of 
 new abstract facts; and these abstract facts having been 
 /aid hold of, gave means of access to endless groups 
 of concrete facts before incapable of quantitative treat- 
 ment. 
 
 Mean^-hile, physics had been carrymg further that pro- 
 j^ress without which, as just shown, rational mechanics 
 
PKOGKESS OF PHYSICS. 179 
 
 could not be disentangled. In hydrostatics, Stevinus had 
 extended and applied the discovery of Archimedes. Tor 
 ricelli had proved atmospheric pressure, " by showing that 
 this pressure sustained different liquids at heights inversely 
 proportional to their densities ; " and Pascal " established 
 the necessary diminution of this pressure at increasing 
 heights in the atmosi^here : " discoveries which in part 
 reduced this branch of science to a quantitative form. 
 Something had been done by Daniel Bernouilli towards 
 the dynamics of fluids. The thermometer had been invent- 
 ed ; and a number of small generalizations reached by it. 
 Huyghens and Newton had made considerable progress in 
 optics ; Xewton had approximately calculated the rate of 
 transmission of sound ; and the continental mathematicians 
 had succeeded in determining some of the laws of sonorous 
 vibrations. Magnetism and electricity had been consid- 
 erably advanced by Gilbert. Chemistry had got as far as 
 the mutual neutralization of acids and alkalies. And 
 Leonardo da Vinci had advanced in geology to the con- 
 ception of the deposition of marine strata as the origin 
 of fossils. Our present purpose does not require that 
 we should give particulars. All that it here concerns us 
 to do is to illustrate the consensus subsisting in this stage 
 of growth, and afterwards. Let as look at a few cases. 
 
 The theoretic law of the velocity of sound enunciated 
 by Newton on purely mechanical considerations, was found 
 wrong by one-sixth. The error remained unaccounted for 
 uutil the time of Laplace, who, suspecting that the heat 
 disengaged by the compression of the undulating strata of 
 the air, gave additional elasticity, and so produced the 
 difference, made the needful calculations and found he was 
 right. Thus acoustics was arrested until thermology over- 
 took and aided it. "When Boyle and Marriot had discov- 
 ered the relation between the density of gases and the 
 pressures they are subject to ; and when it thus became 
 
L80 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 possible to calculate the rate of decreasing density iu the 
 upper j^arts of the atmosphere ; it also became possible to 
 make approximate tables of the atmospheric refraction of 
 light. Thus optics, and with it astronomy, advanced with 
 barology. After the discovery of atmospheric pressure 
 had led to the invention of the air-pump by Otto Guericke; 
 and after it had become known that evaporation increases 
 in rapidity as atmospheric pressure decreases ; it became 
 possible for Leslie, hy evaporation in a vacuum, to 2:)roduce 
 the greatest cold known ; and so to extend our knowledge 
 of thermology by showing that there is no zero within 
 reach of our researches. When Fourier had determined 
 the laws of conduction of heat, and when the Earth's tem- 
 perature had been found to increase below the surface 
 one degree in every forty yards, there were data for in- 
 ferring the i^ast condition of our globe ; the vast period 
 it has taken to cool down to its present state; and the 
 immense age of the solar system — a purely astronomical 
 consideration. 
 
 Chemistry having advanced sufficiently to supply the 
 needful materials, and a physiological experiment having 
 furnished the requisite hint, there came the discovery of 
 galvanic electricity. Galvanism reacting on chemistry dis- 
 closed the metallic bases of the alkalies, and inaugurated 
 the electro-chemical theory ; in the hands of Oersted and 
 Ampere it led to the laws of magnetic action ; and by its 
 aid Faraday has detected significant facts relative to the 
 constitution of light. Brewster's discoveries respecting 
 double refraction and dipolarization proved the essential 
 truth of the classification of crystalline forms according to 
 the number of axes, by showing that the molecular con- 
 stitution depends upon the axes. In these and in numer- 
 ous other cases, the mutual influence of the sciences has 
 been quite independent of any supposed hierarchical order. 
 Often, too, their inter-actions are more complex than as 
 
ADVANCE OF ELECTRICAL THEOET. 181 
 
 thus instanced — involve more sciences than two. One 
 illustration of this must suffice. AVe quote it in full from 
 the History of the Inductive Sciences. In Book XI., chap. 
 II., on "The Progress of the Electrical Theory," Dr 
 Whewell writes : — 
 
 " Thus at that period, mathematics was hehind experiment, 
 and a problem was proposed, in which theoretical results were 
 wanted for comparison with observation, but could not be ac- 
 curately obtained ; as was the case in astronomy also, till the time 
 of the approximate solution of the problem of three bodies, and 
 the consequent formation of the tables of the moon and planets, 
 on the theory of universal gravitation. After some time, elec- 
 trical theory was relieved from this reproach, mainly in conse- 
 quence of the progress which astronomy had occasioned in pure 
 mathematics. About 1801 there appeared in the Bulletin dcs 
 Sciences, an exact solution of the problem of the distribution of 
 electric fluid on a spheroid, obtained by Biot, by the application 
 of the peculiar methods which Laplace had invented for the prob- 
 lem of the figure of the planets. And, in 1811, M. Poisson applied 
 Laplace's artifices to the case of two spheres acting upon one 
 another in contact, a case to which many of Coulomb's experi- 
 ments were referrible ; and the agreement of the results of 
 theory and observation, thus extricated from Coulomb's num- 
 bers obtained above forty years previously, was very striking and 
 convincing." 
 
 I^ot only do the sciences affect each other after this 
 direct manner, but they affect eacli other indirectly. 
 Where there is no dependence, there is yet analogy — 
 equality of relations / and the discovery of the relations 
 subsisting among one set of phenomena, constantly sug- 
 gests a search for the same relations among another set. 
 Thus the established fact that the force of gravitation varies 
 mversely as the square of the distance, being recognized as 
 a necessary characteristic of all influences proceeding from 
 a centre, raised the suspicion that heat and light follow the 
 same law ; which proved to be the ca=!e — a suspicion and a 
 
182 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 confirmation which were repeated in respect to the electric 
 and magnetic forces. Thus again the discovery of the 
 polarization of light led to exj^eriments which ended in the 
 discoveiy of the polarization of heat — a discovery that 
 could never have been made without the antecedent 
 one. Thus, too, the known refrangibility of light and 
 heat lately produced the inquiry whether sound also is not 
 refrangible ; which on trial it turns out to be. 
 
 In some cases, indeed, it is only by the aid of concep- 
 tions derived from one class of phenomena that hypoth- 
 eses respecting other classes can be formed. The theory, 
 at one time favoured, that evaporation is a solution of 
 water in air, was an assumption that the relation between 
 water and air is like the reflation between salt and water ; 
 and could never have been conceived if the relation be- 
 tween salt and water had not been previously known. 
 Similarly the received theory of evaporation — that it is a 
 diffusion of the particles of the evaporating fluid in virtue 
 of their atomic repulsion — could not have been entertained 
 without a foregoing experience of magnetic and electric 
 repulsions. So complete in recent days has become this 
 consensus among the sciences, caused either by the natural 
 entanglement of their phenomena, or by analogies in the 
 relations of their phenomena, that scarcely any consider- 
 able discovery concerning one order of facts now takes 
 place, without very shortly leading to discoveries concern- 
 mg other orders. 
 
 To produce a tolerably complete conception of this pro- 
 cess of scientific evolution, it would be needful to go back 
 to the beginning, and trace in detail the growth of classifi- 
 cations and nomenclatures ; and to show how, as subsidiary 
 to science, they have acted uj)on it, and it has reacted upon 
 them. We can only now remark that, on the one hand, 
 classifications and nomenclatures have aided science by con- 
 tinually subdividing the subject-matter of research, and giv- 
 
TEOGEESS OF SCIENTIFIC CLASSIFICATION. IS3 
 
 ipg fixity and diffusion to the truths disclosed ; and that on 
 the other hand, they have caught from it that increasing 
 quantitativeness, and that progress from considerations 
 touching single phenomena to considerations touching the 
 relations among many phenomena, which we have been de 
 scribing. 
 
 Of this last influence a few illustrations must be given. 
 In chemistry it is seen in the facts, that the dividing of mat- 
 ter into the four elements was ostensibly based upon the 
 single property of weight ; that the first truly chemical di- 
 vision into acid and alkaline bodies, grouped together bod- 
 ies which had not simply one property in common, but in 
 which one property was constantly related to many others ; 
 and that the classification now current, places together in 
 groups supporters of combustion^ metallic and non-metallic 
 bases, acids, salts, &c., bodies which are often quite unlike 
 in sensible qualities, but which are like in the majority of 
 their relations to other bodies. In mineralogy again, 
 the first classifications were based upon differences in as- 
 pect, texture, and other physical attributes. Berzelius 
 made two attempts at a classification based solely on chem- 
 ical constitution. That now current, recognises as far as 
 possible the relations between physical and chemical char- 
 acters. In botany the earliest classes formed were trees, 
 shrubs, and hei'bs : magnitude being the basis of distinction. 
 Dioscorides divided vegetables into aromatic, aliinejitary, 
 medicinal, and vinous : a division of chemical character. 
 Ctesalpinus classified them by the seeds, and seed-vessels, 
 which he preferred because of tne relations found to sub- 
 sist between the character of the fructification and the 
 general character of the other parts. 
 
 While the "natural system" since developed, carrying out 
 the ductrine of LinnjEus, that " natural orders must be formed 
 by attention not to one or two, but to all the parts of plants," 
 bases its divisions on like peculiarities which are found 
 
LS4 THE GE^-ESIS OF SCIENCE, 
 
 to be constantly related to the greatest numlDtr of other 
 like peculiarities. And similarly in zoology, the successive 
 classifications, from having been originally determined by 
 external and often subordinate characters not indicative of 
 the essential nature, have been gradually more and more 
 determined by those internal and fundamental differences, 
 which have umSovxn.relations to the greatest number of other 
 differences. Nor shall we be surprised at this analogy between 
 the modes of progress of positive science and classification, 
 when we bear in mind that both proceed by making gener- 
 alizations ; that both enable us to make previsions differing 
 only in their precision ; and that while the one deals with 
 equal properties and relations, the other deals with proper- 
 ties and relations that approximate towards equality in var- 
 iable degrees. 
 
 Without further argument, it will, we think, be suffi- 
 ciently clear that the sciences are none of them separately 
 evolved — are none of them independent either logically or 
 historically ; but that all of them have, in a greater or less 
 degree, required aid and reciprocated it. Indeed, it needs 
 but to throw aside theses, and contemplate the mixed char- 
 acter of surrounding phenomena, to at once see that these 
 notions of division and succession in the kinds of knowledge 
 are none of them actually true, but are sim^^le scientific 
 fictions good, if regarded merely as aids to study ; bad, 
 if regarded as representing realities in Nature. Considei 
 them critically, and no facts whatever are presented to our 
 senses uncombined with other facts — no facts whatever but 
 are in some degree disguised by accomjDauying facts : 
 disguised in such a manner that all must be partially under- 
 stood before any one can be understood. If it be said, as 
 by M. Corate, that gravitating force should be treated of 
 before other forces, seeing that all things are subject to it, 
 it may on like grounds be said that heat should be first 
 dealt with ; seeing that thermal forces are everywhere iu 
 
ITS DIVISIONS MUST ADTANCE TOGETIIEE. 185 
 
 action ; that the ahility of any portion of matter to maui 
 fest visible gravitative phenomena depends on its state of 
 aggregation, whicli is determined by heat ; that only by 
 the aid of thermology can we explain those apparent ex- 
 ceptions to the gravitating tendency which are presented 
 by steam and smoke, and so establish its universality, and 
 that, indeed, the very existence of the solar system in a sol- 
 id form is just as much a question of heat as it is one of 
 gravitation. 
 
 Take other cases : — All 2:)henomena recognised by the 
 eyes, through which only are the data of exact science as- 
 certainable, are complicated with optical phenomena ; and 
 cannot be exhaustively known i;ntil optical principles are 
 known. The burning of a candle cannot be explained 
 without involving chemistry, mechanics, thermology. 
 Every wind that blows is determined by influences partly 
 solar, partly lunar, partly hygrometric ; and implies con- 
 siderations of fluid equilibrium and physical geography 
 The direction, dip, and variations of the magnetic needle, 
 are facts half terrestrial, half celestial — are caused by earth- 
 ly forces wWch have cycles of change corresj^onding with 
 astronomical periods. The flowing of the gulf-stream and the 
 annual migration of icebergs towards the equator, dejDcnd- 
 ing as they do on the balancing of the centripetal and centri- 
 fugal forces acting on the ocean, involve in their explana- 
 tion the Earth's rotation and si^heroidal form, the laws of 
 hydrostatics, the relative densities of cold and warm water, 
 and the doctrines of evaporation. It is no doubt true, as 
 M. Comte says, that " our position in the solar system, and 
 the motions, form, size, equilibrium of the mass of our 
 world among the planets, must be known before we can un- 
 derstand the phenomena going on at its surface." But, fa- 
 tally for his hypothesis, it is also true that we must under- 
 stand a great part of the phenomena going on at its surface 
 before we can know its position, &c., in the solar system 
 
186 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 It is not simply that, as we have already shown, those geo- 
 metrical and mechanical principles by which celestial ap- 
 pearances are explained, were first generalized from terres- 
 trial experiences ; but it is that the very obtainment of cor- 
 rect data, on which to base astronomical generalizations, 
 implies advanced terrestrial jihysics. 
 
 Until after optics had made considerable advance, the 
 Copernican system remained but a sj)eculation. A single 
 modern observation on a star has to tmdergo a careful anal 
 ysis by the combined aid of various sciences — has to he digest 
 ed hy the orgcmism of the scietices / which have severally 
 to assimilate their respective parts of the observation, be- 
 fore the essential fact it contains is available for the further 
 development of astronomy. It has to be corrected not 
 only for nutation of the earth's axis and for precession of 
 the equinoxes, but for aberration and for refraction ; and 
 the formation of the tables by which refraction is calculat- 
 ed, presupposes knowledge of the law of decreasing density 
 in the upper atmospheric strata ; of the law of decreasing 
 temperature, and the influence of this on the density ; and of 
 hygrometric laws as also aifecting density. So that, to get 
 materials for further advance, astronomy requires not only 
 the indirect aid of the sciences which have presided over 
 the making of its improved instruments, but the direct aid 
 of an advanced optics, of barology, of thermology, of hy- 
 grometry; and if we remember that these delicate obser- 
 vations are in some cases registered electrically, and that 
 they are farther corrected for the " personal equation " — the 
 time elapsing between seeing and registering, which varies 
 with diiferent observers — we may even add electricity and 
 psychology. If, then, so apparently simple a thing as as- 
 certaining the position of a star is complicated with so 
 many phenomena, it is clear that this notion of the inde- 
 pendence of the sciences, or certain of them, will not hold. 
 
 Whether objectively independent or not, they cannot 
 
INTEKCONNECTION OF ITS BRANCHES. 187 
 
 be subjectively so — they cannot have independence as pre- 
 sented to our consciousness; and this is the only kind of 
 independence with which we are concerned. And here, 
 before leaving these illustrations, and especially this last 
 one, let us not omit to notice how clearly they exhibit that 
 increasingly active consensus of the sciences which charac- 
 terizes their advancing development. Besides finding that 
 in these later times a discovery in one science commonly 
 causes progress in others ; besides finding that a great part 
 of the questions with which modern science deals are so mix- 
 ed as to require the co-operation of many sciences for their 
 solution ; we find in this last case that, to make a single good 
 observation in the purest of the natural sciences, requires 
 the combined assistance of half a dozen other sciences. 
 
 Perhaps the clearest comprehension of the interconnect- 
 ed growth of the sciences may be obtained by contemplat- 
 ing that of the arts, to which it is strictly analogous, and 
 with which it is inseparably bound up. Most intelligent 
 persons must have been, at one time or other, struck with 
 the vast array of antecedents pre-supposed by one of our 
 processes of manufacture. Let him trace the production 
 of a printed cotton, and consider all that is implied by it. 
 Thexe are the many successive improvements through 
 which the power-looms reached their present perfection ; 
 there is the steam-engine that drives them, having its long 
 history from Papin downwards ; there are the lathes in 
 which its cylinder was bored, and the string of ancestral 
 lathes from which those lathes proceeded; theie is the 
 steam-hammer under which its crank shaft was welded ; 
 there are the puddling-furnaces, the blast-furnaces, the coal- 
 mines and the iron-mines needful for producing the raw 
 material ; there are the slowly improved appliances by 
 which the factory was built, and lighted, and ventilated ; 
 there are the printing engine, and the die house, and the cob 
 our laboratory with its stock of materials from all parts of 
 
188 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 the world, implying cocliineal-cultnre, logwood-cutting, ift 
 digo-growing ; there are the implements used by the Dro- 
 ducers of cotton, the gins by which it is cleaned, the elab- 
 orate machines by which it is spun : there are the vessels 
 in which cotton is imported, with the building-slips, the 
 rope-yards, the sail-cloth factories, the anchor-forges, need- 
 ful for making them ; and besides all these directly neces- 
 sary antecedents, each of thern involving many others, 
 there are the institutions which have developed the requi- 
 site intelligence, the printing and publishing arrangements 
 which have spread the necessary information, the social or- 
 ganization which has rendered jDossible such a complex co- 
 operation of agencies. 
 
 Further analysis would show that the many arts thus 
 concerned in the economical production of a child's frock, 
 have each of them been brought to its present efficiency 
 by slow steps which the other arts have aided ; and that 
 from the beginning this reciprocity has been ever on the 
 increase. It needs but on the one hand to consider how 
 utterly impossible it is for the savage, even with ore and 
 coal ready, to produce so simple a thing as an iron hatchet ; 
 and then to consider, on the other hand, that it would have 
 been impracticable among ourselves, even a century ago, 
 to raise the tubes of the Britannia bridge from lack of the 
 hydraulic press ; to at once see how mutually dependent 
 are the arts, and how all must advance that each may ad- 
 vance. Well, the sciences are involved with each other 
 in just the same manner. They are, in fact, inextricably 
 woven into this same complex web of the arts ; and are 
 only conventionally independent of it. Originally the two 
 were one. How to fix the religious festivals ; when to sow : 
 how to weigh commodities ; and in what manner to meas- 
 ure ground ; were the purely practical questions out of 
 which arose astronomy, mechanics, geometry. Since then 
 there has been a perpetual inosculation of the sciences and 
 
Il-TTEEDEPENDENCE OF ARTS AND SCIENCES. 189 
 
 tLe arts. Science has been supplying art with truer generali 
 zatious and more completely quantitative previsions. Art has- 
 been supplying science with better materials and more per- 
 fect instruments. And all along the interdependence has been 
 growing closer, not only between art and science, but among 
 the arts themselves, and among the sciences themselves. 
 
 How completely the analogy holds throughout, becomes 
 yet clearer when we recognise the fact that the sciences are 
 arts to each other. If, as occurs in almost every case, the 
 fact to be analyzed by any science, has first to be prepared 
 — to be disentangled from disturbing facts by the afore 
 discovered methods of other sciences ; the other sciences 
 so used, stand in the position of arts. If, in solving a dyna- 
 mical problem, a parallelogram is drawn, of which the sides 
 and diagonal represent forces, and by putting magnitudes 
 of extension for magnitudes of force a measurable relation 
 is established between quantities not else to be dealt with ; 
 it may bo fairly said that geometry plays towards racchan- 
 ic8 much the same part that the fire of the founder plays 
 towards the metal he is going to cast. If, in analyzing the 
 phenomena of the coloured rings surrounding the jDoint of 
 contact between two lenses, a Newton ascertains by calcu- 
 lation the amount of certain interposed spaces, far too mi- 
 nute for actual measurement ; he employs the science of 
 number for essentially the same jiurpose as that for which 
 the watchmaker employs tools. If, before writing down 
 his observation on a star, the astronomer has to separate 
 from it all the errors resulting from atmospheric and optical 
 laws, it is manifest that the refraction-tables, and logarithm- 
 books, and formula, which he successively uses, serve him 
 much as retorts, and filters, and cupels serve the assayer 
 who W'ishes to separate the pure gold from all accompany- 
 ing ingredients. 
 
 So close, indeed, is the relationship, that it is impossi- 
 ble to say where science begins and art ends. All tlie in- 
 
190 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Btruments of the natural philosopher are the products of 
 art; the adjusting one of them for use is an art; there is 
 art in making an observation with one of them; it requires 
 art properly to treat the facts ascertained ; nay, even the 
 employing established generalizations to open the way to 
 new generalizations, may be considered as art. In each of 
 these cases previously organized knowledge becomes the 
 implement by which new knowledge is got at : and whether 
 that previously organized knowledge is embodied in a tan- 
 gible apparatus or in a formula, matters not in so far as its 
 essential relation to the new knowdedge is concerned. If, 
 as no one will deny, art is applied knowledge, then such 
 portion of a scientific investigation as consists of applied 
 knowledge is art. So that Tve may even say that as soon 
 as any prevision in science passes out of its oi'iginally pas- 
 sive state, and is employed for reaching other previsions, 
 it passes from theory into practice— ^becomes science in ac- 
 tion — becomes art. And when we thus see how purely 
 conventional is the ordinary distinction, how impossible it 
 is to make any real separation — when we see not only that 
 science and art were originally one ; that the arts have 
 perjietually assisted each other ; that there has been a con- 
 stant reciprocation of aid between the sciences and arts ; 
 but that the sciences act as arts to each other, and that the 
 established part of each science becomes an art to the 
 growing part — when we recognize the closeness of these 
 associations, we shall the more clearly perceive that as the 
 connexion of the arts with each other has been ever be- 
 coming more intimate ; as the help given by sciences to 
 arts and by arts to sciences, has been age by age increas- 
 ing ; so the interdependence of the sciences themselves has 
 been ever growing greater, their mutual relations more in- 
 volved, their consensus more active. 
 
 In here ending our sketch of the Genesis of Science, we 
 
DIFFICULTIES IN TREATING THE SUBJECT. 191 
 
 are conscious of having done the subject but scant justice 
 Two difficulties have stood in our way : one, the having to 
 touch on so many points in such small space ; the other, 
 the necessity of treating in serial arrangement a process 
 Avhich is not serial — a difficulty which must ever attend all 
 attempts to delineate processes of development, whatever 
 their special nature. Add to which, that to present in any- 
 thing like completeness and proportion, even the outlines 
 of so vast and complex a history, demands years of study. 
 Nevertheless, we believe that the evidence which has been 
 assigned suffices to substantiate the leading propositions 
 with which we set out. Inquiry into the first stages of 
 science confirms the conclusion which we drew from the 
 analysis of science as now existing, that it is not distinct 
 from common knowledge, but an outgrowth from it — an 
 extension of the perception by means of the reason. 
 
 That which we further found by analysis to form the 
 more specific characteristic of scientific previsions, as con- 
 trasted with the previsions of uncultured intelligence — their 
 quantitativeness — we also see to have been the character- 
 istic alike in the initial steps in science, and of all the steps 
 succeeding them. The facts and admissions cited in dis- 
 proof of the assertion that the sciences follow one another, 
 both logically and historically, in the order of their de- 
 creasing generality, have been enforced by the sundry in- 
 stances we have met with, in which the more general or 
 abstract sciences have been advanced only at the instiga- 
 tion of the more sj^ecial or concrete — instances serving to 
 show that a more general science as much owes its progress 
 to the presentation of new problems by a more specia' 
 science, as the more special science owes its progress to 
 the solutions which the more general science is thus led to 
 attempt — instances therefore illustrating the position that 
 scientific advance is as much from the special to the general 
 as from the general to the special. 
 10 
 
192 THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. 
 
 Quite in harmony with this position we find to be the 
 admissions that the sciences are as branches of one trunk, 
 and that they were at first cultivated eiraultaneously ; and 
 this harmony becomes the more marked on finding, as we 
 have done, not only that the sciences have a common root, 
 but that science in general has a common root with lan- 
 guage, classification, reasoning, art; that throughout civili- 
 zation these have advanced together, acting and reacting 
 upon each other just as the separate sciences have done ; 
 and that thus the development of intelligence in all its di- 
 visions and subdivisions has conformed to this same law 
 which we have shown that the sciences conform to. From 
 all which we may perceive that the sciences can with no 
 greater propriety be arranged in a succession, than language, 
 classification, reasoning, art, and science, can be arranged 
 in a succession; that, however needful a succession may be 
 for the convenience of books and catalogues, it must be 
 recognized merely as a convention ; and that so far from ita 
 being the function of a philosophy of the sciences to estab- 
 lish a hierarchy, it is its function to show that the linear 
 arrangements required for literary purposes, have none of 
 them any basis either in Nature or History. 
 
 There is one further remark we must not omit — a re- 
 mark touching the importance of the question that has been 
 discussed. Unfortunately it commonly haj^pens that topics 
 of this abstract nature are slighted as of no practical mo- 
 ment ; and, we doubt not, that many will think it of very 
 little consequence what theory resjjecting the genesis of 
 science may be entertained. But the value of truths is of- 
 ten great, in proportion as their generality is wide. Re- 
 mote as they seem from practical application, the highest 
 generalizations are not unfrequently the most potent in 
 their efiects. in virtue of their influence on all these subor 
 dinate generalizations Avhich regulate practice. And it must 
 be so here. Whenever established, a correct theory of the 
 
EDUCATIONAL BEARINGS OF TUB DISCUSSION. 193 
 
 nistorical development of the sciences must have an immense 
 effect upon education ; and, through education, upon civili- 
 zation. Greatly as we differ from him in other respects, 
 we agree with M. Comte in the belief that, rightly conduct- 
 ed, the education of the individual must have a certain cor- 
 respondence with the evolution of the race. 
 
 No one can contemjolate the facts we have cited in illus- 
 tration of the early stages of science, without recognising 
 the necessity of the processes through which those stages 
 were reached — a necessity which, in respect to the leading 
 truths, may likewise be traced in all after stages. This ne- 
 cessity, originating in the very nature of the phenomena to 
 be analyzed and the faculties to be employed, more or less 
 fully applies to the mind of the child as to that of the sav- 
 age. We say more or less fully, because the correspondence 
 is not special but general only. Were the environmeiit the 
 same in both cases, the correspondence would be complete. 
 But though the surrounding material out of which science is 
 to be organized, is, in many cases, the same to the juvenile 
 mind and the aboriginal mind, it is not so throughout ; as, 
 for instance, in the case of chemistry, the phenomena of 
 which are accessible to the one, but were inaccessible to 
 the other. Hence, in proportion as the environment differs, 
 the course of evolution must differ. After admitting sun- 
 dry exceptions, however, there remains a substantial par- 
 allelism ; and, if so, it becomes of great moment to ascer- 
 tain what really has been the process of scientific evolution. 
 The establishment of an erroneous theory must be disas- 
 trous in its educational results ; while the establishment of 
 a true one must eventually be fertile in school-reforms and 
 consequent social benefits. 
 
lY. 
 
 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER. 
 
 W"IIY do we smile when a child j)uts ou a man's hat ? 
 or what induces ns to laugh on reading that the 
 corpulent Gibbon was unable to rise from his knees after 
 making a tender declaration ? The usual reply to such 
 questions is, that laughter results from a perception of in- 
 congruity. Even were there not on this reply the obvious 
 criticism that laughter often occurs from extreme pleasure 
 or from mere vivacity, there would still remain the real 
 problem — How comes a sense of the incongruous to be 
 followed by these peculiar bodily actions ? Some have al- 
 leged that laughter is due to the pleasure of a relative self- 
 elevation, which we feel on seeing the humihation of others. 
 But this theory, whatever portion of truth it may contain, 
 is, in the first place, open to the fatal objection, that there 
 are various humiliations to others which produce in us any- 
 thing but laughter ; and, in the second place, it does not 
 apply to the many instances in which no one's dignity is 
 Implicated : as when we laugh at a good pun. Moreover, 
 like the other, it is merely a generahzatiou of certain con- 
 ditions to laughter ; and not an explanation of the odd 
 movements which occur under these conditions. Why, 
 when greatly delighted, or impressed with certain unex- 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS OF EEFLEX ACTION. 195 
 
 pected contrasts of ideas, should there be a contraction of 
 particular facial muscles, and particular muscles of the 
 chest and abdomen ? Such answer to this question as may 
 be possible, can be rendered only by physiology. 
 
 Every child has made the attempt to hold the foot still 
 while it is tickled, and has failed ; and probably there is 
 scarcely ariy one who has not vainly tried to avoid wink- 
 ing, when a hand has been suddenly passed before the eyes. 
 These examples of muscular movements which occur inde- 
 pendently of the will, or in spite of it, illustrate Avhat phy- 
 siologists call reflex-action ; as likewise do ^ sneezing and 
 coughing. To this class of cases, in which involuntary 
 motions are accompanied by sensations, has to be added 
 another class of cases, in which involuntary motions are 
 unaccompanied by sensations : — instance the pulsations of 
 the heart ; the contractions of the stomach during diges- 
 tion. Further, the great mass of seemingly-voluntary acts 
 in such creatures as insects, worms, molluscs, are consid- 
 ered by physiologists to be as purely automatic as is the 
 dilatation or closure of the iris under variations in quantity 
 of light ; and similarly exemplify the law, that an impres- 
 sion on the end of an aiierent nerve is conveyed to some 
 ganglionic centre, and is thence usually reflected along an 
 efterent nerve to one or more muscles which it causes to 
 contract. 
 
 In a modified form this principle holds with voluntary 
 acts. Xervous excitation always tends to beget muscular 
 motion ; and when it rises to a certain intensity, always 
 does beget it. Not only in reflex actions, whether with or 
 without sensation, do we see that special nerves, when 
 raised to a state of tension, discharge themselves on special 
 muscles with which they are indirectly connected ; but 
 those .external actions through which we read the feelings 
 of others, show us that under any considerable tension, the 
 
19t) THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTEK. 
 
 nervous system in general discliar^es itself on the muscular 
 system in general : either with or without the guidance of 
 the will. The shivering produced by cold, implies irregular 
 muscular contractions, which, though at first only partly 
 involuntary, become, when the cold is extreme, almost 
 wholly involuntary. When you have severely burnt your 
 finger, it is very difficult to preserve a dignified composure : 
 contortion of face, or movement of limb, is pretty sure to 
 follow. If a man receives good news with neither change 
 of feature nor bodily motion, it is inferred that he is not 
 much pleased, or that he has extraordinary self-control — 
 either inference implying that joy almost universally pro- 
 duces contraction of the muscles ; and so, alters the ex- 
 pression, or attitude, or both. And when we hear of the 
 feats of strength which men have performed when their 
 lives were at stake — when we read how, in the energy of 
 despair, even paralytic patients have regained for a time 
 the use of their limbs ; we see still more cleai'ly the rela- 
 tions between nervous and musculai: excitements. It be- 
 comes manifest both that emotions and sensations tend to 
 generate bodily movements, and that the movements are 
 vehement in proportion as the emotions or sensations are 
 intense.* 
 
 This, however, is not the sole direction in which ner- 
 vous excitement expends itself. Viscera as well as muscles 
 may receive the discharge. That the heart and blood- 
 vessels (which, indeed, being all contractile, may in a re- 
 stricted sense be classed with the muscular system) are 
 quickly affected by pleasures and pains, we have daily 
 proved to us. Every sensation of any acuteness acceler- 
 ates the pulse ; and how sensitive the heart is to emotions, 
 is testified by the familiar expressions which use heart and 
 
 * For numerous illustrations see essay on " The Origin and Function 
 of Music." 
 
DISCnAEGE OF NERVOUS EXCITEMENT. 197 
 
 feeling as convertible terms. Similarly with the digestive 
 organs. Without detailing the various ways in which these 
 may be influenced by our mental states, it sufiices to men- 
 tion the marked benefits derived by dyspeptics, as well as 
 other invalids, from cheerful society, welcome news, change 
 of scene, to show how pleasurable feehng stimulates tk 
 viscera in general into greater activity. 
 
 There is still another direction in which any excited 
 portion of the nervous system may discharge itself; and a 
 direction in which it usually does discharge itself when the 
 excitement is not strong. It may pass on the stimulus to 
 some other portion of the nervous system. This is what 
 occurs in quiet thinking and feeling. The successive states 
 which constitute consciousness, result from this. Sensa- 
 tions excite ideas and emotions ; these in their turns arouse 
 other ideas and emotions ; and so, continuously. That is 
 to say, the tension existing in particular nerves, or groups 
 of nerves, when they yield us certain sensations, ideas, or 
 emotions, generates an equivalent tension in some other 
 nerves, or groups of nerves, with which there is a connex- 
 ion : the flow of energy passing on, the one idea or feeling 
 dies in producing the next. 
 
 Thus, then, while we are totally unable to comprehend 
 how the excitement of certain nerves should generate feel- 
 ing — while, in the production of consciousness by physical 
 agents acting on physical structure, we come to an abso- 
 lute mystery never to he solved ; it is yet quite possible 
 for us to know by observation what are the successive 
 forms which this absolute mystery may take. We see that 
 there are three channels along which nerves in a state of 
 tension may discharge themselves ; or rather, I should say, 
 three classes of channels. They may pass on the excite- 
 ment to other nerves that have no direct connexions with 
 the bodily members, and may so cause other feelings and 
 ideas ; or they may pass on the excitement to one or more 
 
198 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER. 
 
 motor nerves, aud so cause muscular contractions ; or tliey 
 may pass on the excitement to nerves which supply the vis- 
 cera, and may so stimulate one or more of these. 
 
 For simplicity's sake, I have described these as alterna- 
 tive routes, one or other of which any current of nerve- 
 force must take ; thereby, as it may be thought, implying 
 that such current will be exclusively confined to some one 
 of them. But this is by no means the case. Rarely, if 
 ever, does it happen that a state of nervous tension, present 
 to consciousness as a feeling, expends itself in one dii'ection 
 only. Very generally it may be observed to expend itself 
 in two ; and it is probable that the discharge is never abso- 
 lutely absent from any one of the three. There is, how- 
 ever, variety in the proportions in which the discharge is 
 divided among these diiferent channels under different cir- 
 cumstances. In a man whose fear impels him to run, the 
 mental tension generated is only in part transformed into a 
 muscular stimulus : there is a surplus which causes a rapid 
 current of ideas. An agreeable state of feeling produced, 
 say by praise, is not wholly used up in arousing the suc- 
 ceeding phase of the feeling, and the new ideas apjDropriate 
 to it ; but a certain portion overflows into the visceral ner- 
 vous system, increasing the action of the heart, and proba- 
 bly facilitating digestion. And here we come upon a class 
 of considerations and facts which open the way to a solu- 
 tion of our special problem. 
 
 For starting with the unquestionable truth, that at any 
 moment the existing quantity of liberated nerve-force, 
 which in an inscrutable way produces in us the state we 
 call feeling, must expend itself in some direction — must 
 generate an equivalent manifestation of force somewhere — 
 it clearly follows that, if of the several channels it may 
 take, one is wholly or partially closed, more must be" taken 
 by the others ; or that if two are closed, the discharge 
 along the remaining one must be more intense ; and that, 
 
WHY SILEIJT GPaEF IS THE DEEPEST GKIEF. 199 
 
 couversely, should anytlaing determine an unusual efflux in 
 one direction, there will be a diminished efflux in other di- 
 rections. 
 
 Daily e'xperience illustrates these conclusions. It is 
 commonly remarked, that the suppression of external signs 
 of feeling, makes feeling more intense. The deepest grief 
 is silent grief. Why ? Because the nervous excitement 
 not discharged in muscular action, discharges itself in other 
 nervous excitements — arouses more numerous and more 
 remote associations of melancholy ideas, and so increases 
 the mass of feelings. People who conceal their anger are 
 habitually found to be more revengeful than those who ex- 
 plode in loud speech and vehement action. Why ? Be- 
 cause, as before, the emotion is reflected back, accumulates, 
 and intensifies. Similarly, men who, as proved by their 
 powers of representation, have the keenest appreciation of 
 the comic, are usually able to do and say the most ludi- 
 crous things with perfect gravity. 
 
 On the other hand, all are famihar with the truth that 
 bodily activity deadens emotion. Under great irritation 
 we get relief by walking about rapidly. Extreme effort in 
 the bootless attempt to achieve a desired end, greatly di- 
 minishes the intensity of the desire. Those who are forced 
 to exert themselves after misfortunes, do not suffer nearly 
 so much as those who remain quiescent. If any one wishes 
 to check intellectual excitement, he cannot choose a more 
 efficient method than running till he is exhausted. More- 
 over, these cases, in which the production of feeling and 
 thought is hindered by determining the nervous energy 
 towards bodily movements, have their counterparts in the 
 cases in which bodily movements are hindered by extra 
 absorption of nervous energy in sudden thoughts and feel- 
 ings. If, when walking along, there flashes on you an idea 
 that creates great surprise, hope, or alarm, you stop ; or if 
 sitting cross-legged, swinging your pendent foot, the move- 
 
200 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTEE. 
 
 ment is at once arrested. From the viscera, too, inlenee 
 mental action abstracts energy. Joy, disaj^pointment, anx 
 lety, or any moral perturbation rising to a great height, 
 will destroy appetite ; or if food has been taken, will arrest 
 digestion ; and even a purely intellectual activity, when 
 extreme, will do the like. 
 
 Facts, then, fully bear out these a priori inferences, 
 that the nervous excitement at any moment present to 
 consciousness as feeling, must expend itself in some way or 
 other ; that of the three classes of channels open to it, it 
 must take one, two, or more, according to circumstances ; 
 that the closure or obstruction of one, must increase the 
 discharge through the others ; and conversely, that if to 
 answer some demand, the efflux of nervous energy in one 
 direction is unusually great, there must be a corresponding 
 decrease of the efflux in other directions. Setting out 
 from these premises, let us now see what interpretation is 
 to be put on the phenomena of laughter. 
 
 That laughter is a display of muscular excitement, and 
 so illustrates the general law that feeling passing a certain 
 pitch habitually vents itself in bodily action, scarcely needs 
 pointing out. It perhaps needs pointing out, however, 
 that strong feeling of almost any kind produces this result. 
 It is not a sense of the ludicrous, only, which does it ; nor 
 are the various forms of joyous emotion the sole additional 
 causes. We have, besides, the sardonic laughter and the 
 hysterical laughter, which result from mental distress ; to 
 which must be added certain sensations, as tickling, and, 
 according to Mr. Bain, cold, and some kinds of acute pain. 
 
 Strong feeling, mental or physical, being, then, the gen- 
 eral cause of laughter, we have to note that the muscular 
 actions constituting it are distinguished from most others 
 by this, that they are purposeless. In general, bodily mo- 
 tions that are prompted by feelings are directed to special 
 
WHY WE LAUGH WITH THE ORGANS OF SPEECH. 201 
 
 ends ; as when we try to escaj)e a danger, or struggle tc 
 secure a gratification. But the movements of chest and 
 limbs which we make when laughing have no object. And 
 now remark that these quasirconvulsive contractions of the 
 muscles, having no object, but being results of an uncon- 
 trolled discharge of energy, we may see whence arise their 
 special characters — how it happens that certain classes of 
 muscles are affected first, and then certain other classes. 
 For an overflow of nerve-force, undirected by any motive, 
 will manifestly take first the most habitual routes ; and if 
 these do not sufiice, will next overflow into the less habit- 
 ual ones. Well, it is through the organs of speech that 
 feeling passes into movement with the greatest frequency. 
 The jaws, tongue, and lips are used not only to express 
 strong irritation or gratification ; but that very moderate 
 flow of mental energy which accompanies ordinary conver- 
 sation, finds its chief vent through this channel. Hence it 
 happens that certain muscles round the mouth, small and 
 easy to move, are the first to contract under pleasurable 
 emotion. The class of muscles which, next after those of 
 articulation, are most constantly set in action (or extra ac- 
 tion, we should say) by feelings of all kinds, are those of 
 respiration. Under pleasurable or painful sensations we 
 breathe more rapidly : possibly as a consequence of the in- 
 creased demand for oxygenated blood. The sensations 
 that accompany exertion also bring on hard-breathing ; 
 which here more evidently responds to the physiological 
 needs. And emotions, too, agreeable and disagreeable, 
 both, at first, excite respiration ; though the last subse- 
 quently depress it. That is to say, of the bodily muscles, 
 the respiratory are more constantly implicated than any 
 others in those various acts which our feelings impel us to ; 
 and, hence, when there occurs an undirected discharge of 
 nervous energy into the muscular system, it happens that, 
 if the quantity be considerable, it convulses not only cer- 
 
202 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER. 
 
 tain of the articnlatory and vocal nmscles, but also those 
 which expel air from the lungs. 
 
 Should the feeling to be expended be still greater in 
 amount — too great to find ver>t in these classes of musclea 
 — another class comes into play. The upper limbs are set 
 in motion. Children frequently clap their hands in glee ; 
 by some adults the hands are rubbed together ; and others, 
 under still greater intensity of delight, slap their knees and 
 sway their bodies backwards and forwards. Last of all, 
 when the other channels for the escape of the surplus nerve- 
 force have been filled to overflowing, a yet further and less- 
 used group of muscles is spasmodically aifected : the head 
 is thrown back and the spine bent inwards — there is a slight 
 degree of what medical men call opisthotonos. Thus, then, 
 without contending that the phenomena of laughter in all 
 their details are to be so accounted for, we see that in their 
 e7ise7nble ihej cGuf^ovm to these general principles: — that 
 feeling excites to muscular action ; that when the muscular 
 action is unguided by a purpose, the muscles first aifected 
 are those which feeling most habitually stimulates ; and 
 that as the feeling to be expended increases in quantity, it 
 excites an increasing number of muscles, in a succession 
 determined by the relative frequency with which they re- 
 spond to the regulated dictates of feeling. 
 
 There still, however, remains the question with which 
 we set out. The explanation here given applies only to the 
 laughter produced by acute pleasure or pain : it does not 
 apply to the laughter that follows certain perceptions of 
 incongruity. It is an insufficient explanation that in these 
 cases, laughter is a result of the pleasure we take in es- 
 L-aping from the restraint of grave feelings. That this is a 
 ((art-cause is true. Doubtless very often, as Mr. Bain says, 
 *' it is the coerced form of seriousness and solemnity with- 
 out the reality that gives us that stifi" position from which 
 a contact with triviality or vulgarity relieves us, to our up 
 
ESTECT OF mCONGEUOUS TERCKPTIONS. 203 
 
 roavious delight." And in so far as mirth is caused by the 
 gush of agreeable feeling that follows the cessation of men- 
 tal strain, it further illustrates the general principle above 
 set forth. But no explanation is thus afforded of the mirth 
 which ensues when the short silence between the andante 
 and allegro in one of Beethoven's symphonies, is broken by 
 a loud sneeze. In this, and hosts of like cases, the mental 
 tension is not coerced but spontaneous — not disagreeable 
 but agreeable ; and the coming impressions to which the 
 attention is directed, j)romise a gratification that few, if 
 any, desire to escape. Hence, when the unlucky sneeze 
 occurs, it cannot be that the laughter of the audience is 
 due simply to the release from an irksome attitude of 
 mind : some other cause must be sought. 
 
 This cause we shall arrive at by carrying our analysis a 
 step farther. We have but to consider the quantity of feel- 
 ing that exists under such circumstances, and then to ask 
 what are the conditions that determine the direction of its 
 discharge, to at once reach a solution. Take a case. You 
 are sitting in a theatre, absorbed in the progress of an in- 
 teresting drama. Some climax has been reached which 
 has aroused your sympathies — say, a reconciliation between 
 the hero and heroine, after long and painful misunderstand- 
 ing. The feelings excited by this scene are not of a kind 
 from which you seek relief; but are, on the contrary, a 
 grateful relief from the painful feelings with which you 
 have witnessed the previous estrangement. Moreover, the 
 sentiments these fictitious personages have for the moment 
 inspired you with, axe not such as would lead you to re- 
 joice in any indignity offered to them ; but rather, such as 
 would make you resent the Indignity. And now, while 
 you are contemplating the reconciliation with a pleasurable 
 sympathy, there appears from behind the scenes a tame 
 kid, which, having stared round at the audience, walks up 
 to the lovers and sniffs at them. You cannot help joining 
 
204 THE rnYSIOLOGT OF LAUGHTER. 
 
 m the roar which greets this contreteinps. Iiiexphcable as 
 is this irresistible burst on the hyj)othesis of a pleasure in 
 escaping from mental restraint ; or on the hypothesis of a 
 pleasure from relative increase of self-importance, when 
 witnessing the humiliation of others ; it is readily explica- 
 ble if we consider what, in such, a case, must become of the 
 feeling that existed at the moment the incongruity arose. 
 A large mass of emotion had been produced ; or, to speak 
 in physiological language, a large portion of the nervous 
 system was in a state of tension. There was also great 
 expectation with respect to the further evolution of the 
 scene — a quantity of vague, nascent thought and emotion, 
 into which the existing quantity of thought and emotion 
 was about to pass. 
 
 Had there been no interruption, the body of new ideas 
 and feelings next excited, would have suiEced to absorb 
 the whole of the liberated nervous energy. But now, this 
 large amount of nervous energy, instead of being allowed 
 to expend itself in producing an equivalent amount of the 
 neAv thoughts and emotions which were nascent, is suddenly 
 checked in its flow. The channels along which the dis- 
 charge was about to take place, are closed. The new chan- 
 nel oj^cned — that afforded by the appearance and proceed- 
 ings of the kid — is a small one ; the ideas and feelings 
 suggested are not numerous and massive enough to carry 
 off the nervous energy to be expended. The excess must 
 therefore discharge itself in some other direction ; and 
 in the way already explained, there results an efflux 
 through the motor nerves to various classes of the mus- 
 cles, producing the half-convulsive actions we term 
 laughter. 
 
 This explanation is in harmony with the fact, that when, 
 among several persons who witness the same ludicrous 
 occurrence, there are some who do not laugh ; it is because 
 there has arisen in them an emotion not jjarticiiDatpd in by 
 
DISCHARGE OF AKEESTED FEELINGS. 205 
 
 llie rest, and which is sufficiently massive to absorb all the 
 nascent excitement. Among the spectators of an awkward 
 tumble, those who preserve their gravity are those in whom 
 there is excited a degree of sympathy with the sufferer, 
 sufficiently great to serve as an outlet for the feeling which 
 the occurrence had turned out of its previous coursa 
 Sometimes anger carries off the arrested current ; and so 
 prevents laughter. An instance of this was lately furnished 
 me by a friend who had been witnessing the feats at 
 Franconi's. A tremendous leap had just been made by an 
 acrobat over a number of horses. The clown, seemingly 
 envious of this success, made ostentatious preparation for 
 doing the like ; and then, taking the preliminary run with 
 immense energy, stopped short on reaching the first horse, 
 and pretended to wipe some dust from its haunches. In the 
 majority of the spectators, merriment was excited ; but in 
 my friend, wound up by the expectation of the coming leap 
 to a state of great nervous tension, the effect of the baulk 
 was to produce indignation. Experience thus proves 
 what the theory imjilies : namely, that the discharge of 
 arrested feelings into the muscular system, takes place 
 only in the absence of other adequate channels — does not 
 take place if there arise other feelings equal in amount to 
 those arrested. 
 
 Evidence still more conclusive is at hand. If we con- 
 trast the incongruities which produce laughter with those 
 which do not, we at once see that in the non-ludicrous ones 
 the unexpected state of feeling aroused, though wholly 
 different in kind, is not less in quantity or intensity. 
 Among incongruities that may excite anything but a laugh, 
 Mr. Bain instances — " A decrepit man under a heavy bur- 
 den, five loaves and two fishes among a multitude, and all 
 unfitness and gross disproportion ; an instrument out of 
 tune, a fly in ointment, snow in May, Archimedes studying 
 geometry in a siege, and all discordant things ; a wolf in 
 
206 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTEE. 
 
 sheep's clotliing, a breach of bargain, and falsehood in gen- 
 era! ; the multitude taking the law in their own hands, 
 and everything of the natui'e of disorder ; a corpse at a 
 feast, i:)arental cruelty, filial ingratitude^ and whatever is 
 unnatural ; the entire catalogue of the vanities given by 
 Solomon, are all incongruous, but they cause feelings of 
 pain, anger, sadness, loathing, rather than mirth." Now 
 in these cases, where the totally unlike state of conscious- 
 ness suddenly joroduced, is not inferior in mass to the 
 preceding one, the conditions to laughter are not ful- 
 filled. As above shown, laughter naturally results only 
 when consciousness is unawares transferred from great 
 things to small — only when there is what we call a descend- 
 ing incongruity. 
 
 And now observe, finally, the fact, alike inferable d 
 priori and illustrated in experience, that an ascending 
 incongruity not only fails to cause laughter, but w^orks on 
 the muscular system an efiect of exactly the reverse kind. 
 When after something very insignificant there arises with- 
 out anticipation something very great, the emotion we call 
 wonder results ; and this ■ emotion is accompanied not by 
 an excitement of the muscles, but by a relaxation of them. 
 In children and country people, that falling of the jaw 
 which occurs on witnessing something that is imposing and 
 unexpected, exemplifies this effect. Persons who have 
 been wonder-struck at the production of very striking 
 results by a seemingly inadequate cause, are frequently 
 described as unconsciously dropping the things they held 
 in their hands. Such are just the effects to be anticipated. 
 After an average state of consciousness, absorbing but a 
 small quantity of nervous energy, is aroused without the 
 (Slightest notice, a strong emotion of awe, terror, or admi- 
 ration ; joined with the astonishment due to an apparent 
 want of adequate causation. This new state of conscious- 
 ness demands far more nervous energy than that which it 
 
VAKIOUS CHANNELS OF KEKY()US DISCnARGE. 207 
 
 has suddenly rejDlaced ; and this increased absorption of 
 nervous energy in mental changes, involves a temporary 
 diminution of the outflow in other directions : whence the 
 pendent jaw and the relaxing grasp. 
 
 One further observation is worth making. Among the 
 several sets of channels into which surplus feeling might bo 
 discharged, was named the nervous system of the viscera. 
 The sudden overflow of an arrested mental excitement, 
 which, as we have seen, results from a descending incon- 
 gruity, must doubtless stimulate not only the muscular sys- 
 tem, as we see it does, but also the internal organs ; the 
 heart and stomach must come in for a share of the dis- 
 charge. And thus there seems to be a good physiological 
 basis for the j)opular notion that mirth-creating excitement 
 facilitates digestion. 
 
 Though in doing so I go beyond the boundaries of 
 the immediate topic, I may fitly jDoint out that the method 
 of inquiry here followed, is one which enables us to 
 vmderstand various phenomena besides those of laugh- 
 ter. To show the' importance of pursuing it, I will in- 
 dicate the explanation it furnishes of another familiar class 
 of facts. 
 
 All know how generally a large amount of emotion dis- 
 turbs the action of the intellect, and interferes with the 
 power of expression. A speech delivered with great 
 facility to tables and chairs, is by no means so easily deliv- 
 ered to an audience. Every schoolboy can testify that his 
 trepidation, when standing before a master, has often dis- 
 abled him from repeating a lesson which he had duly 
 learnt. In explanation of this we commonly say that the 
 attention is distracted — that the proj)er train of ideas is 
 broken by the intrusion of ideas that are irrelevant. But 
 the question is, in what manner does unusual emotion- 
 produce this effect; and we are here supplied with a 
 
208 THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTEK. 
 
 toleruLly olbvious ansAver. The reioetition of a lesson, or 
 set speech previously thought out, implies the flow of a 
 very moderate amount of nervous excitement through a 
 comparatively narrow channel. The thing to be done is 
 simply to call up in succession certain previously-arranged 
 ideas — a process in Avhich no ^great amount of mental 
 energy is expended. Hence, when there is a large quantity 
 of emotion, which, must be discharged in some direction or 
 other ; and when, as usually haj^pens, the restricted series 
 of intellectual actions to be gone through, does not suffice 
 to carry it off; there result discharges along other channels 
 besides the one prescribed : there are aroused various 
 ideas foreign to the train of thought to be pursued ; and 
 these tend to exclude from consciousness those which 
 should occupy it. 
 
 And now observe the meaning of those bodily actions 
 spontaneously' set up under these circumstances. The 
 school-boy saying his lesson, commonly has his fingers 
 actively engaged — perhaps in twisting about a broken pen, 
 or j^erhaps squeezing the angle of his jacket ; and if told to 
 keep his hands still, he soon again falls into the same or a 
 similar trick. Many anecdotes are current of public speak- 
 ers having incurable automatic actions of this class : barris- 
 ters who perpetually wound and unwound pieces of tape ; 
 members of parliament ever putting on and taking off their 
 spectacles. So long as such movements are unconscious, 
 they facilitate the mental actions. At least this seems a 
 fair inference from the fact that confusion frequently re- 
 sults from putting a stop to them : witness the case nar- 
 rated by Sir Walter Scott of his school-fellow, who became 
 unable to say his lesson after the removal of the waistcoat- 
 button that he habitually fingered while in class. But 
 why do they facilitate the mental actions ? Clearly be- 
 cause they draw off a portion of the surjjlus nervous 
 ♦excitement. If, as above explained, the quantity of men- 
 
MUSCULAR MOYEMEJs'T AND MEiyTAL ACTION. 209 
 
 tal energy generated is greater than can find vent along 
 the narrow channel of thought that is open to it ; and if, 
 in consequence, it is apt to produce confusion by rushing 
 into other channels of thought ; then by allowing it an 
 exit through the motor nerves into the muscular system, 
 the pressure is diminished, and irrelevant ideas are less 
 likely to intrude on consciousness. 
 
 This further illustration will, I think, justify the posi- 
 tion that something may be achieved by pursuing in other 
 cases this method of psychological inquiry. A complete 
 explanation of the jDhenomena, requires us to trace out 
 all the consequences of any given state of conscious- 
 ness ; and we cannot do this without studying the effects, 
 bodily and mental, as varying in quantity at each other's 
 expense. We should probably learn much if we in 
 every case asked — Where is all the nervous energy 
 gone? 
 
rilE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC 
 
 'T^^T'HEN Carlo, standing, cliainecl to liis kennel, sees 
 VV his master in the distance, a slight motion of the 
 tail indicates his hut faint hope that he is about to be let 
 out. A much more decided wagging of the tail, passing 
 by-and-by into lateral imdulations of the body, follows his 
 master's nearer approach. When hands are laid on his 
 collar, and he knoAVS that he is really to have an outing, 
 his jumping and wriggling are such that it is by no means 
 easy to loose his fastenings. And when he finds himself 
 actually free, his joy exj)ends' itself in bounds, in pirouettes, 
 and in scourings hither and thither at the top of his speed 
 Puss, too, by erecting her tail, and by every time raising 
 her back to meet the caressing hand of her mistress, 
 similarly expresses her gratification by certain muscular 
 actions ; as likewise do the parrot by awkward dancing 
 on his perch, and the canary by hopping and fluttering 
 about his cage with unwonted rapidity. Under emotions 
 of an opposite kind, animals equally display muscular 
 excitement. The enraged lion lashes his sides M'ith his 
 lail, knits his brows, protrudes his claws. The cat sets 
 up her back ; the dog retracts his upper lip ; the horse 
 throws back his ears. And in the struggles of creatures 
 in pain, we see that the like relation holds between ex- 
 
EMOTION PEODUCES ACTION. 211 
 
 eilemeiit of the muscles and excitement of the nerves of 
 sensation. 
 
 In ourselves, distinguished from lower creatures as we 
 are by feelings alike more powerful and more varied, 
 parallel facts are at once more conspicuous and more nu- 
 merous. "We may conveniently look at them in groups. 
 We shall find that pleasurable sensations and ^^ainful sen- 
 sations, pleasurable emotions and painful emotions, all 
 tend to produce active demonstrations in proi^ortion to 
 their intensity. 
 
 In children, and even in adults who are not restrained 
 by regard for appearances, a highly agreeable taste ia 
 followed by a smacking of the lips. An infant will laugh 
 and bound in its nurse's arms at the sight of a brilliant 
 colour or the hearing of a new sound. People are apt to 
 beat time with head or feet to music which particularly 
 pleases them. In a sensitive person an agreeable perfume 
 will produce a smile ; and smiles will be seen on the faces 
 of a crowd gazing at some splendid burst of fireworks. 
 Even the pleasant sensation of warmth felt on getting to 
 the fireside out of a winter's storm, will similarly express 
 itself in the face. 
 
 Painful sensations, being mostly far more intense than 
 pleasurable ones, cause muscular actions of a much more 
 decided kind. A sudden twinge produces a convulsive 
 start of the whole body. A pain less violent, but con- 
 tinuous, is accompanied by a knitting of the brows, a set- 
 ting of the teeth or biting of the lip, and a contrac- 
 tion of the features generally. Under a persistent pain 
 of a severer kind, other muscular actions are added : 
 the body is swayed to and fro ; the hands clench any- 
 thing they can lay hold of; and should the agony rise 
 still higher, the sufferer rolls about on the floor almost con 
 vulsed. 
 
 Though more varied, the natui'al language of tho pleas- 
 
212 THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 arable emotions comes within the same generalization. A 
 smile, which is the commonest expression of gratified feel- 
 ing, is a contraction of certain facial mivscles ; and when 
 the smile broadens into a laugh, we see a more violent and 
 more general muscular excitement produced by an intenser 
 gratification. Rubbing together x>f the hands, and that 
 other motion which Dickens somewhere describes as 
 " washing with impalpable soap in invisible water," have 
 like implications. Children may often be seen to "jump 
 for joy." Even in adults of excitable temperament, an 
 action approaching to it is sometimes witnessed. And 
 dancing has all the world through been regarded as natural 
 to an elevated state of mind. Many of the special emo- 
 tions show themselves in special muscular actions. The 
 gratification resulting from success, raises the head and 
 gives firmness to the gait. A hearty grasp of the hand is 
 currently taken as indicative of friendship. Under a gush 
 of afiection the mother clasps her child to her breast, feel- 
 ing as though she could squeeze it to death. And so in 
 sundry other cases. Even in that brightening of the eye 
 with which good news is received we may trace the same 
 truth ; for this appearance of greater brilliancy is due to 
 an extra contraction of the muscle which raises the eyelid, 
 and so allows more light to fall upon, and be reflected from, 
 the wet surface of the eyeball. 
 
 The bodily indications of painful emotions are equally 
 numerous, and still more vehement. Discontent is shown 
 by raised eyebrows and wrinkled forehead ; disgust by a 
 curl of the lip ; offence by a pout. The impatient man 
 beats a tattoo with his fingers on the table, swings his pen- 
 ient leg with increasing rapidity, gives needless pokings to 
 tlie fire, and presently paces with hasty strides about the 
 room. In great grief there is wringing of the hands, and 
 even tearing of the hair. An angry child stamps, or rolls 
 on its back and kicks its heels in the air ; and in manhood, 
 
FEELIKGS ACT AS MUSCULAR STIMULI. 213 
 
 anger, first showing itself in frowns, in distended nostrils, 
 in compressed lips, goes on to produce grinding of the 
 teeth, clenching of the fingers, blows of the fist on the ta- 
 ble, and perhaps ends in a violent attack on the offending 
 person, or in throwing about and breaking the furniture. 
 From that pursing of the mouth indicative of slight dis- 
 pleasure, up to the frantic struggles of the maniac, we shall 
 find that mental irritation tends to vent itself in bodily ac- 
 tivity. 
 
 All feelings, then — sensations or emotions, pleasurable 
 or painful — have this common characteristic, that they are 
 muscular stimuli. Not forgetting the few apparently ex- 
 ceptional cases in which emotions exceeding a certain inten- 
 sity produce prostration, we may set it down as a general 
 law that, alike in man and animals, there is a direct connec- 
 tion between feeling and motion ; the last growing more 
 vehement as the first grows more intense. "Were it allow- 
 able here to treat the matter scientifically, we might trace 
 this general law down to the principle known among phys- 
 iologists as that of reflex actio7i.* Without doing this, 
 however, the above numerous instances justify the general- 
 ization, that mental excitement of all kinds ends in excite- 
 ment of the muscles ; and that the two preserve a more or 
 loss constant ratio to each other. 
 
 " But wdiat has all this to do with The Origin and 
 Function of Mxts'ic ? " asks the reader. Very much, as 
 we shall presently see. All music is originally vocal. All 
 vocal sounds are produced by the agency of certain mus- 
 cles. These muscles, in common with those of the body at 
 large, are excited to contraction by jDleasurable and painful 
 feelings. And therefore it is that feelings demonstrate 
 
 * Those who seek mformation on this pomt may find it in an interest 
 ing tract by Mr. Alexander Bam, on Animal Insilnct and Intelligence 
 
214: THE OKIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 themselves in sounds as well as in movements. Therefore 
 it is that Carlo barks as well as leaps when he is let out — 
 that puss purrs as well as erects her tail — that the canary 
 chirps as well as flutters. Therefore it is that the angry- 
 lion roars while he lashes his sides, and the dog growls 
 while he retracts his lip. Thei:efore it is that the maimed 
 animal not only struggles, but howls. And it is from this 
 cause that in human beings bodily suffering expresses itself 
 not only in contortions, but in shrieks and groans — that in 
 anger, and fear, and grief, the gesticulations are accompa- 
 nied by shouts and screams — that delightful sensations are 
 followed by exclamations — and that we hear screams of joy 
 and shouts of exultation. 
 
