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diff --git a/old/55046-0.txt b/old/55046-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5e41096..0000000 --- a/old/55046-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16701 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of First Principles, by Herbert Spencer - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: First Principles - -Author: Herbert Spencer - -Release Date: July 5, 2017 [EBook #55046] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIRST PRINCIPLES *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - FIRST - PRINCIPLES. - - - BY - - HERBERT SPENCER, - - AUTHOR OF “SOCIAL STATICS,” “THE PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY,” “ESSAYS: - SCIENTIFIC, POLITICAL, AND SPECULATIVE,” “EDUCATION,” ETC. - - - SECOND THOUSAND. - - - LONDON: - WILLIAMS AND NORGATE, 14, HENRIETTA STREET, - COVENT GARDEN. - 1863. - - _The Right of Translation is reserved._ - - - - - JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - PREFACE. - - -This volume is the first of a series described in a prospectus -originally distributed in March, 1860. Of that prospectus, the annexed -is a reprint. - - - A SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY. - -Mr. Herbert Spencer proposes to issue in periodical parts a connected -series of works which he has for several years been preparing. Some -conception of the general aim and scope of this series may be gathered -from the following Programme. - - - FIRST PRINCIPLES. - - PART I. THE UNKNOWABLE.—Carrying a step further the doctrine put - into shape by Hamilton and Mansel; pointing out the various - directions in which Science leads to the same conclusions; and - showing that in this united belief in an Absolute that transcends - not only human knowledge but human conception, lies the only - possible reconciliation of Science and Religion. - - PART II. LAWS OF THE KNOWABLE.—A statement of the ultimate - principles discernible throughout all manifestations of the - Absolute—those highest generalizations now being disclosed by - Science which are severally true not of one class of phenomena but - of _all_ classes of phenomena; and which are thus the keys to all - classes of phenomena.[1] - - [_In logical order should here come the application of these First - Principles to Inorganic Nature. But this great division it is - proposed to pass over: partly because, even without it, the scheme - is too extensive; and partly because the interpretation of Organic - Nature after the proposed method, is of more immediate importance. - The second work of the series will therefore be_—] - - - THE PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY. - - - VOL. I. - - PART I. THE DATA OF BIOLOGY.—Including those general truths of - Physics and Chemistry with which rational Biology must set out. - - II. THE INDUCTIONS OF BIOLOGY.—A statement of the leading - generalizations which Naturalists, Physiologists, and Comparative - Anatomists, have established. - - III. THE EVOLUTION OF LIFE.—Concerning the speculation commonly - known as “The Development Hypothesis”—its _à priori_ and _à - posteriori_ evidences. - - - VOL. II. - - IV. MORPHOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT.—Pointing out the relations that are - everywhere traceable between organic forms and the average of the - various forces to which they are subject; and seeking in the - cumulative effects of such forces a theory of the forms. - - V. PHYSIOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT.—The progressive differentiation of - functions similarly traced; and similarly interpreted as - consequent upon the exposure of different parts of organisms to - different sets of conditions. - - VI. THE LAWS OF MULTIPLICATION.—Generalizations respecting the - rates of reproduction of the various classes of plants and - animals; followed by an attempt to show the dependence of these - variations upon certain necessary causes.[2] - - - THE PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY. - - - VOL. I. - - PART I. THE DATA OF PSYCHOLOGY.—Treating of the general connexions - of Mind and Life and their relations to other modes of the - Unknowable. - - II. THE INDUCTIONS OF PSYCHOLOGY.—A digest of such generalizations - respecting mental phenomena as have already been empirically - established. - - III. GENERAL SYNTHESIS.—A republication, with additional chapters, - of the same part in the already-published _The Principles of - Psychology_. - - IV. SPECIAL SYNTHESIS.—A republication, with extensive revisions - and additions, of the same part, &c. &c. - - V. PHYSICAL SYNTHESIS.—An attempt to show the manner in which the - succession of states of consciousness conforms to a certain - fundamental law of nervous action that follows from the First - Principles laid down at the outset. - - - VOL. II. - - VI. SPECIAL ANALYSIS.—As at present published, but further - elaborated by some additional chapters. - - VII. GENERAL ANALYSIS.—As at present published, with several - explanations and additions. - - VIII. COROLLARIES.—Consisting in part of a number of derivative - principles which form a necessary introduction to Sociology.[3] - - - THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. - - - VOL. I. - - PART I. THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY.—A statement of the several sets of - factors entering into social phenomena—human ideas and feelings - considered in their necessary order of evolution; surrounding - natural conditions; and those ever complicating conditions to - which Society itself gives origin. - - II. THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY.—General facts, structural and - functional, as gathered from a survey of Societies and their - changes: in other words, the empirical generalizations that are - arrived at by comparing different societies, and successive phases - of the same society. - - III. POLITICAL ORGANIZATION.—The evolution of governments, general - and local, as determined by natural causes; their several types - and metamorphoses; their increasing complexity and specialization; - and the progressive limitation of their functions. - - - VOL. II. - - IV. ECCLESIASTICAL ORGANIZATION.—Tracing the differentiation of - religious government from secular; its successive complications - and the multiplication of sects; the growth and continued - modification of religious ideas, as caused by advancing knowledge - and changing moral character; and the gradual reconciliation of - these ideas with the truths of abstract science. - - V. CEREMONIAL ORGANIZATION.—The natural history of that third kind - of government which, having a common root with the others, and - slowly becoming separate from and supplementary to them, serves to - regulate the minor actions of life. - - VI. INDUSTRIAL ORGANIZATION.—The development of productive and - distributive agencies, considered, like the foregoing, in its - necessary causes: comprehending not only the progressive division - of labour, and the increasing complexity of each industrial - agency, but also the successive forms of industrial government as - passing through like phases with political government. - - - VOL. III. - - VII. LINGUAL PROGRESS.—The evolution of Languages regarded as a - psychological process determined by social conditions. - - VIII. INTELLECTUAL PROGRESS.—Treated from the same point of view: - including the growth of classifications; the evolution of science - out of common knowledge; the advance from qualitative to - quantitative prevision, from the indefinite to the definite, and - from the concrete to the abstract. - - IX. ÆSTHETIC PROGRESS.—The Fine Arts similarly dealt with: tracing - their gradual differentiation from primitive institutions and from - each other; their increasing varieties of development; and their - advance in reality of expression and superiority of aim. - - X. MORAL PROGRESS.—Exhibiting the genesis of the slow emotional - modifications which human nature undergoes in its adaptation to - the social state. - - XI. THE CONSENSUS.—Treating of the necessary interdependence of - structures and of functions in each type of society, and in the - successive phases of social development.[4] - - - THE PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY. - - - VOL. I. - - PART I. THE DATA OF MORALITY.