 We have here, then, a principle underlying all vocal 
 phenomena; including those of vocal music, and by conse- 
 quence those of music in general. The muscles that move 
 the chest, larynx, and vocal chords, contracting like other 
 muscles in proportion to the intensity of the feelings ; ev- 
 ery different contraction of these muscles involving, as it 
 does, a different adjustment of the vocal organs; every dif- 
 ferent adjustment of the vocal organs causing a change in 
 the sound emitted ; — it follows that variations of voice are 
 the physiological results of variations of feeling ; it follows 
 that each inflection or modulation is the natural outcome 
 of some passing emotion or sensation ; and it follows that 
 the explanation of all kinds of vocal expression, must be 
 sought in this general relation between mental and muscu- 
 lar excitements. Let us, then, see whether we cannot thus 
 account for the cliief peculiarities in the utterance of the 
 feelings : grouping these peculiarities under the heads of 
 loudness, quality, or timbre, -pitch, intervals, and rate of 
 variation. 
 
 Between the lungs and the organs of voice, there is 
 much the same relation as between the bellows of an organ 
 
VOCAL SOUNDS AND STATES OF FEELING. 215 
 
 and its pipes. And as the loudness of the sound given out 
 by an organ-pipe increases with the strength of the blast 
 from the bellows ; so, other things equal, the loudness of a 
 vocal sound increases with the strength of the blast from 
 the lungs. But the expulsion of air from the lungs is ef- 
 fected by certain muscles of the chest and abdomen. The 
 force with which these muscles contract, is proportionate 
 to the intensity of the feeling experienced. Hence, d priori^ 
 loud sounds will be the habitual results of strong feelings. 
 That they are so we have daily proof. The pain which, if 
 moderate, can be borne silently, causes outcries if it be- 
 comes extreme. While a slight vexatioi makes a child 
 Avhimper, a fit of passion calls forth a howl that disturbs 
 the neighbourhood. "When the voices in an adjacent room 
 become -unusually audible, we infer anger, or surprise, or 
 joy. Loudness of applause is significant of great appro- 
 bation ; and with uproarious mirth we associate the idea of 
 high enjoyment. Commencing with the silence of apathy, 
 we find that the utterances grow louder as the sensations 
 or emotions, whether pleasurable or painful, grow stronger. 
 That different qualities of voice accompany different 
 mental states, and that under states of excitement the tones 
 are more sonorous than usual, is another general fact ad- 
 mitting of a parallel explanation. The sounds of common 
 conversation have but little resonance ; those of strong 
 feeling have much more. Under rising ill temper the voice 
 acquires a metallic ring. In accordance with her constant 
 mood, the ordinary speech of a virago has a piercing qual- 
 ity quite op>posite to that softness indicative of placidity. 
 A ringing laugh marks an especially joyous temperament. 
 Grief unburdening itself uses tones approaching in timbre 
 to those of chanting : and in his most pathetic passages an 
 eloquent speaker similarly falls into tones more vibratory 
 than those common to him. Now any one may readily 
 convince himself that resonant vocal sounds can be pro- 
 11 
 
216 THE OPJGLN a:nd fcjnction of music. 
 
 duced only by a certain muscular effort additional to that 
 ordinarily needed. If after uttering a word in his speak- 
 ing voice, the reader, without changing the pitch or the 
 loudness, will sing this word, he will perceive that before 
 he can sing it, he has to alter the adjustment of tlie vocal 
 organs ; to do which a certain force must be used ; and by 
 putting his fingers on that external prominence marking 
 the top of the larynx, ho will have further evidence that to 
 produce a sonorous tone the organs must be drawn out of 
 their usual position. Thus, then, the fact that the tones of 
 excited feeling are more vibratory than those of common 
 conversation, is another instance of the connexion between 
 mental excitement and muscular excitement. Tlie speak- 
 ing voice, the recitative voice, and the singing voice, sev- 
 erally exemplify one general principle. 
 
 That the^:>^fc/i of the voice varies according to the ac- 
 tion of the vocal muscles, scarcely needs saying. All know 
 that the middle notes, in which they converse, are made 
 without any appreciable eifort ; and all know that to make 
 either very high or very low notes requires a considerable 
 effort. In either ascending or descending from the pitch 
 of ordinary speech, we are conscious of an increasing mus- 
 cular strain, which, at both extremes of the register, be- 
 comes positively painful. Plence it follows from our gen- 
 eral principle, that while indifference or calmness will use 
 the medium tones, the tones used during excitement will 
 be either above or below them ; and will rise higher and 
 higher, or fall lower and lower, as the feelings grow 
 stronger. This physiological deduction we also find to be 
 in harmony with familiar facts. The habitual sufferer ut- 
 ters his complaints in a voice raised considerably above the 
 natural key ; and agonizing pain vents itself in either 
 shrieks or groans — ii) very high or very low notes. Begin- 
 ning at his talking pitch, the cry of the disappointed urchin 
 grows more shrill as it grows louder. The " Oh ! " of as- 
 
EMOTIONS EXI'KESSED BY PITCH. 217 
 
 tonishment or delight, begins several notes below tlie raid 
 die voice, and descends still lower. Anger expresses it 
 self in high tones, or else in " curses n^t loud but deep.'''^ 
 Deep tones, too, are always used in uttering strong re- 
 proaches. Such an exclamation as " Beware ! " if made 
 dramatically — that is, if made with a show of feeling — 
 must be many notes lower than ordinary. Further, we 
 have groans of disapprobation, groans of horror, groans 
 of remorse. And extreme joy and fear are alike accompa- 
 nied by shrill outcries. 
 
 Nearly allied to the subject of pitch, is that of inter- 
 vals y and the explanation of them carries our argument a 
 step further. While calm speech is comparatively monot- 
 onous, emotion makes use of fifths, octaves, and even wider 
 intervals. Listen to any one narrating or repeating some- 
 thing in which he has no interest, and his voice will not 
 wander more than two or three notes above or below his 
 medium note, and that by small steps ; but when he comes 
 to some exciting event he will be heard not only to use the 
 higher and lower notes of his register, but to go from one to 
 the other by larger leaps. Being unable in print to imitate 
 these traits of feeling, we feel some difiiculty in fully real- 
 izing them to the reader. But we may suggest a few re- 
 membrances which will perhaps call to mind a sufiiciency 
 of others. If two men living in the same place, and fre- 
 cpently seeing one another, meet, say at a public assembly, 
 any phrase with which one may be heard to accost the 
 other — as "Hallo, are you here?" — will have an ordinary 
 intonation. But if one of them, after long absence, has 
 unexpectedly returned, the expression of surj^rise with 
 which his friend may greet him — " Hallo ! hoAv came yon 
 here ? " — will be uttered in much more strongly contrasted 
 tones. The two syllables of the word " Hallo " will be, 
 the one much hi2;her and the other much lower than be- 
 
218 THE OKIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 fore ; and the rest of the sentence will similarly ascend and 
 descend by longer steps. 
 
 Again, if, supposing her to be in an adjoining room, the 
 mistress of the house calls " Mary," the two syllables of 
 the name will be spoken in an ascending interval of a third. 
 If Mary does not reply, the call will be repeated probably 
 ia a descending fifth ; implying the slightest shade of an- 
 noyance at Mary's inattention. Should Mary still make 
 no answer, the increasing annoyance will show itself by the 
 use of a descending octave on the next repetition of the 
 call. And supposing the silence to continue, the lady, if 
 not of a very even temper, will show her irritation at 
 Mary's seemingly intentional negligence by finally calling 
 her in tones still more widely contrasted — the first syllable 
 being higher and the last lower than before. 
 
 Now, these and analogous facts, which the reader will 
 readily accumulate, clearly conform to the law laid down. 
 For to make large intervals requires more muscular action 
 than to make small ones. But not only is the extent of vo. 
 cal intervals thus explicable as due to the relation between 
 nervous and muscular excitement, but also in some degree 
 their direction^ as ascending or descending. The middle 
 notes being those which demand no aj)preciable effort of 
 muscular adjustment ; and the eifort becoming greater as 
 we either ascend or descend ; it follows that a departure 
 from the middle notes in either direction will mark increas- 
 ing emotion ; while a return towards the middle notes will 
 mark decreasing emotion. Hence it happens that an en- 
 thusiastic person uttering such a sentence as — " It was the 
 most splendid sight I ever saw ! " will ascend to the first 
 syllable of the word " splendid," and thence will descend : 
 the word " splendid " marking the climax of the feeling 
 produced by the recollection. Hence, again, it happens 
 that, under some extreme vexation produced by another's 
 stupidity, an irascible man, exclaiming — " What a con- 
 
EMOTIONS EXPEESSED BT ESTTEEVALS. 219 
 
 founded fool tlie fellow is ! " will begin somewhat below bis 
 middle voice, and descending to the word " fool," which 
 he will utter in one of his deepest notes, will then ascend 
 again. And it may be remarked, that the word " fool " 
 will not only be deeper and louder than the rest, but will 
 also have more emphasis of articulation — another mode in 
 which muscular excitement is shown. 
 
 There is some danger, however, in giving instances like 
 this ; seeing that as the mode of rendering will vary accor- 
 ding to the intensity of the feeling which the reader feigns 
 to himself, the right cadence may not be hit upon. With 
 single Avords there is less difBculty. Thus the " Indeed ! " 
 with Avhich a surprising fact is received, mostly begins on 
 the middle note of the voice, and rises with the second syl- 
 lable; or, if disapprobation as well as astonishment is felt, 
 the first syllable will be below the middle note, and the 
 second lower still. Conversely, the word " Alas ! " which 
 marks not the rise of a paroxysm of grief, but its decline, 
 is uttered in a cadence descending towards the middle 
 note ; or, if the first syllable is in the lower part of the 
 register, the second ascends towards the middle note. In 
 the " Heigh-ho ! " expressive of mental and muscular jDros- 
 tration, we may see the same truth ; and if the cadence ap- 
 propriate to it be inverted the absurdity of the efiect clearly 
 shows hoAV the meaning of intervals is dependent on the 
 principle we have been illustrating. 
 
 The remaining characteristic of emotional sjoeech which 
 we have to notice is that of variahiUty of jnicl^- It is 
 scarcely possib.e here to convey adequate ideas of this 
 more complex manifestation. "We must be content with 
 simply indicating some occasions on which it may be ob- 
 served. On a meeting of friends, for instance — as when 
 there arrives a party of much-wish ed-for visitors — the voices 
 of all will be heard to undergo changes of jiitch not only 
 greater but much more numerous than usual. If a speaker 
 
220 THE OEIGIiSr AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 at a puLlic meeting is iuternipted by some squabble among 
 those he is addressing, his comparatively level tones will 
 be in marked contrast with the rapidly changing one of the 
 disputants. And among children, whose feelings are les-'i 
 under control than those of adults, this peculiarity is stiJl 
 more decided. During a scene of complaint and recrimi- 
 nation between two excitable little girls, the voices may be 
 heard to run up and down the gamut several times in each 
 sentence. In such cases we once more recognise the same 
 law : for muscular excitement is shown not only in strength 
 of contraction but also in the rapidity with which different 
 muscular adjustments succeed each other. 
 
 Thus we find all the leading vocal p>henomena to have a 
 physiological basis. They are so many manifestations of 
 the general law that feeling is a stimulus to muscular action 
 —a law conformed to 'throughout the whole economy, not 
 of man only, but of every sensitive creature — a law, there- 
 fore, which Ues deep in the nature of animal orgiinization. 
 The expressiveness of these various modifications of voice 
 is therefore innate. Each of us, from babyhood ui^wards, 
 has been spontaneously making them, when under the va- 
 rious sensations and emotions by which they are produced. 
 Having been conscious of each feeling at the same time 
 that we heard ourselves make the consequent sound, we 
 have acquired an established association of ideas between 
 such sound and the feeling w^hich caused it. When the 
 like sound is made by another, we ascribe the like feeling 
 to him ; and by a further consequence we not only ascribe 
 to him that feeling, but have a certain degree of it aroused 
 in ourselves : for to become conscious of the feeling which 
 another is experiencing, is to have that feeling awakened 
 in our own consciousness, which is the same thing as expe- 
 riencing the feeling. Thus these various modifications of 
 Foice become not only a language through which we un- 
 derstand the emotions of others, but also the means oi ex- 
 citing our sympathy with such emotions. 
 
BASIS OF A THEOEY OF MUSIC. 221 
 
 Have we not here, then, adequate data for a theory of 
 music ? These vocal pecuharities which indicate excited 
 feeling, are those which especially distinguish song from or- 
 dinary speech. Every one of the alterations of voice which 
 we have found to be a physiological result of pain or pleas- 
 ure, is earned to its greatest extreme in vocal music. Fo? 
 instance, we saw that, in virtue of the general relation be- 
 tween mental and muscular excitement, one characteristic 
 of passionate utterance is loudness. Well, its comparative 
 loudness is one of the distinctive marks of song as contrast- 
 ed with the speech of daily life ; and further, the forte 
 passages of an air are those intended to represent the climax 
 of its emotion. "We next saw that the tones in which emotion 
 expresses itself, are, in conformity with this same law, of a 
 more sonorous ti'inbre than those of calm conversation. 
 Here, too, song displays a still higher degi-ee of the pecu- 
 liarity ; for the singing tone is the most resonant we can 
 make. Again, it was shown that, from a like cause, men- 
 tal excitement vents itself in the higher and loAver notes 
 of the register ; using the middle notes but seldom. And 
 it scarcely needs saying that vocal music is still more dis- 
 tinguished by its comparative neglect of the notes in which 
 we talk, and its habitual use of those above or below them 
 and, moreover, that its most passionate effects are common- 
 ly produced at the two extremities of its scale, but especi- 
 ally the upper one. 
 
 A yet further trait of strong feeling, similarly accounted 
 for, was the employment of larger intervals than are em- 
 ployed in common converse. This trait, also, every ballad 
 and aria carries to an extent beyond that heard in the 
 spontaneous utterances of emotion : add to which, that the 
 direction of these intervals, which, as divergiug from or 
 converging towards the medium tones, we found to be 
 physiologically expressive of increasing or decreasing emo- 
 tion, may be observed to have in music like meanings. 
 
222 THE OEIGm AND FUIn^CTION OF SIUSIC. 
 
 Once more, it was pointed out that not only extreme but also 
 rapid variations of pitch, are characteristic of mental ex* 
 citement; and once more we see in the quick changes of 
 every melody, that song carries the characteristic as far, if 
 not farther. Thus, in respect alike of loud7iess, timbre, 
 pitch, intervals, and rate of variation, song employs and 
 exaggerates the natural language of the emotions ;— it arises 
 from a systematic combination of those vocal peculiarities 
 which are the physiological effects of acute pleasure and 
 pain. 
 
 Besides these chief characteristics of song as distinguish- 
 ed from common speech, there are sundry minor ones 
 similarly explicable as due to the relation between mental 
 and muscular excitement ; and before proceeding further 
 these should be briefly noticed. Thus, certain passions, 
 and j)erhaps all passions when pushed to an extreme, j^ro- 
 duce (probably through their influence over the action of 
 the heart) an effect the reverse of that which has been de- 
 scribed : they cause a physical prostration, one symptom of 
 which is a general relaxation of the muscles, and a conse- 
 quent trembling. Wo have the trembling of anger, of 
 fear, of hope, of joy ; and the vocal muscles being implicat- 
 ed with the rest, the voice too becomes tremulous. Now, 
 in singing, this tremulousness of voice is very effectively 
 used by some vocalists in highly pathetic passages ; some- 
 times, indeed, because of its effectiveness, too much used 
 by them — as by Tamberlik, for instance. 
 
 Again, there is a mode of musical execution known as 
 the staccato, appropriate to energetic passages — to passages 
 expressive of exhilaration, of resolution, of confidence. 
 The action of the vocal muscles which produces this stac- 
 cato style, is analogous to the muscular action which pro- 
 duces the sharp, decisive, energetic movements of body in- 
 .licating these states of mind ; and therefore it is that the 
 staccato style has the meaning we ascribe to it. Converse 
 
KHYTHMIC MOTIOl:? TJNDEE EXCITEMENT. 223 
 
 ]y, slurred intervals are expressive of gentler and less active 
 feelings ; and are so because tbey imply the smaller muscu- 
 lar vivacity due to a lower mental energy. The diflerence 
 of effect resulting from difference of time in music, is also 
 attributable to the same law. Already it has been pointed 
 out that the more frequent changes of pitch which ordina- 
 rily result from passion, are imitated and developed in song j 
 and here we have to add, that the various rates of such 
 changes, appropriate to the different styles of music, are 
 further traits having the same derivation. The slowest 
 movements, largo and adagio^ are used where such depress- 
 ing emotions as grief, or such unexciting emotions as rev- 
 erence, are to be jDortrayed ; while the more rapid move 
 ments, andante, allegro, presto, represent successively in- 
 creasing degrees of mental vivacity ; and do this because 
 they imply that muscular activity which flows from this 
 mental vivacity. Even the rhythm, which forms a remain- 
 ing distinction between song and sjoeech, may not imj)rob- 
 ably have a kindred cause. Why the actions excited by 
 strong feeling should tend to become rhythmical, is not 
 very obvious ; but that they do so there are divers eviden- 
 ces. There is the swaying of the body to and fro under 
 pain or grief, of the leg under impatience or agitation. 
 Dancing, too, is a rhythmical action natural to elevated emo- 
 tion. That under excitement speech acquires a certain 
 rhythm, we may occasionally perceive in the highest efforts 
 of an orator. In poetry, which is a form of speech used 
 for the better expression of emotional ideas, we have this 
 rhythmical tendency developed. And when wc bear in 
 mind that dancing, poetry, and music are connate — are ori- 
 ginally constituent j^arts of the same thing, it becomes 
 clear that the measured movement common to them all im- 
 plies a rhythmical action of the whole system, the vocal ap- 
 paratus included ; and that so the rhythm of music is a more 
 subtle and complex result of this relation between mental 
 and muscular excitement. 
 
224 THE OEIGIN AND rUNCTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 But it is time to end this analysis, which, possibly we 
 ftave already carried too far. It is not to be supposed that 
 the more special peculiarities of musical expression are to 
 be definitely explained. Though probably they may all in 
 Bonie way conform to the j^rinciple that has been worked 
 cut, it is obviously impracticable to trace that principle in its 
 more ramified applications. 'Nor is it needful to our argu- 
 ment that it should be so traced. The foregoing facts 
 suiEciently prove that what we regard as the distinctive 
 traits of song, are simply the traits of emotional speech in- 
 tensified and systematized. In respect of its general char-, 
 acteristics, we think it has been made clear that vocal mu- 
 sic, and by consequence all music, is an idealization of the 
 natural language of passion. 
 
 As fir as it goes, the scanty evidence furnished by his- 
 tory confirms this conclusion. Note first the fact (not 
 properly an historical one, but fitly grouped with such) 
 that the dance-chants of savage tribes are very monoton- 
 ous; and in virtue of their monotony are much more nearly 
 allied to ordinary speech than are the songs of civilized 
 races. Joining with this the fact that there are still extant 
 among boatmen and others in the East, ancient chants of a 
 like monotonous character, we may infer that vocal music 
 originally diverged from emotional speech in a gradual, 
 unobtrusive manner ; and this is the inference to which 
 our argument points. Further evidence to the same 
 effect is supphed by Greek history. The early poems of 
 the Greeks — which, be it remembered, were sacred le- 
 gends embodied in that rhji^hmical, metaphorical language 
 which strong feeling excites — were not recited, but chant- 
 ed : the tones and the cadences were made musical by the 
 same influences which made the speech poetical. 
 
 By those who have investigated the matter, this chant- 
 ing is believed to have been not what we call singing, bul 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF EMOTIONAL BPEECII. 225 
 
 Doai'ly allied to our recitative ; (far simpler indeed, if we 
 may jadge from the fact that the early Greek lyre, whicli 
 had but four strings, was played in unison with the voice, 
 which was therefore confined to four notes ; ) and as such, 
 much less remote from common speech than our own sing- 
 ing is. For recitative, or musical recitation, is in all re 
 pects intermediate between speech and song. Its average 
 eifects are not so loud as those of song. Its tones are lesa 
 sonorous in timbre than those of song. Commonly it di- 
 verges to a smaller extent fi-om the middle notes — uses 
 notes neither so high nor so low in pitch. The intervcds 
 habitual to it are neither so wide nor so varied. Its rate 
 of variation is not so rapid. And at the same time that its 
 primary rhythm is less decided, it has none of that second- 
 ary rhythm produced by recurrence of the same or parallel 
 musical phrases, which is one of the marked character- 
 istics of song. Thus, then, we may not only infer, from 
 the evidence furnished by existing barbarous tribes, that 
 the vocal music of pre-historic times was emotional speech 
 very slightly exalted ; but we see that the earliest vocal 
 music of which wo have any account, difiercd much less 
 from emotional speech than does the vocal music of our 
 days. 
 
 That recitative— beyond which, by the way, the Chinese 
 and Hindoos seem never to have advanced — grew naturally 
 out of the modulations and cadences of strong feehng, we 
 have indeed still current evidence. There are even now 
 to be met with occasions on which strong feeling vents 
 itself in this form. Whoever has been present Avhen a 
 meeting of Quakers was addressed by one of their preach- 
 ers (whose practice it is to speak only under the influence 
 of religious emotion), must have been struck by the quite 
 unusual tones, like those of a subdued chant, in which the 
 address was made. It is clear, too, that the intoning used 
 in some churches, is representative of this same mental 
 
226 THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 state; and has been adopted on account of the instinctivelj 
 felt congruity between it and the contrition, supplication 
 or reverence verbally expressed. 
 
 And if, as we have good reason to believe, recitative 
 arose by degrees out of emotional speech, it becomes mani- 
 fest that by a continuance o.f the same process song has 
 arisen out of recitative. Just as, from the orations and 
 legends of savages, expressed in the metaphorical, allegori- 
 cal style natural to them, there sprung e^jic poetry, out of 
 which lyric poetry was afterwards developed ; so, from the 
 exalted tones and cadences in Avhich such orations and le- 
 gends were delivered, came the chant or recitative music, 
 from whence lyrical music has since grown up. And there 
 has not only thus been a simultaneoiis and parallel genesis, 
 but there is also a parallelism of results. For lyrical poetry 
 differs from epic poetry, just as lyrical music differs from 
 recitative : each still further intensifies the natural language 
 of the emotions. Lyrical poetry is more metaphorical, 
 more hyperbolic, more elliptical, and adds the rhythm of 
 lines to the rhythm of feet ; just as lyrical music is louder, 
 more sonorous, more extreme in its intervals, and adds the 
 rhythm of phrases to the rhythm of bars. And the known 
 fact that out of epic poetry the stronger passions developed 
 lyrical poetry as their appropriate vehicle, strengthens the 
 inference that they similarly developed lyrical music out of 
 recitative. 
 
 Nor indeed are we without evidences of the transition. 
 It needs but to listen to an opera to hear the leading gra- 
 dations. Between the comparatively level recitative of 
 ordinary dialogue, the more varied recitative with wider 
 intervals and higher tones used in exciting scenes, the 
 still more musical recitative which preludes an air, and 
 the air itself, the successive steps are but small; and 
 the fact that among airs themselves gradations of like 
 nature mav be traced, further confirms the conclusioc 
 
SENSIBILITY OF MUSICAL COl^ITOSEKS. 227 
 
 tliat the highest form, of vocal music was arrived at by 
 degrees. 
 
 Moreover, we have some clue to the influences which 
 have induced this development ; and may roughly conceive 
 the process of it. As the tones, intervals, and cadences of 
 strong emotion were the elements out of Avhich song was 
 elaborated ; so, we may expect to find that still stronger 
 emotion produced the elaboration : and we have evidence 
 implying this. Instances in abundance may be cited, show- 
 ing that musical composers are men of extremely acute 
 sensibilities. The Life of Mozart depicts him as one of 
 intensely active affections and highly impressionable tem- 
 perament. Various anecdotes represent Beethoven as 
 very susceptible and very passionate. Mendelssohn is de- 
 scribed by those w^ho knew him to have been full of fine 
 feeling. And the almost incredible sensitiveness of Chopin 
 has been illustrated in the memoirs of George Sand. An 
 unusually emotional nature being thus the general charac- 
 teristic of musical composers, we have in it just the agency 
 required for the development of recitative and song. In- 
 tenser feeling producing intenser manifestations, any cause 
 of excitement will call forth from such a nature, tones and 
 changes of voice more marked than those called forth from 
 an ordinai'y nature— will generate just those exaggerations 
 which we have found to distinguish the lower vocal music 
 from emotional speech, and the higher vocal music from 
 the lower. Thus it becomes credible that the four-toned 
 recitative of the early Greek poets (like all poets, nearly 
 allied to composers in the comparative intensity of their 
 feelings), was really nothing more than the slightly ex- 
 aggerated emotional speech natural to them, which grew 
 by frequent use into an organized form. And it is readily 
 conceivable that the accumulated agency of subsequent 
 poet-musicians, inheriting and adding to the jiroducta 
 of those who went before them, sufficed, in the course of 
 
228 THE OEIGIN AJS'D FUaS^CTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 the ten centuries which we know it took, to develope this 
 four-toned recitative into a vocal music having a range of 
 two octaves. 
 
 Not only may we so understand how more sonorous 
 tones, greater extremes of pitch, and wider intervals, were 
 gradually introduced ; but also how there arose a greater 
 variety and complexity of musical expression. For this 
 same passionate, enthusiastic temperament, which naturally 
 leads the musical composer to express the feelings possessed 
 by others as well as himself, in extremer intervals and more 
 marked cadences than they would use, also leads him to 
 give musical utterance to feelings which they either do not 
 experience, or experience in but slight degrees. In virtue 
 of this general susceptibility which distinguishes him, he 
 regards with emotion, events, scenes, conduct, character, 
 which produce upon most men no appreciable effect. The 
 emotions so generated, compounded as they are of the sim- 
 pler emotions, are not expressible by intervals and cadences 
 natural to these, but by combinations of such intervals and 
 cadences : whence arise more involved musical phr£<ses, 
 conveying more complex, subtle, and unusual feeHrgs. 
 And thus we may in some measure understand how it bap- 
 pens that music not only so strongly excites our m^re 
 famihar feelings, but also produces feelings we never lad 
 before — arouses dormant sentiments of which we had not 
 conceived the possibility and do not know the meaning ; 
 or, as Richter says — tells us of things we have not seen ani 
 shall not see. 
 
 Indirect evidences of several kinds remain to be briefly 
 pointed out. One of them is the difficulty, not to say im- 
 possibility, of otherwise accounting for the expressiveness 
 of music. Whence comes it that special combinations of 
 notes should have sj^ecial effects upon our emotions ? — that 
 one should give us a feeling of exhilaration, another of 
 
PHYSIOLOGICAL EXPLANATION OF MUSICAL EFFECTS. 229 
 
 melancholy, another of afFection, another of reverence ? 
 Is it that these special combinations have intrinsic mean- 
 ings apart from the human constitution ? — that a certain 
 number of aerial waves per second, followed by a certain 
 other number, in the nature of things signify grief, while 
 in the reverse order they signify joy ; and similarly with 
 all other intervals, phrases, and cadences ? Few will be so 
 irrational as to think this. Is it, then, that the meanings 
 of these si:>ecial combinations are conventional only ? — that 
 we learn their implications, as we do those of words, by 
 observing how others understand them ? This is an hy- 
 pothesis not only devoid of evidence, but directly opposed 
 to the experience of every one. How, then, are musical 
 efiects to be explained ? If the theory above set forth be 
 accepted, the difficulty disappears. If music, taking for its 
 raw material the various modifications of voice which are 
 the physiological results of excited feeling, intensifies, com- 
 bines, and complicates them — if it exaggerates the loud- 
 ness, the resonance, the pitch, the intervals, and the varia- 
 bility, which, in virtue of an organic law, are the charac- 
 teristics of passionate speech — if, by carrying out these fur- 
 ther, more consistently, more unitedly, and more sus- 
 tainedly, it produces an idealized language of emotion ; 
 then its power over us becomes comprehensible. But in 
 the absence of this theory, the expressiveness of music ap- 
 pears to be inexplicable. 
 
 Again, the preference we feel for certain qualities of 
 sound presents a like difficulty, admitting only of a like 
 solution. It is generally agreed that the tones of the hu- 
 man voice are more pleasing than any others. Grant that 
 music takes its rise from the modulations of the human 
 voice under emotion, and it becomes a natural consequence 
 that the tones of that voice should appeal to our feelings 
 more than any others ; and so should be considered more 
 beautiful than any others. But deny that music has this 
 
230 THE OKIGLN" AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 origin, and the only alternative is the untenable position 
 that the vibrations proceeding from a vocalist's throat are, 
 objectively considered, of a higher order than those fi-om a 
 horn or a violin. Similarly with harsh and soft sounds. 
 If the conclusiveness of the foregoing reasonings be not 
 admitted, it must be supposed that the vibrations causing 
 the last are intrinsically better than those causing the first ; 
 and that, in virtue of some jDre-established harmony, the 
 higher feelings and natures produce the one, and the lower 
 the other. But if the fore2:oino^ reasoninscs be valid, it 
 follows, as a matter of course, that we shall like the 
 sounds that habitually accompany agreeable feelings, and 
 dislike those that habitually accompany disagreeable feel- 
 ings. 
 
 Once more, the question — How is the exj^ressiveness of 
 music to be otherwise accounted for ? may be supplement- 
 ed by the question — How is the genesis of music to be 
 otherwise accounted for ? That music is a product of civ- 
 ilization is manifest ; for though savages have their dance- 
 chants, these are of a kind scarcely to be dignified by 
 the title musical : at most, they suj^ply but the vaguest 
 rudiment of music, properly so called. And if music 
 has been by slow steps developed in the course of civili- 
 zation, it must have been developed out of something. 
 If, then, its origin is not that above alleged, what is its 
 origin ? 
 
 Thus we find that the negative evidence confirms the 
 positive, and that, taken together, they furnish strong 
 proof. We have seen that there is a physiological relation, 
 common to man and all animals, between feeling and mus- 
 cular action ; that as vocal sounds are produced by muscu- 
 lar action, there is a consequent physiological relation be- 
 tween feeling and vocal sounds ; that all the modifications 
 of voice exjjressive of feeling are the direct results of thig 
 physiological relation ; that music, adopting all these modi 
 
ITS INDIRECT BENEFITS AND PLEASUKKS. 231 
 
 fications, intensifies them more and more as it ascends to 
 its higher and higher forms, and Ibecomes music simply in 
 virtue of thus intensifying them ; that, from the ancient 
 epic poet chanting his verses, down to the modern musical 
 composer, men of unusually strong feelings prone to express 
 them in extreme forms, have been naturally the agents of 
 these successive intensifications ; and that so there has 
 little by little arisen a wide divergence between this ideal- 
 ized language of emotion and its natural language : to 
 which direct evidence we have just added the indirect 
 — that on no other tenable hypothesis can either the 
 expressiveness or the genesis of music be explained. 
 
 And now, what is the function of music ? Has music 
 any effect beyond the immediate pleasure it produces ? 
 Analogy suggests that it has. The enjoyments of a good 
 dinner do not end with themselves, but minister to bodily 
 well-being. Though people do not marry with a view to 
 maintain the race, yet the passions which impel them to 
 marry secure its maintenance. Parental affection is a feel- 
 ing which, while it conduces to parental happiness, ensures 
 the nurture of ofispring. Men love to accumulate property, 
 often without thought of the benefits it produces ; but in 
 pursuing the pleasure of acquisition they indirectly open the 
 way to other j)leasures. The wish for public approval im- 
 pels all of us to do many things which we should otherwise 
 not do, — to undertake great labours, face great dangers, 
 and habitually rule ourselves in a way that smooths social 
 intercourse : that is, in gratifying our love of aj^probation 
 we subserve divers ulterior 2:)urposes. And, generally, our 
 nature is such that in fulfilling each desire, we in some way 
 ilicilitate the fulfilment of the rest. But the love of music 
 seems to exist for its own sake. The delights of melody 
 and harmony do not obviously minister to the welfare 
 either of the individual or of society. May we not suspect. 
 
232 THE (3EIGIN AND FUNCTION OF IVroSIC. 
 
 however, that this exception is apparent only ? Is it not 
 a rational inquiry — What are the indirect benefits which 
 accrue from music, in addition to the direct pleasure it 
 gives ? 
 
 But that it would take us too far out of our track, we 
 should prelude this inquiry by illustrating at some length a 
 certain general law of jorogress ; — the law that alike in oc- 
 cupations, sciences, arts, the divisions that had a common 
 root, but by continual divergence have become distinct, 
 and are now being separately developed, are not truly in- 
 dependent, but severally act and react on each other to 
 their mutual advancement. Merely hinting thus much, 
 however, by way of showing that there are many analogies 
 to justify us, we go on to exj^ress the oiDinion that there 
 exists a relationship of this kind between music and 
 speech. 
 
 All speech is compounded of two elements, the words 
 and the tones in Avhich they arc uttered — the signs of ideas 
 and the signs of feelings. While certain articulations ex- 
 press the thought, certain vocal sounds express the more 
 or less of pain or pleasure which the thought gives. Using 
 the word, cadence in an unusually extended, sense, as com- 
 prehending all modifications of voice, we may say that 
 cadence is the commentary of the em,otions upon the propo- 
 sitions of tlie intellect. This duality of spoken language, 
 though not formally recognised, is recognised in practice 
 by every one ; and every one knov^'S that very often more 
 weight attaches to the tones than to the words. Daily ex- 
 perience supplies cases in which the same sentence of dis- 
 approval will be understood as meaning little or meaning 
 much, according to the inflections of voice which accom- 
 pany it ; and. daily experience supplies still more striking 
 oases in which words and. tones are in direct contradiction 
 —the first expressing consent, while the last express reluc- 
 tance ; and the last being believed rather than the fii'st. 
 
rr DETELOPES THE LANGUAGE OF THE EMOTIONS. 233 
 
 These two distinct but interwoven elements of speecli 
 have been undergoing a simultaneous development. AVe 
 know that in the course of civilization words have been 
 multiplied, new parts of speech have been introduced, sen- 
 tences have grown moi'e varied and complex ; and we maj 
 fairly infer that during the same time new modifications of 
 voice have come into use, fresh intervals have been adopt- 
 ed, and cadences have become more elaborate. For while, 
 on the one hand, it is absurd to suppose that, along with 
 the undeveloped verbal forms of barbarism, there existed 
 a developed system of vocal inflections ; it is, on the other 
 hand, necessary to suppose that, along with the higher and 
 more numerous verbal forms needed to convey the multi- 
 plied and complicated ideas of civilized life, there have 
 grown up those more involved changes of voice which ex- 
 press the feelings proper to such ideas. If intellectual lan- 
 guage is a growth, so also, without doubt, is emotional lan- 
 guage a growth. 
 
 Now, the hypothesis which we have hinted above, is, 
 that beyond the direct pleasure which it gives, music has 
 tiie indirect effect of develoj^ing this language of the emo- 
 tions. Having its root, as we have endeavoured to show, 
 in those tones, intervals, and cadences of speech which ex- 
 press feeling — arising by the combination and intensifying 
 of these, and coming finally to have an embodiment of its 
 own ; music has all along been reacting upon speech, and 
 increasing its power of rendering emotion. The use in re- 
 citative and song of inflections more expressive than ordi- 
 nary ones, must from the beginning have tended to devcl- 
 ope the ordinary ones. Familiarity with the more varied 
 combinations of tones that occur in vocal music, can 
 scarcely have failed to give greater variety of combination 
 to the tones in which we utter our impressions and desires. 
 The complex ipusical phrases by which composers havo 
 conveyed complex emotions, may rationally be supposed to 
 
2o4 THE OKIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 have influenced us in making those involved cadences of 
 conversation Iby which we convey our subtler thoughts and 
 feelings. 
 
 That the cultivation of music has no effect on the mind, 
 few will be absurd enough, to contend. And if it has an 
 effect, what more natural effect is there than this of devel- 
 oijiug our percejotion of the meanings of inflections, quali- 
 ties, and modulations of voice ; and giving us a corres- 
 pondingly increased power of using them ? Just as mathe- 
 matics, taking its start from the phenomena of physics 
 and astronomy, and presently coming to be a separate sci- 
 ence, has since reacted on physics and astronomy to their 
 immense advancement— just as chemistry, first arising out 
 of the processes of metallurgy and the industrial arts, and 
 gradually growing into an independent study, has now be- 
 come an aid to all kinds of j^roduction — just as physiology, 
 originating out of medicine and once subordinate to it, but 
 latterly pursued for its own sake, is in our day coming to 
 be the science on which the progress of medicine depends ; 
 ■ — so, music, having its root in emotional language, and 
 gradually evolved from it, has ever been reacting upon and 
 further advancing it. Whoever will examine the facts, will 
 find this hypothesis to be in harmony with the method of 
 civilization everywhere displayed. 
 
 It will scarcely be expected that much direct evidence 
 in support of this conclusion can be given. The facts are 
 of a kind which it is difiicult to measure, and of which we 
 have no records. Some suggestive traits, however, may 
 be noted. May we not say, for instance, that the Italians, 
 among whom modern music was earliest cultivated, and 
 who have more especially practised and excelled in melody 
 (the division of music with which our argument is chiefly 
 concerned) — may we not say that these Italians speak in 
 more varied and expressive inflections and cadences than 
 any other nation ? On the other hand, may we not say 
 
mrOETAI^CE OF EMOTIONAL LANGUAGE. 235 
 
 that, confined almost exclusively as they have hitherto 
 been to their national airs, which have a marked family 
 likeness, and therefore accustomed to but a limited range 
 of musical ex2:)ression, the Scotch are unusually monotonous 
 in the intervals and modulations of their speech ? And 
 again, do we not find among diflierent classes of the same 
 nation, differences that have like implications ? The gen- 
 tleman and the clown stand in very decided contrast with 
 resj)ect to variety of intonation. Listen to the conversa- 
 tion of a servant-girl, and then to that of a refined, accom- 
 plished lady, and the more delicate and complex changes 
 of voice used by the latter will be conspicuous. Now, 
 without going so far as to say that out of all the differences 
 of culture to which the upper and lower classes are sub- 
 jected, difference of musical culture is that to which alone 
 this difference of speech is ascribable ; yet we may fairly 
 say that there seems a much more obvious connexion of 
 cause and effect between these than between any others. 
 Thus, while the inductive evidence to which we can appeal 
 is but scanty and vague, yet what there is favours our posi- 
 tion. 
 
 Probably most will think that the function here assigned 
 to music is one of very little moment. But further reflec- 
 tion may lead them to a contrary conviction. In its bear- 
 ings upon human haiDpiness, we believe that this emotional 
 language which musical culture developes and refines, is 
 only second in importance to the language of the intellect ; 
 perhaps not even second to it. For these modifications 
 of voice produced by feelings, are the means of exciting 
 like feelings in others. Joined with gestures and expres- 
 sions of face, they give life to the otherwise dead words in 
 which the intellect utters its ideas : and so enable the 
 hearer not only to understand the state of mind^ ^ey ac- 
 company, but to partake of that state. In short, they are 
 
236 THE OEIGIN AND FUNCTION OF SIUSIC. 
 
 the chief media of sympathy. And if we consider how 
 much hoth our general welfare and our immediate pleas- 
 ures depend upon sym^patliy, Ave shall recognise the import- 
 ance of whatever makes this sympathy greater. If we 
 bear in mind that by tneir fellow-feeling men are led to be- 
 have justly, kindly and considerately to each other — -that 
 the difference between the cruelty of the barbarous and 
 the humanity of the civilized, results from the increase of 
 fellow-feeling ; if we bear in mind that this faculty which 
 makes us sharers in the joys and sorrows of others, is the 
 basis of all the higher affections — that in friendship, love, 
 and all domestic pleasures, it is an essential element ; if we 
 bear in mind how much our direct gratifications are inten- 
 sified by sympathy, — how, at the theatre, the concert, the 
 picture gallery, we lose half our enjoyment if we have no 
 one to enjoy with us ; if, in short, we bear in mind that for 
 all happiness beyond what the unfriended recluse can have, 
 we are indebted to this same sympathy; — we shall see that 
 the agencies which communicate it can scarcely be over- 
 rated in value. 
 
 The tendency of civilization is more and more to re- 
 press the antagonistic elements of our characters and to 
 develope the social ones — to curb our purely selfish desires 
 and exercise our unselfish ones — to replace private gratifi- 
 cations by gratifications resulting from, or involving, the 
 happiness of others. And while, by this adaptation to the 
 social state, the symj^athetic side of our nature is being un- 
 folded, there is simultaneously growing up a language of 
 sympathetic intercourse — a language through which Ave 
 communicate to others the happiness we feel, and are inade 
 Blmrers in their happiness. 
 
 This double process, of Avhich the effects are already 
 suflicientiy appreciable, must go on to an extent of which 
 we can as yet have no adequate conception. The habitual 
 concealment of our feelings diminishing, as it must, in pro- 
 
FUTCSE GROWTH OF EMOTIONAL LxiNGUAGE. 237 
 
 portion <ns our feelings become such as do not demand con- 
 cealment, we may conclude that the exhibition of them will 
 become much more vivid than we now dare allow it to be; 
 and this implies a more expressive emotional language. 
 At the same time, feelings of a higher and more complex 
 kind, as yet experienced only by the cultivated few, will 
 become general ; and there will be a corresponding devel- 
 opment of the emotional language into more involved 
 forms. Just as there has silently grown up a language of 
 ideas, which, rude as it at first was, now enables us to con- 
 vey with precision the most subtle and complicated 
 thoughts ; so, there is still silently growing "np a language 
 of feelings, which notwithstanding its j^resent imperfection, 
 we may expect will ultimately enable men vividly and com- 
 pletely to impress on each other all the emotions which 
 they experience from moment to moment. 
 
 Thus if, as we have endeavoured to show, it is the func- 
 tion of music to facilitate the development of this emo- 
 tional language, we may regard music as an aid to tlie 
 achievement of that higher happiness which it indistinctly 
 shadows forth. Those vague feelings of unexperienced fe- 
 licity which music arouses — those indefinite impressions of 
 an unknown ideal life which it calls up, may be considered 
 as a prophecy, to the fulfilment of which music is itself 
 partly instrumental. The strange capacity which we have 
 for being so alFected by melody and harmony, may be taken 
 to imply both that it is within the possibilities of our na- 
 ture to realize those intenser delights they dimly suggest, 
 and that they are in some way concerned in the realization 
 of them. On this supposition the power and the meaning 
 of music become comprehensible ; but otherwise they are 
 a mystery. 
 
 We will only add, that if the ^probability of these corol- 
 laries be admitted, then music must take rank as the high- 
 est of the fine arts — as the one which, more than any other, 
 
23S THE OKIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 ministers to human welfare. And thus, even leaving out 
 of view the immediate gratifications it is hourly giving, 
 we cannot too much ajDplaud that progress of musical cul- 
 ture which is Lecoming one of the characteristics of oui 
 age. 
 
VI. 
 
 THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 N QUIRING into the pedigree of an idea is not a bad 
 means of roughly estimating its value. To have come of 
 respectable ancestry, is 2)fW2d facie evidence of worth in a 
 belief as in a person ; while to be descended from a discred- 
 itable stock is, in the one case as in the other, an unfavora- 
 ble index. The analogy is not a mere fancy. Beliefs, to- 
 gether with those who hold them, are modified little by lit- 
 tle in successive generations ; and as the modifications 
 which successive generations of the holders undergo, do 
 not destroy the original type, but only disguise and refine 
 it, so the accompanying alterations of belief, however much 
 they purify, leave behind the essence of the original belief. 
 Considered genealogically, the received theory resj)ecting 
 the creation of the Solar System is unmistakeably of low 
 origin. You may clearly trace it back to primitive mythol- 
 ogies. Its remotest ancestor is the doctrine that the celes- 
 tial bodies are personages who originally lived on the Earth 
 — a doctrine still held by some of the negroes Livingstone 
 visited. Science having divested the sun and planets of 
 their divine personalities, this old idea was succeeded by 
 the idea which even Kepler entertained, that the planets 
 are guided in their courses by presiding spirits : no longer 
 12 
 
240 THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 themselves gods, they are still severally kept in their orbits t^ 
 gods. And when gravitation came to dispense with these ce- 
 lestial steersmen, there was begotten a belief, less gross than 
 its parent, but partaking of the same essential nature, that 
 the planets were originally launched into their orbits from 
 the Creator's hand. Evidently, though much refined, the an- 
 throjiomorphism of the current hypothesis is inherited from 
 the aboriginal anthropomorphism, which described gods as 
 a stronger order of men. 
 
 There is an antagonist hyjoothesis which does not pro- 
 pose to honour the Unknown Power manifested in the Uni- 
 verse, by such titles as " The Mastei-Builder," or " The 
 Great Artificer ; "_but "which regards this Unknown Power 
 as probably working after a method quite different from 
 that of human mechanics. And the genealogy of this hy- 
 pothesis is as high as that of the other is low. It is begot- 
 ten by that ever-enlarging and ever-strengthening belief in 
 the presence of Law, which accumulated experiences have 
 gradually produced in the human mind. From generation 
 to generation Science has been proving uniformities of re- 
 lation among phenomena which were before thought either 
 fortuitous or supernatural in their origin — has been showing 
 an established order and a constant causation where igno- 
 rance had assumed irregularity and arbitrariness. Each fur- 
 ther discovery of Law has increased the presumption that 
 Law is everywhere conformed to. And hence, among 
 other beliefs, has arisen the belief tliat the Solar System 
 originated, not by mamifacture but by evolution. Besides 
 its abstract parentage in those grand general conceptions 
 which positive Science has generated, this hypothesis has a 
 concrete parentage of the highest character. Based as it 
 is on the law of universal gravitation, it may claim for its 
 remote progenitor the great thinker who established that 
 law. The man who gave it its general shape, by promulga- 
 ting the doctrine that stars result from the aggregation of 
 
rrS HIGH DERIVATION. 241 
 
 diffused matter, was the most diligent, careful, and original 
 astronomical observer of modern times. And the world 
 has not seen a more learned mathematician than the man 
 who, setting out with this conception of diffused matter 
 concentrating towards its centre of gravity, pointed out 
 the way in which there would arise, in the course of 
 its conceuti'ation, a balanced group of sun, planets, and 
 satellites, like that of which the Earth is a member. 
 
 Thus, even were there but little direct evidence assign- 
 able for the Nebular Hypothesis, the probability of its 
 truth would still be strong. Its own high derivation and 
 the low derivation of the antagonist hypothesis, Avould to- 
 gether form a weighty reason for accepting it — at any rate, 
 provisionally. But the direct evidence assignable for the 
 Nebular Hypothesis is by no means little. It is far greater 
 in quantity, and more varied in kind, than is commonly 
 supposed. Much has been said here and there on this or that 
 class of evidences; but nowhere, as far as we know, have 
 all the evidences, even of one class, been fully stated ; and 
 still less has there been an adequate statement of the sev- 
 eral groups of evidences in their ensemble. "We i:)ropose 
 here to do something towards supplying the deficiency: 
 believing that, joined with the a priori reasons given above, 
 the array of a posteriori reasons will leave little doubt in 
 the mind of any candid inquirer. 
 
 And first, let us address ourselves to those recent dis- 
 coveries in stellar astronomy, which have been supposed to 
 conflict with this celebrated speculation. 
 
 When Sir William Herschel, directing his great reflec- 
 tor to various nebulous spots, found them resolvable into 
 clusters of stars, he inferred, and for a time maintained, 
 tljat all nebulous spots are clusters of stars exceedingly re- 
 mote from us. But after years of conscientious investiga- 
 tion, he concluded that " there were nebulosities which are 
 
24:2 THE NEBULAE HTPOXnESIS. 
 
 not of a starry nature ; " and on this conclusion was based 
 his hyj^othesis of a diffused luminous fluid, which bj its 
 eventual aggregation, produced stars. A telescopic pow- 
 er much exceeding that used by Herschel, has enabled 
 Lord Rosse to resolve some of the nebulga previously un- 
 resolved ; and, returning to the conclusion which Herschel 
 first formed on similar grounds but afterwards rejected, 
 many astronomers have assumed that, under sufficiently 
 high powers, every nebula would be decomposed into stars 
 ■ — that the resolvability is solely a question of distance. The 
 hypothesis now commonly entertained, is, that all nebulae 
 are galaxies more or less like in nature to that immediately 
 surrounding us ; b.ut that they are so inconceivably re- 
 mote, as to look, through an ordinary telescope, like small 
 faint spots. And. not a few have drawn the corollary, that 
 by the discoveries of Lord Rosse the ISTebular Hypothesis 
 has been disproved. 
 
 Now, even supposing that these inferences respecting 
 the distances and natures of the nebulae are valid, they leave 
 the jSTebular Hypothesis substantially as it was. Admit- 
 ting that each of those faint spots is a sidereal system, so 
 far removed that its countless stars give less light than 
 one small star of our own sidereal system ; the admission 
 is in no way inconsistent with the belief, that stars and their 
 attendant planets have been formed by the aggregation of 
 nebulous matter. Though, doubtless, if the existence of 
 nebulous matter now in course of concentration be dis- 
 proved, one of the evidences of the Nebular Hypothesis is 
 destroyed ; yet the remaining evidences remain just as they 
 were. It is a perfectly tenable position, that though nebu- 
 lar condensation is now nowhere to be seen in progress, yet 
 it was once going on universally. And, indeed, it might 
 be argued that the still-continued, existence of diffused 
 nebulous matter is scarcely to be expected ; seeing that 
 Ihe causes which have resulted in the aggregation of one 
 
THE CONDENSED KEBTjLOUS ilATTER, 243 
 
 mass, must have been acting on all masses, and that hence 
 the existence of masses not aggregated, would be a fact 
 calling for explanation. Thus, granting the immediate 
 conclusions suggested by these recent disclosures of the 
 six-feet reflector, the corollary which many have drawn is 
 inadmissible. 
 
 But we do not gr.ant these conclusions. Receiving them 
 though we have, for years past, as established truths, a 
 critical examination of the facts has convinced us that they 
 are quite unwarrantable. They involve so many manifest 
 incongruities, that we have been astonished to find men of 
 science entertaining them even as probable hypotheses. 
 Let us consider these incongruities. 
 
 In the first place, mark what is inferable from the dis- 
 tribution of nebuliTe. 
 
 " The spaces which precede or which follow simple nebulce," 
 says Arago, " and, cb fortiori, groups of nebulae, contain generally 
 few stars. Herscliel found this rule to be invariable. Thus, 
 every time that, during a short interval, no star approached, in 
 virtue of the diurnal motion, to place itself in the field of Lis mo- 
 tionless telescope, he was accustomed to say to the secretary who 
 assisted him, ' Prepare to write ; nebulte are about to arrive.' " 
 
 How does this fact consist with the hypothesis that ne- 
 bulae are remote galaxies ? If there were but one nebula, 
 it would be a curious coincidence were this one nebula so 
 placed in the distant regions of space, as to agree in direc- 
 tion with a starless spot in our own sidereal system. If 
 there were but two nebulre, and both were so placed, the 
 coincidence would be excessively strange. What, then, 
 shall we say on finding that there are thousands of nebula3 
 so placed ? Shall we believe that in thousands of cases 
 these far-removed galaxies haj^pen to agree in their visible 
 positions with the thin places in our own galaxy ? Such a 
 belief is next to impossible. Still more manifest does the 
 impossibility of it become when we consider the general 
 
244: THE NEBULAE IIYPOTnESIS. 
 
 clistribtition of nebulre. Besides agaiu showing itself in 
 the fact that " the poorest regions in stars are near the rich- 
 est in nebiiloe," the law ahoye specified apphes to the heav- 
 ens as a whole. In that zone of celestial s|)ace where stars 
 are excessively abundant, nebnlse are rare ; while in the two 
 opposite celestial spaces that are furthest removed from this 
 zone, nebulae are abundant. Scarcely any nebulas lie near 
 the galactic circle (or plane of the Milky Way) ; and the 
 great mass of them lie round the galactic poles. Can this 
 also be mere coincidence ? When to the fact that the gen- 
 eral mass of nebulge are antithetical in position to the gen- 
 eral mass of stars, we add the fact that local regions of ne- 
 bulae are regions where stars are scarce, and the further 
 fact that single nebulae are habitually found in comparative- 
 ly starless spots ; does not the proof of a j)hysical connex- 
 ion become overwhelming ? Should it not require an in- 
 finity of evidence to show that nebulse are not parts of our 
 sidereal system ? Let us see whether any such infinity of 
 evidence is assignable. Let us see whether there is even a 
 single alleged proof which will bear examination, 
 
 "As seen through colossal telescopes," says Humboldt, "the 
 contemplation of these nebulous masses leads us into regions from 
 whence a ray of light, according to an assumption not wholly im- 
 probable, requires millions of years to reach our earth — to dis- 
 tances for whose measurement the dimensions (the distance of 
 Sirius, or the calculated distances of the binary stars in Cygnug 
 and the Centaur) of our nearest stratum of fised stars scarcely 
 suffice." 
 
 Now, in this somewhat confused sentence there is ex- 
 pressed a more or less decided belief, that the distances of 
 the nebulae from our galaxy of stars as much transcend the 
 distances of our stars from each other, as these interstellar 
 distances transcend the dimensions of our planetary system. 
 Just as the diameter of the Earth's orbit, is an inapprecia- 
 
THE CONDENSED NEBrLOUS MATTER. 245 
 
 Lie point when compared with the distance of our Sun from 
 Sirius ; so is the distance of our Sun from Sirius, an inap- 
 preciable point when compared with the distance of our 
 galaxy from those far removed galaxies constituting nebulae 
 Observe the consequences of this assumption. 
 
 If one of these supposed galaxies is so remote that it? 
 distance dwarfs our interstellar sj^aces into points, and there- 
 fore makes the dimensions of our whole sidereal system re- 
 latively insignificant ; does it not inevitably follow that the 
 telescopic power required to resolve this remote galaxy into 
 stars, must be incomparably greater than the telescopic 
 power required to resolve the whole of our own galaxy 
 into stars ? Is it not certain that an instrument which can 
 just exhibit with clearness the most distant stars of our own 
 cluster, must be utterly unable to separate one of these re- 
 mote clusters into stars ? What, then, are Ave to think 
 Avhen we find that the same instrument which decomjposes 
 hosts of nebulae into stars, fails to resolve completely our 
 own Milky Way ? Take a homely comj^arison. Suppose 
 a man surrounded by a swarm of bees, extending, as they 
 sometimes do, so high in the air as to be individually almost 
 invisible, were to declare that a certain spot on the horizon 
 was a swarm of bees; and that he knew it because he could 
 see the bees as separate specks. Astounding as the asser- 
 tion would be, it would not exceed in incredibility this which 
 we are criticising. Reduce the dimensions to figures, and 
 the absurdity becomes still more palpable. In round num- 
 bers, the distance of Sirius from the Earth is a million times 
 the distance of the Earth from the Sun ; and, according to 
 the hypothesis, the distance of a nebula is something liko a 
 million times the distance of Sirius. 
 
 Now, our own " starry island, or nebula," as Humboldt 
 calls it, " forms a lens-shaped, flattened, and everywhere 
 detached stratum, whose major axis is estimated at seven 
 Dr eight hundred, and its minor axis at a hundred and fifty 
 
L'4iO THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 times the distance of Sirius from the Earth."* And since 
 It is conchided that our Solar System is near the centre of 
 this aggregation^ it follows that our distance from the re- 
 motest parts of it is about four hundred distances of Sirius. 
 But the stars forming these remotest parts are not individ- 
 ually visible, even through telescopes of the highest power. 
 How, then, can such telescopes make individually visible 
 the stars of a nebula which is a million times the distance 
 of Sirius ? The implication is, that a star rendered invisi- 
 ble by distance becomes visible if taken two thousand five 
 hundred times further off! Shall we accept this implica- 
 tion ? or shall w^e not rather conclude that the nebuloe are 
 7iot remote galaxies ? Shall we not infer that, be their na- 
 ture what it may, they must be at least as near to us as the 
 extremities of our own sidereal system ? 
 
 Throughout the above argument, it is tacitly assumed 
 that differences of apparent magnitude among the stars, 
 result mainly from differences of distance. On this as- 
 sumption the current doctrines respecting the nebulae are 
 founded ; and this assumption is, for the nonce, admitted 
 in each of the foregoing criticisms. From the time, how- 
 ever, when it was first made by Sir W. Herschel, this as- 
 sumption has been purely gratuitous ; and it now proves 
 to be totally inadmissible. But, awkwardly enough, its 
 truth and its untruth are alike fatal to the conclusions of 
 those w^ho argue after the manner of Humboldt. Note the 
 alternative. 
 
 On the one hand, w^hat follows from the untruth of the 
 assumption ? If apparent largeness of stars is not due to 
 comparative nearness, and their successively smaller sizes 
 to their greater and greater degrees of remoteness, what 
 becomes of the inferences respecting the dimensions of our 
 sidereal system and the distances of nebulae ? If, as has 
 
 * Cosmos. (Seventh Edition.) Vol. i. pp. 79, 80. 
 
MAGNITUDES AND DISTANCES OF STAUS. 247 
 
 lately been shown, the almost invisible star Gl Cygni has a 
 greater parallax than a Cygni, though, according to an es- 
 timate based on Sir "W. Herschel's assumption, it should be 
 about twelve times more distant — if, as it turns out, there 
 exist telescopic stars which are nearer to us than Sirius ; oi 
 what worth is the conclusion that the nebulsB are very re 
 mote, because their component luminous masses are made 
 visible only by high telescopic powers ? Clearly, if the 
 most brilliant star in the heavens and a star that cannot be 
 seen by the naked eye, jDrove to be equidistant, relative 
 distances cannot be in the least inferred from relative visi- 
 bilities. And if so, nebulse may be comparatively near, 
 though the starlets of which they are made up appear ex- 
 tremely minute. 
 
 On the other har<a. what follows if the truth of the as- 
 sumption be granted .'' The arguments used to justify this 
 assumption in the case of the stars, equally justify it in the 
 case of the nebulaD. It cannot be contended that, on the 
 average, the apparent sizes of the stars indicate their dis- 
 tances, without its being admitted that, on the average, the 
 apparent sizes of the nebulae indicate their distances — that, 
 generally speaking, the larger are the nearer, and the 
 smaller are the more distant. Mark, now, the necessary 
 inference respecting their resolvability. The largest or 
 nearest nebuloe will be most easily resolved into stars ; the 
 successively smaller will be successively more difficult of 
 resolution ; and the irresolvable ones will be the smallest 
 ones. This, however, is exactly the reverse of the fact. 
 The largest nebulce are either wholly irresolvable, or but 
 partially resolvable under the highest telescopic powers ; 
 while a great proportion of quite small nebulaa, are easily 
 resolved by far less powerful telescopes. An instrument 
 through which the great nebula in Andromeda, two and a 
 half degrees long and one degree broad, appears merely r*? 
 a diffused light, decomposes a nebula of fifteen minutes di- 
 
248 TOE NEBULAR IliTPOTHESIS. 
 
 ameter into twenty thousand starry points. At the same 
 time that the individual stars of a nebula eight minutes in 
 diameter are so clearly seen as to allow of their number 
 being estimated, a nebula covering an area five hundred 
 times as great shows no stars at all. What possible expla- 
 nation can be given of this on the current hypothesis? 
 
 Yet a further difficulty remains — one which is, perhaps, 
 still more obviously fatal than the foregoing. This diffi- 
 p.ulty is presented by the phenomena of the Magellanic 
 clouds. Describing the larger of these, Sir John Herschel 
 says : — 
 
 " The nubecula major, like the minor, consists partly of large 
 tracts and ill-defined patches of irresolvable nebula, and of nebu- 
 losity in every stage of resolution, up to perfectly resolved stara 
 like the Milky "Way ; as also of regular and irregular nebula) prop- 
 erly so called, of globular clusters in every stage of resolvability, 
 and of clustering groups sufiiciently insulated and condensed to 
 come under the designation of ' cluster of stars.' " — " Cape Ob- 
 servations," p. l-iG. 
 