—Generalizations furnished by - Biology, Psychology and Sociology, which underlie a true theory of - right living: in other words, the elements of that equilibrium - between constitution and conditions of existence, which is at once - the moral ideal and the limit towards which we are progressing. - - II. THE INDUCTIONS OF MORALITY.—Those empirically-established - rules of human action which are registered as essential laws by - all civilized nations: that is to say—the generalizations of - expediency. - - III. PERSONAL MORALS.—The principles of private conduct—physical, - intellectual, moral and religious—that follow from the conditions - to complete individual life: or, what is the same thing—those - modes of private action which must result from the eventual - equilibration of internal desires and external needs. - - - VOL. II. - - IV. JUSTICE.—The mutual limitations of men’s actions necessitated - by their co-existence as units of a society—limitations, the - perfect observance of which constitutes that state of equilibrium - forming the goal of political progress. - - V. NEGATIVE BENEFICENCE.—Those secondary limitations, similarly - necessitated, which, though less important and not cognizable by - law, are yet requisite to prevent mutual destruction of happiness - in various indirect ways: in other words—those minor - self-restraints dictated by what may be called passive sympathy. - - VI. POSITIVE BENEFICENCE.—Comprehending all modes of conduct, - dictated by active sympathy, which imply pleasure in giving - pleasure—modes of conduct that social adaptation has induced and - must render ever more general; and which, in becoming universal, - must fill to the full the possible measure of human happiness.[5] - - In anticipation of the obvious criticism that the scheme here - sketched out is too extensive, it may be remarked that an - exhaustive treatment of each topic is not intended; but simply the - establishment of _principles_, with such illustrations as are - needed to make their bearings fully understood. It may also be - pointed out that, besides minor fragments, one large division - (_The Principles of Psychology_) is already, in great part, - executed. And a further reply is, that impossible though it may - prove to execute the whole, yet nothing can be said against an - attempt to set forth the First Principles and to carry their - applications as far as circumstances permit. - - The price per Number to be half-a-crown; that is to say, the four - Numbers yearly issued to be severally delivered, post free, to all - annual subscribers of Ten Shillings. - - * * * * * - -This Programme I have thought well to reprint for two reasons:—the one -being that readers may, from time to time, be able to ascertain what -topics are next to be dealt with; the other being that an outline of the -scheme may remain, in case it should never be completed. - -The successive instalments of which this volume consists, were issued to -the subscribers at the following dates:—Part I. (pp. 1–80) in October, -1860; Part II. (pp. 81–176) in January, 1861; Part III. (pp. 177–256) in -April, 1861; Part IV. (pp. 257–334) in October, 1861; Part V. (pp. -335–416) in March, 1862; and Part VI. (pp. 417–504) in June, 1862. - - _London, June 5th, 1862_ - ------ - -Footnote 1: - - One of these generalizations is that currently known as “the - Conservation of Force;” a second may be gathered from a published - essay on “Progress: its Law and Cause;” a third is indicated in a - paper on “Transcendental Physiology;” and there are several others. - -Footnote 2: - - The ideas to be developed in the second volume of the _Principles of - Biology_ the writer has already briefly expressed in sundry - Review-Articles. Part IV. will work out a doctrine suggested in a - paper on “The Laws of Organic Form,” published in the - _Medico-Chirurgical Review_ for January, 1859. The germ of Part V. is - contained in the essay on “Transcendental Physiology:” See _Essays_, - pp. 280–90. And in Part VI. will be unfolded certain views crudely - expressed in a “Theory of Population,” published in the _Westminster - Review_ for April, 1852. - -Footnote 3: - - Respecting the several additions to be made to the _Principles of - Psychology_, it seems needful only to say that Part V. is the - unwritten division named in the preface to that work—a division of - which the germ is contained in a note on page 544, and of which the - scope has since been more definitely stated in a paper in the - _Medico-Chirurgical Review_ for Jan. 1859. - -Footnote 4: - - Of this treatise on Sociology a few small fragments may be found in - already-published essays. Some of the ideas to be developed in Part - II. are indicated in an article on “The Social Organism,” contained in - the last number of the _Westminster Review_; those which Part V. will - work out, may be gathered from the first half of a paper written some - years since on “Manners and Fashion;” of Part VIII. the germs are - contained in an article on the “Genesis of Science;” two papers on - “The Origin and Function of Music” and “The Philosophy of Style,” - contain some ideas to be embodied in Part IX.; and from a criticism of - Mr. Bain’s work on “The Emotions and the Will,” in the last number of - the _Medico-Chirurgical Review_, the central idea to be developed in - Part X. may be inferred. - -Footnote 5: - - Part IV. of the _Principles of Morality_ will be co-extensive (though - not identical) with the first half of the writer’s _Social Statics_. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - PART I.—THE UNKNOWABLE. - - CHAP. PAGE - - I.— RELIGION AND SCIENCE 3 - - II.— ULTIMATE RELIGIOUS IDEAS 25 - - III.— ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS 47 - - IV.— THE RELATIVITY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE 68 - - V.— THE RECONCILIATION 98 - - - PART II.—LAWS OF THE KNOWABLE. - - I.— LAWS IN GENERAL 127 - - II.— THE LAW OF EVOLUTION 146 - - III.— THE LAW OF EVOLUTION (CONTINUED) 175 - - IV.— THE CAUSES OF EVOLUTION 219 - - V.— SPACE, TIME, MATTER, MOTION, AND FORCE 224 - - VI.— THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF MATTER 238 - - VII.— THE CONTINUITY OF MOTION 246 - - VIII.— THE PERSISTENCE OF FORCE 251 - - IX.— THE CORRELATION AND EQUIVALENCE OF FORCES 259 - - X.— THE DIRECTION OF MOTION 286 - - XI.— THE RHYTHM OF MOTION 313 - - XII.— THE CONDITIONS ESSENTIAL TO EVOLUTION 335 - - XIII.— THE INSTABILITY OF THE HOMOGENEOUS 358 - - XIV.— THE MULTIPLICATION OF EFFECTS 388 - - XV.— DIFFERENTIATION AND INTEGRATION 416 - - VI.— EQUILIBRATION 440 - - XVII.— SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION 487 - - - - - PART I. - - THE UNKNOWABLE. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - RELIGION AND SCIENCE. - - -§ 1. We too often forget that not only is there “a soul of goodness in -things evil,” but very generally also, a soul of truth in things -erroneous. While many admit the abstract probability that a falsity has -usually a nucleus of reality, few bear this abstract probability in -mind, when passing judgment on the opinions of others. A belief that is -finally proved to be grossly at variance with fact, is cast aside with -indignation or contempt; and in the heat of antagonism scarcely any one -inquires what there was in this belief which commended it to men’s -minds. Yet there must have been something. And there is reason to -suspect that this something was its correspondence with certain of their -experiences: an extremely limited or vague correspondence perhaps; but -still, a correspondence. Even the absurdest report may in nearly every -instance be traced to an actual occurrence; and had there been no such -actual occurrence, this preposterous misrepresentation of it would never -have existed. Though the distorted or magnified image transmitted to us -through the refracting medium of rumour, is utterly unlike the reality; -yet in the absence of the reality there would have been no distorted or -magnified image. And thus it is with human beliefs in general. Entirely -wrong as they may appear, the implication is that they germinated out of -actual experiences—originally contained, and perhaps still contain, some -small amount of verity. - -More especially may we safely assume this, in the case of beliefs that -have long existed and are widely diffused; and most of all so, in the -case of beliefs that are perennial and nearly or quite universal. The -presumption that any current opinion is not wholly false, gains in -strength according to the number of its