 In his " Outlines of Astronomy," Sir John Herschel, af- 
 ter repeating this description in otlier words, goes on to 
 remark that — 
 
 " This combination of characters, rightly considered, is in a 
 high degree instructive, affording an insight into the probable 
 comparative distance of stars and nebuke, and the real brightness 
 of individual stars as compared with one another. Taking the 
 apparent semi-diameter of the nubecula mnjor at three degrees, 
 and regarding its solid form as, roughly speaking, spherical, its 
 nearest and most remote parts differ in their distance from us by 
 a little more than a tenth part of our distance from its centre. 
 The brightness of objects situated in its nearer portions, there- 
 fore, cannot be much exaggerated, nor that of its remoter much 
 enfeebled, by their difference of distance. Yet within this globu- 
 lar space we have collected upwards of six hundred stars of the 
 seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth magnitude, nearly three hundred 
 
NEBULA NO MORE KEMOTE THAN STARS. 2-19 
 
 neoulfe, and globular aud otlier clusters of all degrees of renolxa- 
 hility^ and smaller scattered stars of every infei'ior magnitude, 
 from the tenth to such as by then- magnitude and minuteness con- 
 stitute irresolvable nebulosity, extending over tracts of many 
 square degrees. Were there but one such object, it might bt^ 
 maintained without utter improbability that its apparent spheri- 
 city is only an eifect of foreshortening, and that in reality a much 
 greater proportional difference of distance between its nearer and 
 more remote parts exists. But such an adjustment, improbable 
 enough in one case, must be rejected as too much so for fair argu- 
 ment in two. It must, therefore, be taken as a demonstrated fact, 
 that stars of the seventh or eighth magnitude, and irresolvable 
 nebula, may co-exist within limits of distance not differing in pro- 
 portion more than as nine to ten." — " Outlines of Astronomy," 
 pp. 614, 615. 
 
 Now, we tbink this supplies a reductlo ad ahsurdtmi 
 of tlie doctrine we are combating. It gives us tlae clioice 
 of two incredibilities. If we are to believe that one of 
 these nebulae is so remote that its liundred thousand stars 
 look like a milky spot, invisible to the naked eye ; we must 
 also believe that there ai*e single stars so enormous that 
 though removed to this same distance they remain visible. 
 If we accept the other alternative, and say that many ueb- 
 uloe are no further off than our own stars of the eighth 
 magnitude ; then it is requisite to say that at a distance not 
 greater than that at which a single star is still faintly visi- 
 ble to the naked eye, there may exist a group of a hundred 
 thousand stars which is invisible to the naked eye. Neither 
 of these positions can be entertained. What, then, is the 
 conclusion that remains ? This, only : — that the nebubs 
 are not further off from us than parts of our own sidereal 
 system, of which they must be considered members ; and 
 that when they are resolvable into discrete masses, these 
 masses cannot be considered as stars in anything like the 
 ordinary sense of that word. 
 
 And now, having seen the untcnability of this idea, 
 
250 THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 rashly espoused Ly sundry astronomers, tliat the nebulae 
 are extremely remote galaxies ; let us consider whether 
 the various appearances they present are not reconcile 
 able with the Nebular Hypothesis. 
 
 Given a rare and widely-diffused mass of nebulous mat- 
 ter, having a diameter, say as great as the distance from 
 the Sun to Sirius,* what are the successive changes that 
 will take place in it ? Mutual gravitation will approxi 
 mate its atoms ; but their approximation will be 02"»posed 
 by atomic repulsion, the overcoming of which implies the 
 evolution of heat. As fast as this heat partially escaj^es by 
 radiation, further approximation will take place, attended 
 by further evolution of heat, and so on continuously : the 
 processes not occurring sej)arately as here described, but 
 simultaneously, uninterruptedly, and with increasing ac- 
 tivity. Eventually, this slow movement of the atoms to- 
 wards their common centre of gravity, will bring about 
 phenomena of another order. 
 
 Arguing from the known laws of atomic combination, 
 it will haj^pen that when the nebulous mass has reached a 
 particular stage of condensation — when its internally-situa- 
 ted atoms have approached to within certain distances, 
 have generated a certain amount of heat, and are subject 
 to a certain mutual pressure (the heat and pressure both 
 increasing as the aggregation progresses) ; some of them 
 will suddenly enter into chemical union. Vfhether the 
 binary atoms so produced be of kinds such as we know, 
 which is possible ; or whether they be of kinds simpler 
 th-y any we know, which is more probable ; matters not 
 to the argument. It suffices that molecular combination 
 of some species will finally take j^lace. When it does take 
 
 * Any objection made to the extreme tenuity this involves, is met by 
 the calculation of Newton, who proved that were a spherical inch of aij 
 removed four thousand miles from the Earth, it would expand into a 
 sphere more than filling the orbit of Saturn. 
 
CONDITIONS OF CONDENSATION. 251 
 
 place, it will be accompanied bj a great and sudden disen- 
 gagement of heat ; and until this excess of heat has 
 escaped, the newly-formed binary atoms ■will remain uni- 
 formly diffused, or, as it were, dissolved in the pre-existing 
 nebulous medium. 
 
 But now mark what must happen. When radiation has 
 adequately lowered the temperature, these binary atoms will 
 precipitate ; and having precipitated, they will not remain 
 uniformly diffused, but will aggregate into floccuU : as water, 
 precipitated from air, forms clouds. 
 
 Concluding, then, that a nebulous mass will, in course 
 of time, resolve itself into flocculi of precipitated denser 
 matter, floating in the rarer medium from which they were 
 precipitated, let us inquire what will be the mechanical 
 results. Masses dispersed through empty space, and moving 
 to their common centre of gravity in lines determined solely 
 by their mutual attractions, will not produce any axial 
 motion in the aggregate they form. But what will happen 
 with irregularly dispersed masses of irregular shapes when 
 they are suspended in a medium which is denser near 
 its central parts than near its periphery ? Their motions of 
 concentration will be subject to deviations caused by local 
 mutual attractions (which taking the whole aggregate, must 
 cancel one another) ; but they will also be subject to devia- 
 tions otherwise produced which will not necessarily cancel 
 one another. Their initial movements, made in all cases 
 indirect, both by local attractions, and by the unequal pres- 
 sures of the resisting medium on their irregular faces as they 
 pass through it, will always be towards one or other side of 
 the common centre of gravity of the aggregate. What now 
 must result when a flocculus, having such oblique movement, 
 encounters in its progress a medium that is always denser 
 on the side towards the centre of gravity than on the side 
 away from it ? There must perpetually be caused a deflec- 
 tion by the diflference of pressure : beyond that indirect- 
 
252 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 ness in the line of movement produced by local attractions 
 there will be a further indirectness produced by the un- 
 equal reactions of the medium ; and there is no reason for 
 supposing that this must be equalled by opposite indirect- 
 nesses elsewhere. All such secondary indirectnesses, con- 
 sidered apart from those produced by gravitation, will tend 
 to bring the concentrating flocculi to one or other side 
 of the common centre of gravity ; and parts of their 
 acquired velocities, as they approach the common centre 
 of gravity, will thus be resolved into motions round the 
 common centre of gravity. If a tangential force acting on 
 mass having some cohesion, must produce some rotation; 
 then some rotation must be produced by a flocculus pene- 
 trating obliquely a medium increasing in density towards its 
 centre. Clearly, however, their respective movements will 
 be deflected, not towards the side of the common centre of 
 gravity, but towards various sides. How then can there 
 result a general movement of them in the same direction ? 
 Very simply. Each flocculus, in describing its spiral course, 
 must give motion to the rarer medium through which it is 
 moving. Now, the probabilities are infinity to one against 
 all the respective motions thus impressed on this rarer me- 
 dium, balancing one another. And if they do not balance 
 one another, the inevitable result must be a rotation of 
 the whole mass of the rarer medium in one direction. But 
 preponderating momentum in one direction, having caused 
 rotation of the medium in that dhection, the rotating me- 
 dium must in its turn gradually arrest such flocculi as are 
 moving in opposition, and impress its own motion upon 
 them ; and thv;s there will ultimately be formed a rotating 
 medium with suspended flocculi partaking of its motion. 
 
 Before comparing these conclusions with the facts, let 
 us pursue the reasoning a little further, and observe the 
 subordinate actions, and the endless modifications which 
 will result from them. The respective flocculi must not 
 only be drawn towards their common centre of gravity, 
 
ESriTIAL MOTION OF NEBULOUS MATTER. 253 
 
 but also towards neighbouring flocculi. Hence the whole 
 assemblage of flocculi will break up into subordinate 
 groups : each groujD concentrating towards its local centre 
 of gravity, and in so doing acquiring a vortical movement>, 
 like that subsequently acquired by the whole nebula. 
 Now, according to circumstances, and chiefly according to 
 the size of the original nebulous mass, this process of local 
 aggregation will produce various results. If the whole 
 nebula is but small, the local groups of flocculi may be 
 drawn into the common centre of gravity before their con- 
 stituent masses have coalesced with each other. In a 
 larger nebula, these local aggregations may have concen- 
 trated into rotating spheroids of vapour, while yet they 
 have made but little approach towards the general focus of 
 the system. In a still larger nebula, where the local aggre- 
 gations are both greater and more remote from the com- 
 mon centre of gravity, they may have condensed into 
 masses of molten matter before the general distribution of 
 them has greatly altered. In short, as the conditions in 
 each case determine, the discrete masses produced may 
 vary indefinitely in number, in size, in density, in motion, 
 in distribution. 
 
 And now let us return to the visible characters 
 of the nebulae, as observed through modern telescopes. 
 Take first the description of those nebulae which, by the 
 hypothesis, must be in an early stage of evolution. 
 
 " Among tlie irregular jiedulce,^^ says Sir John Herscliel, " may 
 oe comprehended all which, to a want of complete, and in most 
 instances, even of partial resolva'bility by the power of the 20-feet 
 reflector, unite such a deviation from the circular or elliptic form, 
 or such a want of symmetry (with that form) as preclude their 
 being placed in Class 1, or that of regular nebulae. This second 
 class comprises many of the most remarkable and interesting ob- 
 jects in the heavens, as trell as tJie most extensile in respect of ths 
 area they occupy.'''' 
 
254 THE NEBULAE HIVOTIIESIS. 
 
 And, referring to this same order of objects, M. Arago 
 says : — " The forms of very large diffuse nebulte do 
 not ajopear to admit of definition ; they have no regular 
 outline." 
 
 Now this coexistence of largeness, irresolvability, 
 irregularity, and indefiniteness of outline, is extremely 
 significant. The fact that the largest nebulis are either 
 irresolvable or very difiicult to resolve, might have been 
 inferred a p)nori ,' seeing that irresolvability, implying that 
 the aggregation of precipitated matter has gone on to but 
 a small extent, will be found in nebula3 of Avide diffusion. 
 Again, the irregularity of these large, irresolvable nebulse, 
 might also have been expected ; seeing that their out- 
 lines, compared by Arago to " the fantastic figures which 
 characterize clouds carried away and tossed about by 
 violent and often contrary winds," are similarly charac- 
 teristic of a mass not yet gathered together by the 
 mutual attraction of its joarts. And once more, the fact 
 that these large, irregular, irresolvable nebulse have 
 indefinite outlines — outlines that fade oflf insensibly into 
 surrounding darkness — is one of like meaning. 
 
 Speaking generally (and of course difierences of dis- 
 tance negative anything beyond an average statement), the 
 spiral nebuloe are smaller than the irregular nebulce, and 
 more resolvable ; at the same time that they are not so 
 small as the regular nebulte, and not so resolvable. This is 
 as, according to the hypothesis, it should be. The degree of 
 condensation causing spiral movement, is a degree of con- 
 densation also implying masses of flocculi that are larger, 
 and therefore more visible, than those existing in an earliei 
 Btage. Moreover, the forms of these spiral nebulte are 
 quite in harmony with the explanation given. The curves 
 of luminous matter which they exhibit, are oiot such as 
 would be described by more or less discrete masses start- 
 in<^ from a state of rest, and moving through a resisting 
 
STKUCTUEE OF SPIRAL NEBUL.^. 255 
 
 medium to a common centre of gravity ; but tbey are such 
 as would be described by masses having their movements 
 modified by the rotation of the medium. 
 
 In the centre of a spiral nebula is seen a mass both 
 more luminous and more resolvable than the rest. As- 
 sume that, in process of time, all the spiral streaks of 
 luminous matter which converge to this centre are drawn 
 into it, as they must be ; assume further, that the flocculi 
 or other discrete bodies constituting these luminous streaks 
 aggregate into larger masses at the same time that they 
 approach the central group, and that the masses forming 
 this central group also aggregate into larger masses (both 
 which are necessary assumptions) ; and there will finally 
 result a more or less globular group of such larger masses, 
 which will be resolvable with comj)arative ease. And, as 
 the coalescence and concentration go on, the constituent 
 masses will gradually become fewer, larger, brighter, and 
 more densely collected around the common centre of gravi- 
 ty. See now how comj^letely this inference agrees with 
 observation. " The circular form is that which most com- 
 monly characterizes resolvable nebula3," writes Arago. 
 *'• Resolvable nebulre," says Sir John Herschel, '• are almost 
 ■universally round or oval." Moreover, the centre of each 
 group habitually displays a closer clustering of the consti- 
 tuent masses than elsewhere ; and it is shown that, under 
 ihelaw of gravitation, which we know extends to the stars, 
 this distribution is not one of equilibrium, but implies pro- 
 gressing concentration. "While, just as we inferred that, 
 according to circumstances, the extent to which aggrega- 
 tion has been carried must vary ; so we find that, in fact, 
 there are regular nebulas of all degrees of resolvability, 
 from those consisting of innumerable minute discrete 
 masses, to those in which there are a few large bodies 
 worthy to be called stars. 
 
 On the one hand, then, we see that the notion, of 
 
256 THE NEBULAR nTPOTIIESIS. 
 
 late years unciitically received, that the nebulae are ex- 
 tremely remote galaxies of stars like those which make up 
 our own Milky Way, is totally irreconcileable with the 
 facts — involves us in sundry absurdities. On the other 
 hand, we see that the hypothesis of nebular condensation 
 harmonizes with the most recent results of stellar astrono- 
 my : nay more— that it supplies us with an explanation 
 of various appearances which in its absence would be in- 
 comprehensible. 
 
 Descending now to the Solar System, let us consider 
 first a class of phenomena in some sort transitional — those 
 oiFered by comets. In comets we have now existing a 
 kind of matter like that out of which, according to the 
 Nebular Hypothesis, the Solar System was evolved. For 
 the explanation of them, we must hence go back to the time 
 when the substances forming the sun and planets were yet 
 unconcentrated. 
 
 When diffused matter, precipitated from a rarer 
 medium, is aggregating, there are certain to be here and 
 there produced small flocculi, which, either in consequence 
 of local currents or the conflicting attractions of adjacent 
 masses, remain detached ; as do, for instance, minute 
 shreds of cloud in a summer sky. In a concentrating 
 nebula these will, in the great majority of cases, eventually 
 coalesce wath the larger flocculi near to them. But it is 
 tolerably evident that some of the remotest of these small 
 flocculi, formed at the outermost parts of the nebula, will 
 not coalesce with the larger internal masses, but will slowly 
 follow without overtaking them. The relatively greater 
 resistance of the medium necessitates this. As a single 
 feather falling to the ground will be rapidly left behind by 
 a pillow-full of feathers ; so, in their progress to the com- 
 mon centre of gravity, will the outermost shreds of vapour 
 be left behind by the great masses of vapour internally 
 
CONDITIOXS OF COKCENlTwlTION. 257 
 
 situated. But we are not dependent merely on reasoning 
 for this belief. Observation shows us that the less con* 
 centrated external parts of nebulte, are left behind by the 
 more concentrated, internal parts. Examined through higli 
 powers, all nebulte, even when they have assumed regular 
 forms, are seen to be surrounded by luminous streaks, of 
 which the directions show that they are being drawn into 
 the general mass. Still higher powers bring into view still 
 smaller, fainter, and more widely-dispersed streaks. And 
 it cannot be doubted that the minute fragments which no 
 telescopic aid makes visible, are yet more numerous and 
 widely dispersed. Thus fai', then, inference and observa- 
 tion are at one. 
 
 Granting that the great majority of these outlying por- 
 tions of nebulous matter will be drawn into the central 
 mass long before it reaches a definite form, the presump- 
 tion is that some of the very small, far-removed portions 
 will not be so ; but that before they arrive near it, the cen- 
 tral mass will have contracted into a comparatively moder- 
 ate bulk. What now will be the characters of these late- 
 arriving portions ? 
 
 In the first place, they will have extremely eccentric 
 orbits. Left behind at a time when they were moving to- 
 wards the centre of gravity in slightly-deflected lines, and 
 therefore having but very small angular velocities, they 
 will approach the central mass in greatly elongated ellipses; 
 and rushing round it will go off again into space. That is, 
 they will behave just as we see comets do ; whose orbits 
 are usually so eccentric as to be indistinguishable from 
 parabolas. 
 
 In the second place, they will come fi-om all parts of 
 the heavens. Our supposition implies that they were left 
 oeliind at a time when the nebulous mass was of irregu- 
 lar shape, and had not acquired a definite rotary motion ; 
 and as the separation of them would not be from any 
 
258 THE NEBULAE IIYrOTIIESIS. 
 
 one surface of the nebulous mass more than another 
 the conclusion must be that they will come to the cen- 
 tral body from various directions in space. This, too, 
 is exactly what happens. Unlike planets, whose orbits 
 approximate to one plane, comets have orbits that show no 
 relation to each other ; but cut the plane of the ecliptic at 
 all angles. 
 
 In the third place, applying the reasoning already 
 used, these remotest flocculi of nebulous matter will, at 
 the outset, be deflected from their straight courses to the 
 common centre of gravity, not all on one side, but each 
 on such side as its form determines. And being left be- 
 hind before the rotation of the nebula is set up, they 
 will severally retain their different individual motions. 
 Hence, following the concentrating mass, they will event- 
 ually go round it on all sides ; and as often from right to 
 left as from left to right. Ilere again the inference per- 
 fectly corresponds vrith the facts. While all the planets 
 go round the sun from west to east, comets as often go 
 round the sun from east to west as from west to east. Out 
 of 210 comets known in 1S55, 104 are direct, and 106 are 
 retrograde. This equality is what the law of probabilities 
 would indicate. 
 
 Then, in the fourth jolace, the physical constitution of 
 comets completely accords W'ith the hypothesis. The abil- 
 ity of nebulous matter to concentrate into a concrete form, 
 depends on its mass. To bring its ultimate atoms into that 
 proximity requisite for chemical union — requisite, that is, 
 for the production of denser matter — their repulsion must 
 be overcome. The only force antagonistic to their rei^ul- 
 sion, is their mutual gravitation. That their mutual gravi- 
 tation may generate a pressure and temperature of suffi- 
 cient intensity, there must be an enormous accumulation of 
 them ; and even then the approximation can slowly go on 
 only as fast as the evolved heat escapes. But where the 
 
CONSTITUTION AND MOVEMENTS OF tJOMETS. 259 
 
 quantity of atoms is small, and therefore the force of mu- 
 tual gravitation small, there will be nothing to coerce the 
 atoms into union. Whence we infer that these detached 
 fragments of nebulous matter will continue in their origi- 
 nal state. We find that they do so. Comets consist of an 
 extremely rare medium, which, as shown by the descrip 
 tion already quoted from Sir John Herschel, has chnrac 
 ters like those we concluded would belong to partially- 
 condensed nebulous matter. 
 
 Yet another very significant fact is seen in the distribu- 
 tion of comets. Though they come from all parts of the 
 heavens, they by no means come in equal abundance from 
 all parts of the heavens ; but are far more numerous about 
 the poles of the ecliptic than about its plane. Speaking 
 generally, comets having orbit-planes that are highly in- 
 clined to the ecliptic, are comets having orbits of which the 
 major axes are highly inclined to the ecliptic — comets that 
 come from high latitudes. This is not a necessary connex- 
 ion ; for the planes of the orbits inight be highly inclined 
 to the ecliptic while the major axes were inclined to it very 
 little. But in the absence of any habitually-observed rela- 
 tion of this kind, it may safely be concluded that, on the 
 average^ highly-inclined cometary orbits are cometary or- 
 bits with highly -inclined major axes; and that thus, a pre- 
 dominance of cometary orbits cutting the plane of the 
 ecliptic at great angles, implies a predominance of comet- 
 ary orbits having major axes that cut the ecliptic at great 
 angles. Now the predominance of highly inclined com- 
 etary orbits, may be gathered from the following table, 
 compiled by M. Arago, to v/hich we have added a column 
 giving the results up to a date two years later. 
 
260 
 
 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 Inclinations. 
 
 Number of 
 Comets 
 in ISol. 
 
 Number of 
 Comets 
 ill 1S53. 
 
 Number of 
 Comets 
 in 1S55. 
 
 Deg. Deg. 
 
 From to 10 
 
 9 
 
 19 
 
 19 
 
 " 10 " 20 
 
 13 
 
 18 
 
 19 
 
 " 20 " 30 
 
 10 
 
 13 
 
 14 
 
 " 30 " 40 
 
 17 
 
 22 
 
 22 
 
 " 40 " 50 
 
 14 
 
 35 . 
 
 36 
 
 " 50 » 60 
 
 23 
 
 27 
 
 29 
 
 " 60 " 70 
 
 17 
 
 23 
 
 25 
 
 " YO " 80 
 
 19 
 
 26 
 
 27 
 
 " 80 " 90 
 
 15 
 
 1 18 
 
 19 
 
 Total .. 
 
 137 
 
 201 
 
 210 
 
 At first sight this table seems not to warrant our state- 
 ment. Assuming the alleged general relation between the 
 inclinations of cometary orbits, and the directions in space 
 from which the comets come, the table may be thought to 
 show that the frequency of comets increases as we progress 
 from the plane of the ecliptic up to 45°, and then decreases 
 up to 90°. But this apparent diminution arises from the 
 fact that the successive zones of space rajiidly diminish in 
 -their areas on approaching the poles. If we allow for 
 this, we shall find that the excess of comets continues to 
 increase up to the highest angles of inclination. In the 
 table below, which, for convenience, is arranged in inverted 
 order, we have taken as standards of comparison the area 
 of the zone round the pole, and the number of comets it 
 contains ; and having ascertained the areas of the other 
 zones, and the numbers of comets they should contain were 
 comets equally distributed, we have shown how great bft- 
 comes tlie deficiency in descending from the poles cf the 
 ecliptic to its plane. 
 
DISTEIBUTION OF COMETS. 
 
 261 
 
 Between 
 
 Area 
 of Zone. 
 
 Number of 
 Comets, if 
 
 equally 
 distributed. 
 
 Actual 
 
 Number of 
 
 Comets. 
 
 Deficiency. 
 
 Eelative 
 Abundance. 
 
 Deg. Dec. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Q't and 80 
 
 1 
 
 19 
 
 19 
 
 
 
 11-5 
 
 80 " 70 
 
 2-98 
 
 56-6 
 
 27 
 
 29-6 
 
 55 
 
 70 " 60 
 
 4-85 
 
 92 
 
 25 
 
 67 
 
 3-12 
 
 60 " 50 
 
 6-6 
 
 125 
 
 29 
 
 96 
 
 2-06 
 
 50 " 40 
 
 8-13 
 
 154 
 
 36 
 
 118 
 
 2-68 
 
 40 " 80 
 
 9-42 
 
 179 
 
 22 
 
 157 
 
 1-4 
 
 30 " 20 
 
 10-42 
 
 198 
 
 14 
 
 . 184 
 
 0-8 
 
 20 " 10 
 
 11-1 
 
 210 
 
 19 
 
 191 
 
 1-04 
 
 10 " 
 
 11-5 
 
 218 
 
 19 
 
 199 
 
 1 
 
 In strictness, the calculation should be made with refer- 
 ence, not to the plane of the ecliptic, but to the plane of 
 the sun's equator ; and this might or might not render the 
 progression more regular. Probably, too, the progression 
 would be made someM'hat different were the calculation 
 based, as it should be, not on the inclinations of orbit- 
 planes, but on the inclinations of major axes. But even as 
 it is, the result is sufficiently significant : since, though the 
 conclusion that comets are ll'o times more abundant about 
 the poles of the ecliptic than about its plane, can be but a 
 rough approximation to the truth, yet no correction of it is 
 likely I'cry much to change this strong contrast. 
 
 What, then, is the meaning of this fact ? It has sev- 
 eral meanings. It negatives the supposition, favoured by 
 Laplace among others, that comets are bodies that were 
 wandering in space, or have come from other systems ; for 
 the probabilities are infinity to one against the orbits of 
 such wandering bodies showing any definite relation to the 
 plane of the Solar System. For the like reason, it nega- 
 tives the hypothesis of Lagrange, otherwise objectionable, 
 that comets have resulted from planetary catastrophes 
 analogous to that wliich is supposed to have produced the 
 asteroids. It clearly shows that, instead of comets being 
 accidental members of the Solar System, they are 7iecessary 
 
262 THE NEBULAR HYrOTHESIS. 
 
 members of it — liave as distinct a structural relation to it 
 as the planets themselves. That comets are abundant 
 round the axis of the Solar System, and grow rarer as we 
 approach its plane, implies that the genesis of comets has 
 followed some law — a law in some way concerned with the 
 genesis of the Solar System. 
 
 If we ask for any so-called final cause of this arrange- 
 ment, none can be assigned : until a probable use for com- 
 ets has been shown, no reason can be given why they 
 should be thus distributed. But when we consider the 
 question as one of physical science, we see that comets are 
 antithetical to planets, not only in their great rarity, in 
 their motions as indifferently direct or retrograde, in their 
 eccentric orbits, and in the varied directions of those or- 
 bits ; but we see the antithesis further marked in this, that 
 while jDlanets have some I'elation to the plane of nebular 
 rotation, comets have some relation to the axis of nebular 
 rotation.* And without attempting to explain the nature 
 of this relation, the mere fact that such a relation exists, 
 indicates that comets have resulted from a process of evo- 
 lution — points to a past time when the matter now forming 
 the Solar System extended to those distant regions of space 
 which comets visit. 
 
 See, then, how differently this class of phenomena bears 
 on the antagonistic hypotheses. To the hypothesis com- 
 monly received, comets are stumbling-blocks : why there 
 should be hundreds (or probably thousands) of extremely 
 rare aeriform masses rushing to and fro round the sun, it 
 cannot say ; any more than it can explain their physical 
 constitutions, their various and eccentric movements, or 
 
 * It is alike remarkable and suggestive, that a parallel relation exists 
 between the distribution of nebulEe and the axis of our galaxy. Just as 
 comets are abundant around the poles of our Solar System, and rare in the 
 neighbourhood of its plane : so are nebulae abundant around the poles of 
 our sidereal system, and rare ii. the neighbourhood of its plane. 
 
IT EXPLAINS COMETAKY PHENOMENA. 263 
 
 tlieir Jlistribution. The hypothesis of evolution, oti the 
 other hand, not only allows of the general answer, that 
 they are minor results of the genetic process ; but also fur- 
 nishes us with something like explanations of their several 
 peculiarities. 
 
 And now, leaving these erratic bodies, let us turn to 
 the more familiar and important members of the Solar Sys- 
 tem. It was the remarkable harmony subsisting among 
 their movements, which, first made Laplace conceive that 
 the sun, planets, and satellites had resulted from a common 
 genetic process. As Sir William Herschel, by his observa- 
 tions on the nebulae, was led to the conclusion that stars re- 
 sulted, from the aggregation of diifused. matter ; so Laplace, 
 by his observations on the structure of the Solar System, 
 was led to the conclusion that only by the rotation of ag- 
 gregating matter were its peculiarities to be explained. In 
 his " Exposition du Syst^me du Monde," he enumerates as 
 the leading evidences of evolution : — 1. Tlie movements of 
 the planets in the same direction and almost in the same 
 plane ; 2, The movements of the satellites in the same di- 
 rection as those of the planets ; 3. The movement of rota- 
 tion of these various bodies and of the sun in the same direc- 
 tion as the orbitual motions, and in planes little different ; 
 4. The small eccentricity of the orbits of the planets and 
 satellites, as contrasted with the great eccentricity of the 
 cometary orbits. And the probability that these harmoni- 
 ous movements had a common cause, he calculates as two 
 hundred thousand billions to one. 
 
 Observe that this immense preponderance of probabil- 
 ity does not point to a common cause under the form ordi- 
 narily conceived — an Invisible Power working after the me- 
 thod of " a Great Artificer ; " but to an Invisible Power 
 working after the method of evolution. For though the 
 supporters of the common hypothesis may argue that it 
 13 
 
264 THE KEBULAE HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 was ne<iessary for the sake of stability that the planeta 
 should go round the sun in the same direction and nearly 
 in one plane, they cannot thus account for the direction of 
 the axial motions. The mechanical equilibrium would not 
 have been at all interfered with, had the sun been without 
 any rotatory movement ; or had he revolved on his axis iu 
 a direction opposite to that in which the planets go round 
 him ; or in a direction at right angles to the plane of their 
 orbits. With equal safety the motion of the Moon round 
 the Earth might have been the reverse of the Earth's mo- 
 tion round its axis ; or the motion of Jupiter's satellites 
 might similarly have been at variance with his axial motion • 
 or that of Saturn's satellites with his. As, however, none of 
 these alternatives have been followed, the uniformity must be 
 considered, in this case as in all others, evidence of sub- 
 ordination to some general law — -implies what we call natu- 
 ral causation, as distinguished from arbitrary arrangement. 
 
 Hence the hypothesis of evolution would be the only 
 probable one, even in the absence of any clue to the partic- 
 ular mode of evolution. But when we have, propounded 
 by a mathematician whose authority is second to none, a 
 definite theory of this evolution based on established me- 
 chanical laws, which accounts for these various peculiarities, 
 as well as for many minor ones, the conclusion that the So- 
 lar System teas evolved' becomes almost irresistible. 
 
 The general nature of Laplace's theory scarcely needs 
 stating. Books of popular astronomy have familiarized 
 most readers with his conceptions ; — namely, that the mat 
 ter now condensed into the Solar System, once formed a 
 vast rotating spheroid of extreme rarity extending beyond 
 tlie orbit of Neptune ; that as this spheroid contracted, its 
 rate of rotation necessarily increased ; that by augmenting 
 centrifugal force its equatorial zone was from time to time 
 prevented from following any further the concentrating 
 mass, and so remained behind as a revolving I'ing ; that 
 
Laplace's tiieoey of planetary evolution. 265 
 
 each of the revolving rings thus periodically detachecl, 
 eventually became rujDtured at its weakest point, and con- 
 tracting on itself, gradually aggregated into a rotating 
 mass ; that this, like the j^arent mass, increased in raj)idit j 
 of rotation as it decreased in size, and, Avhere the centrifu- 
 gal force was sufficient, similarly threw oif rings, which fi- 
 nally collapsed into rotating sj^heroids ; and that thus out of 
 these primary and secondary rings there arose planets and 
 their satellites, while from the central mass there resulted the 
 sun. Moreover, it is tolerably well known that this d 2)rr 
 ori reasoning harmonizes with the results of experiment. 
 Dr. Plateau has shown that when a mass of fluid is, as far 
 may be, jarotected from the action of external forces, it 
 will, if made to rotate with adequate velocity, form detach- 
 ed rings ; and that these rings will break up into spheroids 
 which turn on their axes in the same direction with the 
 central mass. Thus, given the original nebula, which, ac- 
 quiring a vortical motion in the way we have explained, 
 has at length concentrated into a vast spheroid of aeriform 
 matter moving round its axis — given this, and mechanical 
 principles explain the rest. The genesis of a solar system 
 displaying movements like those observed, maybe predicted ; 
 and the reasoning on which the prediction is based is coun- 
 tenanced by experiment.* 
 
 * It is true that, as expressed by him, these propositions of Laplace 
 are not all beyond dispute. An astronomer of the highest authority, who 
 has favoured me with some criticisms on this essay, alleges that instead of 
 a nebulous ring rupturing at one point, and collapsing into a single mass, 
 " all probability would be in favour of its breaking up into many masses." 
 This alternative result certainly seems to be more likely. But granting 
 that a nebulous ring would break up into many masses, it may still be con- 
 ierded that, since the chances are infinity to one against these being of 
 equal sizes and equidistant, they could not remain evenly distributed round 
 tlieir orbit : this annular chain of gaseous masses would break up into 
 groups of masses ; these groups would eventually aggregate into larger 
 groups ; and the final result wo' dd be the formation of a single mass. I 
 
266 THE NEBULAE, HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 But now let US inquire whether, besides these most ecu 
 spicnous peculiarities of the Solar System, sundry minor ones 
 are not similarly explicable. Take first the relation be 
 tween the planes of the planetary orbits and the plane of 
 the sun's equator. If, when the nebulous spheroid extend' 
 ed beyond the orbit of Xeptnne, all parts of it had been 
 revolving exactly in the same plane or rather in parallel 
 planes — if all its parts had had one axis; then the planes 
 of the successive rings "would have been coincident with 
 each other and with that of the sun's rotation. But it 
 needs only to go back to the earlier stages of concentration, 
 to see that there could exist no such com])lete uniformity 
 of motion. The flocculi, already described as precipitated 
 fi'om an irregular and widely-diffused nebula, and as start- 
 ing from all jDoints to their common centre of gravity, must 
 move not in one plane but in innumei'able planes, cutting 
 each other at all angles. 
 
 The gradual establishment of a vortical motion such as 
 we saw must eventually arise, and such as we at present 
 see indicated in the spiral nebulte, is the gradual approach 
 toward motion in one plane — the plane of greatest momen- 
 tum. But this plane can only slowly become decided. 
 Flocculi not moving in this plane, but entering into the 
 aggregation at various inclinations, will tend to ^^erform 
 their revolutions found its centre in their own planes ; and 
 only in course of time will their motions be partly destroy- 
 ed by conflicting ones, and partly resolved into the general 
 motion. Especially will the outermost portions of the ro- 
 tating mass retain for long time their more or less indepen- 
 dent directions ; seeing that neither by friction nor by the 
 central forces will they be so much restrained. Hence the 
 probabilities are, that the planes of the rings first detached 
 
 'aavc put the question to an astronomer scarcely second in autLorityto tha 
 one above referred to, and be agrees that this would probably be the pTO- 
 
AI^OMALT IN THE MOVEMENT OF SATELLITES. 267 
 
 will differ considerably from the average plane of the mass ; 
 while the planes of those detached latest will differ from it 
 less. Here, again, inference to a considerable extent agrees 
 with observation. Though the progression is irregular, yet 
 on the average the inclinations decrease on approaching the 
 sua. 
 
 Consider next the movements of the planets on their 
 axes. Laplace alleged as one among other evidences of 
 a common genetic cause, that the planets rotate in a direc- 
 tion the same as that in which they go round the sun, and 
 on axes approximately perpendicular to their orbits. Since 
 he wrote, an exception to this general rule has been discov- 
 ered in the case of Uranus, and another still more recently 
 in the case of JSTeptune — judging, at least, from the mo- 
 tions of their respective satellites. This anomaly has been 
 thought to throw considerable doubt on his speculation ; 
 and at first sight it does so. But a little reflection will, 
 we believe, show that the anomaly is by no means an insol- 
 uble one; and that Laplace simply went too far in putting 
 down as a certain result of nebular genesis, what is, in some 
 instances, only a probable result. The cause he pointed 
 out as determining the direction of rotation, is the greater 
 absolute velocity of the outer part of the detached ring. 
 But there are conditions under which this difference of ve- 
 locity may be relatively insignificant, even if it exists : and 
 others in which, though existing to a considerable extent, it 
 will not suffice to determine the direction of rotation. 
 
 Note, in the first place, that in virtue of their origin, 
 the different strata of a concentrating nebulous sjDheroid, 
 will be very unlikely to move with equal angular veloci- 
 ties : only by friction continued for an indefinite time will 
 their angular velocities be made uniform ; and especially 
 will the outermost strata, for reasons just now assigned, 
 maintain for the longest time their differences of move- 
 ment. Hence, it is possible that in the rings first detached 
 
268 THE NEBULAE nYPOTHESIS. 
 
 the outer rims may not have greater absolute velocities ; 
 and thus the resulting planets may have retrograde rota- 
 tions. Again, the sectional form of the ring is a circum- 
 stance of moment ; and this form must have differed more 
 or less in every case. To make this clear, some illustra- 
 tion will be necessary. Suppose we take an orange, and 
 assuming the marks of the stalk and the calyx to represent 
 the i:)oles, cut off round the line of the equator a strip of 
 peel. This strip of peel, if j)laced on the table with its 
 ends meeting, will make a ring shaped like the hoop of a 
 barrel — a ring whose thickness in the line of its diameter 
 is very small, but whose width in a direction perpendicular 
 to its diameter is considerable. Suppose, now, that in 
 place of an orange, which is a spheroid of very slight 
 oblateness, we take a spheroid of very great oblateness, 
 BhajDed somewhat like a lens of small convexity. If from 
 the edge or equator of this lens-shaped spheroid, a ring of 
 moderate size were cut off, it would be unhke the previous 
 ring in this resi^ect, that its greatest thickness would be in 
 the line of its diameter, and not in a line at right angles 
 to its diameter : it would be a ring shaped somewhat 
 like a quoit, only far more slender. That is to say, ac- 
 cording to the oblateness of a rotating spheroid, the de- 
 tached ring may be either a hoop shaped ring or a quoit- 
 shaped ring. 
 
 One further fact must be noted. In a much-flattened 
 or lens-shaped spheroid, the form of the ring will vary with 
 its bulk, A very slender ring, taking off just the equatorial 
 surface, will be hoop-shaped ; while a tolerably massive 
 ring, trenching appreciably on the diameter of the spheroid, 
 will be quoit-shaped. Thus, then, according to the oblate- 
 ness of the spheroid and the bulkiness of the detached ring, 
 will the greatest thickness of that ring be in the direction 
 of its plane, or in a direction perpendicular to its plane. 
 But this circumstance must greatly affect the rotation of 
 
FOKMATION OF NEBULOUS KINGS. 269 
 
 the resulting planet. In a decidedly hoop-shaped nebuloua 
 ring, the differences of velocity between the inner and out- 
 er surfaces will be very small ; and such a ring, aggrega- 
 ting into a mass whose greatest diameter is at right angles 
 to the plane of the orbit, will almost certainly give to this 
 mass a predominant tendency to rotate in a direction at 
 right angles to the plane of the orbit. Where the ring is 
 but little hoop-shaped, and the difference of the inner and 
 outer velocities also greater, as it must be, the opposing 
 tendencies — one to produce rotation in the plane of the 
 orbit, and the other rotation perpendicular to it — will 
 both be influential ; and an intermediate plane of rota- 
 tion will be taken up. WhUe, if the nebulous ring is de- 
 cidedly quoit-shaped, and therefore aggregates into a mass 
 whose greatest dimension lies in the plane of the orbit, 
 both tendencies will conspire to produce rotation in that 
 plane. 
 
 On referring to the facts, we find them, as far as can be 
 judged, in harmony with this view. Considering the enor- 
 mous circumference of Uranus's orbit, and his compara- 
 tively small mass, we may conclude that the ring from 
 which he resulted was a comparatively slender, and there- 
 fore a hoop-shaj)ed one : especially if the nebulous mass 
 was at that time less oblate than afterwards, which it must 
 have been. Hence, a plane of rotation nearly perpendicu- 
 lar to his orbit, and a direction of rotation having no refer- 
 ence to his orbitual movement. Saturn has a mass seven 
 times as great, and an orbit of less than half the diameter ; 
 whence it follows that his genetic ring, having less than 
 half the circumference, and less than half the vertical thick- 
 ness (the spheroid being then certainly as oblate, and iu 
 deed more oblate), must have had considerably greater 
 width — must have been less hoop-shaped, and more ap- 
 proaching to the quoit-shaped : notwithstanding difference 
 of density, it must have been at least two or three times aa 
 
-J70 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS 
 
 broad in the line of its plane. Consequently, Saturn has a 
 rotatory movement in the same direction as tlie movement 
 of translation, and in a plane diifering from it by thirty 
 degrees only. 
 
 In the case of Jupiter, again, whose mass is three and a 
 half times that of Saturn, and whose orbit is little mere 
 than half the size, the genetic ring must, for the like rea- 
 sons, have been still broader — decidedly quoit-shaped, we 
 may say ; and there hence resulted a planet whose plane ol 
 rotation differs from that of his orbit by scarcely more than 
 three degrees. Once more, considering the compai'ative 
 insignificance of Mars, Earth, Yenus, and Mercury, it fol- 
 lows that the diminishing circumferences of the rings not 
 sufficing to account for the smallness of the resulting 
 masses, the rings must have been slender ones — must have 
 again aj^proximated to the hoop-shaped ; and thus it hap- 
 pens that the planes of rotation again diverge more or 
 less widely from those of the orbits. Taking into accomit 
 the increasing oblateness of the original sj^heroid in the 
 successive stages of its concentration, and the different 
 proportions of the detached rings, it seems to us that the 
 res]3ective rotatory motions are not at variance with the 
 hypothesis. 
 
 Not only the directions, but also the velocities of rota- 
 tion are thus explicable. It might naturally be supposed 
 that the large j^lanets would revolve on their axes more 
 slowly than the small ones : our terrestrial experiences in- 
 cline us to expect this. It is a corollary from the Nebular 
 Hypothesis, however, more especially when interpreted as 
 above, that while large planets will rotate rapidly, small 
 ones will rotate slowly ; and we find that in fact they do 
 so. Other things equal, a concentrating nebulous mass 
 that is diffused through a Avide space, and whose outer parts 
 have, therefore, to travel from great distances to the con\- 
 mon centre of gravity, will acquire a high axial velocity i\\ 
 
VELOCITIES OF PLANETAET KOTATION. 271 
 
 course of its aggregation : and conversely "U'ith a small 
 mass. Still more marked "will be the difference where the 
 form of the genetic ring conspires to increase the rate of 
 rotation. Other things equal, a genetic ring that is 
 broadest in the direction of its plane will produce a mass 
 rotating faster than one that is broadest at right angle 
 to its plane • and if the ring is absolutely as well as rela- 
 tively broad, the rotation will be very rapid. These con- 
 ditions were, as we saw, fulfilled in the case of Jupiter ; 
 and Jupiter goes round his axis in less than ten hours. 
 Saturn, in whose case, as above explained, the conditions 
 were less favourable to rapid rotation, takes ten hours and 
 a half. While Mars, Earth, Venus, and Mercury, whose 
 rings must have been slender, take more than double the 
 time : the smallest taking the longest. 
 
 From the planets, let us now pass to the satellites. 
 Here, beyond the conspicuous facts commonly adverted to, 
 that they go round their primaries in the same directions 
 that these turn on their axes, in planes diverging but 
 little from their equators, and in orbits nearly circular, 
 there are several significant traits which must not be passed 
 over. 
 
 One of them is, that each set of satellites repeats in 
 miniature the relations of the planets to the sun, both in the 
 respects just named, and in the order of the sizes. On pro- 
 gressing from the outside of the Solar System to its centre, 
 we see that there are four large external planets, and four 
 uiternal ones which are comparatively small. A like con- 
 trast holds between the outer and inner satellites in every 
 case. Among the four satellites of Jupiter, the j^arallel is 
 maintained as well as the comparative smallness of the num- 
 ber allows : the two outer ones are the largest, and the 
 two inner ones the smallest. According to the most recent 
 observations made by Mr. Lassell, the like is true of the 
 four satellites of Uianus. In the case of Saturn, who has 
 
272 THE NEBULAPv HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 eight secondary planets revolving round him, the like- 
 ness is still more close in arrangement as in number : 
 the three outer satellites are large, the inner ones small ; 
 and the contrasts of size are here much greater between 
 the largest, which is nearly as big as Mars, and the 
 smallest, which is with difficulty discovered even by the 
 best telescopes. 
 
 Moreover, the analogy does not end here. Just as with 
 the planets, there is at iirst a general increase of size on 
 travelling inwards from Neptune and Uranus, which do 
 not differ very widely, to Saturn, which is much larger, 
 and to Jupiter, which is the largest ; so of the eight satel- 
 lites of Saturn, the largest is not the outermost, but the 
 outermost save two ; so of Jupiter's four secondaries, the 
 largest is the most remote but one. 'Now these analogies 
 are inexplicable by the theory of final causes. For pur- 
 poses of lighting, if this be the presumed object of these 
 attendant bodies, it would have been far better had the 
 larger been the nearer : at present, their remoteness i-en- 
 ders them of less service than the smallest. To the Nebu- 
 lar Hypothesis, however, these analogies give further sup- 
 port. They show the action of a common physical cause. 
 They imply a law of genesis, holding in the secondary sys- 
 tems as in the primary system. 
 
 Still more instructive shall we find the distribution of 
 the satellites — their absence in some instances, and their 
 presence in other instances, in smaller or greater numbers- 
 The argument from design fails to account for this distri- 
 bution. Supposing it be granted that planets nearer the 
 Sun than ourselves, have no need of moons (though, con- 
 sidering that their nights are as dark, and, relatively to 
 their brilliant days, even darker than ours, the need seems 
 quite as great) — supposing this to be granted ; what is to 
 be said of Mars, which, placed half as far again from the 
 Sun as we are, has yet no moon ? Or again, how are we 
 
DISTKIBUTION OF SATELLITES. 273 
 
 lo explain the fact that Uranus has but half as many moons 
 as Saturn, though he is at double the distance ? While, 
 however, the current presumption is untenable, the Nebu- 
 lar Hypothesis furnishes us with an explanation. It actually 
 enables us to predict, by a not very complex calculation, 
 where satelUtes will be abundant and where they will be 
 absent. The reasoning is as follows. 
 
 In a rotating nebulous spheroid that is concenti'ating 
 into a planet, there are at work two antagonist mechanical 
 tendencies — the centripetal and the centrifugal. "While 
 the force of gravitation draws all the atoms of the spheroid 
 together, their tangential momentum is resolvable into two 
 parts, of which one resists gravitation. The ratio which 
 this centrifugal force bears to gravitation, varies, other 
 things equal, as the square of the velocity. Hence, the 
 aggregation of a rotating nebulous spheroid will be more 
 or less strongly opposed by this outward impetus of its 
 particles, according as its rate of rotation is high or low : 
 the opposition, in equal spheroids, being four times as great 
 when the rotation is twice as rapid ; nine times as great 
 when it is three times as rapid ; and so on. ISTow, the de- 
 tachment of a ring from a planet-forming body of nebulous 
 matter, implies that at its equatorial zone the centrifugal 
 force produced by concentration has become so great as to 
 balance gravity. Whence it is tolerably obvious that the 
 detachment of rings will be most frequent from those 
 masses in which the centrifugal tendency bears the gi-eatest 
 ratio to the gravitative tendency. Though it is not possi- 
 ble to calculate what proportions these two tendencies had 
 to each other in the genetic spheroid Avhich produced each 
 planet ; it is possible to calculate where each was the great- 
 est and where the least. While it is true that the ratio 
 which centrifugal force now bears to gravity at the equa- 
 tor of each planet, diifers widely from that which it bore 
 luring the earlier stages of concentration ; and whUe it is 
 
274 THE NEBULAR HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 true that tins change in the ratio, depending on the degree 
 
 of contraction each planet has undergone, has in no two 
 
 cases been tlie same ; yet "\ve may fairly conclude that 
 
 where the ratio is still the greatest, it has been the greatest 
 
 from the beginning. The satellite-forming tendency which 
 
 each planet had, will be approximately indicated by the 
 
 proportion now existing in it between the aggregating 
 
 power, and the power that has opposed aggregation. On 
 
 making the requisite calculations, a remarkable harmony 
 
 with this inference comes out. The following table shows 
 
 what fraction the centrifugal force is of the centripetal force 
 
 in every case ; and the relation which that fraction bearp 
 
 to the number of satellites. 
 
 Mercury. Venus. Earth. Mars. Jupiter. Saturu. Uranus. 
 Ill 1 111 
 
 862 282 289 326 14 6-2 9 
 
 1 4 8 -i (or 6 ac- 
 
 Satellite. Satellites. Satellites cording to 
 
 and three Herschel.) 
 rings. 
 
 Thus, taking as our standard of comparison the Earth 
 «rith its one moon, we see that Mercury and Mars, in which 
 the centrifugal force is relatively less, have no moons. Ju- 
 piter, in which it is far greater, has four moons. Uranus, 
 in which it is greater still, has certainly four, and probably 
 more than four. Saturn, in which it is the greatest, being 
 nearly one-sixth of gravity, has, including his rings, eleven 
 attendants. The only instance in which there is imperfect 
 conformity with observation is that of Venus. Here it ap- 
 pears that the centrifugal force is relatively a very little 
 [greater than in the Earth ; and according to the hypothesis, 
 Venus ought, therefore, to have a satellite. Of this seem- 
 ing anomaly there are two explanations. Xot a few astron- 
 omers have asserted that Venus has a satellite. Cassini, 
 Short, Montaigne of Limoges, Roedkier, and Montbarron, 
 professed to have seen it ; and Lambert calculated its ele- 
 
MOTIONS OF THE SATELLITES. 275 
 
 meuts. Granting, however, that they were mistaken, then 
 is still the fact that the diameter of Venus is variously esti- 
 mated ; and that a very small change in the data would 
 make the fraction less instead of greater than that of the 
 Earth. But admitting the discrepancy, we think that this 
 correspondence, even as it now stands, is one of the strong- 
 est confirmations of the Nebular Hypothesis.* 
 
 Certain more special peculiarities of the satellites must 
 be mentioned as suggestive. One of them is the relation 
 between the period of revolution and that of rotation. 
 ISTo discoverable purpose is served by making the Moon go 
 round its axis in the same time that it goes round the 
 Earth : for our convenience, a more rapid axial motion 
 would have been equally good ; and for any possible inhab- 
 itants of the Moon, much better. Against the alternative 
 supposition, that the equality occurred by accident, the 
 probabilities are, as Laplace says, infinity to one. But to 
 this arrangement, which is explicable neither as the result 
 of design nor of chance, the Nebular Hyi^othesis furnishes 
 a clue. In his " Exposition du Systeme du Monde," La- 
 place shows, by reasoning too detailed to be here repeated, 
 that under the circumstances such a relation of movements 
 would be likely to establish itself 
 
 Among Jupiter's satellites, which severally display these 
 same synchronous movements, there also exists a still more 
 remarkable relation. " If the mean angular velocity of the 
 first satellite be added to twice that of the third, the sum 
 
 * Since this essay was published, the data of the above calculations 
 have been changed by the discovery that the Sun's distance is three mil- 
 lions of miles less than was supposed. Hence results a diminution in his 
 estimated mass, and in the masses of the planets (except the Earth and 
 Moon). No revised estimate of the masses having yet been published, the 
 table is re-printed in its original form. The diminution of the masses to 
 the alleged extent of about one-tenth, docs not essentially alter the rela 
 tions above pointed out. 
 
276 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 will be equal to three times that of the second ; " and 
 " from, this it results that the situations of any two of them 
 being given, that of the third can be found." N"ow here, aa 
 before, no conceivable advantage results. Neither in thia 
 case can the connexion have been accidental : the probabil 
 ities are infinity to one to the contrary. But again, accord 
 ing to Laplace, the Nebular Hypothesis supplies a solution. 
 Are not these significant facts ? 
 
 Most significant fact of all, however, is that presented 
 by the rings of Saturn. As Laplace remarks, they are, as 
 it were, still extant witnesses of the genetic process he 
 propounded. Here we have, continuing permanently, 
 forms of matter Hke those through which each jjlanet and 
 satellite once passed ; and their movements are just what, 
 in conformity with the hypothesis, they should be. " La 
 duree de la rotation d'une planete doit done etre, d'apres 
 cette hypoth^se, plus j^etite que la duree de la revolution 
 du corps le plus voisin qui circule autour d'elle," says La- 
 place.* And he then points out that the time of Saturn's 
 rotation is to that of his rings as 427 to 438 — an amount 
 of difference such as was to be expected. 
 
 But besides the existence of these rings, and their 
 movements in the required manner, there is a highly sug- 
 gestive circumstance which Laplace has not remarked — 
 namely, the place of their occurrence. If the Solar Sys 
 tem was produced after the manner popularly supposed, 
 then there is no reason why the rings of Saturn should not 
 have encircled him at a comparatively great distance. Or, 
 mstead of being given to Saturn, who in their absence 
 would still have had eight satellites, such rings might have 
 been given to Mars, by way of compensation for a moon. 
 Or they might have been given to Uranus, Avho, for pur- 
 poses of illumination, has far greater need of them. Ou 
 the common hypothesis, we repeat, no reason can be as- 
 
 * " llecanique Celeste," p. 346, 
 
EXPLANATION OF SATUEn's EING8. 27'i 
 
 signed for their existence in the place where we find them. 
 But on the hypothesis of evohition, the arrangement, so far 
 from offering a difficulty, offers another confirmation. 
 These rings are found where alone they could have been 
 produced — close to the body of a planet whose centrifu- 
 gal force bears a great proportion to his gravitative force. 
 That permanent rings should exist at any great distance 
 from a planet's body, is, on the Nebular Hypothesis, mani- 
 festly impossible. Rings detached early in the process of 
 concentration, and therefore consisting of gaseous matter 
 having extremely little powder of cohesion, can have no 
 ability to resist the disrupting forces due to imperfect bal- 
 ance ; and must, therefore, collapse into satellites. A liquid 
 ring is the only one admitting of permanence. But a liquid 
 ring can be produced only when the aggregation is ap- 
 proaching its extreme — only when gaseous matter is pass- 
 ing into liquid, and the mass is about to assume the plane- 
 tary form. And even then it cannot be produced save un- 
 der special conditions. Gaining a rapidly-increasing pre- 
 ponderance, as the gravitative force does during the closing 
 stages of concentration, the centrifugal force cannot in or- 
 dinary cases cause the detachment of rings wdien the mass 
 has become dense. Only where the centrifugal force has 
 all along been very great, and remains powerful to the last, 
 as in Saturn, can liquid rings be formed. Thus the Nebu- 
 lar Hypothesis shows us why such appendages surround 
 Saturn, but exist nowhere else. 
 
 And then, let us not forget the fact, discovered within 
 these few years, that Saturn possesses a nebulous ring, 
 through which his body is seen as through a thick veil. In 
 a position where alone such a thing seems preservable — 
 suspended, as it were, betw^een the denser rings and the 
 planet — there still continues one of these annular masses of 
 diffused matter from which satellites and planets are bo 
 Ueved to have originated. 
 
2Y8 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 We find, theij, that besides those most conspicuous pe- 
 culiarities of the Solar System, which first suggested the 
 theory of its evolution, there are many minor ones point- 
 ing in the same direction. Were there no other evidence, 
 these mechanical arrangements vrould, considered in their 
 totality, go far to establish the Nebular Hypothesis. 
 
 From the mechanical arrangements of the Solar Sys- 
 tem, turn we now to its physical characters ; and, first, let 
 us consider the inferences deducible from relative specific 
 gravities. 
 
 The fact that, speaking generally, the denser planets are 
 the nearer to the Sun, is by some considered as adding 
 another to the many indications of nebular origin. Legiti- 
 mately assuming that the outermost parts of a rotating 
 nebulous spheroid, in its earlier stages of concentration, 
 will be comparatively rare ; and that the increasing density 
 which the whole mass acquires as it contracts, must hold 
 of the outermost parts as well as the rest ; it is argued 
 that the rings successively detached will be more and more 
 dense, and will form planets of higher and higher siDccific 
 gravities. But passing over other objections, this explana- 
 tion is quite inadequate to account for the facts. Using 
 the Earth as a standard of comparison, the relative densi- 
 ties run thus : — 
 
 NepUme. Uranus. Saturn. Jupiter. Mars. Earth. Venus. Mercury. Sun. 
 0-14 0-24 O-l-i 0-24 0-95 100 0-92 1-12 0-25 
 
 Two seemingly insurmountable objections are presented 
 by this series. The first is, that the progression is but a 
 broken one. Neptune is as dense as Saturn, which, by the 
 hypothesis, it ought not to be. Uranus is as dense as Ju- 
 piter, which it ought not to be. Uranus is denser than 
 Saturn, and the Earth is denser than Venus — facts which 
 not only give no countenance to, but directly contradict, 
 the alleged explanation. The second objection, still mora 
 
DENSITIES OF THE PLAXETS. 279 
 
 serious, is the low specific gravity of the Sun. If when the 
 matter of the Suu filled the orbit of Mercury, its state of 
 aggregation was such that the detached ring formed a planet 
 having a specific gravity equal to that of iron ; then the Sun 
 itself, now that it has concentrated, should have a specific 
 gravity greater than that of iron ; Avhereas its specific 
 gravity is not much above that of water. Some other inter- 
 pretation must therefore be sought. 
 
 Differences in the specific gravities of the members of our 
 Solar System have several possible causes ; which may act 
 singly or in co-operation. 1. The one above supposed — 
 difiereuces among the substances composing them, in respect 
 of their natures. 3. Difi"erences among the quantities of sub- 
 stance : mutual gravitation of parts in large masses, produc- 
 ing, under conditions otherwise alike, greater density than 
 in small masses. 3. Differences among internal structures, 
 as dependent on the stage of concentration reached ; which 
 differences will be determined primarily by bulk (small 
 bodies cooling faster than large ones), and, secondarily, 
 by the ratio of centrifugal force to gravity (centrifugal force 
 impeding concentration). A glance at the foregoing list, 
 showing an immense contrast between the low specific 
 gravities of the great planets and the high specific gravities 
 of the small ones, raises the suspicion that the last cause of 
 difference is the chief cause. In advancing from the gaseous 
 state to the molten state, there have to be passed through 
 all intermediate states — states in which the gaseous and 
 liquid matters, mingled in some manner or other, bear con- 
 tinually changing ratios to one another. Beginning with an 
 envelope of precipitated cloud from which drops of metallic 
 rain fall inwards; going through stages in which this 
 metallic rain, getting ever thicker, fills the interior ; coming 
 to a stage at which a molten nucleus begins to be formed; 
 there has to be reached the other extreme, in which all the 
 condensible matter is aggregated into a molten spheroid. 
 
280 THE NEBUXAP. HyTOTHESIS. 
 
 Clearly this transition will be gone through by a planet like 
 the Earth, in a much shorter period than by such vast 
 planets as Jupiter and Saturn ; in which, also, the centri- 
 fugal force is great. Hence, it is inferable from the Nebular 
 Hypothesis that, other things equal, the small celestial bod- 
 ies will have reached late stages of concentration and high 
 specific gravities, at a time when the large celestial bodies 
 are in early stages of concentration and have low specific 
 gravities. 
 
 In considering the sjoecific gravities of the heavenly 
 bodies, we have been obliged to speak of the heat evolved 
 by them. But we have yet to point out the fact that in 
 their present conditions with respect to temperature, we 
 find additional materials for Ijuilding up our argument ; and 
 these too of the most substantial character. 
 
 Heat must inevitably be generated by the aggregation of 
 diffused matter into a concrete form ; and throughout our 
 reasonings we have assumed that such generation of heat 
 has been an accompaniment of nebular condensation. If, 
 then, the Nebular Hypothesis be true, we ought to find in 
 all the heavenly bodies, either present high temperatures or 
 marks of past high temperatures. 
 
 As far as observation can reach, the facts prove to be 
 what theory requires. Various evidences conspire to show 
 that, below a certain depth, the Earth is still molten. And 
 that it was once wholly molten, is implied by the circuni'- 
 stance that the rate at which the temperature increases on 
 descending below its surface, is such as would be found in 
 a mass that had been cooling for an indefinite period. The 
 Moon, too, shows us, by its corrugations and its conspicu* 
 ous volcanoes, that in it there has been a process of refrig- 
 eration and contraction, like that which had gone on in the 
 Earth. And in Venus, the existence of mountains simi- 
 larly indicates the shrinking of a solidifying crust, or an 
 igneous reaction of the interior upon it, or both. 
 
MOLTEN INTERIOR OF THE EARTH. 281 
 
 Ou the common theory of creation, these phenomena 
 are inexplicable. To what end the Earth should once have 
 existed iu a molten state, incapable of supporting life, it 
 cannot say. To satisfy this supposition, the Earth should 
 have been originally created in a state fit for the assumed 
 purposes of creation ; and similarly with the other planets 
 While, therefore, to the ISTebular Hypothesis the evidence 
 of original incandescence and still continued internal heat, 
 furnish strong confirmation, they are, to the antagonist hy- 
 pothesis, insurmountable difliculties. 
 
 But the argument from temperature does not end here. 
 There remains to be noticed a more conspicuous and still 
 more significant fact. If the Solar System was formed by 
 the concentration of diflfased matter, which evolved heat 
 while gravitating into its present dense form ; then there 
 are certain obvious corollaries respecting the relative tem- 
 peratures of the resulting bodies. Other things equal, the 
 latest -formed mass will be the latest in cooHng — will, for au 
 almost infinite time, possess a greater heat than the earlier- 
 formed ones. Other things equal, the largest mass will, be- 
 cause of its superior aggregative force, become hotter thc^a 
 the others, and radiate more intensely. Other things 
 equal, the largest mass, notwithstanding the higher tempe- 
 rature it reaches, will, in consequence of its relatively small 
 surface, be the slowest in losing its evolved heat. And 
 hence, if there is one mass which was not only formed after 
 the rest, but exceeds them enormously in size, it follows 
 that this one will reach an intensity of incandescence much 
 beyond that reached by the rest ; and will continue in a 
 state of intense incandescence long after the rest have 
 cooled. 
 
 Such a mass we Iwve in the Sun. It is a corollary from 
 the Nebular Hypothesis, that the matter forming the Sun 
 assumed its present concrete form, at a period much more 
 recent than that at which the planets became definite bo- 
 
282 THE NEBULAE HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 dies. The quantity of matter contained in tlie Sun is nearly 
 five million times that contained in the smallest planet, and 
 above a thousand times that contained in the largest. And 
 while, from the enormous gravitative force of the atoms, 
 the evolution of heat has been intense, the facilities of ra- 
 diation have been relatively small. Hence the still-contin- 
 ued high temperature. Just that condition of the central 
 body which is a necessary inference from the Nebular Hy- 
 pothesis, we find actually existing in the Sun. 
 