adherents. Admitting, as we -must, that life is impossible unless through a certain agreement between -internal convictions and external circumstances; admitting therefore -that the probabilities are always in favour of the truth, or at least -the partial truth, of a conviction; we must admit that the convictions -entertained by many minds in common are the most likely to have some -foundation. The elimination of individual errors of thought, must give -to the resulting judgment a certain additional value. It may indeed be -urged that many widely-spread beliefs are received on authority; that -those entertaining them make no attempts at verification; and hence it -may be inferred that the multitude of adherents adds but little to the -probability of a belief. But this is not true. For a belief which gains -extensive reception without critical examination, is thereby proved to -have a general congruity with the various other beliefs of those who -receive it; and in so far as these various other beliefs are based upon -personal observation and judgment, they give an indirect warrant to one -with which they harmonize. It may be that this warrant is of small -value; but still it is of some value. - -Could we reach definite views on this matter, they would be extremely -useful to us. It is important that we should, if possible, form -something like a general theory of current opinions; so that we may -neither over-estimate nor under-estimate their worth. Arriving at -correct judgments on disputed questions, much depends on the attitude of -mind we preserve while listening to, or taking part in, the controversy; -and for the preservation of a right attitude, it is needful that we -should learn how true, and yet how untrue, are average human beliefs. On -the one hand, we must keep free from that bias in favour of received -ideas which expresses itself in such dogmas as “What every one says must -be true,” or “The voice of the people is the voice of God.” On the other -hand, the fact disclosed by a survey of the past, that majorities have -usually been wrong, must not blind us to the complementary fact, that -majorities have usually not been _entirely_ wrong. And the avoidance of -these extremes being a prerequisite to catholic thinking, we shall do -well to provide ourselves with a safe-guard against them, by making a -valuation of opinions in the abstract. To this end we must contemplate -the kind of relation that ordinarily subsists between opinions and -facts. Let us do so with one of those beliefs which under various forms -has prevailed among all nations in all times. - - * * * * * - -§ 2. The earliest traditions represent rulers as gods or demigods. By -their subjects, primitive kings were regarded as superhuman in origin, -and superhuman in power. They possessed divine titles; received -obeisances like those made before the altars of deities; and were in -some cases actually worshipped. If there needs proof that the divine and -half-divine characters originally ascribed to monarchs were ascribed -literally, we have it in the fact that there are still existing savage -races, among whom it is held that the chiefs and their kindred are of -celestial origin, or, as elsewhere, that only the chiefs have souls. And -of course along with beliefs of this kind, there existed a belief in the -unlimited power of the ruler over his subjects—an absolute possession of -them, extending even to the taking of their lives at will: as even still -in Fiji, where a victim stands unbound to be killed at the word of his -chief; himself declaring, “whatever the king says must be done.” - -In times and among races somewhat less barbarous, we find these beliefs -a little modified. The monarch, instead of being literally thought god -or demigod, is conceived to be a man having divine authority, with -perhaps more or less of divine nature. He retains however, as in the -East to the present day, titles expressing his heavenly descent or -relationships; and is still saluted in forms and words as humble as -those addressed to the Deity. While the lives and properties of his -people, if not practically so completely at his mercy, are still in -theory supposed to be his. - -Later in the progress of civilization, as during the middle ages in -Europe, the current opinions respecting the relationship of rulers and -ruled are further changed. For the theory of divine origin, there is -substituted that of divine right. No longer god or demigod, or even -god-descended, the king is now regarded as simply God’s vice-gerent. The -obeisances made to him are not so extreme in their humility; and his -sacred titles lose much of their meaning. Moreover his authority ceases -to be unlimited. Subjects deny his right to dispose at will of their -lives and properties; and yield allegiance only in the shape of -obedience to his commands. - -With advancing political opinion has come still greater restriction of -imperial power. Belief in the supernatural character of the ruler, long -ago repudiated by ourselves for example, has left behind it nothing more -than the popular tendency to ascribe unusual goodness, wisdom, and -beauty to the monarch. Loyalty, which originally meant implicit -submission to the king’s will, now means a merely nominal profession of -subordination, and the fulfilment of certain forms of respect. Our -political practice, and our political theory, alike utterly reject those -regal prerogatives which once passed unquestioned. By deposing some, and -putting others in their places, we have not only denied the divine -rights of certain men to rule; but we have denied that they have any -rights beyond those originating in the assent of the nation. Though our -forms of speech and our state-documents still assert the subjection of -the citizens to the ruler, our actual beliefs and our daily proceedings -implicitly assert the contrary. We obey no laws save those of our own -making. We have entirely divested the monarch of legislative power; and -should immediately rebel against his or her exercise of such power, even -in matters of the smallest concern. In brief, the aboriginal doctrine is -all but extinct among us. - -Nor has the rejection of primitive political beliefs, resulted only in -transferring the authority of an autocrat to a representative body. The -views entertained respecting governments in general, of whatever form, -are now widely different from those once entertained. Whether popular or -despotic, governments were in ancient times supposed to have unlimited -authority over their subjects. Individuals existed for the benefit of -the State; not the State for the benefit of individuals. In our days, -however, not only has the national will been in many cases substituted -for the will of the king; but the exercise of this national will has -been restricted to a much smaller sphere. In England, for instance, -though there has been established no definite theory setting bounds to -governmental authority; yet, in practice, sundry bounds have been set to -it which are tacitly recognized by all. There is no organic law formally -declaring that the legislature may not freely dispose of the citizens’ -lives, as early kings did when they sacrificed hecatombs of victims; but -were it possible for our legislature to attempt such a thing, its own -destruction would be the consequence, rather than the destruction of -citizens. How entirely we have established the personal liberties of the -subject against the invasions of State-power, would be quickly -demonstrated, were it proposed by Act of Parliament forcibly to take -possession of the nation, or of any class, and turn its services to -public ends; as the services of the people were turned by primitive -rulers. And should any statesman suggest a re-distribution of property -such as was sometimes made in ancient democratic communities, he would -be met by a thousand-tongued denial of imperial power over individual -possessions. Not only in our day have these fundamental claims of the -citizen been thus made good against the State, but sundry minor claims -likewise. Ages ago, laws regulating dress and mode of living fell into -disuse; and any attempt to revive them would prove the current opinion -to be, that such matters lie beyond the sphere of legal control. For -some centuries we have been asserting in practice, and have now -established in theory, the right of every man to choose his own -religious beliefs, instead of