 It may be w^ell to consider a little more closely, what is 
 the probable condition of the Sun's surface. Round the 
 globe of incandescent molten substances, thus conceived to 
 form the visible body of the Sun, there is known to exist a 
 voluminous atmosphere : the inferior brilliancy of the Sun's 
 border, and the appearances during a total eclipse, alike 
 show this.* What now must be the constitution of this at- 
 mosphere ? At a temperature aj)proaching a thousand 
 times that of molten iron, which is the calculated tempera- 
 ture of the solar surface, very many, if not all, of the sub- 
 stances we know as solid, would become gaseous ; and 
 though the Sun's enormous attractive force must be a pow- 
 erful check on this tendency to assume the form of vapour, 
 yet it cannot be questioned that if the body of the Sun 
 consists of molten substances, some of them must be con- 
 stantly undergoing evaporation. That the dense gases 
 thus continually being generated will form the entire mass of 
 the solar atmosphere, is not probable. If anything is to be 
 inferred, either from the Nebular Hypothesis, or from tho 
 analogies supplied by the planets, it must be concluded 
 ihat the outermost part of the solar atmosphere consists of 
 what are called permanent gases — gases that are not con- 
 densible into fluid even at low temperatures. If we con- 
 sider what must have been the state of things here, when 
 tlie surface of the Earth was molten, we shall see that 
 
 * See Herschel's "Outlinos of Astronomy." 
 
KEVELATIONS OF SPECTRUM-ANA lA'SIS. 283 
 
 rouud the still molten surface of the Sun, there probably 
 exists a stratum of dense aeriform matter, made up of sub- 
 limed metals and metallic compounds, and above this a 
 stratum of comparatively rare medium analogous to air. 
 What now will happen with these two strata ? Did they 
 both consist of permanent gases, they could not remain 
 separate : according to a well-known law, they would 
 eventually form a homogeneous mixture. But this will by 
 no means happen when the lower stratum consists of mat- 
 ters that are gaseous only at excessively high temperatures. 
 Given off from a molten surface, ascending, expanding, and 
 cooling, these will presently reach a limit of elevation 
 above which they cannot exist as vapour, but must con- 
 dense and precipitate. Meanwhile the up-per stratum, ha- 
 bitually charged with its quantum of these denser matters, 
 as our air with its quantum of water, and ready to deposit 
 them on any depression of temperature, must be habitually 
 u.nable to take up any more of the lower stratum ; and 
 therefore this lower stratum will remain quite distinct from 
 it. 
 
 Since the foregoing paragraph was originally published, 
 in 1858, the proposition it enunciates as a corollary from 
 the Nebular Hypothesis, has been in great part verified. 
 The marvellous disclosures made by spectrum-analysis, 
 have proved beyond the possibility of doubt, that the solar 
 atmosphere contains, in a gaseous state, the metals, iron, 
 calcium, magnesium, sodium, chromium, and nickel, along 
 with small quantities of barium, copper, and zinc. That 
 there exist in the solar atmosphere other metals like those 
 which we have on the Earth, is probable ; and that it con- 
 tains elements which are unknown to us, is very possible. 
 
 Be this as it may, however, the proposition that the 
 Sun's atmosphere consists largely of metallic vapours, must 
 take rank as an established truth ; and that the incandes- 
 cent body of the Sun consists of molten metals, follows al 
 
284 THE NEBULAH HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 most of necessity. That an djviorl Liference which prob- 
 ably seemed to many readers wildly speculative, should be 
 thus conclusively justified by observations, made without 
 reference to any theory, is a striking fact ; and it gives yet 
 further support to the hyjDothesis from which this a 2yi'iori 
 conclusion was drawn. It may be w^ell to add that Kirch 
 hoff, to whom we owe this discovery respecting the consti- 
 tution of the solar atmosphere, himself remarks in his me- 
 moir of 1861, that the facts disclosed are in harmony with 
 the Nebular Hypothesis. 
 
 And here let us not omit to note also, the significant 
 bearing which KirchhofPs results have on the doctrine con- 
 tended for in a foregoing section. Leaving out the barium, 
 copper, and zinc, of which the quantities are inferred to be 
 small, the metals existing as vapours in the Sun's atmo- 
 sphere, and by consequence as molten in his incandescent 
 body, have an average specific gravity of 4'25. But the 
 average specific gravity of the Sun is about 1. How is 
 this discrepancy to be explained ? To say that the Sun 
 consists almost wholly of the three lighter metals named, 
 Tvould be quite unwarranted by the evidence : the results 
 of S23ectrum-analysis would just as much warrant the asser- 
 tion that the Sun consists almost wholly of the three heav- 
 ier. Three metals (two of them heavy) having been al- 
 ready left out of the estimate because their quantities ap- 
 pear to be small, the only legitimate assumption on which 
 to base an estimate of specific gravity, is that the rest are 
 present in something ^ike equal amounts. Is it then that 
 the lighter metals exist in larger proportions in the molten 
 mass, though not in the atmosphere ? This is very un- 
 likely : the known habitudes of matter rather imply that 
 the reverse is the case. Is it then that under the condi- 
 tions of temperature and gravitation existing in the Sun, 
 the state of liquid aggregation is wholly unlike that exist- 
 ing here ? This is a very strong assumption : it is one for 
 
PKOBABLE COKSTITUTION OF THE SUN. 285 
 
 R'Lich our ten-estrial experiences afford no adequate war 
 rant ; and if such unlikeness exists, it is very improbable 
 that it should produce so immense a contrast in sj^ecific 
 gravity as that of 4 to 1. The more legitimate conclusion 
 is that the Sun's body is not made up of molten matter all 
 through ; but that it consists of a molten shell with a 
 gaseous nucleus. And this we have seen to be a corollary 
 from the Nebular Hypothesis. 
 
 Considered in their ensemble, the several groups of evi- 
 dences assigned amount almost to j^roof. We have seen 
 that, when critically examined, the speculations of late 
 years current respecting the nature of the nebulas, commit 
 their iKomulgators to sundry absurdities ; while, on the 
 other hand, we see that the various appearances these neb- 
 \\\od present,^ are explicable as different stages in the precip- 
 itation and aggregation of diffused matter. We find that 
 comets, alike by their physical constitution, their immense- 
 ly-elongated and variously-directed orbits, the distribution 
 of those orbits, and their manifest structural relation to 
 the Solar System, bear testimony to the past existence of 
 that system in a nebulous form. Not only do those obvious 
 peculiarities in the motions of the planets which first sug- 
 gested the Nebular Hypothesis, supply proofs of it, but on 
 closer examination we discover, in the slightly-diverging 
 inclinations of their orbits, in their various rates of rotation, 
 and their differently-directed axes of rotation, that the 
 planets yield us yet further testimony ; while the satellites, 
 by sundry traits, and especially by their occurrence in 
 ^I'eater or less abundance where the hypothesis implies 
 Greater or less abundance, confirm this testimony. By 
 tracing out the process of planetary condensation, we are 
 led to conclusions respecting the internal structure of plan- 
 ets which at once explain their anomalous specific gravities, 
 ind at the same time reconcile various seemingly contra^ 
 
286 THE NEBULAR IIYrOTIIESIS. 
 
 dictory facts. Once more, it turns out that what is d jyriori 
 inferable from the Nebular Hypothesis respecting the tem- 
 peratures of the resulting bodies, is just what observation 
 establishes ; and that both the absolute and the relative 
 temperatures of the Sun and planets are thus accounted 
 for. When we contemplate these various evidences in 
 their totality — when we observe that, by the Nebular Hy- 
 pothesis, the leading phenomena of the Solar System, and 
 the heavens in general, are explicable ; and when, on the 
 other hand, we consider that the current cosmogony is not 
 only without a single fact to stand on, but is at variance 
 with all our positive knowledge of Nature ; we see that the 
 proof becomes overwhelming. 
 
 It remains only to j^oint out that while the genesis of 
 the Solar System, and of countless other systems like it, is 
 thus rendered comprehensible, the ultimate mystery con- 
 tinues as great as ever. The problem of existence is not 
 solved : it is simply removed further back. The Nebular 
 Hypothesis throws no light on the origin of diffused mat- 
 ter ; and diifused matter as much needs accounting for as 
 concrete matter. Tlie genesis of an atom is not easier to 
 conceive than the genesis of a planet. Nay, indeed, so far 
 from making the Universe a less mystery than before, it 
 makes it a greater mystery. Creation by manufacture is a 
 much lower thing than creation by evolution. A man can 
 put together a machine ; but he cannot make a machine 
 develop itself The ingenious artizan, able as some have 
 been, so far to imitate vitality as to produce a mechanical 
 pianoforte-player, may in some sort conceive how, b^'- 
 greater skill, a complete man might be artificially pro- 
 duced ; but he is unable to conceive how such a complex 
 organism gradually arises out of a minute structureless 
 germ. That our harmonious universe once existed poten- 
 tially as formless diffused matter, and has slowly grown 
 into its present organized state, is a far more astonishing 
 
THE ULTIMATE MYSTEET STILL UNSOLVED. 287 
 
 fact thau would have been its formation after the artificial 
 method vulgarly supposed. Those who hold it legitimate 
 to argue from phenomena to nouraena, may rightly contend 
 that the Nebular Hypothesis implies a First Cause as much 
 transcending " the mechanical God of Paley," as this does 
 the fetish of the savage. 
 
 14 
 
YII. 
 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL. 
 
 AFTER the controversy betvreen the Neptunists and 
 the Vulcauists had been long carried on without defi- 
 nite results, there came a reaction against all speculative 
 geology. Reasoning without adequate data having led to 
 nothing, inquirers went into the opposite extreme, and con- 
 fining themselves wholly to collecting data, relinquished 
 reasoning. The Geological Society of London was formed 
 with the express object of accumulating evidence ; for many 
 years hypotheses were forbidden at its meetings ; and only 
 of late have attempts to organize the mass of observations 
 into consistent theory been tolerated. 
 
 This reaction and subsequent re-reaction, well illustrate 
 the recent history of English thought in general. The 
 time was when our countrymen speculated, certainly to as 
 great an extent as any other people, on all those high ques- 
 tions which present themselves to the human intellect ; 
 and, indeed, a glance at the systems of philosophy that are 
 or have been current on the Continent, suffices to show how 
 much other nations owe to the discoveries of our ances- 
 tors. For a generation or two, however, these more ab- 
 stract subjects have fallen into neglect ; and, among those 
 who plume themselves ou being " practical," even into con 
 
PRESENT TENDENCIES OF INQUIRT. 289 
 
 tempt. Partly, perhaps, a natural accompaniment of our 
 rapid material growth, this intellectual phase has been iu 
 great measure due to the exhaustion of argument, and the 
 necessity for better data. Not so much with a conscious 
 recognition of the end to be subserved, as from an uncon- 
 scious subordination to that rhythm traceable in social 
 changes as in other things, an era of theorizing without 
 observing, has been followed by an era of observing Avith- 
 out theorizing. During the long-continued devotion to 
 concrete science, an immense quantity of raw material for 
 abstract science has been accumulated ; and now there is 
 obviously commencing a period in which this accumulated 
 raw material will be organized into consistent theory. On 
 all sides — equally in the inorganic sciences, in the science 
 of life, and in the science of society — may we note the ten- 
 dency to pass from the superficial and empirical to the more 
 profound and rational. 
 
 In Psychology this change is conspicuous. The fads 
 brought to light by anatomists and physiologists during the 
 last fifty years, are at length being used towards the inter- 
 pretation of this highest class of biological phenomena ; and 
 already there is promise of a great advance. The work of 
 Mr. Alexander Bain, of which the second volume has been 
 recently issued, may be regarded as especially characteris- 
 tic of the transition. It gives us in orderly arrangement, 
 the great mass of evidence supplied by modern science 
 towards the building-up of a coherent system of mental 
 philosophy. It is not in itself a system of mental philoso- 
 phy, proj^erly so called ; but a classified collection of mate- 
 rials for such a system, presented with that method and in- 
 sight which scientific discipline generates, and accompanied 
 with occasional passages of an analytical character. It is 
 indeed that which it in the main professes to be — a natural 
 history of the mind. 
 
 Were we to say that the researches of the naturalist 
 
290 BAIN ON THE KJIOTIONS AND THE WILL 
 
 who collects and dissects and describes species, "oeai* the 
 same relation to the researches of the comparative anato- 
 mist tracing out the laws of organization, w'hich Mr. Bain'a 
 labours bear to the labours of the abstract psychologist, 
 we should be going somewhat too far ; for Mr. Bain's work 
 is not wholly descriptive. Still, however, such an analogy 
 conveys the best general conception of what he has done ; 
 and serves most clearly to indicate its needfulness. For 
 as, before there can be made anything like true generaliza- 
 tions respecting the classification of organisms and the laws 
 of organization, there must be an extensive accumulation 
 of the facts presented in numerous organic bodies ; so, 
 without a tolerably-complete delineation of mental phenom- 
 ena of all orders, there can scarcely arise any adequate the- 
 ory of the mind. Until recently, mental science has been 
 pursued much as physical science was pursued by the an- 
 cients : not by drawing conclusions from observations and 
 experiments, but by drawing them fi-om Vivhitvary a pt^iori 
 assumptions. This course, long since abandoned in the one 
 case with immense advantage, is gradually being abandoned 
 in the other ; and the treatment of Psychology as a division 
 of natural history, shows tliat the abandonment will soon be 
 complete. 
 
 Estimated as a means to higher results, Mr. Bain's work 
 is of great value. Of its kind it is the most scientific in 
 conception, the most catholic in spirit, and the most com- 
 plete in execution. Besides delineating the various classes 
 of mental phenomena as seen under that stronger light 
 throwTi on them by modern science, it includes in the jdIc- 
 ture much which previous writers had omitted — partly 
 from prejudice, partly from ignorance. We refer more 
 especially to the participation of bodily organs in mental 
 changes ; and the addition to the primary mental changes, 
 of those many secondary ones Avhich the actions of the 
 bodily organs generate. Mr. Bain has, Ave believe, been 
 
HIS WOEK ESSENTIALLY TEAIs'SITIONAL. 291 
 
 tliG first to appreciate the importance of tbis element in oui 
 states of consciousness ; and it is one of his merits that he 
 shows how constant and large an element xt is. Further, 
 the relations of voluntary and involuntary movements are 
 elucidated in a way that was not possible to writers unac 
 quainted with the modern doctrine of reflex action. And 
 beyond this, some of the analytical passages that here and 
 there occur, contain important ideas. 
 
 Valuable, however, as is Mr. Bain's work, we regard 
 it as essentially transitional. It presents in a digested 
 form the results of a period of observation ; adds to these 
 results many well-delineated facts collected by himself; 
 arranges new and old materials with that more scientific 
 method which the discipline of our times has fostered ; 
 and so prepare the way for better generalizations. But 
 almost of necessity its classifications and conclusions are 
 provisional. In the growth of each science, not only is 
 correct observation needful for the formation of true the- 
 ory; but true theory is needful as a preliminary to cor- 
 rect observation. Of course we do not intend this as- 
 sertion to be taken literally ; but as a strong expression of 
 the fact that the two must advance hand in hand. The 
 first crude theory or rough classification, based on very 
 slight knowledge of the phenomena, is requisite as a means 
 of reducing the phenomena to some kind of order ; and as 
 suppl}T.ng a conception with which fresh phenomena may 
 be compared, and their agreement or disagreement noted. 
 Incongruities being by and by made manifest by wider ex- 
 amination of cases, there comes such modification of the 
 theory as brings it into a nearer correspondence with the 
 evidence. This reacts to the further advance of observa- 
 tion. More extensive and complete observation brings ad 
 ditional corrections of theory. And so on till the truth is 
 reached. In mental science, the systematic collection of 
 facts having but recently commenced, it is not to be ei 
 
292 BAIN ON TUE AMOTIONS AND THE WILL. 
 
 pected that the results can be at once rightly formulated 
 All that may be looked for are appioximate generalizations 
 which will presently serve for the better directing of in 
 quiry. Hence, even were it not now possible to say in what 
 way it does so, we might be tolerably certain that Mr. 
 Bain's work bears the stamp of the inchoate state of Psy- 
 chology. 
 
 We think, however, that it will not be difficult to find 
 in what respects its organization is provisional ; and at the 
 same time to show w^hat must be the nature of a more 
 complete organization. We propose here to attempt this : 
 illustrating our positions from his recently-issued second 
 volume. 
 
 Is it iwssible to make a true classification without the 
 aid of analysis ? or must there not be an analytical basis to 
 every true classification ? Can the real relations of things 
 be determined by the obvious characteristics of the things? 
 or does it not commonly haj^pen that certain hidden 
 characteristics, on which the obvious ones dej^end, are 
 the truly significant ones ? This is the preliminary ques- 
 tion which a glance at Mr. Bain's scheme of the emotions 
 suggests. 
 
 Though not avowedly, yet by implication, Mr. Bain 
 assumes that a right conception of the nature, the order, 
 and the relations of the emotions, may be arrived at by 
 contemplating their conspicuous objective and subjective 
 characters, as displayed in the adult. After pointing out 
 that we lack those means of classification which serve in 
 the case of the sensations, he says — 
 
 " In these circumstances we must turn our attention to tli6 
 manner of diffusion of the different passions and emotions, in 
 order to obtain a basis of classification analogous to the arrange- 
 ment of the sensations. If what we liave already advanced on 
 that subject bo at all well founded, this is the genuine turning 
 
BODILY FEELINGS AND MENTAL STATES. 293 
 
 bciint of the method to be chosen, for the same mode of diffusior 
 will always be accompanied by the same mental experience, iTnd 
 each of the two aspects would identify, and would be evidence 
 of, the other. There is, therefore, nothing so thoroughly char- 
 acteristic of any state of feeling as the nature of the diti'usive 
 wave that embodies it, or the various organs specially roused 
 into action by it, together with the manner of the action^ The 
 only drawback is our comparative ignorance, and our inability 
 to discern the precise character of the diffusive currents in every 
 case ; a radical imperfection in the science of mind as constituted 
 at present. 
 
 " Our own consciousness, formeiiy reckoned the only medium 
 of knowledge to the mental philosopher, must therefore be still 
 referred to as a principal means of discriminating the varieties of 
 human feeling. "We have the power of noting agreement and 
 diflerence among our conscious states, and on this we can raise a 
 structure of classification. "We recognise such generalities as 
 pleasure, pain, love, anger, through the property of mental or 
 intellectual discrimination that accompanies in our mind the fact 
 of an emotion. A certain degree of precision is attainable by 
 this mode of mental comparison and analysis ; the farther we 
 can carry such precision the better ; but that is no reason why it 
 should stand alone to the neglect of the corporeal embodiments 
 through which one mind reveals itself to others. The compan- 
 ionship of inward feeling with bodily manifestation is a fact of 
 the human constitution, and deserves to be studied as such ; and 
 it would be difficult to find a place more appropriate than a 
 treatise on the mind for setting forth the conjunctions and 
 sequences traceable in this department of nature. I shall make 
 no scruple in conjoining witli the description of the mental 
 phenomena the physical appearances, in so far as I am able to 
 ascertain them. 
 
 " There is still one other quarter to be referred to in settling a 
 complete arrangement of the emotions, namely, the varieties of 
 •luman conduct, and the machinery created in subservience to our 
 common susceptibilities. For example, the vast superstructure of 
 fine art has its foundations in human feeling, and in rendering an 
 account of this we are led to recognise the interesting group of 
 artistic or aesthetic emotions. The same outward reference to 
 
294 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL. 
 
 conduct and creations brings to light the so-called moral sense in 
 man, whose foundations in the mental system have accordingly to 
 be examined. 
 
 " Combining together these yarioiis indications, or sources 
 of discrimination, — outward objects, diifusive mode or expression, 
 inward consciousness, resulting conduct and institutions — I adopt 
 the following arrangement of the families or natural orders of 
 emotion." 
 
 Here, tbcn, are confessedly adojoted, as bases of classi- 
 fication, the most manifest chai'acters of the emotions ; as 
 discerned sulbjectively, and objectively. The mode of dif- 
 fusion of an emotion is one of its outside aspects ; the insti- 
 tutions it generates form another of its outside aspects ; 
 and though the peculiarities of the emotion as a state of 
 consciousness, seem to express its intrinsic and ultimate 
 nature, yet such peculiarities as are perceptible by simple 
 introspection, must also be classed as superficial peculiari- 
 ties. It is a familiar fact that various intellectual states of 
 consciousness turn out, when analyzed, to have natures 
 widely unlike those which at first appear ; and we believe 
 the like will prove true of emotional states of conscious- 
 ness. Just as our concept of space, Avhich is apt to be 
 thought a simple, undecomposable concept, is yet resolva- 
 ble into experiences quite difierent from that state of con- 
 sciousness which Ave call space ; so, probably, the sentiment 
 of afifection or reverence is compounded of elements that 
 are severally distinct from the whole which they make ujj. 
 And much as a classification of our ideas which dealt with 
 the idea of space as though it were ultimate, would be a 
 classification of ideas by their externals ; so, a classification 
 of our emotions, which, regarding them as simple, describea 
 their aspects in ordinary consciousness, is a classification of 
 emotions by their externals. 
 
 Thus, then, Mr. Bain's grouping is throughout deter- 
 mined by the most manifest attributes — those objectivelj 
 
IM.'EKFECT BASIS OF HIS CLASSIFICATION. 295 
 
 displayed in the natural language of the emotions, and 
 in the social phenomena that result from them, and those 
 subjectively disjilayed in the aspects the emotions assume 
 in an analytical consciousness. And the question is — Can 
 they be correctly grouped after tins method ? 
 
 We think not; and had Mr. Bain carried farther an idea 
 with which be has set out, he would probably have seers 
 that they cannot. As already said, he avowedly adopts 
 " the natural-history-method : " not only referring to it in 
 his preface, but in his first chapter giving examples of 
 botanical and zoological classifications, as illustrating the 
 mode in which he proposes to deal with the emotions. 
 This we conceive to be a philosophical conception ; and we 
 have only to regret that Mr. Bain has overlooked some of 
 its most important implications. For in what has essentially 
 consisted the progress of natural-history-classification ? In 
 the abandonment of grouping by external, conspicuous 
 characters ; and in the making of certain internal, but all- 
 essential characters, the bases of groups. Whales are not 
 now ranged along with fish, because in their general forms 
 and habits of life they resemble fish ; but they are ranged 
 with mammals, because the type of their organization, as 
 ascertained by dissection, corresponds with that of the mam- 
 mals. No longer considered as sea-weeds in virtue of their 
 forms and modes of growth, zoophytes are now shown, by 
 examination of their economy, to belong to the animal 
 kingdom. 
 
 It is found, then, that the discovery of real relation- 
 ships involves analysis. It has turned out that the earlier 
 classifications, guided by general resemblances, though 
 containing much truth, and though very useful provision- 
 ally, were yet in many cases radically wrong ; and that the 
 true aflinities of organisms, and the true homologies of 
 their parts, are to be made out on'y by examining their 
 »iidden structures. Another fact of irreat significance w 
 
296 BATN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL, 
 
 the history of classification is also to be noted. Very ft & 
 quently the kinship of an organism cannot be made out 
 even by exhaustive analysis, if that analysis is confined to 
 the adult structure. In many cases it is needful to ex- 
 amine the structure m its earlier stages ; and even in its 
 embryonic stage. So difficult was it, for instance, to de- 
 termine the true position of the Ciri'hipedia among animals, 
 bj examining mature individuals only, that Cuvier errone- 
 ously classed them with MoUusca, even after dissecting 
 them ; and not until their early forms were discovered, 
 were they clearly proved to belong to the Crustacea. So 
 important, indeed, is the study of development as a means 
 to classification, that the first zoologists now hold it to be 
 the only absolute criterion. 
 
 Here, then, in the advance of natural-history-classifica- 
 tion, are two fundamental facts, which should be borne in 
 mind when classifying the emotions. If, as Mr. Bain right- 
 ly assumes, the emotions are to be grouped after the natu- 
 ral-history-raethod ; then it should be the natural history- 
 method in its complete form, and not in its rude form. 
 Mr. Bain will doubtless agree in the position, that a cor- 
 rect account of the emotions in their natures and relations, 
 must correspond with a correct account of the nervous 
 system — mnst form another side of the same ultimate facts. 
 Structure and function must necessarily harmonize. Struc- 
 tures which have with each other certain ultimate connex- 
 ions, must have functions that have answering connexions. 
 Structures that have arisen in certain ways, must have func:- 
 tions that have arisen in parallel ways. And hence if anal- 
 ysis and development are needful for the right interpreta- 
 tion of structures, they must be needful for the right inter- 
 pretation of functions. Just as a scientific description of 
 the digestive organs, must include not only their obvious 
 forms and connexions, but their microscopic characters, 
 ar.1 also the wiys in which they severally result by differ 
 
HOW THE EMOTIONS ARE TO BE AIJAXYZED. 297 
 
 enlitition from the j^rimitive mucous membrane ; so must 
 a scientific account of the nervous system, include its gen- 
 eral arrangements, its minute structure, and its mode of 
 evolution ; and so must a scientific account of nervous ac- 
 tions, include the answering three elements. Alike in class* 
 ing separate organisms, and in classing the parts of the same 
 organism, the complete natural-history-method involvea 
 ultimate analysis, aided by development ; and Mr. Bain, in 
 not basing his classification of the emotions on characters 
 reached through these aids, has fallen short of the concep- 
 tion with which he set out. 
 
 " But," it will perhaps be asked, " how are the emotions 
 to be analyzed, 'and their modes of evolution to be ascer- 
 tained ? Different animals, and different organs of the 
 same animal, may readily be compared in their internal and 
 microscopic structures, as also in their developments ; but 
 functions, and especially such functions as the emotions, do 
 not admit of like comparisons." 
 
 It must be admitted that the aj^plication of these meth- 
 ods is here by no means so easy. Though we can note dif- 
 ferences and similarities between the internal formations of 
 two animals ; it is difiicult to contrast the mental states of 
 two animals. Though the true morphological relations of 
 oi'gans may be made out by the observations of embryos ; 
 yet, where such organs are inactive before birth, we cannot 
 completely trace the history of their actions. Obviously, 
 too, the j^ursuance of inquiries of the kind indicated, raises 
 questions which science is not yet prepared to answer ; as, 
 for instance — Whether all nervous functions, in common 
 with all other functions, arise by gradual differentiations. 
 as their oj'gans do ? Whether the emotions are, therefore, 
 to be regarded as divergent modes of action, that have be- 
 come unlike by successive modifications ? Whether, as 
 two organs which originally budded out of the same mem- 
 brane, have not only become difierent as they developed, 
 
208 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL. 
 
 but have also severally become com2:)Ound internally, though 
 externally simple : so two emotions, simple and near akin 
 in their roots, may not only have grown unlike, hut may 
 also have grown involved in their natui-es, though seeming 
 homogeneous to consciousness. And here, indeed, in the 
 inability of existing science to answer these questions which 
 underhe a true psychological classification, we see how 
 purely provisional any present classification is likely to be. 
 
 Nevertheless, even now, classification may be aided by 
 development and ultimate analysis to a considerable extent ; 
 and the defect in Mr, Bain's work is, that he has not syste- 
 matically availed himself of them as far as possible. Thus 
 we may, in the first place, study the evolution of the emo- 
 tions up through the various grades of the animal kingdom : 
 observing which of them are earliest and exist with the 
 lowest organization and intelligence ; in what order the 
 others accompany higher endowments ; and how they are 
 severally related to the conditions of life. In the second 
 place, we may note the emotional diiferences between 
 the lower and the higher human races — may regard as 
 earlier and simpler those feelings which are common to 
 both, and as later and more compound those which are 
 characteristic of the most civilized. In the third place, we 
 may observe the order in which the emotions unfold during 
 the progress from infancy to maturity. And lastly, compar- 
 ing these three kinds of emotional development, displayed 
 in the ascending grades of the animal kingdom, in the ad- 
 vance of the civilized races, and in individual history, we 
 may see in what respects they harmonize, and what are the 
 implied general truths. 
 
 Having gathered together and generalized these sever- 
 al classes of facts, analysis of the emotions would be made 
 easier. Setting out with the unquestionable assumption, 
 that every new form of emotion making its appearance in 
 the individual or the race, is a modification of some pre-ex 
 
ETOLUTION OF THE EMOTIONS. 299 
 
 \sting emotion, or a compounding of several pre-existing 
 emotions; we should be greatly aided by knowing what 
 always are the pre-existing emotions. When, for example, 
 we find that very few if any of the lower animals show any 
 love of accumulation, and that this feeling is absent in in 
 fancy — when we see that an infant in arms exhibits auger, 
 fear, wonder, while yet it manifests no desire of permanent 
 possession, and that a brute which has no acquisitive emotion 
 can nevertheless feel attachment, jealousy, love of approba- 
 tion ; we may suspect that the feeling which property satis- 
 fies, is compounded out of simpler and deeper feelings. 
 We may conclude that as, when a dog hides a bone, there 
 must exist in him a prospective gratification of hunger ; so 
 there must similarly at first, in all cases where anything is 
 secured or taken possession of, exist an ideal excitement of 
 the feeling which that thing will gratify. We may further 
 conclude that when the intelligence is such that a variety 
 of objects come to be utilized for different purposes — when, 
 as among savages, divers wants are satisfied through the ar- 
 ticles ai^propriated for weapons, shelter, clothing, ornament ; 
 the act of appropriating comes to be one constantly involv- 
 ing agreeable associations, and one which is therefore pleas- 
 urable, irrespective of the end subserved. And when, as 
 in civilized life, the property acquired is of a kind not con- 
 ducing to one order of gratifications, but is capable of ad 
 ministering to all gratifications, the pleasure of acquiring 
 property grows more distinct from each of the various 
 pleasures subserved — is more completely differentiated into 
 a separate emotion. 
 
 This illustration, roughly as it is sketched, will show 
 what we mean by the use of comparative psychology in 
 aid of classification. Ascertaining by induction the actual 
 order of evolution of the emotions, we are led to suspect 
 this to be their order of successive dependence ; and are so 
 led to recognize their order of ascending complexity ; and 
 by consequence their true groupings. 
 
300 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL, 
 
 Thus, in the veiy process of arranging the emotions 
 into grades, beginning with those involved in the lowest 
 forms of conscious activity and end with those peculiar to 
 the adult civilized man, the way is opened for that ultimate 
 analysis which alone can lead us to the true science of the 
 matter. For when we find both that there exist in a man 
 feelings which do not exist in a child, and that the Euro- 
 pean is characterized by some sentiments which are wholly 
 or in a great part absent from the savage — when we see 
 that, besides the new emotions that arise spontaneously as 
 the individual becomes completely organized, there are new 
 emotions making their appearance in the more advanced 
 divisions of our race ; we are led to ask — How are new 
 emotions generated ? The lowest savages have not even 
 the ideas of justice or mercy : they have neither words for 
 them nor can they be made to conceive them ; and the man- 
 ifestation of them by Europeans they ascribe to fear or 
 cunning. There are aesthetic emotions common among 
 ourselves, that are scarcely in any degree experienced by 
 some inferior races ; as, for instance, those produced by 
 music. To which instances may be added the less marked 
 but more numerous contrasts that exist between civilized 
 races in the degrees of their several emotions. And if it 
 is manifest, both that all the emotions are capable of being 
 permanently modified in the course of successive genera- 
 tions, and that what must be classed as new emotions may 
 be brought into existence ; then it follows that nothing like 
 a true conception of the emotions is to be obtained, until we 
 understand how they are evolved. 
 
 Comparative psychology, while it raises this inquiry, 
 prepares the way for answering it. When observing the 
 differences between races, we can scarcely fail to observe 
 also how these diiferences correspond with differences in their 
 conditions of existence, and therefore in their daily experi- 
 ences, i^ote the contrast betv^'een the circumstances and be- 
 
GENESIS OF KEW EMOTIONS. 301 
 
 tween the emotional natures of savage and civilized. Among 
 ne lowest races of men, love of property stimulates to the 
 obtainment only of such things as satisfy immediate desires 
 or desires of the immediate future. Improvidence is the 
 rule: there is little effort to meet remote contingencies. But 
 the growth of established societies, having gradually given 
 security of possession, there has been an increasing tendency 
 to provide for coming years : there has been a constant 
 exercise of the feeling which is satisfied by a provision for 
 the future ; and there has been a growth of this feeling so 
 great that it now prompts accumulation to an extent be- 
 yond what is needful. Xote, again, that under the disci- 
 pline of social life — under a comparative abstinence from 
 aggressive actions, and a performance of those mutually- 
 serviceable actions implied by the division of labour — 
 there has been a development of those gentle emotions of 
 which inferior races exhibit but the rudiments. Savages 
 delight in giving pain rather than pleasure — are almost de- 
 void of sympathy. While among ourselves philanthropy 
 organizes itself in lav^'s, establishes numerous institutions, 
 and dictates countless private benefactions. 
 
 From which and other like facts, does it not seem an 
 unavoidable inference that new emotions are developed by 
 new experiences — new habits of life ? All are familiar with 
 the truth, that in the individual, each feeling maybe strength- 
 ened by performing those actions which it prompts ; and to 
 say that the feeling is strengthened^ is to say that it is in 
 part made by these actions. We know further, that not 
 unfrequently, individuals, by persistence in special courses 
 of conduct, acquire special likings for such courses disagree- 
 able as those may be to others ; and these whims, or mor- 
 bid tastes, imply incipient emotions corres];)onding to these 
 special activities. We know that emotional characteristics, 
 in common with all others, are hereditary ; and the differ- 
 ences between civilized nations descended from the same 
 
302 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL. 
 
 stock, show US the cumulative results of small modificatioDa 
 hereditarily transmitted. And when we see that between 
 savage and civilized races, which diverged from each other 
 iu the remote past, and have for a hundred generations fol- 
 lowed modes of life becoming ever more unlike, there ex- 
 ist still greater emotional contrasts ; may we not infer that 
 the more or less d.stinct emotions which characterize civil- 
 ized races, are the organized results of certain daily-repeat- 
 ed combinations of mental states which social life involves ? 
 Must we not say that habits not only modify emotions in 
 the individual, and not only beget tendencies to like 
 habits and accompanying emotions in descendants, but that 
 when the conditions of the race make the habits per- 
 sistent, this progressive modification may go on to the ex- 
 tent of producing emotions so far distinct as to seem new ? 
 And if so, we may suspect that such new emotions, and 
 by implication all emotions analytically considered, consist 
 of aggregated and consolidated groups of those simpler 
 feelings which habitually occur together in experience : 
 that they result from combined experiences, and are con- 
 stituted of them. 
 
 "When,iu the circumstances of any race, some one kind of 
 action or set of actions, sensation or set of sensations, is usual- 
 ly followed, or accompanied by, various other sets of actionn 
 or sensations, and so entails a large mass of pleasurable or 
 painful states of consciousness ; these, by frequent repetition, 
 become so connected together that the initial action or sensa- 
 tion brings the ideas of all the rest crowding into conscious- 
 ness : producing, in a degree, the j^leasures or j^ains that 
 have before been felt in reality. And when this relation, 
 besides being frequently repeated in the individual, occurs 
 iu succcssiv.e generations, all the many nervous actions in- 
 volved tend to grow organically connected. They become 
 incipiently reflex ; and on the occurrence of the approj)riate 
 stimulus, the whole nervous apjiaratus which in past gener 
 
GEOWTII OF EMOTIONS IN ANIMALS. 303 
 
 ations was brought into activity by tins stimulus, becomes 
 nascently excited. Even while yet there have been no indi- 
 vidual experiences, a vague feehng of pleasure or pain is 
 produced ; constituting what we may call the body of the 
 emotion. And when the experiences of past generations 
 come to be repeated in the individual, the emotion gaina 
 both strength and definiteness ; and is accompanied by the 
 appropriate specific ideas. 
 
 This view of the matter, which we believe the estab- 
 lished truths of Physiology and Psychology unite in indi- 
 cating, and which is the view that generalizes the pheno- 
 mena of habit, of national characteristics, of civilization in 
 its moral aspects, at the same time that it gives us a con- 
 ceiDtion of emotion in its origin and ultimate nature, may 
 be illustrated from the mental modifications undergone by 
 animals. 
 
 It is well-known that on newly-discovered lands not in- 
 habited by man, birds are so devoid of fear as to allow 
 themselves to be knocked over with sticks ; but that in the 
 course of generations, they acquire such a dread of man as 
 to fly on his approach ; and that this dread is manifested by 
 young as well as old. Now unless this change be ascribed 
 to the killing-oflf of the least fearful, and the preservation 
 and multiplication of the more fearful, which, considering 
 the comparatively small number killed by man, is an inade- 
 quate cause ; it must be ascribed to accumulated exj)e- 
 riences ; and each experience must be held tO have a share 
 in producing it. We must conclude that in each bird that 
 escapes with injuries inflicted by man, or is alarmed by the 
 outcries of other members of the flock (gregarious crea- 
 tures of any intelligence being necessarily more or less 
 symuathetic), there is established an association of ideas 
 between the human aspect and the pains, direct and indi- 
 rect, suffered from human agency. And we must further 
 conc>ide, that the state of consciousness which impels the 
 
304 BAIX ox TUE EMOTIONS AND TtlE WILL. 
 
 bird to take flight, is at first nothing more than an ide.i;i 
 rej)roduction of those painful imj)ressions which before fol 
 lowed man's ajiproach ; that such ideal reproduction be- 
 comes more vivid and more massive as the painful expe- 
 riences, direct or sympathetic, increase ; and that thus the 
 emotion m its incipient state, is nothing else than an aggre- 
 gation of the revived pains before experienced. 
 
 As, in the course of generations, the young birds of this 
 race begin to disjDlay a fear of man before yet they have 
 been injured by him ; it is an unavoidable inference that 
 the nervous system of the race has been organically modi- 
 fied by these experiences : we have no choice -but to con- 
 clude that when a young bird is thus led to fly, it is be- 
 cause the impression produced on its senses by the ap- 
 proaching man, entails, through an incijDiently-reflex action^ 
 a partial excitement of all those nerves which in its ances- 
 tors had been excited under the like conditions ; that this 
 partial excitement has its accompanying painful conscious- 
 ness; and that the vague painful consciousness thus arising, 
 constitutes emotion proper — emotion undecomposahle into 
 specific experiences^ and therefore seemingly homogeneous. 
 
 If such be the explanation of the fact in this case, then 
 it is in all cases. If emotion is so generated here, then it 
 is so generated throughout. "We must ^Derforce conclude 
 that the emotional modifications displayed by different na- 
 tions, and those higher emotions by which civilized are dis- 
 tinguished from savage, are to be accounted for on the 
 same principle. And concluding this, we are led strongly 
 to suspect that the emotions in general have severally thus 
 originated. 
 
 Perhaps we have now made sufiiciently clear what we 
 mean by the study of the emotions through analysis and 
 development. We have aimed to justify the positions that, 
 without analysis aided by develupment, there cannot be a 
 true natural history of the emotions ; and that a natural 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF THE EMOTIONS NEGLECTED. 305 
 
 history of the emotions based on external characters, can 
 be but provisional. We think that Mr. Bain, in confining 
 himself to an account of the emotions as they exist iu the 
 adult civilized man, has neglected those classes of facts out 
 of which the science of the matter must chiefly be built. 
 It is true that he has treated of habits as modifying emo- 
 tions in the individual ; but he has not recognized the fact, 
 that where conditions render habits persistent in successive 
 generations, such modifications ai'e cumulative : he has not 
 hinted that the modifications produced by habit are emo 
 tions in the making. It is true, also, that he occasionally 
 refers to the characteristics of children ; but he does not 
 systematically trace the changes through which childhood 
 passes into manhood, as throwing light on the order and 
 genesis of the emotions. It is further true that he here 
 and there refers to national traits in illustration of his sub- 
 ject ; but these stand as isolated facts, having no general 
 significance : there is no hint of any relation between them 
 and the national circumstances ; while all those many moral 
 contrasts between lower and higher races which throw 
 great light on classification, are passed over. And once 
 more, it is true that many passages of his work, and some- 
 times, indeed, whole sections of it, are analytical ; but his 
 analyses are incidental — they do not underlie his entire 
 scheme, but are here and there added to it. In brief, he 
 has written a Descriptive Psychology, which does not ap- 
 peal to Comparative Psychology and Analytical Psychol- 
 ogy for its leading ideas. And in doing this, he has omit- 
 ted much that should be included in a natural history of 
 the mind ; while to that part of the subject with which he 
 has dealt, he has given a necessarily-imperfect organization. 
 
 Even leaving out of view the absence of those methods 
 and criteria on which we have been insisting, it appears to 
 as that meritoriovas as is Mr. Bain's book in its details, it is 
 
300 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL.. 
 
 defective in some of its leading ideas. The first para 
 graphs of his first chapter, quite startled us by the strange- 
 ness of their definitions — a strangeness which can scarcely 
 be ascribed to laxity of expression. The paragraphs run 
 thus : — 
 
 " Mind is comprised tinder three heads— Emotion, Volition, 
 cud Intellect. 
 
 " EiioTioisr is the name here used to comprehend all that is un- 
 derstood by feelings, states of feeling, pleasures, pains, passions, 
 sentiments, affections. Consciousness, and conscious states also 
 for the most part denote modes of emotion, although there is such 
 a thing as the Intellectual consciousness. 
 
 " VoLiTio^r, on the other hand, indicates the great fact that our 
 Pleasures and Pains, which are not the whole of our emotions, 
 prompt us to action, or stimulate the active machinery of the liv- 
 ing framework to perform such operations as procure the first and 
 abate the last. To withdraw from a scalding heat and cling to a 
 gentle warmth, are exercises of volition." 
 
 The last of these definitions, which we may most con- 
 veniently take first, seems to us very faulty. We cannot 
 but feel astonished that Mr. Bain, familiar as he is with the 
 phenomena of reflex action, should have so expressed him- 
 self as to include a great part of them along with the jjhe- 
 nomcna of volition. He seems to be ignoring the discrimi- 
 nations of modern science, and returning to the vague con- 
 cejDtions of the past — nay more, he is comprehending under 
 volition what even the popular speech would hardly bring 
 under it. If you were to blame any one for snatching his 
 foot from the scalding water into which he had inadvei ■ 
 tently put it, he would tell you that he could not help it > 
 and his reply would be indorsed by the general experience, 
 that the withdrawal of a limb from contact with something 
 extremely hot, is quite involuntary — that it takes place not 
 only without volition, but in defiance of an efibrt of will to 
 maintain the coiitact. How, then, can that be instanced as 
 
VOL.U>rrAKY AKD im^oLUNTAKT ACTIONS. 307 
 
 an example of volition, wbicli occurs even when volition ia 
 antagonistic ? We are quite aware that it is impossible to 
 draw any absolute line of demarcation between automatic 
 actions and actions which are not automatic. Doubtless 
 we may pass gradually from the purely reflex, through the 
 consensual, to the voluntary. Taking the case Mr. Bain 
 cites, it is manifest that from a heat of such moderate de- 
 gree that the withdrawal from it is wholly voluntary, we 
 may advance by infinitesimal steps to a heat which compels 
 involuntary withdrawal ; and that there is a stage at which 
 the voluntary and involuntary actions are mixed. But the 
 difBculty of absolute discrimination is no reason for neg- 
 lecting the broad general contrast ; any more than it is for 
 confounding light with darkness. If we are to include as 
 examples of volition, all cases in which pleasures and pains 
 " stimulate the active machinery of the living framework 
 to perform such operations as procure the first and abate 
 the last," then we must consider sneezing and coughing, as 
 examples of volition ; and Mr. Bain surely cannot mean 
 this. Indeed, we must confess ourselves at a loss. On the 
 one hand if he does not mean it, his expression is lax to a 
 degree that surprises us in so careful a writer. On the 
 other hand, if he does mean it, we cannot understand his 
 point of view. 
 
 A parallel criticism applies to his definition of Emotion. 
 Here, too, he has departed from the ordinary acceptation 
 of the word ; and, as we think, in the wrong direction. 
 Whatever may be the interpretation that is justified by its 
 derivation, the word Emotion has come generally to mean 
 that kind of feehng which is not a direct result of any ac- 
 tion on the organism ; but is either an indirect result of 
 such action, or arises quite apart from such action. It ia 
 used to indicate those sentient states which are independ- 
 ently generated in consciousness ; as distinguished from 
 those generated in our corporeal framework, and known as 
 
308 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL. 
 
 sensations. Now tbis distinction, tacitly made in common 
 speech, is one which Psychology cannot well reject; but one 
 which it must adopt, and to which it must give scientific 
 precision. Mr. Bain, however, appeai-s to ignore any such 
 distinction. Under the term " emotion," he includes not 
 only passions, sentiments, affections, but all "feelings, states 
 of feeling, pleasures, pains," — that is, all sensations. This 
 does not appear to be a mere lapse of expression ; for when, 
 in the opening sentence, he asserts that " mind is comprised 
 under the three heads — Emotion, Volition, and Intellect," 
 he of necessity implies that sensation is included under one 
 of these heads ; and as it cannot be included under Volition 
 or Intellect, it must be classed with Emotion : as it clearly 
 is in the next sentence. 
 
 We cannot but think this is a retrograde step. Though 
 distinctions which have been established in jDopular thought 
 and language, are not unfrequently merged in the higher 
 generalizations of science (as, for instance, when crabs and 
 worms are grouped together in the sub-kingdom Amiu- 
 losa y) yet science very generally recognizes the validity of 
 these distinctions, as real though not fundamental. And so 
 in the present case. Such community as analysis discloses 
 between sensation and emotion, must not shut out the 
 broad contrast that exists between them. If there needs a 
 wider word, as there does, to signify any sentient state 
 whatever ; then we may fitly adopt for this purpose the 
 word currently so used, namely, " Feeling," And consid- 
 ering as Feelings all that great division of mental states 
 which we do not class as Cognitions, may then separate 
 this great division into the two orders. Sensations and Emo- 
 tions. 
 
 And here we may, before concluding, briefly indicate 
 the leading outlines of a classification which reduces this 
 distinction to a scientific form, anr"; developes it somewhat 
 
CLASSIFICATION OF THE COGNITIONS. 309 
 
 further — a classification which, while suggested by certain 
 fuudamental traits reached without a very lengthened in- 
 quiry, is yet, Ave believe, in harmony with that disclosed by 
 detailed analysis. 
 
 Leaving out of view the Will, Avhich is a simple homo- 
 geneous mental state, forming the link between feeling 
 and action, and not admitting of subdivisions ; our states oi 
 consciousness fall into two great classes — Cognitioxs and 
 Feelings. 
 
 CoGNiTioxs, or those modes of mind in which we are 
 occupied with the relations that subsist among our feelings, 
 are divisible into four great sub-classes. 
 
 Presentative cognitions y or those in which conscious- 
 ness is occujoied in localizing a sensation impressed on the 
 organism — occupied, that is^ with the relation between this 
 presented mental state and those other presented mental 
 states which make up our consciousness of the part aifected: 
 as when we cut ourselves. 
 
 Presented ice-rejoresentative cognitions ^' or those in 
 which consciousness is occupied with the relation between 
 a sensation or group of sensations and the representa- 
 tions of those various other sensations that accompany it 
 in experience. This is what we commonly call jDerception 
 — an act in which, along with certain imj^ressions presented 
 to consciousness, there arise in consciousness the ideas of 
 certain other impressions ordinarily connected with the 
 presented ones : as when its visible form and colour, 
 ]ead us to mentally endow an orange with all its other 
 attributes. 
 
 B.epresenteitive cognitions ; or those in which conscious- 
 ness is occupied with the relations among ideas or repre- 
 sented sensations : as in all acts of recollection. 
 
 He-representative cognitions j or those in which tha 
 occupation of consciousness is not by representation of 
 special relations, that have before been presented to con 
 
310 BAIN ON THE EMOTIONS AND THE WILL, 
 
 Bciousness ; but those in which such represented special 
 relations are thought of merely as comprehended in a gen- 
 eral relation — those in which the concrete relations once 
 experienced, in so far as they become objects of conscious- 
 ness at all, are incidentally represented, along with the 
 abstract relation which formulates them. The ideas result- 
 ing from this abstraction, do not themselves represent ac- 
 tual experiences ; but are symbols which stand for groups 
 of such actual experiences — represent aggregates of repre- 
 sentations. And thus they may be called re-represen- 
 tative cognitions. It is clear that the process of re-repre- 
 sentation is carried to higher stages, as the thought be- 
 comes more abstract. 
 
 Feelings, or those modes of mind in which we ara 
 occupied, not with the relations subsisting between our sen- 
 tient states, but with the sentient states themselves, are di- 
 visible into four parallel sub-classes. 
 
 Presentative feelings^ ordinarily called sensations, are 
 those mental states in which, instead of regarding a corpo- 
 real impression as of this or that kind, or as located here or 
 there, we contemplate it in itself as pleasure or pain : as 
 when eating. 
 
 Presentatwe-representative feelings^ embracing a great 
 part of what we commonly call emotions, are those in 
 which a sensation, or group of sensations or group of sen- 
 sations and ideas, arouses a vast aggregation of represented 
 sensations ; partly of individual experience, but chiefly 
 deeper than individual experience, and, consequently, in- 
 definite. The emotion of terror may serve as an example. 
 Along with certain imj^ressions made on the eyes or ears, 
 or both, are recalled in consciousness many of the pains to 
 which such impressions have before been the antecedents • 
 and when the relation between such impressions and such 
 pains has been habitual in the race, the definite ideas of 
 3uch pains which individual exjoerience has given, arc 
 
CLASSIFICATION OF THE FKELINGS. 311 
 
 Rcco'.npauiedby tlie indefinite pains that result from inherit- 
 ed experience — vague feehngs which we may call organic 
 representations. In an infant, crying at a strange sight or 
 sound while yet in the nurse's arms, we see these organic 
 representations called into existence in the shape of dim 
 discomfort, to which individual experience has yet given 
 no specific outlines. 
 
 Heprcsentative feelings^ comprehending the ideas of 
 the feelings above classed, when they are called up apart 
 from the appropriate external excitements. As instances 
 of these may be named the feelings with which the descrip- 
 tive poet writes, and which are aroused in the minds of his 
 readers. 
 
 Re-representative feelings^ under which head are included 
 those more complex sentient states that are less the direct 
 results of external excitements than the indirect or reflex 
 results of them. The love of property is a feeling of this 
 kind. It is awakened not by the presence of any special 
 object, but by ownable objects at large ; and it is not from 
 the mere presence of such object, but from a certain ideal 
 relation to them, that it arises. As before shown (p. 311) 
 it consists, not of the represented advantages of possessing 
 this or that, but of the represented advantages of posses- 
 sion in general — is not made w^ of certain concrete repre- 
 sentations, but of the abstracts of many concrete represen- 
 tations ; and so is re-representative. The higher senti- 
 ments, as that of justice, are still more comjoletely of this 
 nature. Here the sentient state is compounded out of 
 sentient states that are themselves wholly, or almost wholly, 
 re-representative : it involves representations of those low 
 cr emotions which are produced by the possession of prop- 
 erty, by freedom of action etc.; and thus is re-representa- 
 tive in a higher degree. 
 
 This classification, here roughly indicated and capable 
 Df further expansion, will be found in harmony with the re- 
 15 
 
312 BAIN 01^ THE EMOTIONS AiSTD THE WILL. 
 
 suits of detailed analysis aided by development. Whcthei" 
 we trace mental progression through the grades of the ani- 
 mal kingdom, through the grades of mankind, or through 
 the stages of individual growth ; it is obvious that the ad 
 vance, alike in cognitions and feelings, is, and must be, 
 fi'om the presentative to the more and more remotely rep- 
 resentative. It is undeniable that intelligence ascends 
 from those simple perceptions in which consciousness is 
 occupied in localizing and classifying sensations, to percep- 
 tions more and more compound, to simple reasoning, to 
 reasoning more and more complex and abstract — more 
 and more remote from sensation. And in the evolution of 
 feelings, there is a parallel series of stejDS. Simple sensa- 
 tions ; sensations combined together ; sensations combined 
 with represented sensations ; represented sensations organ- 
 ized into groups, in which their separate characters are 
 very much merged ; representations of these representa- 
 tive groups, in which the original components have be- 
 come still more vague. In both cases, the progress 
 has necessarily been from the simple and concrete to 
 the complex and abstract : and as Avith the cognitions, 
 so with the feelings, this must be the basis of classifi- 
 cation. 
 
 The space here occupied with criticisms on Mr. Bain's 
 work, we might have filled with exposition and eulogy, had 
 we thought this the more important. Though we have 
 freely pointed out what we conceive to be its defects, let it 
 not be inferred that we question its great merits. We re- 
 peat that, as a natural history of the mind, we believe it to 
 be the best yet produced. It is a most valuable collection 
 of carefully-elaborated materials. Perhaps we cannot bet- 
 ter express our sense of its worth, than by saying that, to 
 those who hereafter give to this branch of Psychology a 
 thoroughly scientific organization, Mr. Bain's book v/ill be 
 indispensable. 
 
VIII 
 
 [LLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 ri^^IIAT proclivity to generalization which is possessed in 
 I greater or less degree by all minds, and without which 
 indeed, intelligence cannot exist, has unavoidable incon» 
 veniences. Through it alone can truth be reached ; and 
 yet it almost inevitably betrays into error. But for the 
 tendency to predicate of every other case, that which has 
 been found in the observed cases, there could be no ra- 
 tional thinking ; and yet by this indispensable tendency, 
 men are perpetually led to found, on limited experience, 
 propositions Avhich they wrongly assume to be universal or 
 absolute. In one sense, however, this can scarcely be re- 
 garded as an evil; for without premature generalizations 
 the true generalization would never be arrived at. If we 
 waited till all the facts were accumulated before trying to 
 formulate them, the vast unorganized mass would be un- 
 manageable. Only by provisional groujoing can they be 
 brought into such order as to be dealt with ; and this pro- 
 visional grouping is but another name for premature gen- 
 eralization. 
 
 How uniformly men follow this course, and how need- 
 ful the errors are as steps to truth, is well illustrated in the 
 history of Astronomy. The heavenly bodies move round 
 
314 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 the Earth in circles, said the earliest observers : led partly 
 by the appearances, and partly by their experiences of cen- 
 tral motions in terrestrial objects, with which, as all circu- 
 lar, they classed the celestial motions from lack of any 
 alternative conception. Without this provisional belief, 
 wrong as it was, there could not have been that compari- 
 son of positions which showed that the motions are not 
 representable by circles ; and which led to the hypothesis 
 of epicycles and eccentrics. Only by the aid of this hy- 
 pothesis, equally untrue, but capable of accounting more 
 nearly for the appeai-ances, and so of inducing more ac- 
 curate observations — only thus did it become possible for 
 Copernicus to show that the heliocentric theory is more 
 feasible than the geocentric theory ; or for Kepler to show 
 that the planets move round the sun in ellipses. Yet 
 again, without the aid of this approximate truth discovered 
 by Kepler, ISTewton could not have estabhshed that general 
 law from which it follows, that the motion of a heavenly 
 body round its centre of gravity is not necessarily in an 
 ellipse, but may be in any conic section. And lastly, it 
 was only after the law of gravitation had been verified, 
 that it became possible to determine the actual courses of 
 planets, satellites, and comets ; and to prove that, in con- 
 sequence of perturbations, their orbits always deviate, more 
 or less, from regular curves. Thus, there followed one 
 another five provisional theories of the Solar System, 
 before the sixth and absolutely true theory was reached. 
 In which five provisional theories, each for a time held 
 as final, we may trace both the tendency men have to 
 leap from scanty data to wide generalizations, that are 
 either untrue or but partially true ; and the necessity 
 there is for these transitional generalizations as steps to the. 
 final one. 
 
 In the progress of geological speculation the same laws 
 of thought are clearly displayed. We have dogmas thai 
 
HOW THE SCrfiXCE HAS BEEN DEVELOPED, olo 
 
 were more than half false, passing current for a time as 
 universal truths. We have evidence oollected in proof of 
 these dogmas ; by and hy a colligation of facts in antagon- 
 ism with them ; and eventually a consequent modification. 
 In conformity with this somewhat improved hypothesis, we 
 have a better classification of facts ; a greater power of 
 arranging and interpreting the new facts now rajiidly 
 gathered together ; and further resulting corrections of 
 hypothesis. Being, as we are at present, in the midst of 
 this process, it is not possible to give an adequate account 
 of the development of geological science as thus regarded : 
 the earlier stages are alone known to us. ISTot only, how- 
 ever, is it interesting to observe how the more advanced 
 views now received respecting the Earth's history, have 
 been evolved out of the crude views which preceded them; 
 but we shall find it extremely instructive to observe this. 
 We shall see how greatly the old ideas still sway, both the 
 general mind, and the minds of geologists themselves. 
 We shall see how the kind of evidence that has in part 
 abolished these old ideas, is still daily accumulating, and 
 threatens to make other like revolutions. In brief, we 
 shall see whereabouts we are in the elaboration of a true 
 theory of the Earth ; and, seeing our whereabouts, shall be 
 the better able to judge, among various conflicting opinions, 
 which best conform to the ascertained direction of geologi- 
 cal discovery. 
 
 It is alike needless and impracticable here to enumerate 
 the many speculations which were in earlier ages propound- 
 ed by acute men — speculations some of which contained 
 portions of truth. Falling in unfit times, these speculationi- 
 did not germinate ; and hence do not concern us. We 
 have nothing to do with ideas, however good, out of which 
 no science grew ; but only with those which gave origin to 
 the system of Geology that now exists. We therefore be- 
 srin with Werner 
 
31G 
 
 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 Taking for data the appearances of tlie Earth's crust ir 
 a narrow district of Germany ; observing the constant or- 
 der of superposition of strata, and their respective physical 
 characters ; Werner drew the inference that strata of like 
 characters succeeded each other in Hke order over the en- 
 tire surface of the Earth. And seeing, from the laminated 
 structure of many formations and the organic remains con- 
 tained in others, that they were sedimentary ; he further 
 inferred that these universal strata had been in succession 
 precipitated from a chaotic menstruum which once cov- 
 ered our planet. Thus, on a very incomplete acquaintance 
 with a thousandth part of the Earth's crust, he based a 
 sweeping generalization applying to the whole of it. This 
 Neptunist hypothesis, mark, borne out though it seemed to 
 be by the most conspicuous surrounding facts, was quite 
 untenable if analyzed. That a universal chaotic menstruum 
 should deposit, one after another, numerous sharply-defined 
 strata, differing from each other in composition, is incom- 
 prehensible. That the strata so deposited should contain 
 the remains of plants and animals, which could not have 
 lived under the supjDosed conditions, is still more incom- 
 prehensible. Physically absurd, however, as was this hypo- 
 thesis, it recognized, though under a distorted form, one 
 of the great agencies of geological change — that of water. 
 It served also to express the fact that the formations of the 
 Earth's crust stand in some kind of order. Further, it did 
 a little towards supplying a nomenclature, without which 
 much progress was imjDossible. Lastly, it furnished a stand- 
 ard with which successions of strata in various regions 
 could be compared, the differences noted, and the actual 
 sections tabulated. It was the first provisional generaliza- 
 tion ; and was useful, if not indispensable, as a step to truer 
 ones. 
 
 Following this rude conception, which ascribed geologi- 
 cal phenomena to one agency, acting during one j^rimeval 
 
THEOKIES OF WEKNEE AND HrTTOif. 317 
 
 epoch, there came a greatly-improved conception, wliicli 
 ascribed them to two agencies, acting alternately during 
 successive eiDochs. Hutton, perceiving that sedimentary 
 deposits were still being formed at the bottom of the sea 
 from the detritus carried down by rivers ; perceiving, fur- 
 ther, that the strata of which the visible surface chiefly con- 
 sists, bore marks of having been similarly formed out of 
 pre-existing land ; and inferring that these strata could 
 have become land only by upheaval after their deposit ; 
 concluded that throughoiit an indefinite past, there had 
 been periodic convulsions, by which continents were raised, 
 with intervening eras of repose, during which such continents 
 were worn down and transformed into new marine strata, 
 fated to be in their turns elevated above the surface of the 
 ocean. And finding that igneous action, to which sundry 
 earlier geologists had ascribed basaltic rocks, Avas in count- 
 less places a source of disturbance, he taught that from it 
 resulted these periodic convulsions. In this theory we see : 
 — first, that the previously-recognized agency of water was 
 conceived to act, not as by Werner, after a manner of 
 which we have no experience, but after a manner daily dis- 
 played to us ; and second, that the igneous agency, before 
 considered only as a cause of special formations, was rec- 
 ognized as a universal agency, but assumed to act in an 
 unproved way. Werner's sole process, Hutton developed 
 from the catastroiDhic and inexj)licable into the uniform and 
 explicable ; while that antagonistic second j^rocess, of 
 Avhich he first adequately estimated the importance, was 
 regarded by him as a catastrophic one, and was not assimi- 
 lated to known processes — not explained. We have here 
 to note, however, that the facts collected and provisionally 
 arranged in conformity with Werner's theory, served, 
 after a time, to establish Hutton's more rational theory 
 — in so far, at least, as aqueous formations, are concerned ; 
 W'hile the doctrine of periodic subterranean convulsions, 
 
•J] 8 
 
 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 crudely as it was conceived by Ilutton, was a temporary 
 generalization needful as a step tov/ards the theory of igne- 
 ous action. 
 
 Since Plutton's time, the development of geological 
 thought has gone still further in the same direction. These 
 early sweeping doctrines have received additional qualifica- 
 tions. It has been discovered that more numerous and 
 more heterogeneous agencies have been at w^ork, than waa 
 at first believed. The igneous hypothesis has been ration- 
 alized, as the aqueous one had previously been : the gratui- 
 tous assumption of vast elevations suddenly occurring after 
 long intervals of quiescence, has grown into the consistent 
 theory, that islands and continents are the accumulated re- 
 sults of successive small upheavals, like those experienced 
 in ordinary earthquakes. 
 
 To speak more specifically, we find, in the first place, 
 that instead of assuming the denudation produced by rain 
 and rivers to be the sole means of wearing down lands and 
 producing their irregularities of surface, geologists now 
 see that denudation is only a part-cause of such irregulari- 
 ties ; and further, that the new strata deposited at the bot- 
 tom of the sea, are not the products of river-sediment sole- 
 ly, but are in part due to the action of waves and tidal cur- 
 rents on the coasts. In the second place, we find that Hut- 
 ton's conception of upheaval by subterranean forces, has not 
 onlybeen modified by assimilating these subterranean forces 
 to ordinary earthquake-forces; but modern inquiries have 
 shown that, besides elevations of surfiice, subsidences are thus 
 produced ; that local upheavals, as well as the general up- 
 heavals, which raise continents, come within the same 
 category ; and that all these changes are jDrobably con- 
 sequent on the j)rogressive collapse of the Earth's crust 
 upon its cooling and contracting nucleus — the only ade- 
 quate cause. In the third place, we find that beyond 
 these two great antagonist agencies, modern Geology re 
 
PKOGEESS OF GEOLOGIC THEOKY 319 
 
 cognises sundry minor ones : as those of. glaciers and ice- 
 bergs ; those of coral-polypes ; those of Protozoa having 
 siliceous or calcareous shells— each of which agencies, insig- 
 nificant as it seems, is found capable of slowly working 
 terrestrial changes of considerable magnitude. Thus, then, 
 the recent progress of Geology has been a still further de- 
 parture from primitive conceptions. Instead of one cata- 
 strophic cause, once in imiversal action, as sui^posed by 
 Werner — instead of one general continuous cause, antago- 
 nized at long intervals by a catastrophic cause, as taught 
 by Hutton ; we now recognize several causes, all more or 
 less general and continuous. We no longer resort to hy- 
 pothetical agencies to explain the phenomena displayed by 
 the Earth's crust ; but we are day by day more clearly per- 
 ceiving that these phenomena have arisen fi-om forces like 
 those now at work, which have acted in all varieties of 
 combination, through immeasurable periods of time. 
 
 Having thus briefly traced the evolution of geologic 
 science, and noted its present form, let us go on to observe 
 the way in which it is still swayed by the crude hypotheses 
 it set out with ; so that even now, old doctrines that are 
 abandoned as untenable in theory, continue in practice to 
 mould the ideas of geologists, and to foster sundry beliefs 
 that are logically indefensible. We shall see, both how 
 those simple sweeping conceptions with whicli the science 
 commenced, are those which every student is apt at first to 
 seize hold of, and how several influences conspire to main- 
 tain the twist thus resulting — how the original nomencla- 
 ture of periods and formations necessarily keejDS alive the 
 oi'iginal implications ; and how the need for arranging new 
 data in some order, naturally results in their being thrust 
 into the old classification, unless their incongruity with it is 
 very glaring. A few facts will best prepare the way for 
 criticism. 
 
320 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 Up to 1839 it was inferred, from their crystalline char* 
 actor, that the metamorphic rocks of Anglesea are more 
 ancient than any rocks of the adjacent main land ; hut it 
 has since been shown that they are of the same age with the 
 slates and grits of Carnarvon and Merioneth. Again, slaty 
 cleavage having been first found only in the lowest rocks, 
 was taken as an indication of the highest antiquity : whence 
 resulted serious mistakes ; for this mineral characteristic 
 is now known to occur in the Carboniferous system. Once 
 more, certain red conglomerates and grits on the north-west 
 coast of Scotland, long supposed from their lithological as- 
 pect to belong to the Old Red Sandstone, are now identifi- 
 ed with the Lower Silurians. 
 
 These are a few instances of the small trust to be placed in 
 mineral qualities, as evidence of the ages or relative posi- 
 tions of strata. From the recently-published third edition 
 of Siluria., may be culled numerous facts of like implication. 
 Sir R. Murchison considers it ascertained, that the silioeoua 
 Stiper stones of Shropshire are the equivalents of the Tre- 
 madock slates of North "Wales. Judged by their fossils, 
 Bala slate and limestone are of the same age as the Cara- 
 doc sandstone, lying forty miles off. In Radnorshire, the 
 formation classed as upper Llandovery rock, is described 
 at diflerent spots, as " sandstone or conglomerate," " impure 
 limestone," " hard coarse grits," " siliceous grit " — a consid- 
 erable variation for so small an area as that of a county. 
 Certain sandy beds on the left bank of the Towy, which 
 Sir R. Murchison had, in his Silurian System, classed as 
 Caradoc sandstone (evidently from their mineral characters), 
 he now finds, from their fossils, belong to the Llandeilo for- 
 mation. Nevertheless, inferences from mineral characters 
 are still habitually drawn and received. Though Siluria, 
 in common with other geological works, supplies numerous 
 proofs that rocks of the same age are often of widely-dif- 
 ferent composition a few miles off, while rocks of widely 
 
MIA-ERAL CHAEACTEKS OF STEATA UNCEUTAIN. 321 
 
 different ages are often of similar compositiori ; and though 
 Sir. R, Murchison sliows us, as in the case just cited, that 
 he has himself in past times been misled by trusting to lith- 
 ological evidence ; yet his reasoning, all through /Siluria, 
 shows that he still thinks it natural to exj)ect formations of 
 ihe same age to be chemically similar, even in remote re- 
 gions. For example, in treating of the Silurian rocks of 
 South Scotland, he says : — " When traversing the tract be- 
 tween Dumfries and Mofiat in 1850, it occurred to me that 
 the dull reddish or purple sandstone and schist to the north 
 of the former town, which so resembled the bottom rocks 
 of the Longmynd, Llanberis, and St. David's, would 
 prove to be of the same age ; " and further on he again 
 insists upon the fact that these strata " are absolutely of 
 the same comjiosition as the bottom rocks of the Silurian 
 region." 
 
 On this unity of mineral character it is, that this Scot- 
 tish formation is concluded to be contemporaneous with 
 the lowest formations in Wales ; for the scanty paloeontolo- 
 gical evidence suffices neither for proof nor disproof. Now, 
 had there been a continuity of like strata in like order be- 
 tween Wales and Scotland, there might have been little to 
 criticise in this conclusion. But since Sir R. Murchison 
 himself admits, that in Westmoreland and Cumberland, 
 some members of the system " assume a lithological aspect 
 different from what they maintain in the Silurian and 
 Welsh region," there seems no reason to exiDcctmineralogical 
 continuity in Scotland. Obviously therefore, the assump- 
 tion that these Scottish formations are of the same age 
 with the Longmynd of Shroi:)shire, implies the latent Ijc- 
 Hef that certain mineral characters indicate certain eras. 
 
 Far more striking instances, however, of the influence 
 of this latent belief remain to be given. Not in such com- 
 paratively near districts as the Scottish lowlands only, does 
 Sir R. Murchison expect a repetition of the Longmynd 
 
322 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 strata; but in the Rhenish pi'ovinces, certain " quartzose 
 flagstones and grits, like those of the Longmynd," are 
 seemingly concluded to be of contemporaneous origin, be- 
 cause of their likeness. " Quartzites in roofing-slates with 
 a greenish tinge that reminded us of the lower slates of 
 Cumberland and Westmoreland," are evidently suspected 
 to be of the same age. In Russia, he remarks that the car- 
 boniferous limestones " are overlaid along the western edge 
 of the Ural chain by sandstones and grits, which occupy 
 much the same place in the general series as the millstone 
 grit of England ; " and in calling this group, as he does, 
 the " representative of the millstone grit," Sir R. Murchi- 
 son clearly shows that he thinks likeness of mineral compo- 
 sition some evidence of equivalence in time, even at that 
 great distance. Nay, on the flanks of the Ancles and in 
 the United States, such similarities are looked for, and con- 
 sidered as significant of certain ages. Not that Sir R. Mur- 
 chison contends theoretically for this relation between litho- 
 logical character and date. For on the page from wliich 
 we have just quoted {Siluria, p. 387), he says, that " whilst 
 the soft Lower Silurian clays and sands of St. Petersburg 
 have their equivalents in the hard schists and quartz rocks 
 with gold veins in the heart of the Ural mountains, the 
 equally soft red and green Devonian marls of the Valdai 
 Hills are represented on the western flank of that chain, by 
 hard, contorted, and fractured limestones." But these, 
 and other such admissions, seem to go for little. Whilst 
 himself asserting that the Potsdam-sandstone of North 
 America, the Lingula-flags of England, and the alum-slates 
 of Scandinavia are of the same period — while fully aware 
 that among the Silurian formations of Wales, there are 
 oolitic strata like those of secondary age ; yet is his reason- 
 ing more or less coloured by the assumption, that forma- 
 tions of like qualities probably belong to the same era. Is 
 it not manifest, then, that the exploded hypothesis of Wer. 
 uer continues to influence geological speculation? 
 
ASSUMED UNIVEE8ALITY OF STEATIFIED GK0UP8. 323 
 
 " But," it will perhaps be said, " though individual 
 strata are not continuous over large areas, yet systems of 
 strata are. Though within a few miles the same bed grad- 
 ually passes from clay into sand, or thins out and disap- 
 pears, yet the group of strata to which it belongs does not 
 do so ; but maintains in remote regions the same relations 
 to other groups." 
 
 This is the generally-current belief. On this assump- 
 tion the received geological classifications appear to be 
 framed. The Silurian system, the Devonian system, the 
 Carboniferous system, etc., are set down in our books as 
 groups of formations which everywhere succeed each other 
 in a given order; and are severally everywhere of the same 
 age. Though it may not be asserted that these successive 
 systems are universal ; yet it seems to be tacitly assumed 
 that they are so. In North and South America, in Asia, 
 in Australia, sets of strata are assimilated to one or other 
 of these groups ; and their possession of certain mineral 
 characters and a certain order of suj^erposition are among 
 the reasons assigned for so assimilating them. Though, 
 probably, no competent geologist would contend that the 
 European classification of strata is applicable to the globe 
 as a whole ; yet most, if not all geologists, write as though 
 it were so. Among readers of works on Geology, nine out 
 ten carry away the impression that the divisions, Primai-y, 
 Secondary and Tertiary, are of absolute and uniform ajDpli- 
 cation ; that these great divisions are separable into subdi- 
 visions, each of which is definitely distinguishable from the 
 rest, and is everywhere recognizable by its characters as 
 such or such ; and that in all parts of the Earth, these 
 minor systems severally began and ended at the same time. 
 When they meet with the term " carboniferous era," they 
 take for granted that it was an era miiversally carbonife- 
 rous — that it was, what Hugh Miller indeed actually de- 
 ecribes it, an era when the Earth bore a vegetation far 
 
324 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 more luxuriant than it has since clone ; and were they in 
 any of our colonies to meet Avith a coal-bed, they would 
 conclude that, as a matter of course, it was of the same 
 age as the English coal-beds. 
 
 NoAV this belief that geologic " systems " are universal, 
 is quite as untenable as the other. It is just as absurd 
 when considered d priori / and it is equally inconsistent 
 with the facts. Though some series of strata classed to- 
 gether as Oolite, may range over a wider district than any 
 one stratum of the series ; yet we have but to ask what 
 were the circumstances of its deposit, to see that the Oolitic 
 series, like one of its individual strata, must be of local 
 origin ; and that there is not likely to be anywhere else, a 
 series that exactly corresponds, either in its characters or 
 in its commencement and termination. For the formation 
 of such a series implies an area of subsidence, in which its 
 component beds were thrown down. Every area of sub- 
 sidence is necessarily limited ; and to suppose that there 
 exist elsewhere groups of beds completely answering to 
 those known as Oolite, is to suppose that, in contempora- 
 neous areas of subsidence, like processes were going on. 
 There is no reason to suppose this ; but every reason to 
 su2:»pose the reverse. That in contemporaneous areas of 
 subsidence throughout the globe, the conditions would 
 cause the formation of Oolite, or anything like it, is an as- 
 sumption which no modern geologist would openly make : 
 he would say that the equivaleiit series of beds found else- 
 w^here, would very likely bo of dissimilar mineral charac- 
 ter. 
 
 Moreover, in these contemporaneous areas of subsi- 
 dence, the phenomena going on would not only be more or 
 less different in kind ; but in no two cases would they be 
 likely to agree in their commencements and terminations. 
 The probabilities are greatly against separate portions of 
 the Earth's surface beginning to subside at the same time, 
 
GEOLOGIC SYSTEMS NOT UNrVEKSA-L. 325 
 
 and ceasing to subside at the same time — a comcidenco 
 whicb alone could produce equivalent groups of strata. 
 Subsidences in different places begin and end with utter 
 irregularity ; and hence the groups of strata thrown down 
 , in them can but rarely correspond. Measured against each 
 other in time, their limits will disagree. They will refuse 
 to fit into any scheme of definite divisions. On turning to 
 the evidence, we find that it daily tends more and more to 
 justify these a priori positions. Take, as an example, the 
 Old Red Sandstone system. In the north of England this 
 is represented by a single stratum of conglomerate. In 
 Herefordshire, Worcestershire, and Shropshire, it exj^ands 
 into a series of strata from eight to ten thousand feet thick, 
 made up of conglomerates, red, green, and white sand- 
 stones, red, green, and spotted marls, and concretionary 
 limestones. To the south-west, as between Caermarthen 
 and Pembroke, these Old Red Sandstone sti-ata exhibit 
 considerable lithological changes ; and there is an absence 
 of fossil fishes. On the other side of the Bristol Channel, 
 they display further changes in mineral characters and re- 
 mains. "While in South Devon and Cornwall, the equiva- 
 lent strata, consisting chiefly of slates, schists, and lime- 
 stones, are so wholly different, that they were for a long 
 time classed as Silurian. When we thus see that in certain 
 directions the whole group of deposits thins out, and that 
 its mineral characters as well as its fossils change within 
 moderate distances ; does it not become clear that the 
 whole group of deposits was a local one ? And when we 
 find, in other regions, formations analogous to these Old 
 Red Sandstone or Devonian formations ; is it certain — is it 
 even probable — that they severally began and ended at the 
 same time with them ? Should it not require overwhelm- 
 ing evidence to make us believe as much ? 
 
 Yet so strongly is geological speculation swayed by the 
 tendency to regard the phenomena as general instead of 
 
326 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 loca], that even those most on their guard against it seem 
 unable to escape its influence. At page 158 of his Princi- 
 ples of Geology, Sir Charles Lyell says : — 
 
 " A group of red marl and red sandstone, containing salt and 
 gypsum, being interposed in England between the Lias and the 
 Ooal, all other red marls and sandstones, associated some of them 
 with salt, and others with gypsum, and occurring not only in dif- 
 ferent parts of Europe, but in North America, Peru, India, the 
 salt deserts of Asia, those of Africa — in a word, in every quarter 
 of the globe, were referred to one and the same period. . . . 
 . . It was in vain to urge as an objection the improbability of 
 the hypothesis which implies that all the moving waters on the 
 globe were once simultaneously charged with sediment of a red 
 colour. But the rashness of pretending to identify, in age, all the 
 red sandstones and marls in question, has at length been suffi- 
 ciently exposed, by the discovery that, even in Europe, they be- 
 long decidedly to many ditFerent epochs." 
 
 Nevertheless, while in this and numerous passages of 
 like implication, Sir C. Lyell protests against the bias here 
 illustrated, he seems himself not completely free from it. 
 Though he utterly rejects the old hypothesis that all over 
 the Earth the same continuous strata lie upon each other 
 in i-egular order, like the coats of an onion, he still writes 
 as though geologic " systems" do thus succeed each other. 
 A reader of his Manual would certainly suppose him to 
 believe, that the Primary epoch ended, and the Secondary 
 epoch commenced, all over the world at the same time — 
 that these terms really correspond to distinct universal ei-as 
 in Nature. When he assumes, as he does, that the divis- 
 ion between Cambrian and Low^er Silurian in America, an- 
 swers chronologically to the division between Cambrian 
 and Lower Silurian in Wales — when he takes for granted 
 that the partings of Lower from Middle Silurian, and of 
 Middle Silurian from Upper, in the one region, are of the 
 same dates as tie like partings in the other region ; does it 
 
CONTINUED INFLUENCE OF EXPLODED V'lEWS. 327 
 
 Dot seem that he beheves geologic " systems " to be uni- 
 versal, in the sense that their separations were in all places 
 contemporaneous ? Though he would, doubtless, disown 
 this as an article of faith, is not his thinking unconsciously 
 influenced by it ? Must we not say that though the onion- 
 coat hyjDothesis is dead, its spirit is traceable, under a trans- 
 cendental form, even in the conclusions of its antagonists ? 
 
 Let us now consider another leading geological doc- 
 trine, introduced to us by the cases just mentioned. We 
 mean the doctrine that strata of the same age contain like 
 fossils ; and that, therefore, the age and relative position of 
 any stratum may be known by its fossils. While the the- 
 ory that strata of like mineral characters were everywhere 
 deposited simultaneously, has been ostensibly abandoned, 
 there has been accepted the theory that in each geologic 
 epoch similar plants and animals existed everywhere ; and 
 that, therefore, the epoch to which any foi'mation belongs 
 may be known by the organic remains contained in the 
 formation. Though, perhaps, no leading geologist would 
 openly commit himself to an unquaUfied assertion of this 
 theory, yet it is tacitly assumed in current geological rea- 
 soning. 
 
 This theory, however, is scarcciy more tenable than the 
 other. It cannot be concluded with any certainty, that 
 formations in which similar organic remains are found, were 
 of contemporaneous origin ; nor can it be safely concluded 
 that strata containing different organic remains are of dif- 
 ferent ages. To most readers these will be startling propo- 
 sitions ; but they are fully admitted by the highest author- 
 ities. Sir Charles Lyell confesses that the test of organic 
 remains must be used " under very much the same restric- 
 tions as the test of mineral composition." Sir Henry de la 
 Beche, who variously illustrates this truth, gives, as one 
 instance, the great mcongruity there must be between the 
 
328 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 fossils of our caiboniferous rocks and those of the marine 
 strata deposited at the same period. But though, in tha 
 abstract, the danger of basing positive conclusions on evi- 
 dence derived from fossils, is clearly recognized ; yet, in the 
 concrete, this danger is generally disregarded. The estab- 
 lished conclusions respecting the ages of strata, take but 
 little note of it ; and by some geologists it seems altogether 
 ignored. Throughout his jSiluria, Sir R. Murchison habit- 
 ually assumes that the same, or kindred, species, lived in 
 all parts of the Earth at the same time. In Russia, in Bo- 
 hemia, in the United States, in South America, strata are 
 classed as belonging to this or that part of the Silurian sys- 
 tem, because of the similar fossils contained in them — are 
 concluded to be everywhere contemporaneous if they en- 
 close a propoi"tion of identical or allied forms. In Russia 
 the relative position of a stratum is inferred from the fact 
 that, along with some Weulock forms, it yields the Penta- 
 merus ohloJigus. Certain crustaceans called Eurypteri, be- 
 ing characteristic of the Upper Ludlow rock, it is remarked 
 that " large Eurypteri occur in a so-called black grey-wacke 
 slate in Westmoreland, in Oneida County, New York, 
 which will probably be found to be on the parallel of the 
 Upper Ludlow rock : " in w^hich word " probably," we see 
 both how dominant is this belief of universal distribution 
 of similar creatures at the same period, and how apt this 
 belief is to make its own proof, by raising the expectation 
 that the ages are identical when the forms are alike. Be- 
 sides thus interpreting the formations of Russia, England, 
 and America, Sir R. Murchison thus interprets those of the 
 antipodes. Fossils from Victoria Colony, he agrees with 
 the Government-surveyor in classing as of Lower Silurian 
 or Llandovery age : that is, he takes for granted that when 
 certain crustaceans and moUusks were living in "Wales, cer- 
 tain similar crustaceans and mollusks were living in Aus- 
 tralia 
 
THE TEST OF OEGAXIC EEMAIKS. 329 
 
 Yet the improbability of this assumption maybe readily 
 sliown from Sir R. Murchison's own facts. If, as he points 
 out, the crustacean fossils of the uppermost Silurian rocks 
 in Lanarkshire are, " with one doubtful exception," " all 
 distinct from any of the forms on the same horizon in Eng- 
 land ; " how can it be fairly presumed that the forms exist", 
 ing on the other side of the Earth during the Silurian 
 period, were nearly allied to those existing here ? Xol 
 only, indeed, do Sir R. Murchison's conclusions tacitly as- 
 sume this doctrine of universal distribution, but he distinctly 
 enunciates it. "The mere presence of a graptolite," he 
 says, " will at once decide that the enclosing rock is Silu- 
 rian ; " and he says this, notwithstanding repeated warnings 
 against such generalizations. During the progress of Geolo- 
 gy, it has over and over again happened that a particular 
 fossil, long considered characteristic of a particular forma- 
 tion, has been afterwards discovered in other formations. 
 Until some twelve years ago, Goniatites had not been found 
 lower than the Devonian rocks; but now, in Bohemia, they 
 have been found in rocks classed as Silurian. Quite re- 
 cently, the Orthoceras, previously supposed to be a type 
 exclusively palajozoic, has been detected along with meso- 
 zoic Ammonites and Belemnites. Yet hosts of such experi- 
 ences fail to extinguish the assumption, that the age of a 
 stratum may be determined by the occurrence in it of a 
 smgle fossil form. 
 
 Nay, this assumption survives evidence of even a still 
 more destructive kind. Referring to the Silurian system 
 in "Western Ireland, Sir R. Murchison says, " in the beds 
 near Maam, Professor Nicol and myself collected remains, 
 some of which would be considered Lower, and others 
 Upper, Silurian ; " and he then names sundry fossils "which^ 
 in England, belong to the summit of the Ludlow rocks, or 
 highest Silurian strata ; " some, which elsewhere are known 
 only in rocks of Llandovery age," that is, of middle Silu- 
 
("^SO ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 rian age ; and some, only before known in Lower Siliiriar 
 strata, not far above the most ancient fossiliferous beds 
 Now what do these facts prove ? Clearly, they prove that 
 species which in Wales are separated by strata more than 
 twenty thousand feet deep, and therefore seem to belong 
 to periods far more remote from each other, were really 
 coexistent. They prove that the moUusks and crinoids 
 held characteristic of early Silurian strata, and supposed to 
 have become extinct long before the mollusks and crinoids 
 of the later Silurian strata came into existence, were really 
 flourishing at the same time with these last; and that these 
 last possibly date back to as early a period as the first. 
 They prove that not only the mineral characters of sedi- 
 mentary formations, but also the collections of organic 
 forms they contain, depend, to a great extent, on local cir- 
 cumstances. They prove that the fossils met with in any 
 series of strata, cannot be taken as representing anything 
 hke the whole Flora and Fauna of the period they belong- 
 to. In brief, they throw great doubt upon numerous geo- 
 loo;ical greneralizations. 
 
 ISTotwithstanding facts like these, and notwithstanding 
 his avowed opinion that the test of organic remains must be 
 used " under very much the same restrictions as the test of 
 mineral composition," Sir Charles Lyell, too, bases positive 
 conclusions on this test : even where the community of 
 fossils is slight and the distance great. Having decided 
 that in various places in Europe, middle Eocene strata are 
 distinguished by nummulites ; he infers, without any other 
 assigned evidence, that wherever nummulites are found — 
 in Morocco, Algeria, Egypt, in Persia, Scinde, Cutch, East- 
 ern Bengal, and the frontiers of China — the containing foi'- 
 mation is middle Eocene. And from this inference he 
 draws tlie following important corollary : — ■ 
 
 ' TVhcn we have once arrived at the couviction that the 
 
ltell's conclusions unwakeanted. 331 
 
 aummulitic formation occupies a middle place in tlie Eocene 
 series, we are struck with the comparatively modern date to 
 which some of the greatest revolutions in the physical geographj 
 of Europe, Asia, and northern Africa must be referred. All 
 the mountain chains, such as the Alps, Pyrenees, Carpathians, 
 and Himalayas, into the composition of whose central and lof- 
 tiest parts the nummulitic strata enter bodily, could have had no 
 existence till after the middle Eocene period." — Manual., p. 232. 
 
 A still more marked case follows on the next page. 
 Because a certain bed at Claiborne in Alabama, which con- 
 tains '"'■four hundred species of marine shells," includes 
 among them the Cardlta planicosta.^ " and some others 
 -dentical with European species, or very nearly allied to 
 them," Sir C. Lyell says it is " highly probable the Clai- 
 borne beds agree in age with the central or Bracklesham 
 group of England," When we find contemporaneity sup- 
 posed on the strength of a community no greater than that 
 which sometimes exists between strata of widely-different 
 ages in the same country, it seems very much as though 
 the above-quoted caution had been forgotten. It appears 
 to be assumed for the occasion, that species which had a 
 wide range in space had a narrow range in time ; which is 
 the reverse of the fact. The tendency to systematize over- 
 rides the evidence, and thrusts Nature into a formula too 
 rigid to fit her endless variety. 
 
 " Bat," it may be urged, " surely, when in different 
 places the order of superposition, the mineral characters, 
 and the fossils, agree, it may be safely concluded that the 
 formations thus corresponding are equivalents in time. If, 
 for example, the United States display the same succes- 
 sion of Silurian, Devonian, and Carboniferous systems, litli- 
 ologically similar, and characterized by like fossils, it is a 
 fair inference that these groups of strata were severally 
 deposited in America at the same periods that they were 
 deposited here." 
 
332 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 On this position, which seems a strong one, wc have, in 
 the first place, to remark, that the evidence of correspond- 
 ence is always more or less suspicions. "We have already 
 adverted to the several " idols " — if we may nse Bacon's 
 metaphor — to which geologists unconsciously sacrifice, 
 when interpreting the structures of unexplored regions. 
 Carrying with them the classification of strata existing in 
 Europe, and assuming that groups of strata in other parts 
 of the world must answer to some of the groups of strata 
 known here, they are necessarily prone to assert parallel- 
 ism on insufficient evidence. They scarcely entertain the 
 previous question, whether the formations they are examin- 
 ing have or have not any Euroi^ean equivalents ; but the 
 question is — with which of the European series shall they 
 be classed? — with which do they most agree? — from which 
 do they diifer least ? And this being the mode of enquiry, 
 there is apt to result great laxity of interpretation. How 
 lax the interpretation really is, may be readily shown. 
 When strata are discontinuous, as between Europe and 
 America, no evidence can be derived from the order of 
 superposition, apart from mineral characters and organic 
 remains ; for, unless strata can be continuously traced, min- 
 eral characters and organic remains are the only means of 
 classing them as such or such. 
 
 As to the test of mineral characters, we have seen that 
 it is almost worthless ; and no modern geologist would 
 dare to say it should be relied on. If the Old Red Sand- 
 stone series in mid-England, diflers wholly in lithological 
 aspect from the equivalent series in South Devon, it is clear 
 tliat similarities of texture and composition can have no 
 ^veight in assimilating a system of strata in another quar- 
 ter of the globe to some European system. The test of 
 fossils, therefore, is the only one that remains ; and with 
 how little strictness this test is applied, one case will show. 
 Of forty-six species of British Devonian corals, only six 
 
INADEQUATE EVrDi:NCE OF SYNCIIKONI:iM. 333 
 
 occur in America ; and this, notwithstanding the wide 
 range which the Anthozoa are known to have. Similarly 
 of the Mollusca and Crinoidea, it appears that, while then 
 are sundry genera found in America that are found here, 
 there are scarcely any of the same species. And Sir 
 Charles Lyell admits that " the difficulty of deciding on 
 the exact parallelism of the 'New York subdivisions, as 
 above enumerated, with the members of the European 
 Devonian, is very great, so few are the species in common." 
 Yet it is on the strength of community of fossils, that the 
 whole Devonian series of the United States is assumed to 
 be contemporaneous with the whole Devonian series of 
 England. And it is partly on the ground that the Devo- 
 nian of the United States corresponds in time with our De- 
 vonian, that Sir Charles Lyell concludes the superjacent 
 coal-measures of the two countries to be of the same age. 
 Is it not, then, as we said, that the evidence in these cases 
 is very suspicious ? , 
 
 Should it be replied, as it may faii-ly be, that this cor- 
 respondence from which the synchronism of distant forma- 
 tions is inferred, is not a correspondence between particu- 
 lar species or particular genera, but between the general 
 characters of the contained assemblages of fossils — between 
 \he fades of the two Faunas; the rejoinder is, that though 
 such correspondence is a stronger evidence of synchronism 
 it is still an insufficient one. To infer synchronism from 
 such correspondence, involves the postulate that through- 
 out each geologic era there has habitually existed a recog- 
 nizable similarity between the groups of organic forms in- 
 habiting all the different parts of the Earth ; and that the 
 causes which have in one part of the Earth changed the or- 
 ganic forms into those which characterize the next era, have 
 Bimultaneously acted in all other parts of the Earth, in such 
 ways as to produce parallel changes of their organic forms. 
 Now this is not only a large assumption to make ; but it is 
 
334: ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 an assumption contrary to probability. The probability is. 
 that the causes which have changed Faunas have been local 
 rather than universal ; that hence while the Faunas of 
 some regions have been rapidly changing, those of others 
 have been almost quiescent; and that when such others 
 have been changed, it has been, not in such ways as to 
 maintain parallelism, but in such ways as to produce diver- 
 gence. 
 
 Even supposing, however, that districts some hundreds 
 of miles apart, furnished groups of strata that completely 
 agreed in their order of superposition, their mineral charac- 
 ters, and their fossils, we should still have inadequate proof 
 of contemporaneity. For there are conditions, very likely 
 to occur, under which such groups might differ widely in 
 age. If there be a continent of which the strata crop out 
 on the surface obliquely to the line of coast — running, say, 
 west-northwest, while the coast runs east and west — it is 
 clear that, each group of strata will crop out on the beach 
 at a particular part of the coast ; that further vrest the next 
 group of strata will crop out on the beach ; and so continu- 
 ously. As the localization of marine plants and animals is 
 in a considerable degree determined by the nature of the 
 rocks and their detritus, it follows that each part of this 
 coast will have its more or less distinct Flora and Fauna. 
 What now must result from the action of the waves in the 
 course of a geologic epoch? As the sea makes slow inroads 
 on the land, the place at which each group of strata crops 
 out on the beach will gradually move towards the west : 
 its distinctive fish, mollusks, crustaceans, and sea-weeds, 
 migrating with it. Further, the detritus of each of these 
 groups of strata Avill, as the point of outcrop moves west- 
 wards, be deposited over the detritus of the group in ad- 
 vance of it. And the consequence of these actions, carried 
 on for one of those enormous periods required for geologic 
 changes, will be that, corresponding to each eastern stratum^ 
 
VAKIETY OF STKATA NOW FOKMING. 335 
 
 tlieve will arise a stratum far to the west wbicli, though oc- 
 cupymg the same position relatively to other beds, formed 
 of like materials, and containing like fossils, will yet be per 
 haps a million years later in date. 
 
 But the illegitimacy, or at any rate the great doubtful- 
 ness, of many current geological inferences, is best seen 
 when we contemplate terrestrial changes now going on : 
 and ask how far such inferences are countenanced by them. 
 If we carry out rigorously the modern method of interpret- 
 ing geological phenomena, which Sir Charles Lyell has done 
 so much to establish — that of referring them to causes like 
 those at present in action — we cannot fail to see how im- 
 probable are sundry of the received conclusions. 
 
 Along each line of shore that is being worn away by 
 the waves, there are being formed mud, sand, and pebbles. 
 This detritus, spread over the neighbouring sea-bottom, 
 has, in each locality, a more or less special character ; de- 
 termined by the nature of the strata destroyed. In the 
 English Channel it is not the same as in the Irish Channel ; 
 on the east coast of Ireland it is not the same as on the 
 west coast ; and so throughout. At the mouth of each 
 great river, there is being deposited sediment differing 
 more or less from that of other rivers in colour and quali- 
 ty ; forming strata that are here red, there yellow, and 
 elsewhere brown, grey, or dirty white. Besides Avhich va 
 rious formations, going on in deltas and along shores, there 
 are some much wider and still more contrasted formations. 
 At the bottom of the ^gsean Sea, there is accumulating 
 a bed of Pteropod shells, which will eventually, no doubt, 
 become a calcareous rock. For some hundreds of thou- 
 sands of square miles, the ocean-bed between Great Britain 
 and North America, is being covered with a stratum of 
 chalk ; and over large areas in the Pacific, there are going 
 Dn deposits of coralUne hmestone. Thus, throughout tlie 
 16 
 
336 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 Earth, there are at this moment being prodaced an im 
 mense number of strata differing from each other in lithe 
 logical characters. Name at random any one part of the 
 sea-bottom, and ask whether the deposit there taking place 
 is like the dejDosit taking j^lace at some distant part of the 
 sea-bottom, and the almost-certaiuly correct answer will be 
 ■ — Xo. The chances are not in favour of similaiity, but 
 very greatly against it. 
 
 In the order of superposition of strata there is occur- 
 ing a like variety. Each region of the Earth's surface has 
 its special history of elevations, subsidences, periods of 
 rest ; and this history in no case fits chronologically with 
 the history of any other poi'tion. River deltas are now be- 
 ing thrown down on formations of quite different ages. 
 While here there h.is been deposited a series of beds many 
 hundreds of feet thick, there has elsevrhere been deposited 
 but a single bed of fine mud. While one region of the 
 Earth's crust, continuing for a vast epoch above the surface 
 of the ocean, beai's record of no changes save those result- 
 ing from denudation ; another region of the Earth's crust 
 gives proof of various changes of level, with their several 
 resulting masses of stratified detritus. If anything is to 
 be judged from current processes, we must infer, not only 
 that everywhere the succession of sedimentary formations 
 differs more or less from the succession elsewhere ; but also 
 that in each place, there exist groups of strata to which 
 many other places have no equivalents. 
 
 With respect to the organic bodies imbedded in forma- 
 tions now in progress, the like truth is equally manifest, if 
 not more manifest. Even along the same coast, within 
 moderate distances, the forms of life differ very considera- 
 bly ; much more on coasts that are remote from each other. 
 Again, dissimilar creatures that are living together near the 
 same shore, do not leave their remains in the same beds of 
 sediment. For instance, at the bottom of tlic Adriatic. 
 
MODEKN DEPOSITS OF ORGANIC EEilAINS. 337 
 
 where the prevailing currents cause the deposits to lie here 
 of mud, and there of calcareous matter, it is proved that 
 difierent species of co-existing shells are being buried in 
 these respective formations. On our own coasts, the ma- 
 rine remains found a few miles from shore, in banks where 
 fish congregate, are different from those found close to the 
 shore, where only littoral species flourish. A large proper- 
 lion of aquatic creatures have structures that do not admit 
 of fossilization ; while of the rest, the great majority are 
 destroyed, when dead, by the various kinds of scavengers 
 that creep among the rocks and weeds. So that no one 
 deposit near our shores can contain anything like a true 
 representation of the Fauna of the surrounding sea ; much 
 Iqss of the co-existing Faunas of other seas in the same lat- 
 itude ; and still less of the Faunas of seas in distant lati- 
 tudes. "Were it not that the assertion seems needful, it 
 would be almost absurd to say, that the organic remains 
 now being buried in the Dogger Bank, can tell us next 
 to nothing about the fish, crustaceans, mollusks, and corals 
 that are being buried in the Bay of Bengal. 
 
 Still stronger is the argument in the case of terrestrial 
 life. With more numerous and greater contrasts between 
 the plants and animals of remote places, there is a far more 
 imperfect registry of them. Schouw marks out on the Earth 
 more than twenty botanical regions, occupied by groujDs of 
 forms so far distinct from each other, that, if fossilized, geo- 
 logists would scarcely be disposed to refer them all to the 
 same period. Of Faunas, the Arctic differs from the Tem- 
 perate ; the Temperate from the Tropical ; and the South 
 Temperate from the Xorth Temperate. jSTay, in the South 
 Temperate Zone itself, the two regions of South Africa and 
 South America are unlike in their mammals, birds, reptiles, 
 fishes, mollusks, insects. The shells and bones now lying at 
 the bottoms of lakes and estuaries in these several regions, 
 have certainly not that similarity which is usually looked 
 
338 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 for in those of contemporaneous strata ; and the recent 
 forms exhumed in any one of these regions would very un- 
 truly represent the present Flora and Fauna of the Earth. 
 In conformity with the current style of geological reason- 
 ing, an exhaustive examination of depositsin the Arctic cir- 
 cle, might be held to prove that though at this period 
 there Avere sundry mammals existing, there were no reptiles ; 
 W'hile the absence of mammals in the deposits of the Gala- 
 pagos Archipelago, where there are plenty of reptiles, might 
 be held to prove the reverse. And at the same time, from 
 the formations extending for two thousand miles along the 
 great barrier-reef of Australia — formations in which are 
 imbedded nothing but corals, echinoderms, mollusks, crus- 
 taceans, and fish, along with an occasional turtle, or bird, 
 or cetacean, it might be inferred that there lived in our 
 epoch neither terrestrial reptiles nor terrestrial mammals. 
 
 The mention of Australia, indeed, suggests an illustra- 
 tion which, even alone, would amply prove our case. The 
 Fauna of this region differs widely from any that is found 
 elsewhere. On land all the indigenous mammals, except 
 bats, belong to the lowest, or implacental division ; and the 
 insects are singularly different from those found elsewhere. 
 The surrounding seas contain numerous forms that are more 
 or less strange ; and among the fish there exists a species 
 of shark, which is the only Hving representative of a genus 
 that flourished in early geologic epochs. If, now, the mod- 
 ern fossiliferous deposits of Australia were to be examined 
 by one ignorant of the existing Australian Fauna; and if he 
 were to reason in the usual manner ; he would be very un- 
 likely to class these deposits with those of the present time. 
 HoAv, then, can we place confidence in the tacit assumption 
 that certain formations in remote parts of the Earth are 
 referable to the same period, because the organic remains 
 contained in them display a certain community of charac- 
 ter ? or that certain others are referable to different periods, 
 because the fades of their Faunas are different ? 
 
REASONING IN A CIRCLE. 339 
 
 "Bat," it will be replied, "in past eras the sam?, or 
 similar, organic forms "were more widely distributed than 
 now." It may be so ; but the CAidcnee adduced by no 
 means proves it. The argument by which this conclusion 
 is reached, runs a risk of being quoted as an example of 
 reasoning in a circle. As already pointed out, between 
 formations in remote regions there is no means of ascertain- 
 ing equivalence but by fossils. If, then, the contempora- 
 neity of remote formations is concluded from the likeness 
 of their fossils ; how can it be said that similar plants and 
 animals were once more widely distributed, because they 
 are found in contemporaneous strata in remote regions ? 
 Is not the fallacy manifest ? Even supposing there were 
 no such fatal objection as this, the evidence commonly as- 
 signed would still be insufficient. For we must bear in 
 mind that the community of organic remains commonly 
 thought sufficient for inferring correspondence in time, is a 
 very imperfect community. When the compared sedimen- 
 tary beds are far apart, it is scarcely expected that there 
 will be many species common to the two : it is enough if 
 there be discovered a considerable number of common gen- 
 era. Now had it been pi'oved that, throughovit geologic 
 time, each genus lived but for a short period — a period 
 measured by a single group of strata — something might be 
 mferred. But what if we learn that many of the same 
 genera continued to exist throughout enormous epochs, 
 measured by several vast systems of strata ? " Among 
 molluscs, the genera Avieula, JTodioIa, Terebratula., Lm- 
 gula^ and Orhkida^ are found from the Silurian rocks up- 
 wards to the present day." If, then, between the lowest 
 fossiliferous formations and the most recent, there exists 
 this degree of community ; must we not infer that there 
 will probably often exist a degree of community between 
 strata that are far from contemporaneous ? 
 
 Thus the reasonins: from ^^hich it is concluded that 
 
34:0 ILLOGICAL, GEOLOGY. 
 
 similar organic forms were once more widely spread, ia 
 doubly fallacious ; and, consequently, the classifications of 
 foreign strata based on tliis conclusion are untrustworthy. 
 Judging from the present distribution of life, we can 
 scarcely expect to find similar remains in geographically 
 remote strata of the same age ; and where, between the 
 fossils of geographically remote strata, we do find much 
 similarity, it is probably often due rather to likeness of con- 
 ditions than to contemporaneity. If from causes and ef- 
 fects such as we now witness, we reason back to the causes 
 and effects of past epochs, we discover inadequate warrant 
 for sundry of the received doctrines. Seeing, as we do, 
 that in large areas of the Pacific this is a period character- 
 ized by abundance of corals ; that in the ISTorth Atlantic it 
 is a period in which a great chalk-deposit is being formed ; 
 and that in the valley of the Mississippi it is a j^eriod of 
 new coal-basins — seeing also, as we do, that in one exten- 
 sive continent this is peculiarly an era of implacental mam- 
 mals, and that in another extensive continent it is peculiarly 
 an era of placental mammals ; we have good reason to hes- 
 itate before acce|)ting these sweeping generalizations which 
 are based on a cursory examination of strata occupying but 
 a tenth part of the Earth's surface. 
 
 At the outset, this article was to have been a review of 
 the works of Hugh Miller ; but it has grown into some- 
 thing much more general. Nevertheless, the remaining 
 two doctrines which we propose to criticise, may be con- 
 veniently treated in connection with his name, as that of 
 one who fully committed himself to them. And first, a few 
 words with regard to his position. 
 
 That he was a man whose life was one of meritorious 
 achievement, every one knows. That he was a diligent and 
 guccessful working geologist, scarcely needs saying. That 
 with indomitable perseverance he struggled up from ob- 
 
HUGH MILLEK AS A GEOLOGIST. 341 
 
 scurity to a place in the world of literature and science, 
 shows him to have been highly endowed in character and 
 intelligence. And that he had a remarkable power of pre- 
 senting his facts and arguments in an attractive form, a 
 glance at any of his books will quickly prove. By all 
 means, let us resjoect him as a man of activity and sagacity, 
 joined with a large amount of poetry. But while saying 
 this we must add, that his reputation stands by no means 
 so high in the scientific world as in the world at large. 
 Partly from the fact that our Scotch neighbours are in the 
 habit of blowing the trumpet rather loudly before their 
 notabilities — partly because the charming style in which his 
 books are written has gained him a largo circle of readers 
 • — partly, perhaps, through a praiseworthy sympathy with 
 him as a self-made man ; Hugh Miller has met with an 
 amount of ajDplause which, little as we wish to diminish it, 
 must not be allowed to blind the public to his defects as a 
 man of science. 
 
 The truth is, he was so far committed to a foregone 
 conclusion, that he could not become a philosophical geolo- 
 gist. Pie might be aptly described as a theologian study- 
 ing geology. The dominant idea with which he wrote, 
 may be seen in the titles of his books — Laio versus Miracle^ 
 — Footprints of the Creator, — The Testimony of the 
 Hocks. Regarding geological facts as. evidence for or 
 against certain religious conclusions, it was scarcely possi- 
 ble for him to deal with geological facts impartially. His 
 ruling aim was to disprove the Development Hypothesis, 
 the assumed implications of which were repugnant to him ; 
 and in proportion to the strength of his feeling, was the 
 one-sidedness of his reasoning. He admitted that " God 
 might as certainly have oric/inated the species by a law of 
 development, as he maintains it by a law of development ; 
 the existence of a First Great Cause is as perfectly compat- 
 fljle with the one scheme as with the other." Neverthe* 
 
342 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 less, he considered the hypothesis at variance with Chria 
 tianity ; and therefore combated with it. He apparently 
 overlooked the fact that the doctrines of geology in gen- 
 eral, as held by himself, had been rejected by many on sim- 
 ilar grounds ; and that he had himself been repeatedly at- 
 tacked for his anti-Christian teachings. He seems not to 
 have perceived that, just as his antagonists were wrong ia 
 condemning as irreligious, theories which he saw were not 
 irreligious ; so might he be wrong in condemning, on like 
 grounds, the Theory of Evolution. In brief, he fell short 
 of that highest faith, which knows that all truths must har- 
 monize ; and which is, therefore, content trustfully to fol- 
 low the evidence whithersoever it leads. 
 
 Of course it is impossible to criticize his works without 
 entering on this great question to which he chiefly devoted 
 himself. The two remaining doctrines to be here discussed, 
 bear directly on this question ; and, as above said, we pro- 
 pose to treat them in connection with Hugh Miller's name, 
 because, throughout his reasonings, he assumes their truth. 
 Let it not be supposed, however, that we shall aim to prove 
 what he has aimed to disf)rove. While we purpose show- 
 ing that his arguments against the Development Hypothe- 
 sis are based on invalid assumptions ; we do not purpose 
 showing that the opposing arguments are based on valid 
 assumptions. We hope to make it apparent that the geo- 
 logical evidence at present obtained, is insufficient for either 
 side ; further, that there seems little probability of sufficient 
 evidence ever being obtained ; and that if the question is 
 eventually decided, it must be decided on other than geo- 
 logical data. 
 
 The first of the current doctrines to which we have just 
 referred, is, that there occur in the records of former life 
 on our planet, certain great blanks — that though, generally, 
 the succession of fossil forms is tolerably continuous, yet 
 
BREAKS IN THE COTIKSE OF TERRESTEIAL LIFE. 343 
 
 that at two places there occur wide gaps in the sci-ies 
 whence it is inferred that, on at least two occasions, tlie 
 previously existing inhabitants of the Earth were almost 
 wholly destroyed, and a different class of inhabitants cre- 
 ated. Comparing the general life on the Earth to a thread, 
 Hugh Miller says : — 
 
 " It is contiuuous from the present time up to the commence- 
 ment of the Tertiary period; and then so abrupt a break occurs, 
 that, with the exception of the mici'oscopic diatomaccfe to which 
 T last evening referred, and of one shell and one coral, not a sin- 
 gle species crossed the gap. On its further or remoter side, how- 
 ever, where the Secondary division closes, the intermingling of 
 species again begins, and runs on till the commencement of this 
 great Secondary division; and then, just where the Pala?ozoic di- 
 vision closes, we find another abrupt break, crossed, if crossed at 
 all, — for there still exists some doubt on tlie subject, — by but two 
 species of plant." 
 
 These breaks are considered to imply actual new crea- 
 tions on the surface of our planet ; not only by Hugh Mil- 
 ler, but by the majority of geologists. And the terms 
 PalcEOzoic, Mesozoic, and Caiuozoic, are used to indicate 
 these three successive systems of life. It is true that some 
 accept this belief with caution : knowing how geologic 
 research has been all along tending to fill up what were 
 once thought wide breaks. Sir Charles Lyell points out 
 that " the hiatus which exists in Great Britain between the 
 fossils of the Lias and those of the Magnesian Limestone, 
 is supplied in Germany by the rich fauna and flora of the 
 Muschelkalk, Keuper, and Bunter Sandstein, which we 
 know to be of a date precisely intermediate." Again he 
 remarks that " until lately the fossils of the coal-measures 
 were separated from those of the antecedent Silurian groun 
 by a very abrup't and decided line of demarcation ; bui 
 recent discoveries have brought to light in Devonshire, 
 Belgium, the Eifel, and Westphalia, the remains of a fau7ia 
 
341- ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 of an intervening period." And once more, " we Lave also 
 in like manner had some success of late years in dimiuisli- 
 iTig the hiatus which still separates the Cretaceous and 
 Eocene periods in Europe." To which let us add that 
 since Hugh Miller penned the passage above quoted, the 
 second of the great gaps he refers to has been very consid- 
 erably narrowed by the discovery of strata containing Pa- 
 laeozoic genera and Mesozoic genera intermingled. Never- 
 theless, the occurrence of two great revolutions in the 
 Earth's Flora and Fauna ai:)pears still to be held by many ; 
 and geologic nomenclature habitually assumes it. 
 
 Before seeking a solution of these phenomena, let us 
 glance at the several minor causes that produce breaks in 
 the geological succession of organic forms : taking first, 
 the more general ones which modify climate, and, there- 
 fore, the distribution of life. Among these may be noted 
 one which has not, we believe, been named by writers on 
 the subject. We mean that resulting from a certain slow 
 astronomic rhythm, by which the northern and southern 
 hemispheres are alternately subject to greater extremes of 
 temperature. In consequence of the slight ellipticity of its 
 orbit, the Earth's distance from the sun varies to the extent 
 of some 3,000,000 of miles. At present, the aphelion oc- 
 curs at the time of our northern summer ; and the perihe- 
 lion during the summer of the southern hemisphere. In 
 consequence, however, of that slow movement of the 
 Earth's axis which produces the precession of the equinox- 
 es, this state of things will in time be reversed : the Earth 
 will be nearest to the sun during the summer of the north- 
 ern hemisphere, and furthest from it during the southern 
 summer or northern winter. The period required to com- 
 plete the slow movement joroducing these changes, is nearly 
 26,000 years; and were there no modifying process, the 
 two hemispheres would alternately experience this coinci- 
 dence of summer with the least distance from the sun, dur 
 
ASTRONOMIC CAUSES OF CLIMATIC CHANGES. 345 
 
 mg a period of 13,000 years. But there is also a still 
 slower change in the direction of the axis major of the 
 Earth's orbit ; from which it results that the alternation we 
 have described is completed in about 21,000 years. That 
 is to say, if at a given time the Earth is nearest to the sun 
 at our mid-summer, and furthest from the sun at our mid- 
 winter : then, in 10,500 years afterwards, it will be furthest 
 from the sun at our mid-summer, and nearest at our mid- 
 winter. 
 
 Now the difference between the distances from the sun 
 at the two extremes of this alternation, amounts to one- 
 thirtieth ; and hence, the difference between the quantities 
 of heat received from the sun on a summer's day under 
 these opposite conditions amounts to one-fifteenth. Esti- 
 mating this, not with reference to the zero of our thermome- 
 ters, but with reference to the temperature of the celestial 
 spaces, Sir John Herschel calculates "23° Fahrenheit as 
 the least variation of temperature under such circumstances 
 which can reasonably be attributed to the actual variation 
 of the sun's distance." Thus, then, each hemisphere has 
 at a certain epoch, a short summer of extreme heat, fol- 
 lowed by a long and very cold M'inter. Through the slow 
 change in the direction of the Earth's axis, these extremes 
 are gradually mitigated. And at the end of 10,500 years, 
 there is reached the opposite state — a long and moderate 
 summer, with a short and mild winter. At present, in con- 
 sequence of the predominance of sea in the southern hem- 
 isphere, the extremes to which its astronomical conditions 
 subject it, are much ameliorated ; while the great proj^or^ 
 tion of land in the northern hemisphere, tends to exagge- 
 rate such contrast as now exists in it between winter and 
 summer : whence it results that the climates of the two 
 hemispheres are not widely imlike. But 10,000 years hence, 
 the northern hemisphere will undergo annual variations oi 
 temperature far more marked than now. 
 
^4,6 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 In the last edition of bis Outlmes of Astronomy^ Sii 
 John Herschel recognizes this as an element in geological 
 processes : regarding it as possibly a part-cause of those 
 climatic changes indicated by the records of the Earth's 
 past. That it has had much to do with the larger changes 
 of climate of which we have evidence, seems unlikely, since 
 there is reason to think that these have been far slower and 
 more lasting; but that it must have entailed a rhythmical 
 exaggeration and mitigation of the climates otherwise pro- 
 duced, seems beyond question. And it seems also beyond 
 question that there must have been a consequent rhythmi- 
 cal change in the distribution of organisms — a rhythmical 
 change to which we here wish to draw attention, as one 
 cause of minor breaks in the succession of fossil remains. 
 Each sj)ecies of plant and animal, has certain limits of heat 
 and cold within which only it can exist ; and these limits 
 in a great degree determine its geographical position. It 
 will not spread north of a certain latitude, because it can- 
 not bear a more northern Avinter, nor south of a certain 
 latitude, because the summer heat is too great ; or else it 
 is indirectly restrained from spreading further by the effect 
 of temperature on the humidity of the air, or on the distri- 
 bution of the organisms it lives upon. 
 
 But now, what will result from a slow alteration of cli- 
 mate, produced as above described? Supposing the pe- 
 riod we set out from is that in which the contrast of seasons 
 is least marked, it is manifest that during the progress to- 
 wards the period of the most violent contrast, each species 
 of plant and animal will gradually change its limits of dis- 
 tribution — will be driven back, here by the winter's increas- 
 ing cold, and there by the summer's increasing heat — will 
 retire into those localities that are still fit for it. Thus dur- 
 ing 10,000 years, each species will ebb away from certain 
 regions it was inhabiting ; and during the succeeding 
 10,000 years will flow back into those regions. From the 
 
EFFECTS OF THE LONG CLIMATIC KIITTHM. o-iT 
 
 strata there forming, its remains will disappear; they will 
 be absent from some of the supposed strata ; and will be 
 found in strata higher up. But in what shapes will they 
 re-appear? Exposed during the 21,000 years of their slow 
 recession and their slow return, to changing conditions of 
 life, they are likely to have undergone modifications ; and 
 will probably re appear with slight diflTerences of constitu- 
 tion and perhaps of form — will be new varieties or perhapa 
 new sub-species. 
 
 To this cause of minor breaks in the succession of or- 
 ganic forms — a cause on which we have dwelt because it 
 has not been taken into account — we must add sundry oth- 
 ers. Besides these periodically-recurring alterations of 
 climate, there are the irregular ones produced by re-distri- 
 butions of land and sea ; and these, sometimes less, some- 
 times greater, in degree, than the rhythmical changes, must, 
 like them, cause in each region the ebb and flow of sp)ecies ; 
 and consequent breaks, small or large as the case may be, 
 in the palteontological series. Other and more special geo- 
 logical changes must produce other and more local blanks 
 in the succession of fossils. By some inland elevation the 
 natural drainage of a continent is modified ; and instead 
 of the sediment it previously brought do>vn to the sea, a 
 great river begins to bring down sediment unfavourable to 
 various plants and animals living in its delta : wherefore 
 these disappear from the locality, perhaps to re-appear in a 
 changed form after a long epoch. Upheavals or subsiden- 
 ces of shores or sea-bottoms, involving deviations of marine 
 currents, must remove the habitats of many species to 
 which such currents are salutary or injurious ; and further, 
 this re-distribution of currents must alter the places of sed- 
 imentary deposits, and so stop) the burying of organic re- 
 mains in some localities, and commence it in others. Had 
 we space, many more such causes of blanks in our jDalaBon- 
 tological records miecht be added. But it is needless here 
 
348 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 to enumerate them. They are admirably explained and il 
 lustrated in Sir Charles Ly ell's Principles of Geology. 
 
 Now, if these minor revolutions of the Earth's surface 
 produce minor breaks in the series of fossilized remains ; 
 must not great revolutions produce great breaks ? If a lo- 
 cal upheaval or subsidence causes throughout its small area 
 the absence of some links in the chain of fossil forms ; does 
 it not follow that an upheaval or subsidence extending over 
 a large part of the Earth's surface, must cause the absence 
 of a great number of such links throughout a very wide 
 area ? 
 
 When during a long epoch a continent, slowly subsiding, 
 gives place to a far-spreading ocean some miles in depth, at 
 the bottom of which no deposits from rivers or abraded 
 shores can be thrown down ; and when, after some enor- 
 mous period, this ocean-bottom is gradually elevated and 
 becomes the site of new strata ; it is clear that the fossils 
 contained in these new strata are likely to have but little 
 in common with the fossils of the strata below them. Take, 
 in illustration, the case of the IsTorth Atlantic. We have 
 already named the fact that between this country and the 
 United States, the ocean-bottom is being covered with a 
 deposit of chalk — a deposit that has been forming, proba- 
 bly, ever since there occurred that great depression of the 
 Earth's crust from which the Atlantic resulted in remote 
 geologic times. This chalk, consists of the minute shells of 
 Foraminifera, sprinkled with remains of small Entomostra- 
 ca, and probably a few Pteropod-shells : though the sound- 
 ing lines have not yet brought up any of these last. Thus, 
 in so far as all high forms of life are concerned, this new 
 chalk-formation must be a blank. At rare intervals, per- 
 haps, a polar bear drifted on an iceberg, may have its bones 
 scattered over the bed ; or a dead, decaying whale may 
 isimilarly leave traces. But such remains must be so rare, 
 that this new chalk-formation, if visible, might be examined 
 
GAPS CONSISTENT WITH CONTINUOUS LIFE. 349 
 
 for a century before any of them were disclosed. If now, 
 some millions of years hence, the Atlantic-bed should be 
 raited, and estuary or shore deposits laid upon it, these de- 
 posits would contain remains of a Flora and Fauna so dis- 
 tinct from everything below them, as to appear like a new 
 creation. 
 
 Thus, along with continuity of life on the Earth's sur- 
 face, there not only mai/ be, but there mustloe, great gaps, 
 in the series of fossils ; and hence these gaps are no evi- 
 dence against the doctrine of Evolution. 
 
 One other current assumption remains to be criticized ; 
 and it is the one on which, more than on any other, de- 
 pends the view taken respecting the question of develop- 
 ment. 
 
 From the beginning of the controversy, the arguments 
 for and against have turned upon the evidence of progres- 
 sion in organic forms, found in the ascending series of our 
 sedimentary formations. On the one hand, those who con- 
 tend that higher organisms have been evolved out of low- 
 er, joined with those who contend that successively higher 
 organisms have been created at successively later periods, 
 appeal for proof to the facts of Paleontology ; which, they 
 say, countenance their views. On the other hand, theUni- 
 formitarians, who not only reject the hypothesis of devel- 
 opment, but deny that the modern forms of life are higher 
 than the ancient ones, reply that the Palneontological evi- 
 dence is at present very incomplete ; that though we have 
 not yet found remains of highly-organized creatures in 
 strata of the greatest antiquity, we must not assume that 
 W) sach creatures existed when those strata were deposited ; 
 Riid that, probabl}-', geological research will eventually dis- 
 close them. 
 
 It must be admitted that thus far, the evidence has 
 gone in favoui of the latter party. Geological discovery 
 
350 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 has year afler year shown the small value of negative facts. 
 The conviction that there are no traces of higher organisma 
 in earlier strata, has resulted not from the absence of such 
 remains, but from incomplete examination. At p. 460 of 
 his Manual of Elementary Geology^ Sir Charles Lyell 
 gives a list in illustration of this. It appears that in 1*709, 
 fishes were not known lower than the Permian system. In 
 1793 they were found in the subjacent Carboniferous sys- 
 tem ; in 1828 in the Devonian ; in 1840 in the Upper Silu- 
 rian. Of reptiles, we read that in 1710 the lowest known 
 were in the Permian; in 1844 they were detected in the 
 Carboniferous; and in 1852 in the Upper Devonian. 
 While of the Mammalia the list shows that in 1798 none 
 had been discovered below the middle Eocene; but that in 
 1818 they were discovered in the Lower Oolite; and in 
 1847 in the Upper Trias. 
 
 The fact is, however, that both parties set out vrith an 
 inadroissible postulate. Of the Uniformitarians, not only 
 such writers as Hugh Miller, but also such as Sir Charles 
 Lyell,* reason as though we had found the earliest, or some- 
 thing like the earliest, strata. Their antagonists, whether 
 defenders of the Development Hypothesis or simply Pro- 
 gressionists, almost uniformly do the like. Sir R. Murchi- 
 son, who is a Progressionist, calls the lowest fossiliferous 
 strata, " Protozoic." Prof. Ansted uses the same term. 
 Whether avowedly or not, all the disputants stand on this 
 assumption as their common ground. 
 
 Yet is this assumption indefensible, as some who make 
 t very well know. Facts may be cited against it which 
 show that it is a more than questionable one — that it is a 
 highly improbable one ; while the evidence assigned in its 
 favour will not bear ciiticism. 
 
 * Sir Charles Lyell is no longer to be classed among Uniformitarians. 
 With rare and admirable candour he has, since this was written, yielded 
 to the arguments of Mr. Darwin. 
 