receiving such beliefs on State-authority. -Within the last few generations we have inaugurated complete liberty of -speech, in spite of all legislative attempts to suppress or limit it. -And still more recently we have claimed and finally obtained under a few -exceptional restrictions, freedom to trade with whomsoever we please. -Thus our political beliefs are widely different from ancient ones, not -only as to the proper depositary of power to be exercised over a nation, -but also as to the extent of that power. - -Not even here has the change ended. Besides the average opinions which -we have just described as current among ourselves, there exists a less -widely-diffused opinion going still further in the same direction. There -are to be found men who contend that the sphere of government should be -narrowed even more than it is in England. The modern doctrine that the -State exists for the benefit of citizens, which has now in a great -measure supplanted the ancient doctrine that the citizens exist for the -benefit of the State, they would push to its logical results. They hold -that the freedom of the individual, limited only by the like freedom of -other individuals, is sacred; and that the legislature cannot equitably -put further restrictions upon it, either by forbidding any actions which -the law of equal freedom permits, or taking away any property save that -required to pay the cost of enforcing this law itself. They assert that -the sole function of the State is the protection of persons against each -other, and against a foreign foe. They urge that as, throughout -civilization, the manifest tendency has been continually to extend the -liberties of the subject, and restrict the functions of the State, there -is reason to believe that the ultimate political condition must be one -in which personal freedom is the greatest possible and governmental -power the least possible: that, namely, in which the freedom of each has -no limit but the like freedom of all; while the sole governmental duty -is the maintenance of this limit. - -Here then in different times and places we find concerning the origin, -authority, and functions of government, a great variety of -opinions—opinions of which the leading genera above indicated subdivide -into countless species. What now must be said about the truth or falsity -of these opinions? Save among a few barbarous tribes the notion that a -monarch is a god or demigod is regarded throughout the world as an -absurdity almost passing the bounds of human credulity. In but few -places does there survive a vague notion that the ruler possesses any -supernatural attributes. Most civilized communities, which still admit -the divine right of governments, have long since repudiated the divine -right of kings. Elsewhere the belief that there is anything sacred in -legislative regulations is dying out: laws are coming to be considered -as conventional only. While the extreme school holds that governments -have neither intrinsic authority, nor can have authority given to them -by convention; but can possess authority only as the administrators of -those moral principles deducible from the conditions essential to social -life. Of these various beliefs, with their innumerable modifications, -must we then say that some one alone is wholly right and all the rest -wholly wrong; or must we say that each of them contains truth more or -less completely disguised by errors? The latter alternative is the one -which analysis will force upon us. Ridiculous as they may severally -appear to those not educated under them, every one of these doctrines -has for its vital element the recognition of an unquestionable fact. -Directly or by implication, each of them insists on a certain -subordination of individual actions to social requirements. There are -wide differences as to the power to which this subordination is due; -there are wide differences as to the motive for this subordination; -there are wide differences as to its extent; but that there must be -_some_ subordination all are agreed. From the oldest and rudest idea of -allegiance, down to the most advanced political theory of our own day, -there is on this point complete unanimity. Though, between the savage -who conceives his life and property to be at the absolute disposal of -his chief, and the anarchist who denies the right of any government, -autocratic or democratic, to trench upon his individual freedom, there -seems at first sight an entire and irreconcilable antagonism; yet -ultimate analysis discloses in them this fundamental community of -opinion; that there are limits which individual actions may not -transgress—limits which the one regards as originating in the king’s -will, and which the other regards as deducible from the equal claims of -fellow-citizens. - -It may perhaps at first sight seem that we here reach a very unimportant -conclusion; namely, that a certain tacit assumption is equally implied -in all these conflicting political creeds—an assumption which is indeed -of self-evident validity. The question, however, is not the value or -novelty of the particular truth in this case arrived at. My aim has been -to exhibit the more general truth, which we are apt to overlook, that -between the most opposite beliefs there is usually something in -common,—something taken for granted by each; and that this something, if -not to be set down as an unquestionable verity, may yet be considered to -have the highest degree of probability. A postulate which, like the one -above instanced, is not consciously asserted but unconsciously involved; -and which is unconsciously involved not by one man or body of men, but -by numerous bodies of men who diverge in countless ways and degrees in -the rest of their beliefs; has a warrant far transcending any that can -be usually shown. And when, as in this case, the postulate is -abstract—is not based on some one concrete experience common to all -mankind, but implies an induction from a great variety of experiences, -we may say that it ranks next in certainty to the postulates of exact -science. - -Do we not thus arrive at a generalization which may habitually guide us -when seeking for the soul of truth in things erroneous? While the -foregoing illustration brings clearly home the fact, that in opinions -seeming to be absolutely and supremely wrong something right is yet to -be found; it also indicates the method we should pursue in seeking the -something right. This method is to compare all opinions of the same -genus; to set aside as more or less discrediting one another those -various special and concrete elements in which such opinions disagree; -to observe what remains after the discordant constituents have been -eliminated; and to find for this remaining constituent that abstract -expression which holds true throughout its divergent modifications. - - * * * * * - -§3. A candid acceptance of this general principle and an adoption of the -course it indicates, will greatly aid us in dealing with those chronic -antagonisms by which men are divided. Applying it not only to current -ideas with which we are personally unconcerned, but also to our own -ideas and those of our opponents, we shall be led to form far more -correct judgments. We shall be ever ready to suspect that the -convictions we entertain are not wholly right, and that the adverse -convictions are not wholly wrong. On the one hand we shall not, in -common with the great mass of the unthinking, let our beliefs be -determined by the mere accident of birth in a particular age on a -particular part of the Earth’s surface; and, on the other hand, we shall -be saved from that error of entire and contemptuous negation, which is -fallen into by most who take up an attitude of independent criticism. - -Of all antagonisms of belief, the oldest, the widest, the most profound -and the most important, is that between Religion and Science. It -commenced when the recognition of the simplest uniformities in -surrounding things, set a limit to the previously universal fetishism. -It shows itself everywhere throughout the domain of human knowledge: -affecting men’s interpretations alike of the simplest mechanical -accidents and of the most complicated events in the histories of -nations. It has its roots deep down in the diverse habits of thought of -different orders of minds. And the conflicting conceptions of nature and -life which these diverse habits of thought severally