CAN WE FIND THE BEGINNIXG OF LIFE? 351 
 
 Because in Bohemia, Great Britain, and portions of 
 North America, the lowest unmetamorphosed strata yet 
 discovered, contain but slight traces of life. Sir R. Murchi- 
 son conceives that they were formed while yet few, if any, 
 i:)lauts or animals had been created ; and, therefore, classes 
 them as " Azoic." His own pages, however, shoAV the 
 illegitimacy of the conclusion that there existed at that 
 period no considerable amount of life. Such traces of life 
 as have been found in the Longmynd rocks, for many years 
 considered unfossiliferous, have been found in some of the 
 lowest beds ; and the twenty thousand feet of superposed 
 beds, still yield no organic remains. If now these super- 
 posed strata throughout a depth of four miles, are without 
 fossils, though the strata over which they lie prove that 
 life had commenced ; what becomes of Sir R. Murchison's 
 inference ? At page 189 of Siluria, a still more conclusive 
 fact will be found. The " Glengariff grits," and other 
 accompanying strata there described as 13,500 feet thick, 
 contain no signs of contemporaneous life. Yet Sir R. Mur- 
 chisou refers them to the Devonian period — a period that 
 had a large and varied marine Fauna. How then, from 
 the absence of fossils in the Longmynd beds and their 
 equivalents, can we conclude that the Earth was " azoic " 
 when they were formed ? 
 
 "But," it may be asked, "if living creatures then exist 
 ed, why do we not find fossiliferous strata of that age, or 
 an earlier age ? " One reply is, that the non-existence of 
 such strata is but a negative fact — we have not found them. 
 And considering how little we know even of the two-fifths 
 of the Earth's surface noAv above the sea, and how absolute- 
 ly ignorant we are of the three-fifths below the sea, it is 
 rash to say that no such strata exist. But the chief reply 
 IS, that these records of the Earth's earlier history have 
 been in great part destroyed, by agencies that are ever 
 tending to destroy such records. 
 
352 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 It is an established geological doctrine, that sedimentary 
 strata are liable to be changed, more or less completely, 
 by igneous action. The rocks originally classed as "transi- 
 tion," becavise they were intermediate in character between 
 the igneous rocks found below them, and the sedimentary 
 strata found above them, are now known to be nothing else 
 than sedimentary strata altered in texture and appearance 
 by the intense heat of adjacent molten matter ; and hence 
 are renamed " metamorphic rocks." Modern researches 
 have shown, too, that these metamorphic rocks are not, as 
 was once supposed, all of the same age. Besides primary 
 and secondary strata that have been transformed by igneous 
 action, there are similarly-changed deposits of tertiary ori- 
 gin ; and that, even for a quarter of a mile from the i^oint 
 of contact with neighbouring granite. By this process 
 fossils are of course destroyed. "In some cases," says Sir 
 Charles Lyell, " dark limestones, replete with shells and 
 corals, have been turned into white statuary marble, and 
 hard clays, containing vegetable or other remains, into 
 slates called mica-schist or hornblende-schist ; every vestige 
 of the oi'ganic bodies having been obliterated." 
 
 Again, it is fast becoming an acknowledged truth, that 
 igneous rock, of whatever kind, is the product of sedimen- 
 tary strata that have been completely melted. Granite 
 and gneiss, "s\hich are of like chemical composition, have 
 been shown, in various cases, to pass one into the other : as 
 at Valorsine, near IMont Blanc, where the two, in contact, 
 are observed to " both undergo a modification of mineral 
 character. The granite still remaining unstratified, be- 
 comes charged with green particles ; and the talcose gneiss 
 assumes a granitiform structure without losing its stratifi- 
 cation." In the Aberdeen-granite, lumps of unmelted 
 gneiss are frequently found ; and we can ourselves bear 
 witness that on the banks of Loch Sunart, there is ample 
 proof that the granite of that region, when it was mol- 
 
TEE EASLIEST STRjiTA MELTED CP. 353 
 
 wCn, contained incompletely-fused clots of sedimentary 
 strata. iSTor is this all. Fifty years ago, it was thought 
 that all granitic rocks were primitive, or existed before 
 any sedimentary strata ; but it is now " no easy task to 
 point out a single mass of granite demonstrably more an- 
 cient than all the known fossiliferous deposits." 
 
 In brief, accumulated evidence clearly shows, that by 
 contact with, or proximity to, the molten matter of the 
 Earth's nucleus, all beds of sediment are liable to be 
 actually melted, or partially fused, or so heated as to 
 agglutinate their particles ; and that according to the tem- 
 perature they have been raised to, and the circumstances 
 under which they cool, they assume the forms of granite, 
 porjohyry, trap, gneiss, or rock otherwise altered. Further, 
 it is manifest that though strata of various ages have baeu 
 thus changed, yet that the most ancient strata have been 
 so changed to the greatest extent : both because they 
 have habitually lain nearer to the centre of igneous agency; 
 and because they have been for a longer period liable to 
 the effects of this agency. "Whence it follows, that sedi- 
 mentary strata passing a certain antiquity, are unlikely to 
 be found in an nnmetamorphosed state ; and that strata 
 much earlier than those are certain to have been melted 
 up. Thus if, throughout a past of indefinite duration, 
 there had been at work those aqueous and igneous agen- 
 cies which, we see still at work, the state of the Earth's 
 crust might be just what we find it. "We have no evidence 
 which puts a limit to the period throughout which this for- 
 mation and destruction of strata has been going on. For 
 aught the facts prove, it may have been going on for ten 
 times the period measured by our whole series of sedimen- 
 tary deposits. 
 
 Besides having, in the present appearances of the 
 Earth's crust, no data for fixing a commencement to these 
 processes — besides finding that the evidence permits us to 
 
354 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 assume such commencement to have been inconceivably 
 remote, as compared even with the vast eras of geology ; 
 Ave are not "without positive grounds for inferring the in- 
 conceivable remoteness of sirch commencement. Modern 
 geology has established truths which are irreconcilable 
 with the belief that the formation and destruction of strata 
 began when the Cambrian rocks were formed ; or at any- 
 thing like so recent a time. One fact from Slluria will 
 suffice. Sir R. Murchison estimates the vertical thickness 
 of Silurian strata in Wales, at from 2G,000 to 27,000 feet, 
 or about five miles ; and if to this we add the vertical 
 depth of the Cambrian strata, on which the Silurians lie 
 conformably, there results, on the lowest computation, a 
 total depth of seven miles. 
 
 Now it is held by geologists, that this vast accumula- 
 tion of strata must have been deposited in an area of grad- 
 ual subsidence. These strata could not have been thus 
 laid on each other in regular order, unless the Earth's crust 
 had been at that place sinking, either continuously or by 
 very small steps. Such an immense subsidence, however, 
 must have been impossible without a crust of great thick- 
 ness. The Earth's molten nucleus tends ever, with enor- 
 mous force, to assume the form of a regular oblate sphe- 
 roid. Any dejoression of its crust below the surface of 
 equilibrium, and any elevation of its crust above that sur- 
 face, have to withstand immense resistance. It follows 
 inevitably that, with a thin crust, nothing but small eleva- 
 tions and subsidences would be possible ; and that, con- 
 versely, a subsidence of seven miles imj)lies a crust of com- 
 paratively great strength, or, in other words, of great 
 thickness. Indeed, if we compare this inferred subsidence 
 in the Silurian period, with such elevations and depressicna 
 as our existing continents and oceans display, we see no 
 evidence that the Earth's crust was appreciably thinner 
 then than now. What are the implications ? If, as geolo 
 
THE EAliLY RFXOEDS HAVE BEEN DESTEOYED. 355 
 
 gists generally admit, the Earth's crust has resulted from 
 that slow cooling which is even still going on — if we see no 
 sign that at the time when the earliest Cambrian strata 
 were formed, this crust was appreciably thinner than now ; 
 we are forced to conclude that the era during which it 
 acquired that great thickness possessed in the Cambriaa 
 period, was enormous as compared with the interval be- 
 tween the Cambrian period and our own. But during the 
 incalculable series of epochs thus inferred, there existed an 
 ocean, tides, winds, waves, rain, rivers. The agencies by 
 which the denudation of continents and filling up of seas 
 have all along been carried on, were as active then as now. 
 Endless successions of strata must have been formed. And 
 when we ask — Where are they ? IsTature's obvious reply 
 is — They have been destroyed by that igneous action to 
 which so great a part of our oldest-known strata owe their 
 fusion or metamorphosis. 
 
 Only the last chapter of the Earth's history has come 
 down to us. The many previous chapters, stretching back 
 to a time immeasurably remote, have been burnt ; and 
 with them all the records of life we may presume they con- 
 tained. The greater part of the evidence which might 
 have served to settle the Development-controversy, is for 
 ever lost ; and on neither side can the arguments derived 
 from Geology be conclusive. 
 
 " But how happen there to be such evidences of pro- 
 gression as exist ? " it may be asked. " How happens it 
 that, in ascending from the most ancient strata to the most 
 recent strata, we do find a succession of organic forms, 
 which, however irregularly, carries us from lower to high- 
 er ? " This question seems difiicult to answer. Neverthe- 
 less, there is reason for thinking that nothing can be safely 
 inferred from the apparent progression here cited. And 
 the illustration which shows as much, will, we believe, also 
 show how little trust is to be placed in certain geological 
 
356 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 generalizations that appear to be well establislied. Witli 
 this somewhat elaborate illustration, to which we now pass, 
 our criticisms may fitly conclude. 
 
 Let us suppose that in a region now covered by wide 
 ocean, there begins one of those great and gradual up- 
 heavals by which new continents are formed. To be pre- 
 cise, let us say that in the South Pacific, midway between 
 New Zealand and Patagonia, the sea-bottom has been 
 little by little thrust up towards the surface, and is about 
 to emerge. What will be the successive phenomena, 
 geological and biological, which are likely to occur before this 
 emei'ging sea-bottom has become another Europe or Asia ? 
 
 In the first place, such portions of the incipient land as 
 are raised to the level of the waves, will be rapidly denud- 
 ed by them : their soft substance will be torn up by the 
 breakers, carried away by the local currents, and deposited 
 in neighbouring deeper water. Successive small upheavals 
 will bring new and larger areas within reach of the waves ; 
 fresh portions will each time be removed from the surfaces 
 previously denuded ; and further, some of the newly-form- 
 ed strata, being elevated nearly to the level of the water, 
 will be washed away and re-deposited. In course of time, 
 the harder formations of the upraised sea-bottom will be 
 uncovered. These being less easily destroyed, will remain 
 permanently above the surface ; and at their margins will 
 arise the usual breaking down of rocks into beach-sand and 
 pebbles. While in the slow process of this elevation, going 
 on at the rate of perhaps two or three feet in a century, 
 most of the sedimentary deposits produced will be again 
 and again destroyed and reformed ; there will, in those ad- 
 jacent areas of subsidence which accompany areas of eleva- 
 tion, be more or less continuous successions of sedimentary 
 deposits. 
 
 And now what will be the character of these new strata ? 
 They will necessarily contnin scarcely any traces of life 
 
BUPrOSED CASE OF A VAST UPHEAVAL. 357 
 
 The deposits that had previously been slowiy formed at the 
 bottom of this wide ocean, would be sprinkled with fossils 
 of but few species. The oceanic Fauna is not a rich one ; 
 its hydrozoa do not admit of preservation ; and the hard 
 parts of its few kinds of molluscs and crustaceans and in- 
 sects are mostly fragile. Hence, when the ocean-bed wap 
 here and there raised to the surface — w^hen its strata ol 
 sediment with their contained organic fragments were torn 
 up and long washed about by the breakers before being re- 
 deposited — when the re-deposits were again and again sub- 
 iect to this violent abrading action by subsequent small ele- 
 vations, as they would mostly be ; what few fragile organic 
 remains they contained, would be in nearly all cases destroy- 
 ed. Thus such of the first-formed strata as survived the 
 repeated changes of level, would be practically " azoic ; " 
 like the Cambrian of our geologists. When by the wash- 
 ing away of the soft deposits, the hard sub-strata had been 
 exposed in the shape of rocky islets, and a footing had thus 
 been furnished, the pioneers of a new life might be expect- 
 ed to make their appearance. "What would they be? 
 Not any of the surrounding oceanic species, for these are 
 not fitted for a littoral life ; but species flourishing on some 
 of the far-distant shores of the Pacific. Of such the first 
 to establish themselves would be sea-weeds and zoophytes ; 
 both because their swarmjng spores and gemmules would 
 be the most readily conveyed with safety, and because when 
 ccnveyed they would find fit food. It is true that Cirrhi- 
 peds and Lamelhbranchs, subsisting on the minute creatures 
 which everywhere people the sea, would also find fit 
 food. 
 
 But passing over the fact that the germs of such higher 
 forms are neither so abundant nor so well fitted to bear 
 long voyages, there is the more important fact that the in- 
 dividuals arising from these germs can reproduce only sex- 
 ually, and that this vastly increases the obstacles to the es. 
 
358 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 tablishmcnt of their races. The chances of early coloniza- 
 tion are immensely in favour of species which, multiplying by 
 agamogenesis, can people a whole shore from a single germ ; 
 and immensely against species which, multiplying only by 
 gamogenesis, must be introduced in considerable numbers 
 that some may survive, meet, and propagate. Thus we in- 
 fer that the earliest traces of Hfe left in the sedimentary de- 
 posits near these new shores, will be traces of life as humble 
 as that indicated in the most ancient rocks of Great Brit- 
 ain and Ireland. Imagine now that the processes we have 
 briefly indicated, continue — that the emerging lands become 
 wider in extent, and fringed by higher and more varied 
 shores; and that there still go on those ocean-currents 
 which, at long intervals, convey from flir distant shores 
 immigrant forms of life. What will result ? Lapse of 
 time will of course favour the introduction of such new 
 forms : admitting, as it must, of those combinations of fit 
 conditions, w^hich, under the law of probabilities, can occur 
 only at very distant intervals. Moreover, the increasing 
 area of the islands, individually and as a group, implies in- 
 creasing length of coast ; from which there follows a longer 
 line of contact with the streams and waves that bring drift- 
 ing masses ; and, therefore, a greater chance that germs of 
 fresh life will be stranded. 
 
 And once more, the comparatively-varied shores, pre- 
 senting physical conditions that change from mile to mile, 
 will furnish suitable habitats for more numerous sf)ecies. 
 So that as the elevation proceeds, three causes conspire to 
 introduce additional marine plants and animals. To what 
 classes will the increasing Fauna be for a long period con- 
 fined ? Of course, to classes of which individuals, or their 
 germs, are most liable to be carried far away from their native 
 shores by floating sea-weed or drift-wood ; to classes which 
 are also least likely to perish in transit, or from change of cli. 
 mate ; and to those Avhich can best subsist around coasts 
 
COLONIZATION OF THE NEW CONTINENT. 35^ 
 
 comparatively bare of life. Evidently, then, corals, annelids, 
 inferior molluscs, and crustaceans of low grade, will chiefly 
 constitute the early Fauna. The large predatory members 
 of these classes, will be later in establishing themselves ; 
 both because the new shores must first become well peo- 
 pled by the creatures they prey on, and because, being 
 more complex, they or their ova must be less likely to 
 KViiwive the journey, and the change of conditions. 
 
 We may infer, then, that the strata deposited next after 
 the almost " azoic " strata, would contain the remains of 
 invertebi-ata, allied to those found near the shores of Australia 
 and South America. Of such invertebrate remains, the low- 
 er beds would furnish comparatively few genera, and those 
 of relatively low types ; while in the upper beds the num- 
 ber of genera would be greater, and the types higher : just as 
 among the fossils of our Silurian system. As this great geolo- 
 gic change slowly progressed through its long history of 
 earthquakes, volcanic disturbances, minor upheavals and sub- 
 sidences — as the extent of the archipelago became greater 
 and its smaller islands coalesced into larger ones, while its coast 
 line grew stiU longer and more varied, and the neighbouring 
 sea more thickly inhabited by mferior forms of life ; the lowest 
 division of the vertebrata would begin to be represented. 
 In order of time, fish would naturally come after the lower 
 invertebrata : both as being less likely to have their ova 
 transported across the waste of waters, and as requiring 
 for their subsistence a pre-existing Fauna of some devel- 
 opment. They might be expected to make their appearance 
 along with the predaceous crustaceans ; as they do in the 
 uppermost Silurian rocks. 
 
 And here, too, let us remark, that as, during this long 
 epoch we have been describing, the sea would have made 
 great inroads on some of the newly raised lands that had 
 remained stationary ; and would probably in some places 
 have reached masses of igneous or raetamorphic rocks * 
 
 n 
 
360 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 there might, in course of time, arise by the dccompositioK 
 and denudation of such rocks, local deposits coloured with 
 oxide of iron, like our Old Red Sandstone. And in these 
 deposits might be buried the remains of the fish then peo 
 pling the neighbouring sea. 
 
 Meanwhile, how would the surfaces of the upheaved 
 masses be occupied ? At first their deserts of naked rocks 
 and pebbles would bear only the humblest forms of vegetal 
 life, such as we find in grey and orange patches on our 
 own rugged mountain sides ; for these alone could flourish 
 on such surfaces, and their spores would be the most read- 
 ily transported. When, by the decay of such protophytes, 
 and that decomposition of rock effected by them, there 
 had resulted a fit habitat for mosses ; these, of which the 
 germs might be conveyed in drifted trees, would begin to 
 spread. A soil having been eventually thus produced, it 
 would become possible for plants of higher organization to 
 find roothold ; and as in the way we have described the 
 archipelago and its constituent islands grew larger, and 
 had more multiplied relations with winds and waters, such 
 higher plants might be expected ultimately to have their 
 seeds transferred from the nearest lands. After something 
 like a Flora had thus colonized the surface, it would be- 
 come possible for insects to exist ; and of air-breathing 
 creatures, insects would manifestly be among the first to 
 find their way from elsewhere. 
 
 As, however, terrestrial organisms, both vegetal and 
 animal, are much less likely than marine organisms to sur- 
 vive the accidents of transport from distant shores ; it is 
 clear that long after the sea surrounding these new lands 
 nad acquired a varied Flora and Fauna, the lands them- 
 selves would still be comparatively bare ; and thus that the 
 early strata, like our Silurians, would aflord no traces of 
 terrestrial life. By the time that large areas had been 
 raised above the ocean, we may fairly suppose a luxuriant 
 
CONDITIONS OF COAL DEPOSIT. 361 
 
 vegetation to have been acquired. Under what circum- 
 stances are we likely to find this vegetation fossilized ? 
 Large surfaces of land imply large rivers with their accom- 
 panying deltas ; and are liable to have lakes and swamps 
 These, as we know from extant cases, are favourable t( 
 rank vegetation ; and aiFord the conditions needful for pre- 
 serving it in the shape of coal-beds. Observe, then, that 
 while in the early history of such a continent a carbonif- 
 erous period could not occur, the occurrence of a carbonif- 
 erous period would become probable after long-continued 
 upheavals had uncovered large areas. As in our own sedi- 
 mentary series, coal-beds would make their appearance only 
 after there had been enormous accumulations of earlier 
 strata charged with marine fossils. 
 
 Let us ask next, in what order the higher forms of ani- 
 mal life would make their appearance. We have seen how, 
 in the succession of marine forms, there would be some- 
 thing like a progress from the lower to the higher : bring- 
 ing us in the end to predaceous molluscs, crustaceans, and 
 fish. What are likely to succeed fish ? After marine crea- 
 tures, those which would have the greatest chance of sur- 
 viving the voyage would be amphibious reptiles ; both be- 
 cause they are more tenacious of life than higher animals, 
 and because they would be less comjDletely out of their 
 element. Such reptiles as can live in both fresh and salt 
 water, like alligators ; and such as are drifted out of the 
 mouths of great rivers on floating trees, as Humboldt says 
 the Orinoco alligators are ; might be early colonists. 
 
 It is manifest, too, that reptiles of other kinds would 
 be among the first vertebrata to people the new continent. 
 If we consider what will occur on one of those natural 
 rafts of trees, soil, and matted vegetable matter, sometimes 
 swept out to sea by such currents as the Mississippi, with a 
 miscellaneous living cargo ; we shall see that while the 
 active, hot-blooded, highly-organized creatures will soon 
 
362 ILLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 die of starvation and exposure, the inert, cold-blooded 
 ones, which can go long without food, will live joerhaps for 
 weeks ; and so, out of the chances from time to time oc- 
 curring during long periods, reptiles will be the first to get 
 safely landed on foreign shores : as indeed they are even 
 now known sometimes to be. The transport of mammalia 
 being comparatively precarious, must, in the order of prob- 
 abiUty, be longer postponed ; and would, indeed, be un- 
 Ukely to occur until by the enlargement of the new conti- 
 nent, the distances of its shores from adjacent lands had 
 been greatly diminished, or the formation of intervening 
 islands had increased the chances of survival. 
 
 Assuming, however, that the facilities of immigration 
 had become adequate ; "which would be the first mammals 
 to arrive and live ? ISTot large herbivores ; for they would 
 be soon drowned if by any accident carried out to sea. 
 Not the carnivora ; for these would lack appropriate food, 
 even if they outlived the voyage. Small quadrupeds fre- 
 quenting trees, and feeding on insects, would be those most 
 lilcely both to be drifted away from their native lands and 
 to find fit food in a new one. Insectivorous mammals, like 
 in size to those found in the Trias and the Stonesfield slate, 
 might naturally be looked for as the pioneers of the higher 
 vertebrata. And if we suppose the facilities of communi- 
 cation to be again increased, either by a further shallowing 
 of the intervening sea and a consequent multiplication of 
 islands, or by an actual junction of the new continent with 
 an old one, through continued upheavals ; we should finally 
 have an mflux of the larger and more jDcrfect mammals. 
 
 Now rude as is this sketch of a process that would be 
 extremely elaborate and involved, and open as some of its 
 propositions are to criticisms which there '^s no space here 
 to meet ; no one will deny that it represents something like 
 the biologic history of the supposed new contmeut. De 
 tails apart, it is manifest tliat simple organisms, able to 
 
HIGHES LIFE UPON THE NEW CONTINENT. 363 
 
 flourish under simple conditions of life, would be the first 
 successful immigrants ; and that more complex organisms, 
 needing for their existence the fulfilment of more complex 
 conditions, would afterwards establish themselves in some- 
 thing like an ascending succession. At the one extreme 
 we see every facility. The new individuals can be con- 
 veyed in the shape of minute germs ; these are infinite in 
 their numbers ; they are diffused in the sea ; they are per- 
 petually being carried in all directions to great distances 
 by ocean-currents ; they can survive such long journeys 
 unharmed ; they can find mxtriment wherever they arrive ; 
 and the resulting organisms can multiply asexually with 
 great rapidity. 
 
 At the other extreme, we see every difiiculty. The 
 »iew individuals must be conveyed in their adult forms ; 
 their numbers are, in comparison, utterly insignificant ; 
 they live on laud, and are very unlikely to be carried out 
 to sea ; when so carried, the chances are immense against 
 their escape from drowning, starvation, or death by cold ; 
 if they survive the transit, they must have a pre-existing 
 Flora or Fauna to supply their special food ; they require, 
 also, the fulfilment of various other physical conditions ; 
 and unless at least two individuals of difierent sexes are 
 safely landed, the race cannot be established. Manifestly, 
 then, the immigration of each successively higher order of 
 organisms, having, from one or other additional condition 
 to be fulfilled, an enormously-increased probability against 
 it, would naturally be separated from the immigration of a 
 lower order by some period like a geologic epoch. 
 
 And thus the successive sedimentary deposits formed 
 while this new continent was undergoing gi'adual elevation, 
 would seem to furnish clear evidence of a general progress 
 in the forms of life. That lands thus raised up in the midst 
 of a wide ocean, would first give origin to unfossiliferous 
 strata ; next, to strata containing only the lowest marine 
 
364 TLLOGICAL GEOLOGY. 
 
 forms ; next, to strata contaiuing higher marine forms, as- 
 cending finally to fish ; and that the strata above these 
 would contain rei^tiles, then small mammals, then great 
 mammals ; seems to us to be demonstrable from the known 
 laws of organic life. 
 
 And if the succession of fossils presented by the strata 
 of this supposed new continent, would thus simulate the 
 succession presented by our own sedimentary series ; must 
 we not say that our own sedimentary series very possibly 
 records nothing more than the phenomena accompanying 
 one of these great upheavals ? We think this must be 
 considered not only possible, but highly probable : bar- 
 nionizing as it does Avith the unavoidable conclusion before 
 pointed out, that geological changes must have been going 
 on for a period immeasurably greater than that of which 
 we have records. And if the probability of this conclu- 
 sion be admitted, it must be admitted that the facts of 
 Palaeontology can never sufiice either to prove or disprove 
 the Development Hypothesis ; but that the most they can 
 do is, to show whether the last few pages of the Earth's 
 biologic history are or are not in harmony with this hy- 
 pothesis — whether the existing Flora and Fauna can or can 
 not be affiliated upon the Flora and Fauna of the most re- 
 cent geologic times. 
 
IX. 
 THE DEVELOPMENT HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 N a debate upon the development hypothesis, lately nar 
 rated to me by a friend, one of the disputants was de- 
 scribed as arguing, that as, in all our experience, we know 
 no such phenomenon as transmutation of species, it is un- 
 philosophical to assume that transmutation of species e\ er 
 takes place. Had I been present, I think that, passing over 
 his assertion, which is open to criticism, I should have re- 
 plied that, as in all our experience we have never known a 
 species created,^ it was, by his own showing, unphilosophical 
 to assume that any species ever had been created. 
 
 Those who cavalierly reject the Theory of Evolution, as 
 not adequately supported by facts, seem quite to forget 
 that their own theory is supported by no facts at all. Like 
 the majority of men who are born to a given belief, they 
 demand the most rigorous proof of any adverse belief, but 
 assume that their own needs none. Here we find, scattered 
 over the globe, vegetable and animal organisms numbering, 
 of the one kind (according to Humboldt), some 320,000 
 species, and of the other, some 2,000,000 species (see Car- 
 penter) ; and if to these we add the numbers of animal and 
 vegetable species that have become extinct, we may safely 
 estim-ate the number of species that have existed, and are 
 
3GG THE developme:sit hypothesis. 
 
 existing, on the Earth, at not less than ten 7nillions, "Well, 
 which is the most rational theory about these ten millions 
 of species ? Is it most likely that there have been ten mil- 
 Hons of special creations ? or is it most likely that by con- 
 tinual modifications, due to change of circumstances, ten 
 millions of varieties have been produced, as varieties are 
 being produced stUl ? 
 
 Doubtless many will rejoly that they can more easily 
 conceive ten millions of special creations to have taken 
 place, than they can conceive that ten millions of varieties 
 have arisen by successive modifications. All such, howev- 
 er, will find, on inquiry, that they are under an illusion. 
 This is one of the many cases in which men do not really 
 believe, but rather believe they believe. It is not that they 
 can truly conceive ten millions of special creations to have 
 taken place, but that they think they can do so. Careful 
 introspection will show them that they have never yet real- 
 ized to themselves the creation of even one species. If 
 they have formed a definite conception of the process, let 
 them tell us how a new species is constructed, and how it 
 makes its apjjearance. Is it thrown down from the clouds? 
 or must we hold to the notion that it struggles up out of 
 the ground ? Do its limbs and viscera rush together from 
 all the points of the compass ? or must we receive the old 
 Hebrew idea, that God takes clay and moulds a new crea- 
 ture ? If they say that a new creature is produced in none 
 of these modes, which are too absurd to be believed ; then 
 they are required to describe the mode in which a new 
 creature tnay be produced — a mode which does not seem 
 absurd : and such a mode they will find that they neither 
 have conceived nor can conceive. 
 
 Should the believers in special creations consider it un- 
 fair thus to call upon them to describe how special creations 
 take place, I reply, that this is far less than they demand 
 from the supporters of the Development Hypothesis. They 
 
IMPRESSIBILITY OF OEGAJSTISMS. 367 
 
 are merely asked to point out a conceivable mode. On tlie 
 other hand, they ask, not simply for a conceivable mode, 
 but for the actual mode. They do not say — Show us how 
 this may take place ; but they say — Show us how this does 
 take place. So far from its being unreasonable to put the 
 above question, it would be reasonable to ask not only for 
 3k 2^ossible mode of special creation, but for an ascertained 
 mode ; seeing that this is no greater a demand than they 
 make upon their opponents. 
 
 And here we may perceive how much more defensible 
 the new doctrine is than the old one. Even could the sup- 
 porters of the DeveIoj)ment Hypothesis merely show that 
 the origination of species by the process of modification is 
 conceivable, they would be in a better position than their 
 ojDponents. But they can do much more than this. They 
 can show that the process of modification has effected, and 
 is effecting, decided changes in all organisms subject to 
 modifying influences. Though, from the impossibility of 
 getting at a sufficiency of facts, they are unable to trace 
 the many phases through which any existing species has 
 passed in arriving at its present form, or to identify the in- 
 fluences which caused the successive modifications ; yet, 
 they can show that any existing species — animal or vegeta- 
 ble — when placed under conditions different from its pre- 
 vious ones, wimediately begins to undergo certain changes 
 of structure fitting it for the new conditions. They can 
 show that in successive generations these changes continue, 
 until ultimately the new conditions become the natural 
 ones. They can show that in cultivated plants, in domesti- 
 cated animals, and in the several races of men, such altera- 
 tions have taken place. They can show that the degrees 
 of difference so produced are often, as in dogs, greater than 
 those on which distinctions of species are in other cases 
 founded. They can show that it is a matter of dispute 
 wh'-;ther some of these modified forms are varieties or sepa- 
 
3GS THE DEVELOPMENT HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 rate species. They can show, too, that the changes dally 
 taking place in ourselves — the flicility that attends long 
 practice, and the loss of aptitude that begins when practice 
 ceases — the strengthening of passions habitually gratified, 
 and the weakening of those habitually curbed — the devel- 
 opment of every faculty, bodily, moral, or intellectual, ac- 
 cording to the use made of it — are all exi:)licable on thia 
 same principle. And thus they can show that throughout 
 all organic nature there is at work a modifying influence 
 of the kind they assign as the cause of these specific difier- 
 ences : an influence which, though slow in its action, does, 
 in time, if the circumstances demand it, produce marked 
 changes — an influence which, to all appearance, would pro- 
 duce in the millions of years, and under the great varieties 
 of condition which geological records imjily, any amount 
 of change. 
 
 Which, then, is the most rational hypothesis ? — that of 
 special creations which has neither a fact to support it nor 
 is even definitely conceivable ; or that of modification, 
 which is not only definitely conceivable, but is countenanced 
 by the habitudes of every existing organism ? 
 
 That by any series of changes a protozoon should ever 
 become a mammal, seems to those who are not famihar 
 with zoology, and who have not seen how clear becomes 
 the relationship between the simplest and the most com- 
 plex forms when intermediate forms are examined, a very 
 grotesque notion. Habitually lookmg at things rather in 
 their statical than in their dynamical aspect, they nevei 
 realize the fact that, by small increments of modification, 
 any amount of modification may in time be generated. 
 That surprise which they feel on finding one whom they 
 last saw as a boy, grown into a man, becomes incredulity 
 when the degree of change is greater. Nevertheless, abun- 
 dant instances are at hand of the mode in which we may 
 pass to the most diverse forms, by insensible gradations. 
 
EFFECTS OF INSENSIBLE MODIFICATIONS. 3 09 
 
 Arguing the matter some time since with a learned pro- 
 fessor, I illustrated my position thus : — You admit that 
 there is no apparent relationship between a circle and an 
 hyperbola. The one is a jBnite curve ; the other is an in- 
 finite one. All parts of the one are alike ; of the other no 
 two parts are alike. The one incloses a space; the other 
 will not inclose a space though produced for ever. YeL 
 opposite as are these curves in all their properties, they 
 may be connected together by a series of intermediate 
 curves, no one of which differs from the adjacent ones in 
 any appreciable degree. Thus, if a cone be cut by a plane 
 at right angles to its axis we get a circle. If, instead of 
 being perfectly at right angles, the plane subtends with the 
 axis an angle of 89° 59', we have an ellipse, which no hu- 
 man eye, even when aided by an accurate pair of compasses, 
 can distinguish from a circle. Decreasing the angle min- 
 ute by minute, the ellipse becomes first pei'ceptibly eccen- 
 tric, then manifestly so, and by and by acquires so im- 
 mensely elongated a form, as to bear no recognisable re- 
 semblance to a circle. By continuing this process, the 
 ellipse passes insensibly into a parabola ; and ultimately, by 
 still further diminishing the angle, into an hyperbola. Now 
 here we have four different species of curve — circle, ellipse, 
 parabola, and hyperbola — each having its peculiar proper- 
 ties and its separate equation, and the first and last of which 
 are quite opposite in nature, connected together as mem- 
 bers of one series, all i)roducible by a single process of in- 
 sensible modification. 
 
 But the blindness of tliose who think it absurd to sup- 
 pose that complex organic forms may have arisen by suc- 
 cessive modifications out of simple ones, becomes astonish- 
 ing when we remember that complex organic forms are 
 daily being thus i^roduced. A tree differs from a seed 
 immeasurably in every respect — in bulk, in structure, in 
 colour, in form, in specific gravity, in chemical composition : 
 
370 THE DEVELOPilEJSTT HYPOTHESIS. 
 
 differs so greatly that no visible resemblance of any kiud 
 can be pointed out bet\yeen them. Yet is the one changed 
 in the course of a few years into the other : changed so 
 gradually, that at no moment can it be said — Xow the 
 seed ceases to be, and the tree exists. What can be more 
 »\'idcly contrasted than a newly-born child and the small, 
 semi-transparent, gelatinous spherule constituting the hu- 
 man ovum ? The infant is so complex in structure that a 
 cycIopiEdia is needed to describe its constituent parts. 
 The germinal vesicle is so simple that it may be defined in 
 a line. Kevertheless, a few months sufiice to develop the 
 one out of the other ; and that, too, by a series of modifi- 
 cations so small, that were the embryo examined at succes- 
 sive minutes, even a microscope would with difficulty dis- 
 close any sensible changes. That the uneducated and the 
 ill-educated should think the hypothesis that all races of 
 beings, man inclusive, may in process of time have been 
 evolved from the simplest monad, a ludicrous one, is not to 
 be wondered at. But for the physiologist, wdio knows that 
 every individual being is so evolved — who knows further, 
 that in their earliest condition the germs of all plants and 
 animals whatever are so similar, "that there is no apprecia- 
 ble distinction amongst them which would enable it to be 
 determined whether a particular molecule is the germ of a 
 conferva or of an oak, of a zoophyte or of a man ; " * — for 
 him to make a difficulty of the matter is inexcusable. Sure- 
 ly if a single cell may, when subjected to certain influences, 
 become a man in the space of twenty years ; there is 
 nothing absurd in the hypothesis that under certain other 
 influences, a cell may in the course of millions of years 
 give origin to the human race. The two processes are 
 generically the same ; and differ only in length and com- 
 plexity. 
 
 We have, indeed, in the part taken by many scientific 
 * Carpenter. 
 
80UECE OF THE NOTION OF SPECIAL OEEATIONS. 371 
 
 men in this controversy of " Law versus Miracle," a good 
 illustration of the tenacious vitality of superstitions. Ask 
 one of our leading geologists or physiologists whether he 
 believes in the Mosaic account of the creation, and he v/ill 
 take the question as next to an insult. Either he rejects 
 the narrative entirely, or understands it in some vague 
 non-natural sense. Yet one part of it he unconsciously 
 adopts ; and that, too, literally. For whence has he got 
 this notion of " special creations," which he thinks so 
 reasonable, and fights for so vigorously ? Evidently he 
 can trace it back to no other source than this myth which 
 he repudiates. He has not a single fact in nature to quote 
 in proof of it; nor is he prepared with any chain of abstract 
 reasoning by which it may be established. Catechise him, 
 and he will be forced to confess that the notion was put into 
 his mind in childhood as part of a story which he now 
 thinks absurd. And why, after rejecting all the rest of this 
 story, he should strenuously defend this last remnant of it 
 as though he had received it on valid authority, he would 
 be puzzled to say. 
 
X. 
 
 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM. 
 
 Sill JAMES MACINTOSH got great credit for the 
 saying, that " constitutions are not made, but grow." 
 In our day, the most significant thing about this saying is, 
 that it was ever thought so significant. As from the sur- 
 prise dis2:ilayed by a man at some familiar fact, you may 
 judge of his general culture ; so from the admiration 
 which an age accords to a new thought, its average degree 
 of enlightenment may be inferred. That this apophthegm 
 of Macintosh should have been quoted and re-quoted as it 
 has, shows how profound has been the ignorance of social 
 science. A small ray of truth has seemed brilliant, as a 
 distant rushlight looks like a star in the surrounding dark- 
 ness. 
 
 Such a conception could not, indeed, fail to be startling 
 when let fall in the midst of a system of thought to which 
 it was utterly alien. Universally in Macintosh's day, things 
 were explained on the hypothesis of manufacture, rather 
 than that of growth : as indeed they are, by the majority, 
 in our own day. It was held that the planets were sever- 
 ally projected round the sun from the Creator's hand; with 
 exactly the velocity required to balance the sun's attrac- 
 tion. The formation of the Earth, the separation of sea 
 from land, the production of animals, were mechanical 
 
SOCIETIES ARE NOT MADE, BUT GROW. 373 
 
 \v>jrks from which God rested as a hxbourer rests. Man 
 w.'^s supposed to be moulded after a manner somewhat akin 
 to that in which a modeller makes a clay-figure. And of 
 course, in harmony with such ideas, societies were tacitly 
 assumed to he arranged thus or thus by direct interposition 
 of Pi-ovidence ; or by the regulations of law-makers ; or by 
 both. 
 
 Yet that societies are not artificially put together, is a 
 truth so manifest, that it seems wonderful men should have 
 ever overlooked it. Perhaps nothing more clearly shows 
 the small value of historical studies, as they have been 
 commonly jjursued. You need but to look at the changes 
 going on around, or observe social organization in its lead- 
 ing peculiarities, to see that these are neither supernatural, 
 nor are determined by the wills of individual men, as by 
 implication historians commonly teach ; but are consequent 
 on general natural causes. The one case of the division of 
 labour suffices to show this. It has not been by command 
 of any ruler that some men have become manufacturers, 
 while othei's have remained cultivators of the soil. In 
 Lancashire, millions have devoted themselves to the making 
 of cotton-fabrics ; in Yorkshire, another million lives by 
 producing woollens ; and the pottery of Staifordshire, the 
 cutlery of Sheffield, the hardware of Birmingham, severally 
 occupy their hundreds of thousands. These are lai-ge 
 facts in the structure of English society ; but we can as- 
 cribe them neither to miracle, nor to legislation. It is not 
 by " the hero as king," any more than by " collective wis- 
 dom," that men have been segregated into producers, 
 wholesale distributors, and retail distributors. 
 
 The whole of our industrial organization, from its mahi 
 outlines down to its minutest details, has become what it 
 is, not simply without legislative guidance, but, to a con- 
 siderable extent, in sj^ite of legislative hindrances. It has 
 arisen under -the pressure of human wants and activities. 
 
374 THE SOCIAL OEGANISM. 
 
 While each citizen has Ibeen pursuing his individual wel 
 fare, and none taking thought about division of labour, or, 
 indeed, conscious of the need for it, division of labour has 
 yet been ever becoming more complete. It has been doing 
 this slowly and silently : scarcely any having observed it 
 until quite modern times. By steps so small, that year 
 after year the industrial arrangements have seemed to men 
 just what they were before — by changes as insensible as 
 those through which a seed passes into a tree ; society has 
 become the complex body of mutually-dependent workers 
 which we now see. And this economic organization, mark, 
 is the all-essential organization. Tln^ough the combination 
 thus spontaneously evolved, every citizen is supplied with 
 daily necessaries ; while he yields some product or aid to 
 others. That we are severally alive to-day, we owe to the 
 regular working of this combination during the past week; 
 and could it be suddenly abolished, a great proportion of 
 us would be dead before another week ended. If these 
 most conspicuous and vital arrangements of our social 
 structure, have arisen without the devising of any one, but 
 through the individual efforts of citizens to satisfy their 
 owm wants ; w^e may be tolerably certain that the less im- 
 portant arrangements have similarly arisen. 
 
 " But surely," it will be said, " the social changes di- 
 rectly produced by law, cannot be classed as spontaneous 
 growths. When parliaments or kings order this or that 
 thing to be done, and appoint officials to do it, the proccsa 
 is clearly artificial ; and society to this extent becomes a 
 manufacture rather than a growth.'' No, not even these 
 changes are exceptions, if they be real and permanent 
 changes. The true sources of such changes lie deeper 
 than the acts of legislators. To take first the simplest 
 instance. We all know that the enactments of represent- 
 ative governments ultimately depend on the national 
 will: they may for a time be out of harmony with it, but 
 
GOVEKITMENTS BOOTED EST SOCIAL LIFE. oiO 
 
 eventually they must conform to it. And to say that tho 
 national will finally determines them, is to say that they 
 result from the average of individual desires ; or, in 
 other words — from the average of individual natures. A 
 law so initiated, therefore, really grows out of the popular 
 character. 
 
 In the case of a Government representing a dominant 
 class, the same things holds, though not so manifestly. 
 For the very existence of a class monopolizing all power, is 
 due to certain sentiments in the commonalty. But for the 
 feeling of loyalty on the part of retainers, a feudal system 
 could not exist. We see in the protest of the Highlanders 
 against the abolition of heritable jurisdictions, that they 
 preferred that kind of local rule. And if to the popular 
 nature, must thus be ascribed the growth of an irresponsi- 
 ble ruling class ; then to the popular nature must be as- 
 cribed the social arrangements which that class creates in 
 the pursuit of its own ends. Even where the Government 
 is despotic, the doctrine still holds. The character of the 
 people is, as before, the original source of this political 
 form; and, as we have abundant proof, other forms sud- 
 denly created will not act, but rapidly retrograde to the 
 old form. Moreover, such regulat'ons as a despot makes, 
 if really operative, are so because of their fitness to the 
 social state. His acts being very much swayed by gen- 
 eral opinion — by precedent, by the feeling of his nobles, 
 his priesthood, his army — are in part immediate results 
 of the national character ; and when they are out of har- 
 mony with the national character, they are soon practically 
 abrogated. 
 
 The failure of Cromwell permanently to establish a new 
 social condition, and the rapid revival of suppressed instit'u" 
 tions and practices after his death, show how powerless is 
 a monarch to change the type of the society he governs. 
 He may disturb, he may retard, or he may aid the natural 
 
376 THE SOCIAL OEGAXISM. 
 
 process of organization ; but the general coarse of this 
 process is beyond his control. Nay, more than this is true, 
 Those Avho regard the histories of societies as the histories 
 of their great men, and think that these great men shape 
 the fates of their societies, overlook the truth that such 
 great men are the products of their societies. Without cer- 
 tain antecedents — without a certain average national char- 
 acter, they could neither have been generated nor could 
 have had the culture which formed them. If their society 
 is to some extent re-moulded by them, they were, both 
 before and after birth, moulded by their society — were the 
 results of all those influences which fostered the ancestral 
 character they inherited, and gave their own early bias, their 
 creed, morals, knowledge, aspirations. So that such social 
 changes as are immediately traceable to individuals of un- 
 usual power, are still remotely traceable to the social causes 
 which produced these individuals, and hence, from the 
 highest point of view, such social changes also, are parts 
 of the general developmental process. 
 
 Thus that which is so obviously true of the industrial 
 structure of society, is true of its whole structure. The fact 
 that " constitutions are not made, but grow," is simj^ly a 
 fragment of the much larger fact, that under all its aspects 
 and though all its ramifications, society is a growth and not 
 a manufacture. 
 
 A jDercei^tion that there exists some analogy between 
 the body politic and a living individual body, was early 
 reached ; and from time to time re-aj^peared in literature. 
 But this percepjtion was necessarily vague and more or 
 less fanciful. In the absence of physiological science, and 
 especially of those comprehensive generalizations which it 
 has but recently reached, it was impossible to discern the 
 real parallelisms. 
 
 The central idea of Plato's model Republic, is the cor 
 
THEORIES OF PLATO AND HOBBES. 377 
 
 respondence between the parts of a society and the faculties 
 of the human mind. Classifying these faculties under the 
 heads of Reason, Will, and Passion, he classifies the mem- 
 bers of his ideal society vmder what he regards as three 
 analogous heads : — councillors, who are to exercise govern- 
 ment; military or executive, who are to fulfil their behests; 
 and the commonalty, bent on gain and selfish gratification. 
 In other words, the ruler, the warrior, and the craftsman, 
 are, according to him, the analogues of our reflective, voli- 
 tional, and emotional powers. Xow even were there truth 
 in the implied assumption of a parallelism between the 
 structure of a society and that of a man, this classification 
 Avould be indefensible. It might more truly be contended 
 that, as the military j^ower obeys the commands of the 
 Government, it is the Government which answers to the 
 Will ; while the military power is simply an agency set in 
 motion by it. Or, again, it might be contended that 
 whereas the Will is a product of predominant desires, to 
 which the Reason serves merely as an eye, it is the crafts- 
 men, who, according to the alleged analogy, ought to be 
 the moving power of the warriors. 
 
 Hobbes sought to establish a still more definite parallel- 
 ism : not, however between a society and the human mind, 
 but between a society and the human body. In the intro- 
 duction to the work in which he developes this conception, 
 he says — 
 
 " For by art is created that great LEViATnAN called a Com- 
 monwealth, or State, in Latin Civitas, which is but an artificial 
 man ; though of greater stature and strength than the natural, 
 for whose protection and defence it was intended, and in which 
 the sovereignty is an artificial soul, as giving life and motion to 
 the whole body ; the- magistrates and other officers of judica- 
 ture and execution, artificial joints ; reicard and punishment, by 
 which, fastened to the seat of the sovereignty, every joint and 
 member is moved to perform his duty, are the nerves, that do 
 
378 THE SOCIAL 0EGANI3M. 
 
 the same in the body natural ; the wealth and riches of all the 
 particular members are the strength; stilus populi, the pcopWi 
 safety^ its business ; counsellors^ by whom all things needful for it 
 to know are suggested unto it, are the memory ; equity and lawi 
 an artificial reason and will ; concord, health; sedition, siclcness ; 
 civil 'War, death.'''' 
 
 And Hobbes carries this comparison so far as actually 
 to give a drawing of the Leviathan — a vast human-shaped 
 figure, whose body and limbs are made uj) of multitudes oi 
 men. Just noting that these different analogies asserted 
 by Plato and Hobbes, serve to cancel each other (being, as 
 they are, so completely at variance), we may say that on 
 the Avhole those of Hobbes are the more plausible. But 
 they are full of inconsistencies. If the sovereignty is the 
 soul of the body politic, how can it be that magistrates, 
 who are a kind of deputy-sovereigns, should be comparable 
 to joints? Or, again, how can the three mental functions, 
 memory, reason, and will, be severally analogous, the first to 
 comisellors, who are a class of public officers, and the other 
 two to equity and laws, which are not classes of oflUcers, 
 but abstractions ? Or, once more, if magistrates are the 
 artificial joints of society, how can reward and punishment 
 be its nerves ? Its nerves must surely be some class of 
 persons. Reward and punishment must in societies, as m 
 individuals, be conditio7is of the nerves, and not the nerves 
 themselves. 
 
 But the chief errors of these comparisons made by Plato 
 and Hobbes, lie much deej)er. Both thinkers assume that 
 the organization of a society is comparable, not simply to 
 the organization of a living body in general, but to the or- 
 ganization of the human body in particular. There is no 
 warrant whatever for assuming this. It is in no way im- 
 plied by the evidence ; and is simply one of those fancies 
 which we commonly find mixed up with the truths of early 
 speculation. Still more erroneous are the two conception? 
 
EERCES OF PLATO AKD HOBBES. 370 
 
 in tliis, that they construe a society as an artificial struc- 
 ture. Plato's model republic — his ideal of a. healthful body 
 politic — is to be consciously put together by men ; just as 
 a watch might be : and Plato manifestly thinks of societies 
 in general as thus originated. Quite specifically does 
 Hobbes express this view. " For by ar*;," he says, " ia 
 created that great Leviathan? called a Commonwealth." 
 And he even goes so far as to compare the supposed 
 social contract, from which a society suddenly originates, 
 to the creation of a man by the divine fiat. Thus they 
 both fall into the extreme inconsistency of considering a 
 community as similar in structure to a human being, and 
 yet as produced in the same way as an artificial mechanism 
 — in nature, an organism ; in history, a machine. 
 
 Notwithstanding errors, however, these speculations 
 have considerable significance. That such analogies, crude- 
 ly as they are thought out, should have been alleged by 
 Plato and Hobbes and many others, is a reason for susjject- 
 ing that some analogy exists. The untenableness of the 
 particular comparisons above instanced, is bo ground for 
 denying an essential parallelism ; for early ideas are usually 
 but vague adumbrations of the truth. Lacking the great 
 generalizations of biology, it was, as we have said, im- 
 possible to trace out the real relations of social organiza- 
 tions to organizations of another order. We propose here 
 to show what are the analogies which modern science dis- 
 closes to us. 
 
 Let us set out by succinctly stating the points of 
 similarity and the points of diflerence. Societies agree 
 with individual organisms in four conspicuous j^eculiari- 
 ties : — 
 
 1. That commencing as small aggregations, they insensi- 
 bly augment in mass : some of them eventually reaching 
 ten thousand times what they originally were. 
 
 2. That while at first so simple in structure as to be 
 
3S0 THE SOCIAL 0EGANI8M, 
 
 considered structureless, they assume, in the course of 
 their growth, a continually-increasing complexity of 
 structure. 
 
 3. That though in their early, undeveloped states, 
 there exists in them scarcely any mutual dependence of 
 parts, their parts gradually acquire a mutual dependence ; 
 which becomes at last so great, that the activity and life 
 of each part is made possible only by the activity and life 
 of the rest. 
 
 4. That the life and development of a society is inde- 
 pendent of, and far more prolonged than, the life and de- 
 velopment of any of its component units; who are severally 
 born, grow, work, reproduce, and die, while the body poli- 
 tic composed of them survives generation after generation, 
 increasing in mass, completeness of structure, and func- 
 tional activity. 
 
 These four parallelisms will appear the more significant 
 the more we contemplate them. While the points speci- 
 fied, are points in which societies agree with individual or- 
 ganisms, they are points in which individual organisms 
 agree with each other, and disagree with all things else. 
 In the course of its existence, every plant and animal in- 
 creases in mass, in a way not parallelled by inorganic ob 
 jects : even such inorganic objects as crystals, which arise 
 by growth, show us no such definite relation between 
 growth and existence as organisms do. The orderly pro- 
 gress from simplicity to complexity, displayed by bodies 
 politic in common with all living bodies, is a characteristic 
 which distinguishes living bodies from the inanimate bodies 
 amid which they move. That functional dependence of 
 parts, which is scarcely more manifest in animals or plants 
 than nations, has no counterpart elsewhere. And in no 
 aggregate except an organic, or a social one, is there a 
 perpetual removal and replacement of parts, joined with a 
 continued integrity of the wdiole. 
 
ANALOGIES WITH THE VITAL OKGAKISM. 381 
 
 Moreover, societies and organisms are not only alike in 
 these peculiarities, in which they are nnlike all other 
 things ; but the highest societies, like the highest organ 
 isms, exhibit them in the greatest degree. We see that 
 the lowest animals do not increase to anything hke the 
 sizes of the higher ones ; and, similarly, we see that aborigi- 
 ual societies are comparatively limited in their growths. 
 In complexity, our large civilized nations as much exceed 
 primitive savage tribes, as a vertebrate animal does a 
 zoophyte. Simple communities, like simj^le creatures, 
 have so little mutual dependence of parts, that subdivision 
 or mutilation causes but little inconvenience ; but from 
 complex communities, as from complex creatures, you can- 
 not remove any considerable organ without producing 
 great disturbance or death of the rest. And in societies 
 of low type, as in inferior animals, the life of the aggregate, 
 often cut short by division or dissolution, exceeds in length 
 the lives of the component units, very far less than in civi- 
 lized communities and superior animals ; which outlive 
 many generations of their component units. 
 
 On the other hand, the leading diiferences between 
 societies and individual organisms are these : — 
 
 1. That societies have no specific external forms. This, 
 however, is a point of contrast which loses much of its im- 
 portance, when we remember that throughout the vegetal 
 kingdom, as well as in some lower divisions of the animal 
 kingdom, the forms are often very indefinite — definiteness 
 being rather the exception than the rule ; and that they 
 are manifestly in part determined by surrounding physical 
 circumstances, as the forms of societies are. If, too, it 
 should eventually be shown, as we believe it will, that the 
 form of every species of organism has resulted from the 
 average play of the external forces to which it has been 
 subject during its evolution as a species; then, that the 
 external forms of societies should depend, as they do, 
 
3S2 TUE SOCIAL OKGANISM. 
 
 on surrovinding couditions, will be a further point of coiii' 
 munity. 
 
 2. That though the living tissue whereof an individual 
 organism consists, forms a continuous mass, the living ele- 
 ments of a society do not form a continuous mass ; but are 
 more or less widely dispersed over some portion of the 
 Earth's surface. This, which at first sight appears to be a 
 fundamental distinction, is one which yet to a great extent 
 disappears when we contemplate all the facts. For, in the 
 lower divisions of the animal and vegetal kingdoms, there 
 are types of organization much more nearly allied, in this 
 respect, to the organization of a society, than might be sup- 
 posed — types in which the living units essentially compos- 
 ing the mass, are dispersed through an inert substance, 
 that can scarcely be called living in the full sense of the 
 word. It is thus Avith some of the Protococci and with the 
 NostocecB^ which exist as cells imbedded in a viscid matter. 
 It is so, too, with the Thalassicollce — ^bodies that are made 
 up of differentiated parts, dispersed through an undifferenti- 
 ated jelly. And throughout considerable portions of their 
 bodies, some of the AcalepTiCB exhibit more or less distinct- 
 ly this type of structure. 
 
 Indeed, it may be contended that this is the primitive 
 form of all organization ; seeing that, even in the highest 
 creatures, as in ourselves, every tissue developes out of 
 what physiologists call a blastema — an unorganized though 
 organizable substance, through which organic points are 
 distributed. Now this is very much the case with a 
 society. For we must remember that though the men 
 who make up a society, are physically separate and even 
 scattered ; yet that the surface over which they are scatter- 
 ed is not one devoid of life, b.it is covered by life of a lower 
 order which ministers to their life. The vegetation which 
 clothes a country, makes possible the animal life in that 
 country ; and only through its animal and vegetal products 
 
CONTRASTS WITH THE VITAL ORGANISM. 383 
 
 can such a country support a human society. Hence the 
 members of the body poUtic are not to be regarded as 
 separated by intervals of dead, space ; but as diffused 
 through a space occupied, by hfe of a lower order. In our 
 conception of a social organism, we must include all that 
 lower organic existence on which human existence, and 
 therefore social existence, depends. And. when we do 
 this, we see that the citizens who make up a community, 
 may be considered, as highly vitalized units surrounded 
 by substances of lower vitality, from which they draw 
 their nutriment : much as in the cases above instanced. 
 Thus, when examined, this apjoarent distinction in great 
 part disappears, 
 
 3. That while the ultimate living elements of an indi- 
 vidual organism, are mostly fixed in their relative positions, 
 tliose of the social organism are capable of moving from 
 place to place, seems a marked disagreement. But here, 
 too, the disagreemxcnt is much less than would be supposed. 
 For while citizens are locomotive in their private capacities, 
 they are fixed, in their public capacities. As farmers, man- 
 ufacturers, or traders, men carry on their business at the 
 same spots, often throughout their whole h'ves ; and if they 
 go away occasionally, they leave behind others to discharge 
 their functions in their absence. Each great centre of pro- 
 duction, each manufacturing town or district, continues 
 always in the same place ; and many of the firms in such 
 town or district, are for generations carried on either by 
 the descendants or successors of those who founded them. 
 Just as in a living body, the cells that make up some im- 
 portant organ, severally perform their functions for a time 
 and then disappear, leaving others to supply their places ; 
 80, in each part of a society, the organ remains, though the 
 persons who compose it change. Thus, in social life, as 
 in the life of an animal, the units as M^ell as the larger 
 agencies formed of them, are in the main stationary as 
 18 
 
384: THE SOCI.VL ORGANISM. 
 
 respects the places where they discharge their duties and 
 obtain their sustenance. And hence the power of indivi- 
 dual locomotion does not practically aifect the analogy. 
 
 4. The last and perhaps the most important distinction, 
 is, that while in the body of an animal, only a special tissue 
 is endowed with feeling ; in a society, all the members are 
 endowed with feeling. Even this distinction, however, is 
 by no means a complete one. For in some of the lowest 
 animals, characterized by the absence of a nervous system, 
 such sensitiveness as exists is possessed by all parts. It is 
 only in the more organized forms that feeling is monopo- 
 lized by one class of the A'ital elements. Moreover, we 
 must remember that societies, too, are not without a cer- 
 tain differentiation of this kind. Though the units of a 
 community are all sensitive, yet they are so in unequal de- 
 grees. The classes engaged in agriculture and laborious 
 occupations in general, are much less susce2itible, intellec- 
 tually and emotionally, than the rest; and especially less so 
 than the classes of highest mental culture. Still, we have 
 here a tolerably decided contrast between bodies ]Dolitic 
 and individual bodies. And it is one which we should 
 keep constantly in view. For it reminds us that while in 
 individual bodies, the welfare of all other parts is rightly 
 subservient to the welfare of the nervous system, whose 
 pleasurable or painful activities make up the good or evil 
 of life ; in bodies politic, the same thing does not hold, or 
 holds to but a very slight extent. It is well that the lives 
 of all parts of an animal should be merged in the life of the 
 whole ; because the whole has a corporate consciousness 
 capable of happiness or misery. But it is not so with a 
 society ; since its living units do not and cannot lose indi- 
 vidual consciousness ; and since the community as a whole 
 has no corj^orate consciousness. And this is an everlast- 
 ing reason why the welfare of citizens cannot rightly be 
 Bacrificed to some supposed benefit of the State j but 
 
SXTEXT OF THE ANALOGIES. 385 
 
 wliy, on the other hand, the State is to be maintained 
 solely for the benefit of citizens. The corporate life must 
 here be subservient to the lives of the parts ; instead 
 of the lives of the parts being subservient to the 3orpo 
 rate life. 
 
 Such, then, are the points of analogy and the points of 
 diiference. May we not say that the jDoints of difference 
 serve but to bring into clearer light the points of analogy. 
 While comparison makes definite the obvious contrasts be- 
 tween organisms commonly so called, and the social organ- 
 ism ; it shows that even these contrasts are not so decided 
 as was to be expected. The indefiniteness of form, the 
 discontinuity of the joarts, the mobility of the parts, and 
 the universal sensitiveness, are not only peculiarities of the 
 social organism which have to be stated with considerable 
 qualifications ; but they are j^eculiarities to which the in- 
 ferior classes of animals present approximations. Thus we 
 find but little to conflict with the all-important analogies 
 That societies slowly augment in mass ; that they progress 
 in complexity of structure; that at the same time their parts 
 become more mutually dependent ; that their living units 
 are removed and replaced without destroying their in- 
 tegrity ; and farther, that the extents to which they dis- 
 play these peculiarities are proportionate to their vital ac- 
 tivities ; are traits that societies have in common with 
 organic bodies. And these traits in which they agree with 
 organic bodies and disagree with all other things — these 
 traits which iii truth specially characterize organic bodies, 
 entirely subordinate the minor distinctions : such distinc- 
 tions being scarcely greater than those which separate one 
 half of the organic kingdom from the otlier. The princi- 
 ples of organization are the same ; and the differences are 
 simply differences of aj^plication. 
 
 Here ending this general survey of the facts which 
 justifj the comparison of a society to a living body; 
 
383 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM. 
 
 let US look at them in detail. We shall find that the 
 parallelism becomes the more marked the more closely 
 it is traced. 
 
 The lowest animal and vegetal forms — Protozoa and 
 Protophyta — are chiefly inhabitants of the water. They 
 arc minute bodies, most of which are made individually 
 visible only by the microscope. All of them are extremely 
 simple in structure ; and some of them, as the Mhizopods, 
 almost structureless. Multiplying, as they ordinarily do, 
 by the spontaneous division of their bodies, they produce 
 halves, which may either become quite separate and move 
 away in diiferent directions, or may continue attached. 
 By the repetition of this process of fission, aggregations of 
 various sizes and kinds are formed. Among the Proto- 
 pJiyta we have some classes, as the Piatomacem and the 
 Yeast-plant, in which the individuals may be either sepa- 
 rate, or attached in groups of two, three, four, or more ; 
 other classes in which a considerable number of individual 
 cells are united into a thread [Conferva^ Monilia) ; others 
 in which they form a net work {SydrocUctyon) ; others in 
 which they form plates ( Ulva) ; and others in which they 
 form masses {Laminaria^ Agarici(s) : all which vegetal 
 forms, having no distinction of root, stem, or leaf, are called 
 Thallogens. Among the Protozoa we find parallel facts. 
 Immense numbers of ^W2fe5a-like creatures, massed togeth- 
 er in a framework of horny fibres, constitute Sponge. In 
 the Foraininifera^ we see smaller groups of such creatures 
 arranged into more definite shapes. ISTot only do these 
 almost structureless Protozoa unite into regular or irregu- 
 lar aggregations of various sizes ; but among some of the 
 more organized ones, as the 'Vorticellce., there are also joro- 
 duced clusters of individuals, proceeding from a common 
 Btock. But these little societies of monads, or cells, or 
 whatever else we may call them, are societies only in the 
 
A^^TALOGIES AMONG INFEKIOK STRUCTUKES. 3S7 
 
 jowest sense : there is no subordination of parts among 
 them — no organization. Each of the comj^onent units 
 lives by and for itself; neither giving nor receiving aid. 
 There is no mutual dependence, save that consequent on 
 inei'c mechanical union. 
 
 Now do we not here discern analogies to the first 
 stages of human societies ? Among the lowest races, as the 
 Bushmen, we find but incipient 'aggregation : sometimes 
 single families ; sometimes two or three families wandering 
 about together. The number of associated units is small 
 and variable ; and their union inconstant. No division of 
 Jabour exists except between the sexes ; and the only kind 
 of mutual aid is that of joint attack or defence. We see 
 nothing beyond an undifferentiated group of individuals, 
 forming the germ of a society ; just as in the homogeneous 
 groups of cells above described, we see only the initial stage 
 of animal and vegetal organization. 
 
 The comparison may now be carried a step higher. In 
 the vegetal kingdom we pass from the Thallogens, consist- 
 ing of mere masses of similar cells, to the Acrogens, in 
 which the cells are not similar throughout the whole mass ; 
 but are here aggregated into a structure serving as leaf, 
 and there into a structure serving as root : thus forming a 
 whole in which there is a certain subdivision of functions 
 among the units ; and therefore a certain mutual dependence. 
 In the animal kingdom we find analogous progress. From 
 mere unorganized groups of cells, or cell-like bodies, we 
 ascend to groups of such cells arranged into joarts that 
 have different duties. The common Polype, from whose 
 substance may be separated individual cells which exhibit, 
 when detached, appearances and movements like those of 
 the solitary Aynceha, illustrates this stage. The compo 
 nent units, though still showing great community of char- 
 acter, assume somewhat diverse functions in the skin, in 
 the internal surface, and in the tentacles. There is a cer- 
 tain amount of " physiological division of labour.' ' 
 
388 THE SOCIAL OEGANISM. 
 
 Turning to societies, we find these stages paralleled in the 
 majority of aboriginal tribes. When, instead of such small 
 variable groujDS as are formed by Bushmen, we come tc 
 the larger and more permanent groups formed by savages 
 not quite so low, we begin to find traces of social structure. 
 Though industrial organization scarcely shows itself, except 
 in the different occuj^ations of the sexes ; yet there is always 
 more or less of governmental organization. While all the 
 men are warriors and hunters, only a part of them are in- 
 cluded in the council of chiefs ; and in this council of chiefs 
 some one has commonly supreme authority. There is thus 
 a certain distinction of classes and powers; and through 
 this slight specialization of functions, is effected a rude co- 
 operation among the increasing mass of individuals, when- 
 ever the society has to act in its corj^orate capacity. Be- 
 yond this analogy in the slight extent to which organiza- 
 tion is carried, there is analogy in the indefiniteness of the 
 organization. In the Ilydra^ the respective pai-ts of the 
 creature's substance have many functions in common. 
 They are all contractile ; omitting the tentacles, the whole 
 of the external surface can give origin to young hydrce / 
 and when turned inside out, stomach performs the duties 
 of skin, and skin the duties of stomach. In aboriginal so- 
 cieties such differentiations as exist are similarly imperfect. 
 Notwithstanding distinctions of rank, all persons maintain 
 themselves by their own exertions. Not only do the head 
 men of the tribe, in common with the rest, build their own 
 huts, make their own weapons, kill their own food ; but 
 the chief does the like. Moreover, in the rudest of these 
 tribes, such governmental organization as exists is very in- 
 constant. It is frequently changed by violence or treach- 
 ery, and the function of ruling assumed by other members 
 of the community. Thus between the rudest societies and 
 Bome of the lowest forms of animal life there is analogy 
 alike in the slight extent to which organization is carried, 
 
PARAXLEL PROCESSES OF MULTIPLICATIOiN'. 389 
 
 m the indefiniteness of this organization, and in its want of 
 fixity. 
 
 A further complication of the analogy is at hand. 
 From the aggregation of units into organized groups, mq 
 pass to the multiplication of such groups, and their coalea- 
 cence into compound groups. The Hydra^ when it bar 
 reached a certain bulk, puts forth from its surface a tud^ 
 which, growing and gradually assuming the form of the 
 parent, finally becomes detached ; and by this process of 
 gemmation, the creature peoples the adjacent water with 
 others like itself. A parallel process is seen in the multipli- 
 cation of those lowly-organized tribes above described. 
 One of them having increased to a size that is either too 
 great for co-ordination under so rude a structure, or else 
 that is greater than the surrounding country can supply 
 with game and other wild food, there arises a tendency to 
 divide ; and as in such communities there are ever occur- 
 ring quarrels, jealousies, and other causes of division, there 
 soon comes an occasion on which a part of the tribe sepa- 
 rates under the leadership of some subordinate chief, and 
 migrates. This process being from time to time rejDeated, 
 an extensive region is at length occupied with numerous 
 separate tribes descended from a common ancestry. The 
 analogy by no means ends here. Though in the common 
 Hydra, the young ones that bud out from the parent soon 
 become detached and independent ; yet throughout the 
 rest of the class Hydrozoa, to which this creature belongs, 
 the like does not generally happen. The successive indi- 
 viduals thus developed continue attached ; give origin to 
 other such individuals which also continue attached ; and 
 so there results a compound animal. As in the Hydra 
 itself, we find an aggregation of units which, considered 
 separately, are akin to the lowest Protozoa ; so here, in a 
 Zoophyte.) we find an aggregation of such aggregations. 
 The like is also seen throughout the extensive familv of 
 
390 THE SOCIAL ORGAKISM. 
 
 Polyzoa or Molluscoida. Tlie Ascidian Mollusks, too, in 
 their many varied forms, show us the same thing : exhibit- 
 ing, at the same time, various degrees of union subsisting 
 among tlie component individuals. For while in the 8alpm 
 the component individuals adhere so slightly that a blow on 
 the vessel of water in which they are floating will separate 
 them ; in the Botryllidce, there exists a vascular connexion 
 between them, and a common circulation. 
 
 Now in these various forms and. degrees of aggregation, 
 may we not see paralleled the union of groups of connate 
 tribes into nations ? Though in regions where circum- 
 stances permit, the separate tribes descended from some 
 original tribe, migrate in all directions, and become far re- 
 moved and quite separate ; yet, in other cases, whore the 
 territory presents barriers to distant migration, this does 
 not happen : the sinall kindred communities are held in 
 closer contact, and eventually become more or less united 
 into a nation. The contrast between the tribes of Ameri- 
 can Indians and the Scottish clans, illustrates this. And a 
 glance at our own early history, or the early histories of 
 continental nations, shows this fusion of small simple com- 
 munities taking place in various ways and to various extents. 
 As says M. Guizot, in his history of " The Origin of Rep- 
 resentative Government," — 
 
 " By degrees, in the midst of the chaos of the rising society, 
 small aggregations are formed which feel the want of alliance and 
 union with each other. . . . Soon inequality of strength is 
 displayed among neighbouring aggregations. The strong tend to 
 subjugate the weak, and usurp at first the rights of taxation and 
 military service. Thus political authority leaves the aggregations 
 which first instituted it, to take a wider range." 
 
 That is to say, the small tribes, clans, or feudal unions, 
 sprung mostly from a common stock, and long held in con- 
 tact as occupants of adjacent lands, gradually get united in 
 other ways than by mere adhesion of race and proximity. 
 
SIMILAEITY OF GROUPINGS. 391 
 
 A farther series of cl^anges begins now to take place ; to 
 w^hich, as before, Ave sliall find analogies in individual or- 
 ganisms. Returning again to the Hydrozoa, we observe 
 chat in the simplest of the compound forms, the connected 
 individuals developed from a common stock, are alike in 
 structure, and perform like functions : with the exception, 
 indeed, that here anfl there a bud, instead of developing 
 into a stomach, mouth, and tentacles, becomes an egg-sac. 
 But with the oceanic Hydrozoa^ this is by no means the 
 case. In the Calycophoridae^ some of the polypes growing 
 from the common germ, become developed and modified 
 into large, long, sack-like bodies, which by their rhythmi- 
 cal contractions move through the water, dragging the 
 community of polypes after them. In the Physophoridce^ 
 a variety of organs similarly arise by transformation of the 
 budding polypes; so that in creatures like the Physalia, 
 commonly known as the " Portuguese Man-of-war," instead 
 of that tree-like group of similar individuals forming the 
 original type of the class, we have a complex mass of unlike 
 parts fulfilling unlike duties. As an individual Hydra may 
 be regarded as a group of Protozoa, which have become 
 partially metamorphosed into difierent organs ; so a Phy- 
 salia is, morphologically considered, a group of Hydrce of 
 which the individuals have been variously transformed to 
 fit them for various functions. 
 
 This differentiation upon differentiation, is just what 
 takes place in the evolution of a civiHzed society. We ob- 
 served how, in the small communities first formed, there 
 arises a certain simple political organization — there is a 
 partial separation of classes having difierent duties. And 
 now we have to observe how, in a nation formed by the 
 fusion of such small communities, the several sections, at 
 first alike in structures and modes jof activity, gradually 
 become unhke in both — gradually become mutually-de- 
 pendent parts, diverse in their natures and functions. 
 
392 THE SOCIAL OKGAKISM. 
 
 The doctrine of the progressive division of labour, t<l 
 which we are here introduced, is familiar to all readers. 
 And further, the analogy betvreen the economical division 
 of labour and the " lohysiological division of labour," is so 
 striking, as long since to have drawn the attention of sci- 
 entific naturalists : so striking, indeed, that the expression 
 " physiological division of labour," has been suggested by 
 it. It is not needful, therefore, that we should treat this 
 jDart of our subject in great detail. We shall content our- 
 selves with noting a few general and significant facts, not 
 manifest on a first insiDCction. 
 
 Throughout the whole animal kingdom, from the Goe- 
 lenterata upwards, the first stage of evolution is the same. 
 Equally in the germ of a polype and in the human ovum, 
 the aggregated mass of cells out of which the creature is 
 to arise, gives origin to a peripheral layer of cells, slightly 
 difiering from the rest which they include ; and this layer 
 subsequently divides into two — the inner, lying in contact 
 with the included yelk, being called the mucous layer, and 
 the outer, exposed to surrounding agencies, being called 
 the serous layer : or, in the terms used by Prof. Huxley, in 
 describing the development of the Hydrozoa — the endo- 
 derm and ectoderm. This primary division marks out a 
 fundamental ■ contrast of parts in the future organism. 
 From the mucous layer, or endoderm, is developed the 
 apparatus of nutrition ; while from the serous layer, or ec- 
 toderm, is developed the apparatus of external action. 
 Out of the one arise the organs by which food is prepared 
 and absorbed, oxygen imbibed, and blood p)urified ; while 
 out of the other arise the nervous, muscular, and osseous 
 systems, by whose combined actions the movements of the 
 body as a whole are effected. Though this is not a rigor- 
 ously-correct distinction, seeing that some organs involve 
 both of these primitive membranes, yet high authorities 
 agree in stating it as a broad general distinction. 
 
ITS PRIMARY DIFFERENTIATIONS. 393 
 
 Well, in the evolution of a society, we see a primary 
 differentiation of analogous kind ; which similarly underlies 
 the whole future structure. As already pointed oat, the 
 only manifest contrast of parts in primitive societies, is that 
 between the governing and the governed. In the least or- 
 ganized tribes, the council of chiefs may be a body of men 
 distinguished simply by greater courage or experience. In 
 more organized tribes, the chief-class is definitely separated 
 from the lower class, and often regarded as different in na- 
 ture — sometimes as god-descended. And later, we find 
 these two becoming resjiectively freemen and slaves, or 
 nobles and serfs. A glance at their respective functions, 
 makes it obvious that the great divisions thus early formed, 
 stand to each other in a relation similar to that in which 
 the primary divisions of the embryo stand to each other. 
 For, from its first appearance, the class of chiefs is that by 
 which the external acts of the society are controlled : alike 
 in war, in negotiation, and in migration. Afterwards, 
 while the upper class grows distinct from the lower, and at 
 the same time becomes more and more exclusively regula- 
 tive and defensive in its functions, alike in the persons of 
 kings and subordinate rulers, priests, and military leaders ; 
 the inferior class becomes more and more exclusively occu- 
 pied in providing the necessaries of life for the community 
 at large. From the soil, with which it comes in most di- 
 rect contact, the mass of the people takes up and prej^ares 
 for use, the food and such rude articles of manufacture as 
 are known ; while the overlying mass of superior men, 
 maintained by the working population, deals with circum- 
 stances external to the community — circumstances with 
 which, by position, it is more immediately concerned. 
 Ceasing by-and-by to have any knowledge of, or power 
 over, the concerns of the society as a whole, the serf-class 
 becomes devoted to the processes of alimentation ; while 
 the noble class, ceasing to take any part in the processes of 
 
394 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM. 
 
 alimentation, becomes devoted to the co-ordinated move 
 ments of the entire body politic. 
 
 Equally remarkable is a further analogy of like kind. 
 After the mucous and serous layers of the embryo have 
 separated, there presently arises between the two, a third, 
 known to physiologists as the vascular layer — a layer out 
 of which are developed the chief blood-vessels. The mu- 
 cous layer absorbs nutriment from the mass of yelk it en- 
 closes ; this nutriment has to be transferred to the overly- 
 ing serous layer, out of which the nei'vo-muscular system 
 is being developed ; and between the two arises a vascular 
 system by which the transfer is effected — a system of ves- 
 sels which continues ever after to be the transferrer of nu- 
 triment from the places where it is absorbed and prepared, 
 to the places where it is needed for growth and repair. 
 Well, may we not trace a parallel step in social progress ? 
 
 Between the governing and the governed, there at first 
 exists no intermediate class ; and even in some societies 
 that have reached considerable sizes, there are scarcely any 
 but the nobles and their kindred on the one hand, and the 
 serfs on the other : the social structure being such, that the 
 transfer of commodities takes place directly from slaves to 
 their masters. But in societies of a higher type, there 
 grows up between these two primitive classes, another — 
 the trading or middle class. Equally, at first as now, w© 
 may see that, speaking generally, this middle class is the 
 analogue of the middle layer in the embryo. For all tra- 
 ders are essentially distributors. Whether they be whole- 
 sale dealers, who collect into large masses the commodities 
 of various producers ; or whether they be retailers, who 
 divide out to those who want them, the masses of com- 
 modities thus collected together ; all mercantile men are 
 agents of transfer from the places where things are pro- 
 duced to the places where they are consumed. Thus the 
 distributing apparatus of a society, answers to the distribu 
 
ANALOGOUS DISTEIBTJTION OF MECHANISMS. 395 
 
 ting apparatus of a living body ; not only in its functions, 
 but in its intermediate origin and subsequent position, and 
 in the time of its appearance. 
 
 Without enumei'ating the minor differentiations which 
 these three great classes afterwards undergo, we will 
 merely note that throughout, they follow the same general 
 law with the differentiations of an individual organism. In 
 a society, as in a rudimentary animal, we have seen that the 
 most general and broadly contrasted divisions are the first 
 to make their appearance ; and of the subdivisions it con- 
 tinues true in both cases, that they arise in the order of de- 
 creasing generality. 
 
 Let us observe next, that in the one case as in the oth- 
 er, the specializations are at first very incomplete ; and be- 
 come more complete as organization progresses. "We saw 
 that in primitive tribes, as in the simplest animals, there 
 remains much community of function between the parts 
 that are nominally different — that, for instance, the class of 
 chiefs long remain industrially the same as the inferior 
 class ; just as in a Hydra, the j)roperty of contractility is 
 possessed by the units of the endoderm as well as by those 
 of the ectoderm. We noted also how, as the society ad- 
 vanced, the two great primitive classes partook less and 
 less of each other's functions. And we have here to re- 
 mark, that all subsequent specializations are at first vague, 
 and gradually become distinct. " In the infancy of socie- 
 ty," says M. Guizot, " everything is confused and uncer- 
 tain ; there is as yet no fixed and precise line of demarca- 
 tion between the different powers in a state." " Origi- 
 nally kings lived like other landowners, on the incomes de- 
 rived from their own private estates." Nobles were petty 
 kings ; and kings only the most powerful nobles. Bishops 
 were feudal lords and military leaders. The right of coin- 
 ing money was possessed by powerful subjects, and by the 
 Church, as well as by the king. Every leading man exer« 
 
396 THE S(JCIAL OKGANISM. 
 
 cised alike the functions of landowner, farmer, soldier, 
 statesman, judge. Retainers were now soldiers, and now 
 labourers, as the day required. But by degrees the 
 Church has lost all civil jurisdiction ; the State has exer- 
 cised less .and less control over religious teaching ; the mil- 
 itary class has grown a distinct one ; handicrafts have con- 
 centrated in towns ; and the spinning-wheels of scattered 
 formhouses, have disappeared before the m.achinery of man- 
 ufacturing districts. Not only is all progress from the ho- 
 mogeneous to the heterogeneous ; but at the same time it 
 is from the indefinite to the definite. 
 
 Another fact which should not be passed over, is that in 
 the evolution of a large society out of an aggregation of small 
 ones, there is a gradual obliteration of the original lines of 
 separation — a change to which, also, we may see analogies 
 in living bodies. Throughout the sub-kingdom Annulosa, 
 this is clearly and variously illustrated. Among the lower 
 types of this sub-kingdom, the body consists of numerous 
 segments that are alike in nearly every particular. Each 
 has its external ring ; its pair of legs, if the creature has 
 legs ; its equal portion of intestines, or else its separate 
 stomach ; its equal portion of the great blood-vessel, or, in 
 some cases, its separate heart ; its equal portion of the ner- 
 vous cord, and, perhaps, its separate pair of ganglia. But 
 in the highest types, as in the large Crustacea, many of 
 the segments are completely fused together ; and the internal 
 organs are no longer unifonnly repeated in all the segments. 
 Now the segments of which nations at first consist, lose their 
 separate external and internal structures in a similar manner. 
 In feudal times, the minor communities governed by feudal 
 lords, were severally orgatiized in the same rude way ; and 
 were held together only by the fealty of their respective 
 rulers to some suzerain. But along with the growth of a 
 central power, the demarcations of these local communities 
 disappeared ; and their separate organizations merged into 
 
COALESCENCE OF PAKT8. 397 
 
 the general organization. The like is seen on a larger scale 
 in the fusion of England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland ; and, 
 on the Continent, in the coalescence of provinces into king- 
 doms. Even in the disappearance of law-made divisions, 
 the process is analogous. Among the Anglo-Saxons, Eng- 
 land was divided into tithings, hundreds, and counties : 
 there were county com'ts, courts of hundred, and courts of 
 tithing. The courts of tithing disappeared first ; then the 
 courts of hundred, which have, however, left traces ; while 
 tlie county-jurisdiction still exists. 
 
 But chiefly it is to be noted, that there eventually grows 
 up an organization which has no reference to these original 
 divisions, but traverses them in various directions, as is the 
 case in creatures belonging to the sub-kingdom just named ; 
 and, further, that in both cases it is the sustaining organiza- 
 tion which thus traverses old boundaries, while in both 
 cases it is the governmental, or co-ordinating organization 
 in which the original boundaries continue traceable. Thus, 
 in the highest Antiidosa, the exo-skeleton and the muscu- 
 lar system, never lose all traces of their primitive segmen- 
 tation ; but throughout a great part of the body, the con- 
 tained viscera do not in the least conform to the external 
 divisions. Similarly, with a nation, we see that while, for 
 governmental purposes, such divisions as counties and par- 
 ishes still exist, the structure developed for carrying on the 
 nutrition of society, wholly ignores these boundaries : our 
 great cotton-manufacture spreads out of Lancashire into 
 North Derbyshire ; Leicestershire and Nottinghamshire 
 have long divided the stocking-trade between them ; one 
 great centre for the production of iron and iron-goods, in- 
 cludes parts of Warwickshire, Staffordshire, Worcestershire ; 
 and those various specializations of agriculture "which have 
 made different parts of England noted for different pro- 
 ducts, show no more respect to county-boundaries than 
 do our gi'owing towns to the boundaries of parishes. 
 
398 THE SOCIAL OEGAJSriSM. 
 
 If, after contemplating these analogies of structure, we 
 inquire whether there are any such analogies between the 
 processes of organic change, the answer is — yes. The 
 causes which lead to increase of bulk in any part of the 
 body politic, are of hke nature with those which lead to 
 increase of bulk in any part of an individual body. In 
 both cases the antecedent is greater functional activity, con- 
 sequent on greater demand. Each limb, viscus, gland, or 
 other member of an animal, is developed by exercise — by 
 actively discharging the duties which the body at large re- 
 quires of it ; and similarly, any class of labourers or arti- 
 sans, any manufacturing centre, or any official agency, begins 
 to enlarge when the community devolves on it an increase 
 of work. In each case, too, growth has its conditions and 
 its limits. That any organ in a living being may grow 
 by exercise, there needs a due supply of blood : all ac- 
 tion implies waste ; blood brings the materials for re- 
 pair ; and before there can be growth, the quantity of 
 blood suj^plied must be more than that requisite for re- 
 pair. 
 
 So is it in a society. If to some district which elabor- 
 ates for the community particular commodities — say the 
 woollens of Yorkshire — there comes an augmented demand ; 
 and if, in fulfilment of this demand, a certain expenditure 
 and wear of the manufacturing organization are incurred ; 
 and if, in payment for the extra supi^ly of woollens sent 
 away, there comes back only such quantity of commodities 
 as replaces the expenditure, and makes good the waste of 
 life and machinery ; there can clearly be no growth. That 
 there may be growth, the commodities obtained in return 
 must be more than sufficient for these ends; and just in 
 proportion as the surplus is great will the growth be rapid. 
 Whence it is manifest that what in commercial afiairs we 
 C2i]l profit, answers to the excess of nutrition over waste in 
 a living body. Moreover, in both cases, when the func 
 
PARALLEL CONDITION'S OF KUTEITION. 399 
 
 lional activity is higli and tlie nutrition defective, tliei-e re- 
 sults not growth but decay. If in an animal, any organ ia 
 worked so hard that the channels which bring blood cannot 
 furnish enough for repair, the organ dwindles ; and if in the 
 body politic, some part has been stimulated into great pro 
 ductivity, and cannot afterwards get paid for all its produce, 
 certain of its members become bankrupt, and it decreases 
 in size. 
 
 One more parallelism to be here noted, is, that the dif- 
 ferent parts of the social organism, like the different parts 
 of an individual organism, compete for nutriment ; and 
 severally obtain more or less of it according as they are 
 discharging more or less duty. If a man's brain be over- 
 excited, it will abstract blood from his viscera and stop 
 digestion ; or digestion actively going on, will so alFect tne 
 circulation through the brain as to cause drowsiness ; or 
 great muscular exertion will determine such a quantity of 
 blood to the limbs, as to arrest digestion or cerebral action, 
 as the case may be. So, likewise, in a society, it frequent- 
 ly happens that great activity in some one direction, causes 
 partial arrests of activity elsewhere, by abstracting capital, 
 that is commodities : as instance the way in which the sud- 
 den development of our railway-system hampered commer- 
 cial operations ; or the way in which the raising of a large 
 military force temporarily stops the growth of leading in- 
 dustries. 
 
 The last few paragraphs introduce the next division of 
 our subject. Almost unawares we have come upon the 
 analogy which exists between the blood of a living body, 
 and the circulating mass of commodities in the body politic. 
 We have now to trace out this analogy from its simplest to 
 its most complex manifestations. 
 
 In the lowest animals there exists no blood properly so 
 called. Through the small aggregation of cells which mnke 
 
iOO THE SOCIAL ORGANISM 
 
 up a Hydra, permeate the juices absorbed from tl>e food 
 There is no apparatus for elaborating a coucentrated and 
 purified nutriment, and distributing it among the compo- 
 nent units ; but these component units directly imbibe the 
 unprepared nutriment, either from the digestive cavity or 
 from each other. May we not say that this is what takes 
 place in an aboriginal tribe ? All its members severally 
 obtain for themselves the necessaries of life in their crude 
 states ; and severally prepare them for their own uses as 
 well as they can. When there arises a decided differentia- 
 tion between the governing and the governed, some 
 amount of transfer begins between those inferior indi- 
 viduals, who, as workers, come directly in contact with the 
 products of the earth, and those superior ones who exer- 
 cise the higher functions — a transfer parallel to that which 
 accompanies the differentiation of the ectoderm from the 
 endoderm. In the one case, as in the other, however, it 
 is a transfer of products that are little if at all prepared ; 
 and takes place directly from the unit which obtains to 
 the nnit which consumes, without entering into any general 
 current. 
 
 Passing to larger organisms — individual and social — we 
 find the first advance upon this arrangement. Where, as 
 among the compound Jlydrozoa., there is an aggregation 
 of many such primitive groups as form Sydrce ; or where, 
 as in a 3Iedusa, one of these groups has become of great 
 size ; there exist rude channels running throughout the 
 substance of the body : not however, channels for the con- 
 veyance of prepared nutriment, but mere prolongations of 
 the digestive cavity, through which the crude chyle-aque- 
 ous fluid reaches the remoter parts, and is moved back- 
 wards and forwards by the creature's contractions. Do we 
 not find in some of the more advanced primitive communi- 
 ties, an analogous condition ? When the men, partially or 
 fully united into one society, become numerous — when, as 
 
AXALOGY OF THE LOWKK CIRCULATIONS. 401 
 
 usually happens, they cover a surface of country not every- 
 where alike in its products — when, more especially, there 
 arise considerable classes that are not industrial; some pro- 
 cess of exchange and distribution inevitably arises. Trav- 
 ersing here and there the earth's surface, covered by that 
 vegetation on which human life depends, and in which, as 
 we say, the units of a society are imbedded, there are 
 formed indefinite paths, aloijg which some of the necessa- 
 ries of life occasionally pass, to be bartered for others 
 which presently come tack along the same channels. Note, 
 however, that at first little else but crude commodities are 
 thus transferred — fruits, fish, pigs or cattle, skins, etc. : 
 there are few, if any, manufactured products or articles 
 prepared for consumption. And note further, that such 
 distribution of these unprepared necessaries of life as takes 
 place, is but occasional — goes on with a certain slow, irregu- 
 lar rhythm. 
 
 Further progress in the elaboration and distribution of 
 nutriment, or of commodities, is a necessary accompani- 
 ment of further differentiation of functions in the indivi" 
 dual body or in the body politic. As fast as each organ of 
 a living animal becomes confined to a special action, it must 
 become dependent on the rest for all those materials which 
 its position and duty do not permit it to obtain for itself; 
 in the same way that, as fast as each particular class of a 
 community becomes exclusively occupied in producing its 
 own commodity, it must become dependent on the rest foi 
 the other commodities it needs. And, simultaneously, a 
 more perfectly-elaborated blood will result from a highly- 
 specialized group of nutritive organs, severally adapted to 
 prepare its different elements ; in the same way that the 
 stream of commodities circulating throughout a society, 
 will be of superior quality in proportion to the greater di- 
 vision of labour among the workers. Observe, also, that 
 in either case the circulating mass of nutritive materials, 
 
4:02 THE SOCIAL OEGAJ^ISM. 
 
 besides coming gradually to consist of better ingredients, 
 also grows more complex. An increase in the number of 
 the unlike organs which add to the blood their w^aste mat- 
 ters, and demand from it the different materials they sev' 
 orally need, implies a blood more heterogeneous in compo- 
 sition — an a priori conclusion which, according to Drc 
 Williams, is inductively confirmed by examination of the 
 blood throughout the various grades of the animal king- 
 dom. And similarly, it is manifest that as fast as the 
 division of labour among the classes of a community, 
 becomes greatei', there must be an increasing heteroge- 
 neity in the currents of merchandise flowing throughout 
 that community. 
 
 The circulating mass of nutritive materials in individual 
 organisms and in social organisms, becoming alike better in 
 the quality of its ingredients and more heterogeneous in 
 composition, as the type of structure becomes higher; 
 eventually has added to it in both cases another element, 
 which is not itself nutritive, but facilitates the process of 
 nutrition. We refer, in the case of the individual organ- 
 ism, to the blood-discs ; and in the case of the social or- 
 ganism, to money. This analogy has been observed by 
 Liebig, who in his " Familiar Letters on Chemistry," 
 says : 
 
 " Silver and gold have to perform in the organization of the 
 State, the same function as the blood corpuscles in the human 
 organization. As these round discs, without themselves taking an 
 immediate share in the nutritive process, are the medium, the 
 esential condition of the change of matter, of the 2)roduction of 
 the heat, and of the force by which the temperature of the body 
 is kept up and the motions of the blood and all the juices are de- 
 termined, so has gold become the medium of all activity in the lifo 
 of the State." 
 
 And blood-corpuscles being like money in their func- 
 tions, and in the fact that they are not consumed in nutri- 
 
ANALOGY EETWEKN THE CLEC UL ATIONS. 403 
 
 tion, he further points out, that the numher of them which 
 in a considerable interval flows through the great centres, 
 is enormous when compared with their absolute number ; 
 just as the quantity of money which annually passes 
 through the great mercantile centres, is enormous when 
 compared with the total quantity of money in the kingdom. 
 Nor is this all. Liebig has omitted the significant circum- 
 stance, that only at a certain stage of organization does this 
 element of the circulation make its appearance. Through- 
 out extensive divisions of the lower animals, the blood con- 
 tains no corpuscles ; and in societies of low civilization, 
 there is no money. 
 
 Thus far, we have considered the analogy between the 
 blood in a living body and the consumable and circulating 
 commodities in the body politic. Let iis now compare the 
 appliances by which they are respectively distributed. We 
 shall find in the development of these appliances, parallel- 
 isms not less remarkable than those above set forth. Al- 
 ready we have shown that, as classes, wholesale and retail 
 distributors discharge in a society, the office which the 
 vascular system discharges in an individual creature ; that 
 they come into existence later than the other two great 
 classes, as the vascular layer appears later than the mucous 
 and serous layers ; and that they occupy a like intermedi- 
 ate position. Here, however, it remains to be jDointed out 
 that a complete conception of the circulating system in a 
 society, includes not only the active human agents who 
 propel the currents of commodities, and regulate their dis- 
 tribution ; but includes, also, the channels of communication. 
 It is the formation and arrangement of these, to which we 
 now direct attention. 
 
 Going back once more to those lower animals in which 
 there is found nothing but a j^artial diffusion, not of blood, 
 but only of crude nutritive fluids, it is to be remarked that 
 the channels through which the diffusion takes place, aro 
 
iO-i THE SOCIAL ORGANISM. 
 
 mere excavations through the half-organized substance of 
 the body : they have no hning membranes, but are mero 
 lacunae traversing a rude tissue. Now countries in which 
 civilization is but commencing, display a like condition : 
 there are no roads j^roperly so called ; but the wilderness 
 of vegetal life covering the earth's surface, is pierced by 
 tracks, through which the distribution of crude commodi- 
 ties takes place. And while in both cases, the acts of dis- 
 tribution occur only at long intervals (the currents, after a 
 pause, now setting towards a general centre, and now 
 away from it), the transfer is in both cases slow and difficult. 
 But among other accompaniments of progress, common to 
 animals and societies, comes the formation of more definite 
 and complete channels of communication. Blood-vessels 
 acquire distinct walls ; roads are fenced and gravelled. 
 This advance is first seen in those roads or vessels that are 
 nearest to the chief centres of distribution ; while the joeri- 
 pheral roads and peripheral vessels, long continue in their 
 primitive states. At a yet later stage of development, 
 where comparative finish of structure is found throughout 
 the system as well as near the chief centres, there remains 
 in both cases the difference, that the main channels are 
 comparatively broad and straight, while the subordinate 
 ones are narrow and tortuous in j^roportion to their re- 
 moteness. 
 
 Lastly, it is to be remarked that there ultimately arise 
 in the higher social organisms, as in the higher individual 
 organisms, main channels of distribution still more distin- 
 guished by their perfect structures, their comparative 
 straightness, and the absence of those small branches which 
 the minor channels perpetually give oflf. And in railway's 
 vve also see, for the first time in the social organism, a 
 specialization with respect to the directions of the currents 
 — a system of double channels conveying currents in oppo- 
 site directions, as do the arteries and veins of a well-devel- 
 oped animal. 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF CIKCULATOEr CHANNELS. 405 
 
 These parallelisms in the evolutions and structures of 
 tne circulating systems, introduce us to others in the kinda 
 and rates of the movements going on through tliem. In 
 the lowest societies, as in the lowest creatures, the distri- 
 bution of crude nutriment is by slow gurgitations and re- 
 gurgitations. In creatures that have rude vascular sys 
 terns, as in societies that are beginning to have roads and 
 some transfer of commodities along them, there is no regu- 
 lar circulation in definite courses ; but instead, periodical 
 changes of the currents — now towards this point, and now 
 towards that. Through each part of an inferior mollusk's 
 body, the blood flows for a Avhile in one direction, then 
 stops, and flows in the opposite direction ; just as through a 
 rudely-organized society, the distribution of merchandise 
 is slowly carried on by great fairs, occurring in diflerent 
 localities, to and from which the currents periodically set. 
 Only animals of tolerably complete organizations, like ad- 
 vanced communities, are permeated by constant currents 
 that are definitely directed. In living bodies, the local and 
 variable currents disappear when there grow up great 
 centres of circulation, generating more powerful currents, 
 by a rhythm which ends in a quick, regular pulsation. 
 And when in social bodies, there arise great centres of 
 commercial activity, producing and exchanging large quan- 
 tities of commodities, the rapid and continuous streams 
 drawn in and emitted by these centres, subdue all minor 
 and local circulations : the slow rhythm of fairs merges 
 into the faster one of weekly markets, and in the chief cen- 
 tres of distribution, weekly markets merge into daily mar- 
 kets ; while in place of the languid transfer from place to 
 place, taking place at first weekly, then twice or thrice a 
 week, we by-and-by get daily transfer, and finally transfer 
 many times a day — the original sluggish, irregular rhythm, 
 becomes a rapid, equable pulse. 
 
 Mark, too, that in both cases the increased activity, like 
 
4:0f) TDE SOCIAL OEGAKISM. 
 
 the greater perfection of structure, is much less conspicu 
 ous at the periphery of the vascular system. On main 
 lines of railway, we have, perhaps, a score trains in each 
 direction daily, going at from thirty to fifty miles an hour ; 
 as, through the great arteries, the blood rushes rapidly in 
 successive gushes. Along high roads, there move vehicles 
 conveying men and commodities Avith much less, though 
 still considerable, speed, and with a much less decided 
 rhythm ; as, in the smaller arteries, the speed of the blood 
 is greatly diminished, and the pulse less conspicuous. In 
 parish-roads, narrow, less complete, and more tortuous, the 
 rate of movement is further decreased and the rhythm 
 scarcely traceable ; as in the ultimate arteries. In those 
 still more imperfect by-roads which lead from these parish- 
 roads to scattered farmhouses and cottages, the motion is 
 yet slov.'er and very irregular ; just as we find it in the 
 capillaries. While along the field-roads, which, in their 
 unformed, unfenced state, are typical of lacunce, the move 
 ment is the slowest, the most irregular, and the most infre- 
 quent ; as it is, not only in the primitive lacunce of animals, 
 and societies, but as it is also in those lacimce. in which the 
 vascular system ends among extensive families of inferior 
 creatures. 
 
 Thus, then, we find between the distributing systems 
 of living bodies and the distributing systems of bodies pol- 
 itic, wonderfully close parallelisms. In the lowest forms of 
 individual and social organisms, there exist neither prepar- 
 ed nutritive matters nor distributing appliances ; and in 
 both, these, arising as necessary accompaniments of the 
 differentiation of parts, approach perfection as this differen- 
 tiation approaches completeness. In animals, as in socie- 
 ties, the distributing agencies begin to show themselves at 
 the same relative periods, and in the same relative positions. 
 In the one, as in the other, the nutritive materials circula- 
 ted, are at first crude and simple, gradually become bettei 
 
ITS ANALOGIES WITII THE NEIIVOUS SYSTEM. 407 
 
 e]ab(u-atcd and more heterogeneous, and Lave eventually • 
 added to them a new element facilitating the nutritive pro- 
 cesses. The channels of communication pass through similar 
 phases of development, which bring them to analogous 
 forms. And the directions, rhythms, and rates of cir- 
 culation, progress by like steps to like final conditions. 
 
 We come at length to the nervous system. Having no- 
 ticed the primary differentiation of societies into the gov- 
 erning and governed classes, and observed its analogy to 
 the differentiation of the two primary tissues which respec- 
 tively develope into organs of external action and oi'gans 
 of alimentation ; having noticed some of the leading anal- 
 ogies between the develojjment of industrial arrangements 
 and that of the alimentary apparatus ; and having, above, 
 more fully traced the analogies between the distributing 
 systems, social and individual ; we have now to compare 
 the appliances by which a society, as a whole, is regulated, 
 with those by which the movements of an individual crea- 
 ture are regulated. We shall find here, parallelisms equally 
 striking with those already detailed. 
 
 The class out of which governmental organization ori- 
 ginates, is, as we have said, analogous in its relations to the 
 ectoderm of the lowest animals and of embryonic forms. 
 And as this primitive membrane, out of which the nervo- 
 muscular system is evolved, must, even in the first stage of 
 its diflferentiation, be slightly distingoished from the rest 
 by that greater impressibility and contractility characteriz- 
 ing the organs to which it gives rise ; so, in that superior 
 class which is eventually transformed into the directo-exc- 
 cutive system of a society (its legislative and defensive ap- 
 pliances), does there exist in the beginning, a larger en- 
 dowment of the capacities required for these higher social 
 functions. Always, in rude assemblages of men, the strong- 
 est, most courageous, and most sagacious, become rulera 
 19 
 
408 THE SOCIAL OEGAlvISJI. 
 
 and leaders ; and, in a tribe of some standing, this results 
 in the establishment of a dominant class, characterized on 
 the average by those mental and bodily qualities which fit 
 them for deliberation and vigorous combined action. Thus 
 that greater impressibility and contractility, which in the 
 rudest animal types characterize the units of the ectoderm, 
 characterize also the units of the primitive social ectoderm ; 
 since impressibility and contractility are the respective roots 
 of intelhgence and strength. 
 
 Again, in the unmodified ectoderm, as we see it in the 
 Hydra, the units are all endowed both with impressibility 
 and contractility ; but as we ascend to higher types of or- 
 ganization, the ectoderm differentiates into classes of units 
 which divide those two functions between them : some, be- 
 coming exclusively impressible, cease to be contractile ; 
 while some, becoming exclusively contractile, cease to be 
 in;ipressible. Similarly with societies. In an aboriginal 
 tribe, the directive and executive functions are diifased in 
 a mingled form throughout the whole governing class. 
 Each minor chief commands those under him, and if need 
 be, himself coerces them into obedience. The council of 
 chiefs itself carries out on the battle-field its own decisions. 
 The head chief not only makes laws, but administers justice 
 with his own hands. In larger and more settled communi- 
 ties, however, the directive and executive agencies begin 
 to grow distinct from each other. As flist as his duties 
 accumulate, the head chief or king confines himself more 
 and more to directing public affairs, and leaves the execu 
 tion of his will to others : he deputes others to enforce 
 submission, to inflict punishments, or to carry out minor 
 acts of offence and defence ; and only on occasions when, 
 perhaps, the safety of the society and his own supremacy 
 are at stake, does he begin to act as well as direct. As 
 this differentiation establishes itself, the characteristics of 
 the ruler begin to change. No longer, as1n an aboriginal 
 
DIFFEEENTIATION OF THE DIKECTIVE FUNCTIONS. 409 
 
 tribe, the strongest and most daring man, the tendency ia 
 for him to become the man of greatest cunning, foresight, 
 and skill in the management of others ; for in societies that 
 have advanced beyond the first stage, it is claiefly such 
 qualities that insure success in gaining supreme power, and 
 holding it against internal and external enemies. Thus that 
 member of the governing class who comes to be the chief 
 directing agent, and so plays the same part that a rudimen- 
 tary nervous centre does in an unfolding organism, is usu- 
 ally one endowed with some superiorities of nervous organ- 
 ization. 
 
 In those somewhat larger and more complex communi- 
 ties possessing, j)erhaps, a separate military class, a priest- 
 hood, and dispersed masses of population requiring local 
 control, there necessarily grow up subordinate governing 
 agents ; who as their duties accumulate, severally become 
 more directive and less executive in their characters. 
 And when, as commonly happens, the king begins to 
 collect round himself advisers who aid him by commun- 
 icating information, preparing subjects for his judgment, 
 and issuing his orders ; we may say that the form of 
 organization is comparable to one very general among 
 inferior types of animals, in which there exists a chief 
 ganglion with a few dispersed minor ganglia under its 
 control. 
 
 The analogies between the evolution of governmental 
 structures in societies, and the evolution of governmental 
 structures in living bodies, are, however, more strikingly 
 displayed during the formation of nations by the coales- 
 cence of small communities — a process already shown to 
 be, in several respects, parallel to the development of those 
 creatures that primarily consist of many like segments. 
 Among other points of community between the successive 
 rings which make up the body in the lower Ariiculata, is 
 the possession of similar pairs of ganglia. These pairs of 
 
ilO TUE SOCIAL ORGANISIM. 
 
 ganglia, though united together by nerves, are veryincora« 
 pictely dependent on any general controlling power. Hence 
 it results that ■when the body is cut in two, the hinder pai't 
 continues to move forward under the propulsion of its nu- 
 merous legs ; and that when the chain of ganglia has been 
 divided without severing the body, the hind limbs may be 
 seen trying to propel the body in one direction, while the 
 fore limbs are trying to propel it in another. Among the 
 higher Articidata, however, a number of the anterior pairs 
 of ganglia, besides growing larger, unite in one mass ; and this 
 great cephalic ganglion, becoming the co-ordinator of all the 
 creature's movements, there no longer exists much local in 
 dejjendence. 
 
 Now may Ave not in the growth of a consolidated king- 
 dom out of petty sovereignties or baronies, observe analo- 
 gous changes ? Like the chiefs and primitive rulers above 
 described, feudal lords, exercising supreme power over their 
 respective groups of retainers, discharge functions analo- 
 gous to those of rudimentary nervous centres ; and we 
 know that at first they, like their analogues, are distin- 
 guished by superiorities of directive and executive organiza- 
 tion, ^mong these local governing centres, there is, in 
 early feudal times, very little subordination. They are in 
 frequent antagonism; they are individually restrained chief- 
 ly by the influence of large parties in their own class ; and 
 are but imperfectly and irregularly subject to that most 
 powerful member of their order who has gained the posi- 
 tion of head suzerain or king. As the growth and organi- 
 zation of the society progresses, these local directive cen- 
 tres fall more and more under the control of a chief direc- 
 tive centre. Closer commercial union between the several 
 segments, is accompanied by closer governmental union ; 
 and these minor rulers end in being little more than agents 
 who administer, in their several localities," the laws made by 
 the supreme ruler: just as the local ganglia above described. 
 
AXALOGUES OF THE KEKV0U8 CENTEES. 411 
 
 eventually become agents "which enforce, in their respec- 
 tive segments, the orders of the cephalic ganglion. 
 
 The jDarallelism holds still farther. We remarked above, 
 when speaking of the rise of aboriginal kings, that in pro- 
 portion as their territories and duties increase, they are 
 obliged, not only to perform their executive functions by 
 deputy, but also to gather roimd themselves advisers to aid 
 them in their directive functions ; and that thus, in place 
 of a solitary governing unit, there grows up a group of 
 governing units, comparable to a ganglion consisting of 
 many cells. Let us here add, that the advisers and. chief 
 officers "U'ho thus form the rudiment of a ministry, tend 
 from the beginning to exercise a certain control over the 
 ruler. By the information they give and the opinions they 
 express, they sway his judgment and aifect his commands. 
 To this extent he therefore becomes a channel through 
 "which are communicated the directions originating with 
 them ; and in course of time, when the advice of ministers 
 becomes the acknowledged source of his actions, the king 
 assumes very much the character of an automatic centre, 
 reflecting the impressions made on him from without. 
 
 Beyond this complication of governmental structuio, 
 many societies do not 2:)rogress ; but in some, a further de- 
 velopment takes place. Our own case best illustrates this 
 further development, and its further analogies. To kings 
 and their ministries have been added, in England, other 
 great directive centres, exercising a control which, at first 
 small, has been gradually becoming predominant : as with 
 the great governing ganglia tliat especially distinguish the 
 highest classes of living beings. Strange as the assertion 
 will be thought, our Houses of Parliament discharge in the 
 social economy, functions that are in sundry respects com- 
 parable to those discharged by the cerebral masses in a 
 vertebrate animal. As it is in the nature of a single gan 
 glion to be affected only by special stimuli from particular 
 
il2 THE SOCIAL OEGANISM. 
 
 parts of the body ; so it is in the nature of a single ruler 
 to be swayed in his acts by exclusive personal or class in- 
 terests. As it is in the nature of an acjG^recration of tranaclia, 
 connected with the primary one, to convey to it a greater 
 variety of influences from more numerous organs, and thu? 
 to make its acts conform to more numerous requirements 5 
 so it is in the nature of a king surrounded by subsidiary 
 controlling pov>'ers, to adapt his rule to a greater number 
 of jDublic exigencies. And as it is in the nature of those 
 great and latest-developed ganglia which distinguish the 
 higher animals, to interpret and combine the multiplied 
 and varied imj)ressions conveyed to them from all parts of 
 the system, and to regulate the actions in such way as duly 
 io regard them all ; so it is in the nature of those great 
 and latest-developed legislative bodies which distinguish 
 the most advanced societies, to interpret and combine the 
 wishes and complaints of all classes and localities, and to 
 regulate public aifairs as much as possible in harmony with 
 the general wants. 
 
 The cerebrum co-ordinates tlie countless heterogeneous 
 considerations which aifect the present and future welfare 
 of the individual as a whole ; and the legislature co-ordi- 
 nates the countless heterogeneous considerations which af- 
 fect the immediate and remote welfare of the whole com- 
 munity. We may describe the office of the brain as that 
 of averaging the interests of life, physical, intellectual, 
 moral, social ; and a good brain is one in which the desires 
 answering to these respective interests are so balanced, 
 that the conduct they jointly dictate, sacrifices none of 
 them. Similarly, we may describe the office of a Parlia- 
 ment as that of averaging the interests of the various 
 classes in a community ; and a good Parliament is one in 
 which the parties answering to these respective mterests 
 are so balanced, that their united legislation concedes to 
 each class as much as consists wuth the claims of the rest 
 
FUNCTIONS AND ANA_LOGUES OF THE CEKKBKUM. 413 
 
 Besides being comparable in their duties, these great di- 
 rective centres, social and individual, are comparable in the 
 processes by which their duties are dischai'ged. 
 
 It is now an acknow^ledged truth in psychology, that 
 the cerebrum is not occupied wath direct impressions from 
 without, but with the ideas of such impressions : instead of 
 the actual sensations j^roduced in the body, and directly 
 appreciated by the sensory ganglia or primitive nervous 
 centres, the cerebrum receives only the representations of 
 these sensations ; and its consciousness is called representa- 
 tive consciousness, to distinguish it from the original or 
 presentative consciousness. Is it not significant that we 
 have hit on the same word to distinguish the function of 
 our House of Commons ? "We call it a representative body, 
 because the interests with which it deals — the pains and 
 pleasures about w'hich it consults — are not directly pre- 
 sented to it, but represented to it by its various members ; 
 and a debate is a conflict of representations of the evils or 
 benefits likely to follow from a proposed course — a descrip- 
 tion which applies with equal truth to a debate in the indi- 
 vidual consciousness. In both cases, too, these great gov- 
 erning masses take no jDart in the executive functions. As, 
 after a conflict in the cerebrum, those desires which finally 
 predominate, act on the subjacent ganglia, and through 
 their instrumentality determine the bodily actions ; so the 
 parties which, after a parliamentary struggle, gain the vic- 
 tory, do not themselves carry out their wishes, but get 
 them carried out by the executive divisions of the Govern- 
 ment. The fulfilment of all legislative decisions still de- 
 volves on the original directive centres — the impulse pass- 
 ing from the Parliament to the Ministers, and from the 
 Ministers to the King, in whose name everything is done ; 
 iust as those smaller, first-developed ganglia, which in the 
 lowest vertebrata are the chief controlling agents, are still, 
 in the brains of the higher vertebrata, the agents through 
 which the dictates of the cerebrum are worked out. 
 
414 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM 
 
 Moreover, in both cases these original centres become 
 increasingly automatic. In the developed vertebrate ani« 
 ma], they have little function beyond that of conveying 
 imjiressions to, and executing the determinations of, the 
 larger centres. In our highly organized government, the 
 monarch has long been lapsing into a passive agent of Par- 
 liament ; and now, ministers are rapidly falling into the 
 same position. 
 
 Nay, between the two cases there is a parallelism, even 
 in respect of the exceptions to this automatic action. For 
 in the individual creature, it happens that under circum- 
 stances of sudden alarm, as from a loud sound close at 
 band, an unexpected object starting up in front, or a slip 
 from insecure footing, the danger is guarded against by 
 some quick involuntary jump, or adjustment of the limbs, 
 that takes place before there is time to consider the im- 
 pending evil, and take deliberate measures to avoid it : the 
 rationale of which is, that these violent impressions pro- 
 duced on the senses, are reflected from the sensory ganglia 
 to the spinal cord and muscles, without, as in ordinary 
 cases, first passing through the cerebrum. In like manner, 
 on national emergencies, calling for promjDt action, the 
 King and Ministry, not having time to lay the matter be- 
 fore the great deliberative bodies, themselves issue com- 
 mands for the requisite movements or j^recautions : the 
 primitive, and now almost automatic, directive centres, re- 
 sume for a moment their original uncontrolled power. 
 And then, strangest of all, observe that in either case there 
 is an afterj)rocess of approval or disapproval. The individ- 
 ual on recovering from his automatic start, at once contem- 
 plates the cause of his fright ; and, according to the case, 
 concludes that it was well he moved as he did, or con- 
 demns himself for his groundless alarm. In like manner, 
 the deliberative jwwers of the State, discuss, as soon aa 
 may be, the unauthorized acts of the executive powers 
 
TELEGEAPH-WIKES ANALOGOUS TO NEK YES. 415 
 
 and, deciding that the reasons were or were not sufficient, 
 grant or withliold a bill of indemnity.* 
 
 Thus far in comparing the governmental organization 
 of the body politic with that of an individual body, we 
 have considered only the respective co-ordinating centres. 
 W^e have yet to consider the channels through which these 
 co-ordinating centimes receive information and convey com- 
 mands. In the simplest societies, as in the simplest organ- 
 isms, there is no "internuncial apparatus," as Hunter styled 
 the nervous system. Consequently, impressions can be but 
 slowly propagated from unit to unit throughout the whole 
 mass. The same progress, however, which, in animal-or- 
 ganization, shows itself in the establishment of ganglia or 
 directive centres, shows itself also in the establishment of 
 nerve-threads, through which the ganglia receive and con- 
 vey impressions, and so control remote organs. And in so- 
 cieties the like eventually takes place. 
 
 After a long period during which the directive centres 
 communicate with various parts of the society through 
 other means, there at last comes into existence an " inter- 
 nuncial apparatus," analogous to that found in individual 
 bodies. The comparison of telegraph-wires to nerves, is 
 familiar to all. It applies, however, to an extent not com- 
 monly supposed. We do not refer to the near alliance be- 
 tween the subtle forces employed in the two cases ; though 
 it is now held that the nerve-force, if not literally electric, 
 
 * It may be well to warn the reader against an error fallen into by one 
 who criticised this essay on its first publication — the error of supposing that 
 the analogy here intended to be drawn, is a specific analogy between the 
 organization of society iu England, and the human organization. As said 
 at the outset, no such specific analogy exists. The above parallel, is one 
 between the most-developed systems of governmental organization, indi- 
 vidual and social ; and the vertebrate type is instanced, merely as exhibit- 
 ing this most-developed system. If any specific comparison were made, 
 which it cannot rationally be, it would be to some much lower vertebrate 
 form than the human. 
 
ilQ THE SOCIAL ORGANISM. 
 
 is Still a special form of electric action, related to the ordi- 
 nary form much as magnetism is. But we refer to the 
 structural arrangements of our telegraph-system. Thus, 
 throughout the vertebrate sub-kingdom, the great nerve- 
 bundles diverge from the vertebrate axis, side by side witb 
 the great arteries ; and similarly, our groups of telegraph- 
 wires are carried along the sides of our railways. The 
 most striking parallelism, however, remains. Into each 
 great bundle of nerves, as it leaves the axis of the body 
 along with an artery, there enters a branch of the sympa- 
 thetic nerve ; which branch, accompanying the artery 
 throughout its ramifications, has the function of regulating 
 its diameter and other^^-ise controlling the flow of blood 
 through it according to the local requirements. Analo- 
 gously, in the group of telegraph-wires running alongside 
 each railway, there is one for the purpose of regulating the 
 traffic — for retarding or expediting the flow of passengers 
 and commodities, as the local conditions demand. Proba- 
 bly, when our now rudimentary telegraph-system is fully 
 developed, other analogies will be traceable. 
 
 Such, then, is a general outline of the evidence which 
 justifies, in detail, the comparison of societies to living or- 
 ganisms. That they gradually increase in mass ; that they 
 become little by little more complex ; that at the same 
 time their parts grow more mutually dependent ; and that 
 they continue to Uve and grow as wholes, whUe successive 
 generations of their units appear and disappear ; are broad 
 peculiarities which bodies politic disjDlay, in common with 
 all living bodies ; and in which they and living bodies difler 
 from everything else. And on carrying out the com^iari- 
 son in detail, we find that these major analogies involve 
 many minor analogies, far closer than might have been ex- 
 pected. To these we would gladly have added others. "We 
 had hoped to say something respecting the difierent types 
 of social organization, and something also on social meta- 
 morphoses ; but wc have reached our assigned hmits. 
 
XI. 
 
 USE AND BEAUTY 
 
 N one of Lis essays, Emerson remarks, that what Nature 
 at one time provides for use, she afterwards turns to 
 ornament ; and he cites in illustration the structure of a 
 sea-shell, in which the parts that have for a while formed 
 the mouth are at the next season of growth left behind, 
 and become decorative nodes and spines. 
 
 It has often occurred to me that this same remark might 
 be extended to the progress of Humanity. Here, too, the 
 appliances of one era serve as embellishments to the next. 
 Equally in institutions, creeds, customs, and superstitions, 
 we may trace this evolution of beauty out of what was once 
 purely utilitarian. 
 
 The contrast between the feeling with which we regard 
 portions of the Earth's surface still left in their original 
 state, and the feeling with which the savage regarded them, 
 is an instance that naturally comes first in order of time. 
 If any one Avalking over Hampstead Heath, will note how 
 strongly its picturesqueness is brought out by contrast 
 with the surrounding cultivated fields and the masses of 
 houses lying in the distance ; and will further reflect that, 
 had this irregular gorse-covered surface extended on all 
 sides to the horizon, it would have looked dreary and 
 prosaic rather than pleasing ; he will see that to the primi- 
 tive man a country so clothed presented no beauty at all 
 
418 TISE AND BEAUTY. 
 
 To him it was merely a haunt of wild animals, and a gi ouiid 
 out of which roots might be dug. What have become for 
 us places of relaxation and enjoyment — places for afternoon 
 strolls and for gathering flowers — were his places for labour 
 and food, probably arousing in his mind none but utilitarian 
 associations. 
 
 Ruined castles afford an obvious instance of this meta- 
 morphosis of the useful into the beautiful. To feudal 
 barons and their retainers, security was the chief, if not the 
 only end, sought in choosing the sites and styles of their 
 strongholds. Probably they aimed as little at the pic- 
 turesque as do the builders of cheap brick houses in our 
 modern to^^'ns. Yet what where erected for shelter and 
 safety, and what in those early days fulfilled an important 
 function in the social economy, have now assumed a purely 
 ornamental character. They serve as scenes for picnics ; 
 pictures of them decorate our drawing-rooms ; and each 
 supplies its surrounding districts with legends for Christ- 
 mas Eve. 
 
 Following out the train of thought suggested by this 
 last illustration, we may see that not only do the material 
 exuviiB of past social states become the ornaments of our 
 landscapes ; biit that past habits, manners, and arrange- 
 ments, sei've as ornamental elements in our literature. 
 The tyrannies that, to the serfs who bore them, were harsh 
 and dreary facts ; the feuds which, to those who took part 
 in them, were A^ery practical life-and-death affairs ; the 
 mailed, moated, sentinelled security that was irksome to 
 the nobles who needed it ; the imprisonments, and tor- 
 tures, and escapes, which were stern and quite prosaic 
 realities to all concerned in them ; have ' become to us 
 material for romantic tales — material which when woven 
 into Ivanhoes and Marmions, serves for amusement in leis- 
 ure hours, and become poetical by contrast with our daily 
 Lives. 
 
THE USEFUL TRA:NSrOEMED INTO THE ORNAMENTAL. 419 
 
 Thus, also, is it witli extinct creeds. Stonehenge, which 
 ill the hands of the Druids had a governmental influence 
 over men, is in our day a place for antiquarian excursions ; 
 and its attendant priests are worked ujt into an opera. 
 Greek sculptures, preserved for their beauty in our galleries 
 of art, and copied for the decoration of i^leasure grounds 
 and entrance halls, once lived in men's minds as gods de- 
 manding obedience ; as did also the gi'otesque idols that 
 now amuse the visitors to our museums. 
 
 Equally marked is this change of function in the case of 
 minor superstitions. The fairy lore, which in past times 
 was matter of grave belief, and held sway over people's 
 conduct, has since been transformed into ornament for 
 A Midsummer NigliVs Dream, The Teinpest, The Fairy 
 Queen, and endless small tales and j)oems ; and still affords 
 subjects for children's story-books, themes for ballets, and 
 plots for Planche's burlesques. Gnomes, and genii, and 
 afrits, losing all their terrors, give piquancy to the wood- 
 cuts in our illustrated edition of the Arahkm Nights. 
 While ghost-stories, and tales of magic and witchcraft, af- 
 ter serving to amuse boys and girls in their leisure hours, 
 become matter for jocose allusions that enliven tea-table 
 conversation. 
 
 Even our serious literature and our speeches are very 
 generally relieved by ornaments drawn from such sources. 
 A Greek myth is often used as a jDarallel by which to vary 
 the monotony of some grave argument. The lecturer 
 breaks the dead level of his practical discourse by illustra- 
 tions drawn from bygone customs, events, or beliefs. And 
 metaphors, similarly derived, give brilliancy to political 
 orations, and to Times leading articles. 
 
 Indeed, on careful inquiry, I think it will be found that 
 we turn to purposes of beauty most bygone phenomena 
 that are at all consjiiucous. The busts of great men in our 
 libraries, and their tombs in our churches ; the once useful 
 
i20 USE AND BEAUTr. 
 
 but now purely ornamental heraldic symLols ; the monks, 
 nuns, and convents, that give interest to a certain class of 
 novels ; the bronze mediaeval soldiers used for embellishing 
 drawing-rooms ; the gilt AjdoHos that recline on time- 
 pieces ; the narratives that serve as plots for our great 
 dramas ; and. the events that afford subjects for historical 
 pictures ; — these and such like illustrations of the metamor- 
 phosis of the useful into the beautiful, are so numerous as 
 to suggest that, did. we search diligently enough, we should 
 find, that in some place, or under some circumstances, 
 nearly every notable product of the past has assumed a de- 
 corative character. 
 
 And here the mention of historical pictures reminds me 
 that an inference may be drawn from all this, bearing 
 directly on the practice of art. It has of late years been a 
 frequent criticism iipon our historical painters, that they 
 err in choosing their subjects from the past ; and that, 
 would they found a genuine and. vital school, they must 
 render on canvas the life and deeds and aims of our own 
 time. If, however, there be any significance in the fore- 
 going facts, it seems doubtful whether this criticism is a 
 just one. For if it be the process of things, that what has 
 performed, some practical function in society during one 
 era, becomes available for ornament in a subsequent one ; 
 it almost follows that, conversely, whatever is perform- 
 ing some practical function now, or has very recently 
 performed one, does not possess the ornamental charac- 
 ter ; and. is, consequently, inapplicable to any purpose of 
 which beauty is the aim, or of which it is a needful in- 
 gredient. 
 