generate, influence -for good or ill the tone of feeling and the daily conduct. - -An unceasing battle of opinion like this which has been carried on -throughout all ages under the banners of Religion and Science, has of -course generated an animosity fatal to a just estimate of either party -by the other. On a larger scale, and more intensely than any other -controversy, has it illustrated that perennially significant fable -concerning the knights who fought about the colour of a shield of which -neither looked at more than one face. Each combatant seeing clearly his -own aspect of the question, has charged his opponent with stupidity or -dishonesty in not seeing the same aspect of it; while each has wanted -the candour to go over to his opponent’s side and find out how it was -that he saw everything so differently. - -Happily the times display an increasing catholicity of feeling, which we -shall do well in carrying as far as our natures permit. In proportion as -we love truth more and victory less, we shall become anxious to know -what it is which leads our opponents to think as they do. We shall begin -to suspect that the pertinacity of belief exhibited by them must result -from a perception of something we have not perceived. And we shall aim -to supplement the portion of truth we have found with the portion found -by them. Making a more rational estimate of human authority, we shall -avoid alike the extremes of undue submission and undue rebellion—shall -not regard some men’s judgments as wholly good and others as wholly bad; -but shall rather lean to the more defensible position that none are -completely right and none are completely wrong. - -Preserving, as far as may be, this impartial attitude, let us then -contemplate the two sides of this great controversy. Keeping guard -against the bias of education and shutting out the whisperings of -sectarian feeling, let us consider what are the _à priori_ probabilities -in favour of each party. - - * * * * * - -§4. When duly realized, the general principle above illustrated must -lead us to anticipate that the diverse forms of religious belief which -have existed and which still exist, have all a basis in some ultimate -fact. Judging by analogy the implication is, not that any one of them is -altogether right; but that in each there is something right more or less -disguised by other things wrong. It may be that the soul of truth -contained in erroneous creeds is very unlike most, if not all, of its -several embodiments; and indeed, if, as we have good reason to expect, -it is much more abstract than any of them, its unlikeness necessarily -follows. But however different from its concrete expressions, some -essential verity must be looked for. To suppose that these multiform -conceptions should be one and all _absolutely_ groundless, discredits -too profoundly that average human intelligence from which all our -individual intelligences are inherited. - -This most general reason we shall find enforced by other more special -ones. To the presumption that a number of diverse beliefs of the same -class have some common foundation in fact, must in this case be added a -further presumption derived from the omnipresence of the beliefs. -Religious ideas of one kind or other are almost if not quite universal. -Even should it be true, as alleged, that there exist tribes of men who -have nothing approaching to a theory of creation—even should it be true -that only when a certain phase of intelligence is reached do the most -rudimentary of such theories make their appearance; the implication is -practically the same. Grant that among all races who have passed a -certain stage of intellectual development there are found vague notions -concerning the origin and hidden nature of surrounding things; and there -arises the inference that such notions are necessary products of -progressing intelligence. Their endless variety serves but to strengthen -this conclusion: showing as it does a more or less independent -genesis—showing how, in different places and times, like conditions have -led to similar trains of thought, ending in analogous results. That -these countless different, and yet allied, phenomena presented by all -religions are accidental or factitious, is an untenable supposition. A -candid examination of the evidence quite negatives the doctrine -maintained by some, that creeds are priestly inventions. Even as a mere -question of probabilities it cannot rationally be concluded that in -every society, past and present, savage and civilized, certain members -of the community have combined to delude the rest, in ways so analogous. -To any who may allege that some primitive fiction was devised by some -primitive priesthood, before yet mankind had diverged from a common -centre, a reply is furnished by philology; for philology proves the -dispersion of mankind to have commenced before there existed a language -sufficiently organized to express religious ideas. Moreover, were it -otherwise tenable, the hypothesis of artificial origin fails to account -for the facts. It does not explain why, under all changes of form, -certain elements of religious belief remain constant. It does not show -us how it happens that while adverse criticism has from age to age gone -on destroying particular theological dogmas, it has not destroyed the -fundamental conception underlying these dogmas. It leaves us without any -solution of the striking circumstance that when, from the absurdities -and corruptions accumulated around them, national creeds have fallen -into general discredit, ending in indifferentism or positive denial, -there has always by and by arisen a re-assertion of them: if not the -same in form, still the same in essence. Thus the universality of -religious ideas, their independent evolution among different primitive -races, and their great vitality, unite in showing that their source must -be deep-seated instead of superficial. In other words, we are obliged to -admit that if not supernaturally derived as the majority contend, they -must be derived out of human experiences, slowly accumulated and -organized. - -Should it be asserted that religious ideas are products of the religious -sentiment, which, to satisfy itself, prompts imaginations that it -afterwards projects into the external world, and by and by mistakes for -realities; the problem is not solved, but only removed further back. -Whether the wish is father to the thought, or whether sentiment and idea -have a common genesis, there equally arises the question—Whence comes -the sentiment? That it is a constituent in man’s nature is implied by -the hypothesis; and cannot indeed be denied by those who prefer other -hypotheses. And if the religious sentiment, displayed habitually by the -majority of mankind, and occasionally aroused even in those seemingly -devoid of it, must be classed among human emotions, we cannot rationally -ignore it. We are bound to ask its origin and its function. Here is an -attribute which, to say the least, has had an enormous influence—which -has played a conspicuous part throughout the entire past as far back as -history records, and is at present the life of numerous institutions, -the stimulus to perpetual controversies, and the prompter of countless -daily actions. Any Theory of Things which takes no account of this -attribute, must, then, be extremely defective. If with no other view, -still as a question in philosophy, we are called on to say what this -attribute means; and we cannot decline the task without confessing our -philosophy to be incompetent. - -Two suppositions only are open to us: the one that the feeling which -responds to religious ideas resulted, along with all other human -faculties, from an act of special creation; the other that it, in common -with the rest, arose by a process of evolution. If we adopt the first of -these alternatives, universally accepted by our ancestors and by the -immense majority of our contemporaries, the matter is at once settled: -man is directly endowed with the religious feeling by a creator; and to -that creator it designedly responds. If we adopt the second alternative, -then we are met by the questions—What are the circumstances to which the -genesis of the religious feeling is due? and—What is its office? We are -bound to entertain these questions; and we are bound to find answers to -them. Considering all faculties, as we must on this supposition, to -result