 Still more reasonable will this conclusion appear, when 
 we consider the nature of this process by which the useful 
 is changed into the ornamental. An essential pre-requisite 
 to all beauty is cotitras'. To obtain artistic effect, light 
 must be put in juxtaposition vrith shade, bright colours 
 
CONTKAST A PKE-REQCISITE TO BEAUTY. 421 
 
 v\-ith dull colours, a fretted surface with a plain one. Fortt 
 passages in music must have ^:)ia«o passages to relieve 
 them ; concerted pieces need interspersing with solos ; and 
 rich chords must not be continuously repeated. In the 
 drama we demand contrast of characters, of scenes, of sen- 
 timent, of style. In prose composition an eloquent passage 
 should have a comparatively plain setting ; and in poems 
 great effect is obtained by occasional change of versifica- 
 tion. This general principle will, I think, explain the trans- 
 formation of the bygone useful into the present beautiful 
 It is by virtue of their contrast with our present modes of 
 life, that past modes of life look interesting and romantic. 
 Just as a picnic, which is a temporary return to an aborigi- 
 nal condition, derives, from its unfamiliarity, a certain poe- 
 try which it would not have were it habitual ; so, every- 
 thing ancient gains, from its relative novelty to us, an 
 element of interest. Gradually as, by the growth of soci- 
 ety, we leave behind the custom-s, manners, arrangements, 
 and all the products, material and mental, of a bygone age 
 — gradually as we recede from thes>G so far that there 
 arises a conspicuous difference between them and those we 
 are familiar with ; so gradually do they begin to assume to 
 us a poetical aspect, and become applicable for ornament. 
 And hence it follows that things and events which are close 
 to us, and which are accompanied by associations of ideas 
 not markedly contrasted with our ordinary associations 
 are relatively inappropriate for purposes of art. 
 
XIL 
 THE SOURCES OF ARCHITECTURAL TYPES 
 
 "TTXHEN lately looking througli tlie galleiy of the Old 
 V V Water-Colour Society, I was struck with the incon- 
 gruity produced by putting regular architecture into irregu- 
 lar scenery. In one case, where the artist had introduced a 
 perfectly symmetrical Grecian edifice into a mountainous 
 and somewhat wild landscape, the discordant effect was 
 particularly mai'ked. " How very nnpicturesque," said a 
 lady to her friend, as they passed ; showing that I was not 
 alone in my opinion. Her phrase, however, set me specu- 
 lating. Why unpicturesque ? Picturesque means, like a 
 picture — like what men choose for pictures. Why then 
 should this he not fit for a jDicture ? 
 
 Thinking the matter over, it seemed to me that the 
 artist had sinned against that unity which is essential to a 
 good picture. When the other constituents of a landscape 
 have irregular forms, any artificial structure introduced 
 must have an irregular form, that it may seem ^ari of the 
 landscape. The same general character must pervade it 
 and surrounding objects ; otherwise it, and the scene amid 
 which it stands, become not one thing but tico things ; and 
 we say it looks out of place. Or, speaking psychologically, 
 the associated ideas called up by a building with its wings, 
 windows, and all its parts symmetrically disposed, differ 
 widely from the ideas associated with an entirely irregular 
 
DEKrVATION OF GKEEK AND ROMAN STYLES. 423 
 
 landscape ; and the one set of ideas tends to banish the 
 other. 
 
 Pursuing the train of thought, sundry ilkistrative fa3t9 
 came to my mind. I remembered that a castle, which ia 
 more irregular in outline than any other kind of building, 
 pleases us most when seated amid crags and j^recipices ; 
 while a castle on a plain seems an incongruity. The partly - 
 regular and partly-irregular forms of our old farm-houses, 
 and our gablod gothic manors and abbeys, appear quite in 
 harmony with an undulating, wooded country. In towns 
 we prefer symmetrical architecture ; and in towns it pro- 
 duces in us no feeling of incongruity, because all surround- 
 ing things — men, horses, vehicles — are symmetrical also. 
 
 And here I Avas reminded of a notion that has frequent- 
 ly recurred to me ; namely, that there is some relationship 
 between the several kinds of architecture and the several 
 classes of natural objects. Buildings in the Greek and 
 Roman styles seem, in virtue of their symmetry, to take 
 their tyj^e from animal life. In the jDartly-irregular Gothic, 
 ideas derived from the vegetable world appear to predomi- 
 nate. And wholly irregular buildings, such as castles, may 
 be considered as having inorganic forms for their basis. 
 
 Whimsical as this speculation looks at first sight, it is 
 countenanced by numerous facts. The connexion between 
 symmetrical architecture and animal forms, may be inferred 
 from the hind of symmetry we expect, and are satisfied 
 with, in regular buildings. Thus in a Greek temple we re- 
 quire that the front shall be symmetrical in itself, and that 
 the two flanks shall be alike ; but we do not look for uni- 
 formity between the flanks and the front, nor between the 
 front and the back. The identity of this symmetry with 
 that found in animals is obvious. Again, why is it that a 
 building making any pretension to symmetry displeases us 
 if not quite symmetrical ? Probably the reply will be— 
 Because we see that the designer's idea is not fully carried 
 
121 THE SOTJECES OF AECIITTECTUEAL TYPES. 
 
 out ; and that hence our love of completeness is offended. 
 But then there come the further questions — How do we 
 know that tl)e architect's conception vras symmetrical ? 
 Whence comes this notion of symmetry which we have, 
 and which we attribute to him ? Unless we fall hack upon 
 the old doctrine of innate ideas, we must admit that the 
 idea of bilateral symmetry is derived from without ; and 
 to admit this is to admit that it is derived from the higher 
 animals. 
 
 That there is some relationship between Gothic archi- 
 tecture and vegetable forms is a position generally admit- 
 ted. The often-remarked analogy between a groined nave 
 and an avenue of trees with interlacing branches, shows 
 that the fact has forced itself on men's observation. It is 
 not only in this analogy, howcA^er, that the kinship is seen. 
 It is seen still better in the essential characteristic of Goth- 
 ic ; namely, what is termed its aspiring tendency. That 
 predominance of vertical lines which so strongly distin- 
 guishes Gothic from other styles, is the most marked pecu- 
 liarity of trees, when compared with animals or rocks. To 
 persons of active imagination, a tail Gothic tower, with its 
 elongated apertures and clusters of thin projections run- 
 ning from bottom to top, suggests a vague notion of growth. 
 
 Of the alleged connexion between inorganic forms and 
 the wholly irregular and the castellated styles of building, 
 we have, I think, some proof in the fact that when an edi- 
 fice is irregular, the more irregular it is the more it pleases 
 lis. I see no way of accounting for this fact, save by sup- 
 posing that the greater the irregularity the more strongly 
 are we reminded of the inorganic forms typified, and the 
 more vividly are aroused the agreeable ideas of rugged 
 and romantic scenery associated with those forms. 
 
 Further evidence of these several relationships of styles 
 of architecture to classes of natural objects, is supjilied by 
 the kinds of decoration they respectively represent. The 
 
SIGNIFICANCE OF THE DECORA flOX?. 435 
 
 public Ibuildings of- Greece, while cbaractei'ized in their 
 outlines by the bilateral symmetry seen in the higher ani- 
 mals, have their pediments and entablatures covered with 
 sculptured men and beasts. Egyptian temples and Assyr- 
 ian palaces, while similarly symmetrical in their general 
 plan, are similarly ornamented on their walls and at theif 
 doors. In Gothic, again, with its grove-like ranges of clus 
 tared columns, we find rich foliated ornaments abundantly 
 employed. And accompanying the totally irregular, inor- 
 ganic outlines of old castles, we see neither vegetable nor 
 animal decorations. The bare, rock-like Avails are sur- 
 mounted by battlements, consisting of almost plain blocks, 
 which remind us of the projections on the edge of a rugged 
 cliff. 
 
 But perhaps the most significant fact is the harmony 
 that may be observed, between each type of architecture 
 and the scenes in which it is indigenous. For what is the 
 explanation of this harmony, unless it be that the predomi- 
 nant character of surrounding things has, in some way, de- 
 termined the mode of building adopted ? 
 
 That the harmony exists is clear. Equally in the cases 
 of Egypt, Assyria, Greece, and Rome, town life preceded 
 the construction of the symmetrical buildings that have 
 come down to us. And town life is one in which, as al- 
 ready observed, the majority of familiar objects are sym- 
 metrical. We instinctively feel the naturalness of this asso- 
 ciation. Out amid the fields, a formal house, with a cen- 
 tral door flanked by an equal number of windows to right 
 and left, strikes us as unrural — looks as though transplanted 
 from a street ; and we cannot look at one of those stuccoed 
 villas, with mock windows carefully arranged to balance 
 the real ones, without being reminded of the suburban res- 
 idence of a retired tradesman. 
 
 In styles indigenous in the country, we not only find the 
 general irregularity characteristic of surrounding things, 
 
4:26 THE SOURCES OF AJECHITECTUEAL TYPES. 
 
 but we may trace some kinsliip between each kind of irreg- 
 ularity and the local circumstances. We see the broken 
 rocky masses amid which castles are commonly placed, mir- 
 rored in their stern, inorganic forms. In abbeys, and such-= 
 like buildings, which are commonly found in comparatively 
 sheltered districts, we find no such violent dislocations of 
 masses and outlines ; and the nakedness appropriate to the 
 fortress is replaced by decorations reflecting the neighbour- 
 ing woods. Between a Swiss cottage and a Swiss view 
 there is an evident relationship. The angular roof, so bold 
 and so disproportionately large when compared to other 
 roofs, reminds one of the adjacent mountain peaks ; and 
 the broad overhanging eaves have a sweep and inclination 
 like those of the lower branches of a pine tree. Consider, 
 too, the apparent kinship between the flat roofs that prevail 
 in Eastern cities, interspersed with occasional minarets, and 
 the plains that commonly surround them, dotted here and 
 there by palin trees. You cannot contemplate a picture of 
 one of these places, without being struck by the predomi- 
 nance of horizontal lines, and their harmony with the wide 
 stretch of the landscape. 
 
 That the congruity here pointed out should hold in 
 every case must not be expected. The Pyramids, for ex- 
 ample, do not seem to come under this generalization. 
 Their repeated horizontal lines do indeed conform to the 
 flatness of the neighbouring desert ; but their general con- 
 tour seems to have no adjacent analogue. Considering, 
 however, that migrating races, carrying their architectural 
 systems with them, would naturally produce buildings hav- 
 ing no relationship to their new localities ; and that it ia 
 not always possible to distinguish styles which are indige- 
 nous, from those which are naturalized ; numerous anoma- 
 lies must be looked for. 
 
 The general idea above illustrated will perhaps be some- 
 what misinterpreted. Possibly some will take the proposi- 
 
THEIE UNCONSCIOUS GROWTH, 427 
 
 tion to be that men intentionally gave to their buildings 
 the leading characteristics of neighbouring objects. But 
 this is not what is meant. T do not suppose that they did 
 80 in times past, any more than they do so now. The hy- 
 pothesis is, that in their choice of forms men are uncon- 
 soiously influenced by the forms encircling them. That 
 flat-roofed, symmetrical architecture should have originated 
 in the East, among pastoral tribes surrounded by theii 
 herds and by wide plains, seems to imply that the builders 
 v/ere swayed by the horizontality and symmetry to which 
 they were habituated. And the harmony which we have 
 found to exist in other cases between indigenous styles and 
 their localities, implies the general action of like influences. 
 Indeed, on considering the matter psychologically, I do not 
 see how it could well be otherwise. For as all conceptions 
 must be made up of images, and parts of images, received 
 through the senses — as it is impossible for a man to con- 
 ceive any design save one of which the elements have come 
 into his mind from without ; and as his imagination will 
 most readily run in the direction of his habitual percep- 
 tions ; it follows, almost necessarily, that the characteristic 
 which predominates in these habitual perceptions must im- 
 press itself on his design. 
 
XIII 
 THE USE OE ANTIIllOPOMOIlPinSJ^I. 
 
 THAT long fit of indignation which seizes all generous 
 natures when in youth they begin contemplating hu- 
 man affairs, having fairly spent itself, there slowly grows 
 up a perception that the institutions, beliefs, and forms so 
 vehemently condemned are not wholly bad. This reaction 
 runs to various lengths. In some, merely to a comparative 
 contentment with the arrangements under which they live. 
 In others to a recognition of the fitness that exists between 
 eacli people and its government, tyrannical as that may be. 
 In some, again, to the conviction, that hateful though it is 
 to us, and injurious as it would be now, slavery was once 
 beneficial — was one of the necessary phases of human pro- 
 gress. Again, in others, to the suspicion that great benefit 
 has indirectly arisen from the perpetual warfare of past 
 times ; insuring as this did the spread of the strongest races, 
 and so providing good raw material for civilization. And 
 in a few this reaction ends in the generalization that all 
 modes of human thought and action subserve, in the times 
 and places in which they occur, some useful function : that 
 though bad in the abstract, they are relatively good — are 
 the best which the then existing conditions admit of. 
 
 A startling conclusion to which this faith in the essen- 
 tial beneficence of things commits us, is that the religious 
 creeds through which mankind successively pass, are, dur- 
 
FAITU8 AND CEEEDS AEK AFFAIRS OF GROV/III. 429 
 
 Ing the eras in which they are severally held, the best 
 that could be held ; and that this is true, not only of the 
 latest and most refined creieds, but of all, even to the ear- 
 liest and most gross. Those who regard men's faiths aa 
 giren to them from without — as having origins either di- 
 rectly divine or diabolical, and who, considering their own 
 as the sole example of the one, class all the rest xmder the 
 other, will think this a very shocking opinion. I can im- 
 agine, too, that many of those who have abandoned cur- 
 rent theologies, and now regard religions as so many 
 natural products of human nature — men who, having lost 
 that antagonism towards their old creed which they felt 
 Avhile shaking themselves free from it, can now see that it 
 was highly beneficial to past generations, and is beneficial 
 still to a large j^art of mankind ; — I can imagine even these 
 hardly prepared to admit that 'all religions, down to the 
 lowest Fetichism, have, in their places, fulfilled useful func- 
 tions. If such, however, will consistently develop their 
 ideas, they will find this inference involved. 
 
 For if it be true that humanity in its corporate as well 
 as in its individual aspect, is a growth and not a manufi\c- 
 ture, it is obvious that during each phase men's theologies, 
 as well as their political and social arrangements, must be 
 determined into such forms as the conditions require. In the 
 one case as in the other, by a tentative process, things from 
 time to time re-settle themselves in a way that best consists 
 with national equilibrium. As out of plots and the strug- 
 gles of chieftains, it continually results that the strongest 
 gets to the top, and by virtue of his proved superiority 
 ensures a pei'iod of quiet, and gives society time to grow ; 
 as out of incidental expedients there periodically arise new 
 divisions of labour, which get permanently established 
 only by serving men's wants better than the previous ar- 
 rangements did ; so, the creed which each period evolves is 
 one more in conformity with the needs of the time than 
 
i30 THE USE OF ANTnEOPOMOEPIIISM. 
 
 the creed which preceded it. Not to rest in general state- 
 ments, however, let us consider why this must be so. Let 
 us see whether, in the genesis of men's ideas of deity, there 
 is not involved a necessity to conceive of deity under the 
 aspect most influential with them. 
 
 It is now generally admitted that a more or less ideal 
 ized humanity is the form which every conception of a per- 
 sonal God must take. Anthropomorphism is an inevitable 
 result of the laws of thought. We cannot take a step to- 
 wards constructing an idea of God without the ascription 
 of human atti'ibutes. We cannot even speak of a divine 
 will without assimilating the divine nature to our own ; 
 for we know nothing of volition save as a property of our 
 own minds. 
 
 While this anthroi^omorphic tendency, or rather neces- 
 sity, is manifested by themselves with sufl3cient grossness — 
 a grossness that is offensive to those more advanced — 
 Christians are indignant at the still grosser manifestations 
 of it seen among uncivilized men. Certainly, such concep- 
 tions as those of some Polynesians, who beheve that their 
 gods feed on the souls of the dead, or as those of the 
 Greeks, who ascribed to the j^ersonages of their Pantheon 
 every vice, from domestic cannibalism downward, are re- 
 pulsive enough. But if, ceasing to regard these notions 
 from the outside, we more philosophically regard them 
 from the inside — if we consider how they looked to believers, 
 and observe the relationships they bore to the natures and 
 needs of such ; we shall begin to think of them with some 
 tolerance. The question to be answered is, whether these 
 beliefs were beneficent in their effects on those who held 
 them ; not whether they would be beneficent for us, or 
 for perfect men ; and to this question the answer must be 
 that while absolutely bad, they were relatively good. 
 
 For is it not obvious that the savage man will be most 
 effectually controlled by his fears of a savage deity ? 
 
NECESSITY OF THE IDEA OF A CKUEL DEITr. 4:31 
 
 Must it not happen, that if his nature requires great re- 
 straint, the supposed consequences of transgression, to be 
 a check upon him, must be proportionately terrible ; and 
 for these to be proportionately terrible, must not his god 
 be conceived as proportionately cruel and revengeful? Is it 
 not well that the treacherous, thievish, lying Hindoo should 
 believe in a hell where the wicked are boiled in cauldrons, roll- 
 ed down mountains bristling with knives, and sawn asunder 
 between flaming iron posts ? And that there may be pro- 
 vided such a hell, is it not needful that he should believe in a 
 divinity delighting in human immolations and the self-tor- 
 ture of fakirs ? Does it not seem clear that during the 
 earlier ages in Christendom, when men's feelings were so 
 hard that a holy father could describe one of the delights 
 of heaven to be the contemplation of the torments of the 
 damned — does it not seem clear that while the general na- 
 ture was so unsympathetic, there needed, to keep men in 
 order, all the prospective tortures described by Dante, and 
 a deity implacable enough to inflict them ? 
 
 And if, as we thus see, it is well for the savage man to 
 believe in a savage god, then we may also sec the great 
 usefulness of this anthropomorphic tendency; or, as before 
 said, necessity. We have in it another illustration of that 
 essential beneficence of things visible everywhere through- 
 out nature. From this inability under which we labour to 
 conceive of a deity save as some idealization of ourselves, 
 it inevitably results that in each age, among each people, 
 and to a great extent in each individual, there must arise 
 just that conception of deity best adapted to the needs of 
 the case. If, being violent and bloodthirsty, the nature be 
 one calling for stringent control, it evolves the idea of a 
 ruler still more violent and bloodthirsty, and fitted to afibrd 
 this control. When, by ages of social discipline, the nature 
 has been partially humanized, and the degree of restraint re- 
 quired has become less, the diabolical characteristics before 
 20 
 
4:32 THE USE OF ANTIIEOPOMOEPHISM. 
 
 ascribed to the deity cease to be so predominant in the 
 conception of him. And gradually, as all need for restraint 
 disappears, this conception approximates towards that of 
 a purely beneficent necessity. Thus, man's constitution is 
 in this, as in other respects, self-adjusting, self-balancing. 
 The mind itself evolves a comj^ensating check to its own 
 movements ; varying always in proportion to the requii-c- 
 ment. Its centrifugal and its centripetal forces are neces- 
 sarily in correspondence, because the one generates the 
 other. And so we find that the forms of both religious 
 and secular rule follow the same law. As an ill-controlled 
 national character produces a despotic terrestrial govern- 
 ment, so also does it produce a despotic celestial govern- 
 ment — the one acting through the senses, the other 
 through the imagination ; and in the converse case the 
 same relationshij) holds good. 
 
 Organic as this relationshij? is in its origin, no artificial 
 interference can permanently aifect it. Whatever pertur- 
 bations an external agency may seem to produce, they are 
 soon neutralized in fact, if not in appearance. I was re- 
 cently struck with this in reading a missionary account of 
 the " gracious visitations of the Holy Spirit at Yewa," one 
 of the Feejee islands. Describing a " penitent meeting," 
 the accoimt says : — 
 
 " Certainly the feelings of the Vewa people were not ordi- 
 narv. They literally roared for hours together for the disquietude 
 of their souls. This frequently terminated in fainting from ex- 
 haustion, -which was the only respite some of them had till they 
 found peace. They no sooner recovered their consciousness than 
 they prayed themselves first into an agony, then again into a state 
 of entiie insensibility." 
 
 iSTow these Feejee islanders are the most savage of all 
 the uncivilized races. They are given to cannibalism, in 
 fanticide, and human sacrifices ; they are so bloodthirsty 
 
CONVERSION AMONG THE FEEJEEANS. 433 
 
 and so treacherous, that members of the same family dare 
 not trust each other; and, in harmony with these charac- 
 teristics, they have for their aboriginal god, a serpent. Is 
 it not clear then, that these violent emotions which the 
 missionaries describe, these terrors and agonies of despair 
 which they rejoiced over, were nothing but the worship of 
 the old god under a new name ? Is it not clear that these 
 Feejees had simply understood those parts of the Christian 
 creed which agree in spirit with their own — the vengeance, 
 the perpetual torments, the diabolism of it; that these, 
 harmonizing with their natural conceptions of divine rule, 
 were realized by them with extreme vividness ; and that 
 the extremity of the fear which made them " literally roar 
 for hours together," arose from the fact that while they 
 could fully take in and believe the punitive element, the 
 merciful one was beyond their comprehension ? This ia 
 the obvious inference. And it carries with it the further 
 one, that in essence their new belief was merely their old 
 one under a new form — the same substantial conception 
 with a different history and different names. 
 
 However great, therefore, may be the seeming change 
 adventitiously produced in a people's religion, the anthro- 
 pomorphic tendency prevents it from being other than a 
 superficial change — insures such modifications of the new 
 religion as to give it all the potency of the old one — ob- 
 scures whatever higher elements there may be in it until 
 the people have reached the capability of being acted upon 
 by them : and so, re-establishes the equilibrium between 
 the impulses and the control they need. If any one re- 
 quires detailed illustrations of this, he will find them in 
 abundance in the history of the modifications of Christian- 
 ity throughout Europe. 
 
 Ceasing then to regard heathen theologies from the 
 personal point of view, and considering them solely with 
 reference to the function they fulfil where they are indige- 
 
4.34: THE USE OF ANTUKOPOMOEPIIISM. 
 
 nous, we must recognise them in common with all theolo- 
 gies, as good for their time and places ; and this mental 
 necessity which disables us from conceiving a deity save as 
 some idealization of ourselves, we must recognise as the 
 agency by which harmony is produced and maintained 
 between every phase of human character and its religici'i": 
 ci'ced. 
 
n^^DEX. 
 
 A 
 
 Abstract and concrete, relations of, 
 174. 
 
 Actions, voluntary and involuntary, 
 307. _ 
 
 Analogies of tlie rudest societies to 
 the lowest forms of life, 386, 390. 
 
 Analogies of function between living 
 beings and societies, 398. 
 
 Annulosa, structure of, compared to 
 that of nations, 396, 410. 
 
 Anthropomoi-phism, necessity of, 
 410. 
 
 Architectural ideas, origin of, 427. 
 
 Arcliitectui'e, relationship to natural 
 objects, 4-23 ; illustrations of, 423- 
 425 ; town, why symmetrical, 423 ; 
 country, why irregular, 425. 
 
 Arts, interconnexion of, 187. 
 
 Astronomic influences upon climate 
 produce brealis iu geological suc- 
 cession, 344. 
 
 Automatic actions of men and gov- 
 ernments, 414. 
 
 Australia, fauna of, 338. 
 
 B 
 
 Bain " On the Emotions and Will," 
 
 estimate of, 290. 
 Beautv, its evolution from utility, 
 
 417,' 421. 
 Beliefs, how to judge of them, 430. 
 Bow, derivation of the, 78. 
 Breaks iu the geological record, 
 
 Hugh Miller upon, 343 ; produced 
 by astronomic causes, 344 ; by re- 
 distributions of land and sea, 347. 
 Buildings related to landscape, 426 ; 
 cause of incongruities in, 426 ; re- 
 lation unintentional, 427. 
 
 C 
 
 Cambrian rocks, inference from their 
 thickness, 354. 
 
 Calculus, origin of, 158. 
 
 Castles, built with no reference to 
 art, 418. 
 
 Cause, single, produces more than 
 one eflect, 32 ; illustrated in geo- 
 logical phenomena, 35 ; in chemi- 
 cal, 40 ; in organic evolution, 42 : 
 in social progress, 50 ; in use ot 
 locomotive engine, 53. 
 
 Central America, eifects of subsi- 
 dence of, 38. 
 
 Cerebrum, analogy of to houses of 
 parliament, 411, 414. 
 
 Circulation in animal bodies ^nd 
 bodies politic, 389, 399 ; rates of 
 movement in, 405 ; of money and 
 blood-discs, 402. 
 
 Classifications of science, progress 
 of, 183, wliat thev indicate, 125 ; 
 Oken's, 125 ; Hegel's, 128 ; Corate's, 
 131 ; serial arrangement vicious, 
 144. 
 
 Classification, the mental process in, 
 147 ; advances with rationality, 
 157 ; how it has aided science. 
 
436 
 
 ES'DEX. 
 
 182 j of the cognitions, 309 ; of the 
 feelmgs, 311 : in Psychology, for 
 the j)resent must be provisional, 
 288, 289. 
 
 Climate, changes in, produced by 
 astronomic rhythm, 341; by re- 
 distributions of land and sea, 
 317. ■ 
 
 Comets, formation of, 256 ; orbits 
 of, 258; distribution of, 259, 261. 
 
 Common knowledge, nature of, 117 ; 
 relation of, to science, 118, 122. 
 
 Comte's hierarchv of the sciences, 
 131. 
 
 Consciousness, mystery of, 197. 
 
 Condensation of nebula, 250. 
 
 Contrast, its relation to beauty, 420. 
 
 Creeds suited to the age that holds 
 them, 429, 431. 
 
 Curtsy, origin of, 79. 
 
 D 
 
 Densities of the- planets, 278, 279. 
 
 Development hypothesis, neither 
 proved nor disiDrovcd by Paleon- 
 tology, 355, 364 ; defense of, 
 367. 
 
 Direct orreation inconceivable, 366 ; 
 no examples of, 365 ; origin of the 
 notion, 361. 
 
 Earth's crust, 5 ; contraction of, 35. 
 
 Ectodei-m social and embryonic, 
 307. 
 
 Education, bearing of evolution of 
 science upon, 1 93. 
 
 Emotions in animals, genesis of, 
 303. 
 
 Emotional language, 232 ; impor- 
 tance of, 235, 238. 
 
 Engine, locomotive, results of in- 
 vention of, 53. 
 
 EquaUty, origin of notion of, 152, 
 158 ; of things and relations, 153. 
 
 Evolution of the emotions, 299. 
 
 Evolution of governmental and ner- 
 vous structures, 308. 
 
 F 
 
 Fashion, origin of, 90 ; corruption 
 
 of, 91. 
 Feehng and action, relation of, 199, 
 
 208. 
 
 Feeling, mystery of, 197 ; effects of 
 surfdus in producing laughter, 
 201 ; wdiy it disturbs the intel- 
 lect, 207. 
 
 Feeling, a stimulus to muscular ac- 
 tion, 211, 220 ; shown in loudness 
 of voice, 215; in quality or tim- 
 bre, 215 ; in pitch, 216 ; in inter- 
 vals, 217 ; in variability of pitcli, 
 219 ; relation of, to vocal sounds 
 in ourselves, 220 ; in others, 220 ; 
 causes pi'ostration, 222 ; classifi- 
 cation of the feelings, 311. 
 
 Fejee islanders, penitent meeting 
 among, 432. 
 
 Fmal cause, 262, 272, 275, 281. 
 
 Fossils as tests of age and position, 
 327, 335. 
 
 Function of music, 231-235. 
 
 G 
 
 Generalizations premature, use of, 
 311 ; as seen in histoiy of Astrono- 
 my, 314 ; in Geology, 315. 
 
 Genesis of new emotions in civiliza- 
 tion, 301 ; in animals, 303. 
 
 Geological evidence, value of, 8. 
 
 Geologic " systems," are they mii- 
 versal? 323-327. 
 
 Geometry, origin of, 158, 167. 
 
 God, origin of the conception of, 
 65. 
 
 Gothic architecture, source of, 433, 
 434. 
 
 Government, rise of, 12, 69, 92; 
 three-fold nature of, 13, 65, 83 ; 
 separation of civil from religious, 
 69 ; early need of severe, 85 ; pro- 
 gressive amelioration of, 88 ; 
 course of all, 114 ; results from 
 national character, 375. 
 
 Great men, relation of to social 
 changes, 376. 
 
 Greek and Koraan architectm-e, de- 
 rivation of, 423. 
 
 U 
 
 Heathen theologies, estimate of, 
 
 44. 
 Hegel's classification of philosophy, 
 
 128. 
 History as commonly studied, small 
 
 value of, 373. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 437 
 
 Hobbs's parallelism of society and 
 the human body, 367. 
 
 Homogeneous, change of to hetero- 
 geneous, 3 ; seen in genesis of 
 solar system, 3 ; in phenomena 
 of earth's crust, 5 ; m the ad- 
 vance of life in general, 7 ; in the 
 progress of man, 10 ; in growth 
 of civilization, 12 ; in govern- 
 ment j 13 ; in language, 17 ; in 
 painting and sculpture, 20 ; in 
 poetry, music, and dancing, 24 ; 
 cause of this universal change, 
 32. 
 
 Ilutton's geological system, 315 ; 
 contrast of the modem with, 318. 
 
 Hydra compared with primitive 
 tribes, 389, 395, 400, 408. 
 
 Hvdrozoa, analogies of, 389, 391, 
 400. 
 
 Industrial organization, 373. 
 
 Industrial arrangements, develop- 
 ment of compared with that of 
 the alimentary organs, 398. 
 
 Insensible modifications effect great 
 changes, 367 ; illustrated by geo- 
 metrical curves, 306 ; by physio- 
 logical development, 370. 
 
 K 
 
 King's councils compared to gan- 
 glia, 409, 411. 
 
 Knowledge, experience the source 
 of all, 126 ; relations of various 
 kinds of, 167. 
 
 L 
 
 Language, differentiation of, 17 ; 
 orWin of written, 18 : origin ot 
 verbal, 149 ; origin oi emotional, 
 220. 
 
 La Place's theory of planetary evo- 
 lution, 263-265. 
 
 Laughter, common explanations of, 
 194; movements in, 200; groups 
 of muscles successively atiected 
 in, 201 ; caused by incongruities, 
 203 ; facilitates digestion, 207. 
 
 Law, origin of, 70. 
 
 Likeness and unlikeness, recogni- 
 
 tion of, the basis of classification, 
 
 147 ; the basis of language, 149 ; 
 
 of reasoning, 150 ; of art, 151 ; 
 
 leads to science, 152. 
 Logic, how evolved, 153. 
 Lyell, Sir Charles, criticism upon, 
 
 '326, 330. 
 
 M 
 
 llan, progress of, 10. 
 
 Mamiers, genesis of, 77 ; decline of 
 the influence of, 89 ; conformity in 
 mamiers leads to extravagance, 
 99 ; conformity in, decreases so- 
 cial intercourse, 100 ; defeats the 
 true end of social life, 102, 107. 
 
 Mathematics, how evolved, 158. 
 
 Mechanics, rise of science of, 168. 
 
 Mineral qualities of rocks untrust- 
 worthy tests of age or position, 
 320. 
 
 Miller, Hugh, estimate of, 340. 
 
 Motion of nebulous matter, 251- 
 253. 
 
 Moralitj^, origin of, 70. 
 
 Muscular movements, cause of, 195; 
 aiTcsted by feeling, 199 ; in laugh- 
 ter pm-poseless, 201 ; of animals 
 when excited, 211 ; variations of, 
 produce changes ot voice, 214. 
 
 Music, increasing heterogeneity of, 
 26; relation of mental to muscu- 
 lar excitement, the source of, 214 ; 
 theory of, 221-224 ; its history 
 confirms the theory, 224^228 ; 
 negative proof of theory of, 228- 
 231. 
 
 Murchison, Sir E. I., criticism upon 
 his " Siluria," 320, 328, 351, 354. 
 
 Nebula, are they parts of our side- 
 real system ? 243j 249 ; condensa- 
 tion of, 250 ; motion in, 251 ; sig- 
 nificance of forms of, 254 ; stiiic- 
 ture of spiral, 254. 
 
 Nebular hypothesis, 3, 34_; its high 
 derivation, 239 ; it explains comet- 
 ary phenomena, 262. 
 
 Negative facts in geologj^, small 
 value of, 360-363. 
 
 Nervous system, effects of excite- 
 ment in, 195 ; directions of dis- 
 charge of excitement in, 11!7; 
 
43S 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 course of discliarge unguided by 
 purpose, 201. 
 Number, origin of conception of, 
 154. 
 
 Oken's classification of knowledge, 
 125. 
 
 Painting and sculpture, origin of, 
 20. 
 
 Paleontology neither proves nor dis- 
 proves development, 355, 364. 
 
 Picturesque, meaning of, 421. 
 
 Plato's model republic, central idea 
 of, 376. 
 
 Previsions and ordinary knowledge, 
 117 ; previsions known as science, 
 118; common and scientific, 123; 
 when quantitative arose, 158 ; in- 
 crease in precision, 171. 
 
 Primary divisions oi a genn and of 
 a society, 392-395. 
 
 Progress, current meaning of, 1 ; 
 present inquiry concerning, 2 ; 
 law of progress exemplified in the 
 genesis of solar system,-^3 ; in the 
 phenomena of the earth's crust, 
 5 ; in the advance of life in gene- 
 ral, 7 ; in the history of man, 
 10 ; in the growth of civilization, 
 12; in government, 13; in lan- 
 guage, 17 ; in painting and sculp- 
 ture, 20 ; in poetry, music, and 
 dancing, 24 ; statement of the 
 principle which determines pro- 
 gress of every kind, 32 ; the prin- 
 ciple of progress illustrated in 
 geological phenomena, 35 ; in 
 chemical, 40 ; in organic evolu- 
 tion, 42 ; in social advancement, 
 50 ; in use of locomotive en- 
 gine, 54; this principle does not 
 explain things in themselves, 
 58 ; progress of science, 141 ; 
 of astronomical discovery, 165, 
 171. 
 
 Progress of animals and societies in 
 forming channels of communica- 
 tion, 404. 
 
 Psychology, relation of English 
 thought to, 289 ; classification in, 
 for the present, must bo provis- 
 ional, 288, 289. 
 
 E 
 
 Eeasoning, nature of, 150; basis of, 
 154; advances with classification, 
 157. 
 
 Eeformers, eccentricities of, 61 ; why 
 necessary, 93 ; not selfish, 95, 97 ; 
 difficulties of social, 110. 
 
 Keform, how is it to be effected? 
 111. 
 
 Eeligion aided by inquiiy, 58. 
 
 Eeligious ideas, account of primi- 
 tive, 66. 
 
 S 
 
 Saturn, rings of, 276. 
 
 Satellites, distribution of, 272-276. 
 
 Savage men need a savage deity, 
 43i. 
 
 Science, limits of, 58 ; definition of, 
 119 ; when complete, 120; test of 
 the depth of, 122; slow growtii 
 of, 123 ; duplex progress of, 141 ; 
 ultimate analysis of exact, 160. 
 
 Sciences, early simultaneous ad- 
 vance of, 165; not independent 
 of each other, 186 ; aid each other 
 by analogies, 181 ; mutual influ- 
 ence of modern, 178. 
 
 Sculpture and painting, origin of, 
 20. 
 
 Solar System, movements of planets 
 on their axes in, 267-271. 
 
 Strata now forming, litliological dif- 
 ferences in, 335 ; ditt'erences in 
 the order of superposition of, 336 ; 
 difierences in the organic remains 
 of, 337. 
 
 Societies and individual organisms, 
 points of agreement between, 379- 
 381 ; differences of, examined, 381- 
 385. 
 
 Social intercourse, philosophy of, 
 105. 
 
 Social changes, true source of, 374. 
 
 Spectrum analysis, 283. 
 
 Spiral nebula, 255. 
 
 Steam-engine, multiplied effects of, 
 53. 
 
 Sun, constitution of, 282, 284 ; rela- 
 tion of plane of its equator to 
 plane of planetary orbits, 266. 
 
 Telegrapli wires, comparison of to 
 nerves, 415, 
 
INDEX. 
 
 439 
 
 Titles, derivation of, 72 ; deprecia- 
 tion of, 7-i. 
 Truth, ultimate test of, 130. 
 
 U 
 
 Useful passes into tlie beautiful, 
 418, 4i;l. 
 
 Voice, cause of loudness of, 215 ; 
 
 cause of quality of, 215 ; of pitch 
 of, 216 ; intervals in, 217 ; varia- 
 bility of the pitch of, 219. 
 Voluntary and involuntary actions, 
 307. 
 
 "Wenier's system of Geology, 316; 
 contrast of, with the modern sys- 
 tem, 318. 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY 
 
 HERBERT SPENCER, 
 
 FIRST PRINCIPLES. 
 
 1 vol. $2.00. 
 
 COi^rTENTS. 
 
 Paet I.— The Unkno"^able. 
 
 1 Reliction and Science. 4. The Relativity of all Knowl 
 
 2. 
 
 3. 
 
 Ultimate Religious Ideas. 
 Ultimate Scientific Ideas. 
 
 edge. 
 5. The Reconciliation. 
 
 Pakt II. — The Knowable. 
 
 1. Philosophy defined. 
 
 2. The Data of Philosophy. 
 
 3. Space, Time, Matter, Motion, 
 
 and Force. 
 
 4. The Indestructibility of Matter. 
 
 5. The Continuity of Motion. 
 
 6. The Persistence of Force. 
 
 T. The Persistence of Relations 
 among Forces. 
 
 The Transformation and Equiv- 
 alence of Forces. 
 
 The Direction of Motion. 
 
 The Rhythm of Motion. 
 
 Recapitulation, Criticism, and 
 Recommencement. 
 
 Evolution and Dissolution. 
 
 24. Summary 
 
 8. 
 
 9. 
 10. 
 11. 
 
 12 
 
 (con- 
 
 of Evolution (con- 
 (con- 
 
 13. Simple and Compound Evolu. 
 
 tion. 
 
 14. The Law of Evolution. 
 
 15. The Law of Evolution 
 
 tinned). 
 
 16. The Law 
 
 tinued). 
 
 17. The Law of Evolution 
 
 eluded). 
 
 18. The Interpretation of Evolution. 
 
 19. The Instability of the Homoge- 
 
 neous. 
 
 20. The Multiplication of Effects. 
 
 21. Segregation. 
 
 22. Equilibration. 
 
 23. Dissolution, 
 and Conclusion. 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY. 
 
 2 vols. $4.00. 
 
 coxTEyrs of vol. i. 
 Part I. — The Data of Biology. 
 
 1. Organic flatter. 
 
 2. The Actions of Forces on Or- 
 
 ganic Matter. 
 
 3. The Reactions of Organic Mat- 
 
 ter on Forces. 
 
 1. The Scope of Biology. 
 
 4. Proximate Definition of Life. 
 
 5. The Correspondence between 
 
 Life and its Circumstances. 
 
 6. The Degree of Life varies as the 
 Degree of Correspondence. 
 
SPENCEE S STNTIIETIC PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 1. Growth. 
 
 2. Development. 
 
 3. Function. 
 
 4. Waste ..id Repair. 
 
 5. Adaptation. 
 
 6. Individuality. 
 
 -The Inductions of Biology. 
 '7. Genesis. 
 
 8. Heredity. 
 
 9. Variation. 
 
 10. Genesis, Heredity, and Vuria- 
 
 tion. 
 
 11. Classification. 
 12. Distribution. 
 
 Part III.— The 
 
 1. Preliminary. 
 
 2. General Aspects of the Special- 
 
 Creation Hypothesis. 
 
 3. General Aspects of the Evolu- 
 
 tion Hypothesis. 
 
 4. The Arguments from Classifica- 
 
 tion. 
 
 5. The Arguments from Embryol- 
 
 ogy. 
 
 6. The Arguments from Morphol- 
 
 ogy. 
 
 Evolution of Life. 
 
 '7. The Arguments from Distribu- 
 tion. 
 
 8. How is Organic Evolution 
 caused ? 
 
 0. External Factors. 
 
 10. Internal Factors. 
 
 11. Direct Equilibration. 
 
 12. Indirect Equilibration. 
 
 13. The Cooperation of the Factors. 
 
 14. The Convergence of the Evi- 
 
 dences. 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. 11. 
 Part IV. — Morrhological Develorjiext. 
 
 1. The Problems of Morphology. 
 
 2. Tlic Morphological Composition 
 
 of Plants. 
 
 3. The Morphological Composition 
 
 of Plants (continued). 
 
 4. The Morphological Composition 
 
 of Animals. 
 
 5. The Morphological Composition 
 
 of Animals (continued). 
 
 6. Morphological Differentiation in 
 
 Plants. 
 n. The General Shapes of Plants. 
 8. The Shapes of Branches. 
 
 9. The Shapes of Leaves. 
 
 10. The Shapes of Flowers. 
 
 11. The Shapes of Vegetal Cells. 
 
 12. Changes of Shape othcrnise 
 
 caused. 
 
 13. Morphological Differentiation in 
 
 Animals. 
 
 14. The General Shapes of Animals. 
 
 15. The Shapes of Vertebrate Skele- 
 
 tons. 
 
 16. The Shapes of Animal Cells. 
 
 17. Summary of Morphological De- 
 
 velopment. 
 
 Part V. — Physiological Development. 
 
 The Problems of Physiology. 6, 
 
 Differentiations among the Out- 
 er and Inner Tissues of Plants. 
 
 Differentiations among the Out- 7 
 er Tissues of Plants. 
 
 Differentiations among the In- 8 
 ner Tissues of Plants. 
 
 Physiological Integration in 9 
 Plants. 
 
 10. Summary of Physioloj 
 
 Differentiations between the 
 Outer and Inner Tissues of 
 Animals. 
 
 Differentiations among the Out- 
 er Tissues of Animals. 
 
 Differentiations among the In- 
 ner Tissues of Animals. 
 
 Physiological Integration in in- 
 
 iraals. 
 ioal Development. 
 
SPENCER S SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY. 3 
 
 Part VI. — Laws of Multiplication. 
 
 1. The Factors. 8. Antagonism between Expendi- 
 
 2. A priori Principle. ture and Genesis. 
 
 3. Obverse «/»?-io?7' Principle. 9. Coincidence between Iligh Ku- 
 
 4. Difficulties of Inductive Verifi- trition and Genesis. 
 
 cation. 10. Specialties of these Ecla- 
 5 Antagonism between Growth tions. 
 
 and Asexual Genesis. 11. Interpretation and Qualifica- 
 6. Antagonism between Growth tion. 
 
 and Sexual Genesis. 12. llultiplication of the Human 
 'J. Antagonism between Develop- Race. 
 
 ment and Genesis, Asexual 13. Human Evolution in the Fu- 
 
 and Sexual. ture. 
 
 Appendix. 
 A Criticism on Professor Owen's The- On Circulation and the Formation 
 ory of the Vertebrate Skeleton. of Wood in Plants. 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 2 vols. $4.00. 
 
 COXTEKTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 Part I. — The Data of Psychology. 
 
 1. The Nervous System. 4. The Conditions essential to Ner- 
 
 2. The Structure of the Nervous vous Action. 
 
 System. 5. Nervous Stimulation and Ncr- 
 
 3. The Functions of the Nervous vous Discharge. 
 
 System. 6. J^^stho-Physiolog}'. 
 
 Part II. — The iNorcTioNS of Psychology. 
 
 1. The Substance of Mind. 6. The Eevivahility of Kelations 
 
 2. The Composition of Mind. between Feelings. 
 
 3. The Pelativity of Feelings. 7. The Associability of Feelings. 
 
 4. The PiClativity of Eelations be- 8. The Associability of Relations 
 
 twccn Feelings. between Feelings. 
 
 6. The Revivability of Feelings. 9. Pleasures and Pains. 
 
 Part III. — General Synthesis. 
 
 1. Life and Mind as Correspon- 6. The Correspondence as increas- 
 
 dence. ing in Specialty. 
 
 2. The Correspondence as Direct *?. The Correspondence as increas- 
 
 and Homogeneous. ing in Generality. 
 
 8. The Correspondence as Direct 8. The Correspondence as increas- 
 
 but Heterogeneous. ing in Complexity. 
 
 4. The Correspondence as extend- 9. The Coordination of Correspon- 
 
 ing in Space. dences. 
 
 6. The Correspondence as extend- 10. The Integration of Corrospon- 
 
 ing in Time. dences. 
 
 11. The Correspondences in their Totality. 
 
SPENCEE S SYNTHETIC rniLOSOPHY. 
 
 Part IV.- 
 
 1. The Nature of Intelligence. 
 
 2. The Law of Intelligence. 
 
 3. The Growth of Intelligence. 
 
 4. Eeflcx Action. 
 
 -Special Synthesis. 
 
 5. Instinct. 
 
 6. Memory. 
 '7. Keason. 
 
 8. The Feelings. 
 
 9. The Will. 
 Part V. — Physical Synthesis. 
 
 1. A Further Interpretation need- 
 
 ed. 
 
 2. The Genesis of Nerves. 
 
 3. The Genesis of Simple Nervous 
 
 Systems. 
 
 4. The Genesis of Compound Ner- 
 
 vous Systems. 
 
 5. The Genesis of Doubly Com- 
 
 pound Nervous Systems. 
 
 6. Functions as related to these 
 
 Structures. 
 
 7. Physical Laws as thus inter- 
 
 preted. 
 
 8. Evidence from Normal Varia- 
 
 tions. 
 
 9. Evidence from Abnormal Va- 
 
 riations. 
 10. P»,esults. 
 
 Appendix. 
 On the Action of Anajsthctics and Narcotics. 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. II, 
 Part VI. — Special Analysis. 
 
 1. Limitation of the Subject. 
 
 2. Compound Quantitative Reason- 
 
 ing. 
 
 3. Compound Quantitative Reason- 
 
 ing (continued). 
 
 4. Imperfect and Simple Quantita- 
 
 tive Reasoning. 
 
 5. Quantitative Reasoning in gen- 
 
 eral. 
 
 6. Perfect Qualitative Reasoning. 
 
 7. Imperfect Qualitative Reason- 
 
 ing. 
 
 8. Reasoning in general. 
 
 9. Classification, Naming, and Rec- 
 
 ognition. 
 
 10. The Perception of Special Ob- 
 
 jects. 
 
 11. The Perception of Body as pre- 
 
 senting Dynamical, Statico- 
 Dynamical, and Statical Attri- 
 butes. 
 
 12. The Perception of Body as pre- 
 
 senting Statieo-Dynamical and 
 Statical Attributes. 
 
 13. The Perception of Body as 
 
 presenting Statical Attri- 
 butes. 
 
 14. The Perception of Space. 
 
 15. The Perception of Time. 
 
 16. The Perception of Motion. 
 
 17. The Perception of Resist- 
 
 ance. 
 
 18. Perception in general. 
 
 19. The Relations of Similarity and 
 
 Dissimilarity. 
 
 20. The Relations of Cointcnsion 
 
 and Non-Cointension. 
 
 21. The Relations of Coextension 
 
 and Non-Coextension. 
 
 22. The Relations of Coexistence 
 
 and Non-Coexistence. 
 
 23. Tlie Relations of Connature and 
 
 Non-Connature. 
 
 24. The Relations of Likeness and 
 
 LTnlikeness. 
 2.5. The Relation of Sequence. 
 
 26. Consciousness in general. 
 
 27. Results. 
 
SPENCES'S SYISTTHETIC PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Part VII. — General Analysis. 
 
 1. The Final Question. 
 
 2. The Assumption of Metaphysi- 
 
 cians. 
 S. The Words of Metaphysicians. 
 
 4. The Reasonings of Metaphysi- 
 
 cians, [ism. 
 
 5. Negative Justification of Real- 
 
 6. The Argument from Priority. 
 
 7. The Argument from Simplicity. 
 
 8. The Argument from Distinct- 
 
 9. A Criterion wanted. [ness. 
 10. Propositions qualitatively dis- 
 tinguished. 
 
 11. The Universal Postulate. 
 
 12. The Test of Relative Validity. 
 
 13. Its Corollaries. 
 
 14. Positive Justification of Real- 
 
 ism. 
 
 1 5. The Dynamics of Consciousness. 
 
 16. Partial Differentiation of Sub- 
 
 ject and Object. 
 
 17. Completed Differentiation of 
 
 Subject and Object. 
 
 18. Developed Conception of the 
 
 Object. 
 
 19. Transfigured Realism. 
 
 Part VIII. — Corollaries. 
 Special Psychology. 5. Sociality and Sympathy. 
 
 Classification. 6. Egoistic Sentiments. 
 
 Development of Conceptions. 7, Ego-Altruistic Sentiments, 
 
 Language of the Emotions. 8. Altruistic Sentiments. 
 
 9. J^sthetic Sentiments. 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. 
 
 Vol. I. $2.00. 
 
 COXTEXTS. 
 
 Part I. — The Data of Sociology. 
 
 1. Super-Organic Evolution. 15. 
 
 2. The Factors of Social Phcnom- 16. 
 
 ena. 
 
 3. Original External Factors. 17. 
 
 4. Original Internal Factors. 
 
 5. The Primitive Man — Physical. 
 
 6. The Primitive Man — Emotional. 
 
 7. The Primitive Man — Intellec- 18. 
 
 tual. 
 
 8. Primitive Ideas. 19, 
 
 9. The Ideas of the Animate and 
 
 the Inanimate. 
 
 10. The Ideas of Sleep and Dreams. 20. 
 
 11. The Ideas of Swoon, Apoplex}', 21. 
 
 Catalepsy, Ecstasy, and other 
 Forms of Insensibility. 22. 
 
 12. The Ideas of Death and Resur- 23. 
 
 rection. 24. 
 
 13. The Ideas of Souls, Ghosts, 25. 
 
 Spirits, Demons. 26. 
 
 14. The Ideas of Another Life. 27. 
 
 The Ideas of Another World. 
 
 The Ideas of Supernatural 
 Agents. 
 
 Supernatural Agents as causing 
 Epilepsy and Convulsive Ac- 
 tions, Delirium and Insanity, 
 Disease and Death. 
 
 Inspiration, Divination, Exor- 
 cism, and Sorcery. 
 
 Sacred Places, Temples, and 
 Altars ; Sacrifice, Fasting, and 
 Propitiation; Praise, Prayer. 
 
 Ancestor- Worship in general. 
 
 Idol- Worship and Fetich-Vv'^or- 
 ship. 
 
 Animal -Worship. 
 
 Plant-Worship. 
 
 Nature-Worship. 
 
 Deities. 
 
 The Primitive Theory of Things. 
 
 The Scope of Sociology. 
 
SPENCEE S SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 Part II. — The Inductions of Sociology. 
 
 1. What is a Society? 
 
 2. A Society is an Organism. 
 8. Social Growth, 
 
 4. Social Structures, 
 
 5. Social Functions. 
 
 6. Systems of Organs. 
 
 1. The Sustaining System. 
 
 8. The Distributing System, 
 
 9. The Regulating System. 
 
 10. Social Types and Constitutions. 
 
 11. Social Metamorphoses. 
 
 12. Qualifications and Summary, 
 
 Part III. — Tue Domestic Relations. 
 
 1. The Maintenance of Species. 
 
 2. The Diverse Interests of the 
 
 Species, of the Parents, and 
 of the Offspring. 
 
 3. Primitive Relations of the Sexes. 
 
 4. Exogamy and Endogamy, 
 
 5. Promiscuity. 
 
 6. Polyandry. 
 
 7. Polygyny. 
 
 8. Monogamy. 
 
 9. The Family. 
 
 10. The Status of Women, 
 
 11. The Status of Children, 
 
 12. Domestic Retrospect and Pros- 
 
 pect. 
 
 1 
 
 Vol. II. 
 
 Part IV. — Ceeejionial Institutions. $1.2S, 
 
 C0NT£2^TS. 
 
 1. 
 
 Ceremony in 
 
 general. 
 
 1. 
 
 Forms of Address. 
 
 2- 
 
 Trophies. 
 
 
 8. 
 
 Titles. 
 
 3. 
 
 Mutilations. 
 
 
 9. 
 
 Badges and Costumes. 
 
 4, 
 
 Presents. 
 
 
 10. 
 
 Further Class-Distinctions. 
 
 6. 
 
 Visits. 
 
 
 11. 
 
 Fashion. 
 
 6. 
 
 Obeisances. 
 
 
 12. 
 
 Ceremonial Retrospect and Pros- 
 pect. 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF ETHICS. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 Part I. — The Data of Ethics. $1.25. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 1. Conduct in general, 
 
 2. The Evolution of Conduct, 
 
 3. Good and Bad Conduct, 
 
 4. Ways of judging Conduct, 
 
 5. The Physical View. 
 
 6. The Biological View. 
 
 7. The Psychological View. 
 
 8. The Sociological View. 
 
 9. Criticisms and Explanations. 
 
 10. The Relativity of Pains and 
 
 Pleasures. 
 
 11. Egoism versus Altruism, 
 
 12. Altruism versus Egoism, 
 
 13. Trial and Compromise, 
 
 14. Conciliation. 
 
 15. Absolute Ethics and Relative 
 
 Ethics. 
 
 16. The Scope of Ethics. 
 
THE MISCELLANEOUS WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 HERBERT SPENCER. 
 
 EDUCATION: 
 
 INTELLECTUAL, MORAL, AND PHYSICAL. 
 1 vol. Sl.2o. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 1 What Knowledge is of most 2. Intellectual Education, 
 Worth ? 3. Moral Education. 
 
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 OR, 
 
 THE CONDITIONS ESSENTIAL TO HUMAN HAPPINESS SPECL 
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 The Doctrine of the Moral Sense. Lemma II. 
 
 Part I. 
 
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 2. The Evanescence of Evil. ditions of its Realization. 
 
 Part IL 
 
 4. Derivation of a First Principle. 10. The Right of Property. 
 
 5. Secondary Derivation of a First 11. The Right of Property in Ideas. 
 
 Principle. 12. The Right of Property in Char- 
 
 6. First Principle. [ciple. acter. 
 
 "7. Application of this First Prin- 1-3. The Right of Exchange. 
 
 8. The Rights of Life and Per- 14. The Right of Free Speech. 
 
 sonal Liberty. 15. Further Rights. 
 
 9. The Right to" the Use of the 16. The Rights of Women. 
 
 Earth. 17. The Rights of Children. 
 
O SPENCEE S MISCELLANEOUS WOEKS. 
 
 Part III. 
 IS. Political Rights. 24. Religious Establishment. 
 
 19. The Right to ignore the State. 25. Poor-Laws. 
 
 20. The Constitution of the Idtate. 26. National Education. 
 
 2L The Duty of the State. 27. Government Colonization. 
 
 22. The Limit of State-Duty. 28. Sanitary Supervision. [etc. 
 
 23. The Regulation of Commerce. 29. Currency, Postal Arrangements, 
 
 Part IV. 
 30. General Considerations. 3L Summary. 
 
 32. Conclusion. 
 
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 4. Difficulties of the Social Science. 11. The Political Bias. 
 
 5. Objective Difficulties. 12. The Theological Bias. 
 
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 7. Subjective Difficulties — Enio- 15. Preparation in Psychology. 
 
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 5. The Origin and Function of Mu- 12. The Sources of Architectural 
 
 6. The Nebular Hypothesis, [sic. Types. 
 
 7. Bain on the Emotions and the 13. The Use of Anthropomor- 
 
 Will. phism. 
 
 ESSAYS: 
 
 MORAL, POLITICAL, AND J]:STIIETIC. 
 
 1 vol. $2.00. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 1. The Philosophy of Style. 3. The florals of Trade. 
 
 2. Our Legislation. 4. Personal Beauty. 
 
spencee's miscellaneous woeks. 9 
 
 5. Representative Government. 9. State Tampering.? with Money 
 
 6. Prison Ethics. and Banks. 
 
 7. Railway Morals and Railway 10. Parliamentary Reforms : the 
 
 Policies. Dangers and the l^afegua^ds. 
 
 8. Gracefulness. 11. Mill versus Hamilton — the Test 
 
 of Truth. 
 
 RECENT DISCUSSIONS 
 
 IN SCIENCE, PHILOSOPHY, AND MORALS. 
 
 1 vol. $2.00 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 1. Jlorals and Moral Sentiments. 6. Of Laws in general and the Or- 
 
 2. Origin of Animal-Worship. der of their Discovery. 
 
 3. The Classification of the Sei- 7. The Genesis of Science. 
 
 ences. 8. Specialized Administrations. 
 
 4. Postscript : Replying to Criti- 9. What is Electricity ? 
 
 cisms. 10. The Constitution of the Sun. 
 
 5. Reasons for dissenting from 11. The Collective Wisdom. 
 
 the Philosophy of Comte. 12. Political Fetichism. 
 
 13. Mr. Martineau on Evolution. 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE SOCIOLOGY; 
 
 OB GROUPS OF SOCIOLOGICAL FACTS. 
 
 CLASSIFIED AND ARRANGED BY 
 
 HERBERT SPENCER. 
 
 COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED BY 
 
 DAVID DUNCAN, M. A., Professor of Logic, etc., in the Presidency 
 
 College, Madras ; RICHARD SCHEPPIG, Ph. D., and 
 
 JAMES COLLIER. 
 
 In royal folio. Price, $4.00 each. 
 
 No. L 
 
 ENGLISH. 
 
 Compiled and abstracted by JAMES COLLIER. 
 
 No. n. 
 
 MEXICANS, CENTRAL AMERICANS, CHIB- 
 
 CHAS, AND PERUVIANS. 
 
 Compiled and abstracted by RICHARD SCHEPPIG, Ph.D. 
 
10 spencer's miscellaneous woexs. 
 
 No. III. 
 
 LOWEST RACES, NEGRITO RACES, AND MA- 
 LAYO-POLYNESIAN RACES. 
 
 CoiiriLED AND ABSTRACTED BY PROFESSOR DUNCAN, M. A. 
 
 Types of Lowest Races. Malato-Poltnesian Races. 
 
 Puegians. Sandwich Islanders. 
 
 Andamans. Tahitians. 
 
 Veddahs. Tongans. 
 
 Australians. Samoans. 
 
 Negrito Races. New Zealanders. 
 
 Tasmanians. Dyaks. 
 
 New Caledonians, etc. Javans. 
 
 New Guinea People. Sumatrans. 
 
 Pijians. Malagasy. 
 
 No. IV. 
 AFRICAN RACES. 
 Compiled and abstracted by Professor DUNCAN, M. A. 
 
 Bushmen. East Africans. Daliomans. 
 
 Hottentots. Congo People. Ashantis. 
 
 Damaras. Coast Negroes. Fulahs. 
 
 Bechuanas. Inland Negroes. Abyssinians. 
 
 Kaffirs. 
 
 No. V. 
 ASIATIC RACES. 
 
 CoJiriLED AND ABSTRACTED BY PrOFESSOR DUNCAN, M. A. 
 
 Arabs. Santals. Mishmis. 
 
 Todas. Karens. Kirghiz. 
 
 Khonds. Kukis. Kalmucks. 
 
 Gonds. Nagas. Ostyaks. 
 
 Bhils. Bodo and Dhimals. Kamtschadalea. 
 
 No. VI. 
 
 AMERICAN RACES. 
 
 Compiled and abstracted by Professor DUNCAN, M. A. 
 
 Esquimaux. Chippewas. Brazilians. 
 
 Chinooks. Dakotas. Uaupes. 
 
 Snakes. Mandans. Abipones. 
 
 Comanches. Creeks. Patagonians. 
 
 Iroquois. Guiana Tribes. Araucanians. 
 
 Chippewayans. Caribs. 
 
 HEBREWS AND PHCENICIANS. {Nearly ready.) 
 FRENCH. {Inpress) 
 
HERBERT SPENCER'S WORKS. 
 
 The SciEi^cE of Society : namely : 
 
 I. The Study of Sociology. (''International Scientific 
 Series.") 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 II. The Principles of Sociology. Vol. I. i2mo. 
 
 Cloth, $2.00. 
 
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 "Principles of Sociology.") 12mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 IV. Descriptive Sociology; or. Groups of Sociological 
 
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 piled and abstracted by David Duncan, M. A., Professor 
 of Logic, etc., in the Presidency College, Madras ; Eichard 
 Scheppig, Ph. D. ; and James Collier. Seven Parts, in royal 
 folio. $4.00 each. Now ready : 
 
 No. 1, Division III, Part I C. Ei^glish. Compiled and 
 abstracted by James Collier. 
 
 No. 2, Division II, Part I B. Anoiest Mexicans, Cexteal 
 American's, Chibehos, and Ancient Peetivians. Com- 
 piled and abstracted by Eichard Scheppig, Ph. D, 
 
 No. 8, Division I, Part I A. Types of the Lowest Paces. 
 Negeitto Paces. Mala yo -Polynesian Paces. Compiled 
 and abstracted by Professor David Duncan. 
 
 No. 4, Division T, Part II A. Afeican Paces. Compiled and 
 abstracted by Professor David Duncan. 
 
 No. 5, Division T, Part III A. Astatic Eaces. Compiled 
 and abstracted by Professor David Duncan. 
 
 No. 6, Division T, Part IV A. Noeth and South Ameeican 
 Eaces. Compiled and abstracted by Professor David 
 Duncan. 
 
 No. 7, Division II, Part II B. Hebeews and Phcenicians. 
 Compiled and abstracted by Eichard Scheppig, Ph.D. 
 
HERBERT SPENCER'S WORKS.— {Continued) 
 
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 Illustrations of Universal Progress. A Selection of 
 
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