from accumulated modifications caused by the intercourse of the -organism with its environment, we are obliged to admit that there exist -in the environment certain phenomena or conditions which have determined -the growth of the feeling in question; and so are obliged to admit that -it is as normal as any other faculty. Add to which that as, on the -hypothesis of a development of lower forms into higher, the end towards -which the progressive changes directly or indirectly tend, must be -adaptation to the requirements of existence; we are also forced to infer -that this feeling is in some way conducive to human welfare. Thus both -alternatives contain the same ultimate implication. We must conclude -that the religious sentiment is either directly created, or is created -by the slow action of natural causes; and whichever of these conclusions -we adopt, requires us to treat the religious sentiment with respect. - -One other consideration should not be overlooked—a consideration which -students of Science more especially need to have pointed out. Occupied -as such are with established truths, and accustomed to regard things not -already known as things to be hereafter discovered, they are liable to -forget that information, however extensive it may become, can never -satisfy inquiry. Positive knowledge does not, and never can, fill the -whole region of possible thought. At the uttermost reach of discovery -there arises, and must ever arise, the question—What lies beyond? As it -is impossible to think of a limit to space so as to exclude the idea of -space lying outside that limit; so we cannot conceive of any explanation -profound enough to exclude the question—What is the explanation of that -explanation? Regarding Science as a gradually increasing sphere, we may -say that every addition to its surface does but bring it into wider -contact with surrounding nescience. There must ever remain therefore two -antithetical modes of mental action. Throughout all future time, as now, -the human mind may occupy itself, not only with ascertained phenomena -and their relations, but also with that unascertained something which -phenomena and their relations imply. Hence if knowledge cannot -monopolize consciousness—if it must always continue possible for the -mind to dwell upon that which transcends knowledge; then there can never -cease to be a place for something of the nature of Religion; since -Religion under all its forms is distinguished from everything else in -this, that its subject matter is that which passes the sphere of -experience. - -Thus, however untenable may be any or all the existing religious creeds, -however gross the absurdities associated with them, however irrational -the arguments set forth in their defence, we must not ignore the verity -which in all likelihood lies hidden within them. The general probability -that widely-spread beliefs are not absolutely baseless, is in this case -enforced by a further probability due to the omnipresence of the -beliefs. In the existence of a religious sentiment, whatever be its -origin, we have a second evidence of great significance. And as in that -nescience which must ever remain the antithesis to science, there is a -sphere for the exercise of this sentiment, we find a third general fact -of like implication. We may be sure therefore that religions, though -even none of them be actually true, are yet all adumbrations of a truth. - - * * * * * - -§ 5. As, to the religious, it will seem absurd to set forth any -justification for Religion; so, to the scientific, will it seem absurd -to defend Science. Yet to do the last is certainly as needful as to do -the first. If there exists a class who, in contempt of its follies and -disgust at its corruptions, have contracted towards Religion a -repugnance which makes them overlook the fundamental verity contained in -it; so, too, is there a class offended to such a degree by the -destructive criticisms men of science make on the religious tenets they -regard as essential, that they have acquired a strong prejudice against -Science in general. They are not prepared with any avowed reasons for -their dislike. They have simply a remembrance of the rude shakes which -Science has given to many of their cherished convictions, and a -suspicion that it may perhaps eventually uproot all they regard as -sacred; and hence it produces in them a certain inarticulate dread. - -What is Science? To see the absurdity of the prejudice against it, we -need only remark that Science is simply a higher development of common -knowledge; and that if Science is repudiated, all knowledge must be -repudiated along with it. The extremest bigot will not suspect any harm -in the observation that the sun rises earlier and sets later in the -summer than in the winter; but will rather consider such an observation -as a useful aid in fulfilling the duties of life. Well, Astronomy is an -organized body of similar observations, made with greater nicety, -extended to a larger number of objects, and so analyzed as to disclose -the real arrangements of the heavens, and to dispel our false -conceptions of them. That iron will rust in water, that wood will burn, -that long kept viands become putrid, the most timid sectarian will teach -without alarm, as things useful to be known. But these are chemical -truths: Chemistry is a systematized collection of such facts, -ascertained with precision, and so classified and generalized as to -enable us to say with certainty, concerning each simple or compound -substance, what change will occur in it under given conditions. And thus -is it with all the sciences. They severally germinate out of the -experiences of daily life; insensibly as they grow they draw in remoter, -more numerous, and more complex experiences; and among these, they -ascertain laws of dependence like those which make up our knowledge of -the most familiar objects. Nowhere is it possible to draw a line and -say—here Science begins. And as it is the function of common observation -to serve for the guidance of conduct; so, too, is the guidance of -conduct the office of the most recondite and abstract inquiries of -Science. Through the countless industrial processes and the various -modes of locomotion which it has given to us, Physics regulates more -completely our social life than does his acquaintance with the -properties of surrounding bodies regulate the life of the savage. -Anatomy and Physiology, through their effects on the practice of -medicine and hygiene, modify our actions almost as much as does our -acquaintance with the evils and benefits which common environing -agencies may produce on our bodies. All Science is prevision; and all -prevision ultimately aids us in greater or less degree to achieve the -good and avoid the bad. As certainly as the perception of an object -lying in our path warns us against stumbling over it; so certainly do -those more complicated and subtle perceptions which constitute Science, -warn us against stumbling over intervening obstacles in the pursuit of -our distant ends. Thus being one in origin and function, the simplest -forms of cognition and the most complex must be dealt with alike. We are -bound in consistency to receive the widest knowledge which our faculties -can reach, or to reject along with it that narrow knowledge possessed by -all. There is no logical alternative between accepting our intelligence -in its entirety, or repudiating even that lowest intelligence which we -possess in common with brutes. - -To ask the question which more immediately concerns our argument—whether -Science is substantially true?—is much like asking whether the sun gives -light. And it is because they are conscious how undeniably valid are -most of its propositions, that the theological party regard Science with -so much secret alarm. They know that during the two thousand years of -its growth, some of its larger divisions—mathematics, physics, -astronomy—have been subject to the rigorous criticism of successive -generations; and have notwithstanding become ever more firmly -established. They know that, unlike many of their own doctrines, which -were once universally received but have age by age been more frequently -called in question, the doctrines of Science, at first confined to a few -scattered inquirers, have been slowly growing into general acceptance, -and are now in great part admitted as beyond dispute. They know that men -of science throughout the world subject each other’s results to the most -searching examination; and that error is mercilessly exposed and -rejected as soon as discovered. And, finally, they know that still more -conclusive testimony is to be found in the daily verification of -scientific predictions, and in the never-ceasing triumphs of those arts -which Science guides. - -To regard with alienation that which has such high credentials is a -folly. Though in the tone which many of the scientific adopt towards -them, the defenders of Religion may find some excuse for this -alienation; yet the excuse is a very insufficient one. On the side of -Science, as on their own side, they must admit that short-comings in the -advocates do not tell essentially against that which is advocated. -Science must be judged by itself: and so judged, only the most perverted -intellect can fail to see that it is worthy of all reverence. Be there -or be there not any other revelation, we have a veritable revelation in -Science—a continuous disclosure, through the intelligence with which we -are endowed, of the established order of the Universe. This disclosure -it is the duty of every one to verify as far as in him lies; and having -verified, to receive with all humility. - - * * * * * - -§6. On both sides of this great controversy, then, truth must exist. An -unbiassed consideration of its general aspects forces us to conclude -that Religion, everywhere present as a weft running through the warp of -human history, expresses some eternal fact; while it is almost a truism -to say of Science that it is an organised mass of facts, ever growing, -and ever being more completely purified from errors. And if both have -bases in the reality of things, then between them there must be a -fundamental harmony. It is an incredible hypothesis that there are two -orders of truth, in absolute and everlasting opposition. Only on some -Manichean theory, which among ourselves no one dares openly avow however -much his beliefs may be tainted by it, is such a supposition even -conceivable. That Religion is divine and Science diabolical, is a -proposition which, though implied in many a clerical declamation, not -the most vehement fanatic can bring himself distinctly to assert. And -whoever does not assert this, must admit that under their seeming -antagonism lies hidden an entire agreement. - -Each side, therefore, has to recognize the claims of the other as -standing for truths that are not to be ignored. He who contemplates the -Universe from the religious point of view, must learn to see that this -which we call Science is one constituent of the great whole; and as such -ought to be regarded with a sentiment like that which the remainder -excites. While he who contemplates the universe from the scientific -point of view, must learn to see that this which we call Religion is -similarly a constituent of the great whole; and being such, must be -treated as a subject of science with no more prejudice than any other -reality. It behoves each party to strive to understand the other, with -the conviction that the other has something worthy to be understood; and -with the conviction that when mutually recognized this something will be -the basis of a complete reconciliation. - -How to find this something—how to reconcile them, thus becomes the -problem which we should perseveringly try to solve. Not to reconcile -them in any makeshift way—not to find one of those compromises we hear -from time to time proposed, which their proposers must secretly feel are -artificial and temporary; but to arrive at the terms of a real and -permanent peace between them. The thing we have to seek out, is that -ultimate truth which both will avow with absolute sincerity—with not the -remotest mental reservation. There shall be no concession—no yielding on -either side of something that will by and by be reasserted; but the -common ground on which they meet shall be one which each will maintain -for itself. We have to discover some fundamental verity which Religion -will assert, with all possible emphasis, in the absence of Science; and -which Science, with all possible emphasis, will assert in the absence of -Religion—some fundamental verity in the defence of which each will find -the other its ally. - -Or, changing the point of view, our aim must be to co-ordinate the -seemingly opposed convictions which Religion and Science embody. From -the coalescence of antagonist ideas, each containing its portion of -truth, there always arises a higher development. As in Geology when the -igneous and aqueous hypotheses were united, a rapid advance took place; -as in Biology we are beginning to progress through the fusion of the -doctrine of types with the doctrine of adaptations; as in Psychology the -arrested growth recommences now that the disciples of Kant and those of -Locke have both their views recognized in the theory that organized -experiences produce forms of thought; as in Sociology, now that it is -beginning to assume a positive character, we find a recognition of both -the party of progress and the party of order, as each holding a truth -which forms a needful complement to that held by the other; so must it -be on a grander scale with Religion and Science. Here too we must look -for a conception which combines the conclusions of both; and here too we -may expect important results from their combination. To understand how -Science and Religion express opposite sides of the same fact—the one its -near or visible side, and the other its remote or invisible side—this it -is which we must attempt; and to achieve this must profoundly modify our -general Theory of Things. - -Already in the foregoing pages the method of seeking such a -reconciliation has been vaguely foreshadowed. Before proceeding further, -however, it will be well to treat the question of method more -definitely. To find that truth in which Religion and Science coalesce, -we must know in what direction to look for it, and what kind of truth it -is likely to be. - - * * * * * - -§ 7. We have found _à priori_ reason for believing that in all -religions, even the rudest, there lies hidden a fundamental verity. We -have inferred that this fundamental verity is that element common to all -religions, which remains after their discordant peculiarities have been -mutually cancelled. And we have further inferred that this element is -almost certain to be more abstract than any current religious doctrine. -Now it is manifest that only in some highly abstract proposition, can -Religion and Science find a common ground. Neither such dogmas as those -of the trinitarian and unitarian, nor any such idea as that of -propitiation, common though it may be to all religions, can serve as the -desired basis of agreement; for Science cannot recognize beliefs like -these: they lie beyond its sphere. Hence we see not only that, judging -by analogy, the essential truth contained in Religion is that most -abstract element pervading all its forms; but also that this most -abstract element is the only one in which Religion is likely to agree -with Science. - -Similarly if we begin at the other end, and inquire what scientific -truth can unite Science and Religion. It is at once manifest that -Religion can take no cognizance of special scientific doctrines; any -more than Science can take cognizance of special religious doctrines. -The truth which Science asserts and Religion indorses cannot be one -furnished by mathematics; nor can it be a physical truth; nor can it be -a truth in chemistry: it cannot be a truth belonging to any particular -science. No generalization of the phenomena of space, of time, of -matter, or of force, can become a Religious conception. Such a -conception, if it anywhere exists in Science, must be more general than -any of these—must be one underlying all of them. If there be a fact -which Science recognizes in common with Religion, it must be that fact -from which the several branches of Science diverge, as from their common -root. - -Assuming then, that since these two great realities are constituents of -the same mind, and respond to different aspects of the same Universe, -there must be a fundamental harmony between them; we see good reason to -conclude that the most abstract truth contained in Religion and the most -abstract truth contained in Science must be the one in which the two -coalesce. The largest fact to be found within our mental range must be -the one of which we are in search. Uniting these positive and negative -poles of human thought, it must be the ultimate fact in our -intelligence. - - * * * * * - -§ 8. Before proceeding in the search for this common datum let me -bespeak a little patience. The next three chapters, setting out from -different points and converging to the same conclusion, will be -comparatively unattractive. Students of philosophy will find in them -much that is more or less familiar; and to most of those who are -unacquainted with the literature of modern metaphysics, they may prove -somewhat difficult to follow. - -Our argument however cannot dispense with these chapters; and the -greatness of the question at issue justifies even a heavier tax on the -reader’s attention. The matter is one which concerns each and all of us -more than any other matter whatever. Though it affects us little in a -direct way, the view we arrive at must indirectly affect us in all our -relations—must determine our conception of the Universe, of Life, of -Human Nature—must influence our ideas of right and wrong, and so modify -our conduct. To reach that point of view from which the seeming -discordance of Religion and Science disappears, and the two merge into -one, must cause a revolution of thought fruitful in beneficial -consequences, and must surely be worth an effort. - -Here ending preliminaries, let us now address ourselves to this -all-important inquiry. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - ULTIMATE RELIGIOUS IDEAS. - - -§ 9. When, on the sea-shore, we note how the hulls of distant vessels -are hidden below the horizon, and how, of still remoter vessels, only -the uppermost sails are visible, we realize with tolerable clearness the -slight curvature of that portion of the sea’s surface which lies before -us. But when we seek in imagination to follow out this curved surface as -it actually exists, slowly bending round until all its meridians meet in -a point eight thousand miles below our feet, we find ourselves utterly -baffled. We cannot conceive in its real form and magnitude even that -small segment of our globe which extends a hundred miles on every side -of us; much less the globe as a whole. The piece of rock on which we -stand can be mentally represented with something like completeness: we -find ourselves able to think of its top, its sides, and its under -surface at the same time; or so nearly at the same time that they seem -all present in consciousness together; and so we can form what we call a -conception of the rock. But to do the like with the Earth we find -impossible. If even to imagine the antipodes as at that distant place in -space which it actually occupies, is beyond our power; much more beyond -our power must it be at the same time to imagine all other remote points -on the Earth’s surface as in their actual places. Yet we habitually -speak as though we had an idea of the Earth—as though we could think of -it in the same way that we think of minor objects. - -What conception, then, do we form of it? the reader may ask. That its -name calls up in us some state of consciousness is unquestionable; and -if this state of consciousness is not a conception, properly so called, -what is it? The answer seems to be this:—We have learnt by indirect -methods that the Earth is a sphere; we have formed models approximately -representing its shape and the distribution of its parts; generally when -the Earth is referred to, we either think of an indefinitely extended -mass beneath our feet, or else, leaving out the actual Earth, we think -of a body like a terrestrial globe; but when we seek to imagine the -Earth as it really is, we join these two ideas as well as we can—such -perception as our eyes give us of the Earth’s surface we couple with the -conception of a sphere. And thus we form of the Earth, not a conception -properly so called, but only a symbolic conception.[6] - -A large proportion of our conceptions, including all those of much -generality, are of this order. Great magnitudes, great durations, great -numbers, are none of them actually conceived, but are all of them -conceived more or less symbolically; and so, too, are all those classes -of objects of which we predicate some common fact. When mention is made -of any individual man, a tolerably complete idea of him is formed. If -the family he belongs to be spoken of, probably but a part of it will be -represented in thought: under the necessity of attending to that which -is said about the family, we realize in imagination only its most -important or familiar members, and pass over the rest with a nascent -consciousness which we know could, if requisite, be made complete. -Should something be remarked of the class, say farmers, to which this -family belongs, we neither enumerate in thought all the individuals -contained in the class, nor believe that we could do so if required; but -we are content with taking some few samples of it, and remembering that -these could be indefinitely multiplied. Supposing the subject of which -something is predicated be Englishmen, the answering state of -consciousness is a still more inadequate representative of the reality. -Yet more remote is the likeness of the thought to the thing, if -reference be made to Europeans or to human beings. And when we come to -propositions concerning the mammalia, or concerning the whole of the -vertebrata, or concerning animals in general, or concerning all organic -beings, the unlikeness of our conceptions to the objects named reaches -its extreme. Throughout which series of instances we see, that as the -number of objects grouped together in thought increases, the concept, -formed of a few typical samples joined with the notion of multiplicity, -becomes more and more a mere symbol; not only because it gradually -ceases to represent the size of the group, but also because as the group -grows more heterogeneous, the typical samples thought of are less like -the average objects which the group contains. - -This formation of symbolic conceptions, which inevitably arises as we -pass from small and concrete objects to large and to discrete ones, is -mostly a very useful, and indeed necessary, process. When, instead of -things whose attributes can be tolerably well united in a single state -of consciousness, we have to deal with things whose attributes are too -vast or numerous to be so united, we must either drop in thought part of -their attributes, or else not think of them at all—either form a more or -less symbolic conception, or no conception. We must predicate nothing of -objects too great or too multitudinous to be mentally represented; or we -must make our predications by the help of extremely inadequate -representations of such objects—mere symbols of them. - -But while by this process alone we are enabled to form general -propositions, and so to reach general conclusions, we are by this -process perpetually led into danger, and very often into error. We -habitually mistake our symbolic conceptions for real ones; and so are -betrayed into countless false inferences. Not only is it that in -proportion as the concept we form of any thing or class of things, -misrepresents the reality, we are apt to be wrong in any assertion we -make respecting the reality; but it is that we are led to suppose we -have truly conceived a great variety of things which we have conceived -only in this fictitious way; and further to confound with these certain -things which cannot be conceived in any way. How almost unavoidably we -fall into this error it will be needful here to observe. - -From objects readily representable in their totality, to those of which -we cannot form even an approximate representation, there is an -insensible transition. Between a pebble and the entire Earth a series of -magnitudes might be introduced, each of which differed from the adjacent -ones so slightly that it would be impossible to say at what point in the -series our conceptions of them became inadequate. Similarly, there is a -gradual progression from those groups of a few individuals which we can -think of as groups with tolerable completeness, to those larger and -larger groups of which we can form nothing like true ideas. Whence it is -manifest that we pass from actual conceptions to symbolic ones by -infinitesimal steps. Note next that we are led to deal with our symbolic -conceptions as though they were actual ones, not only because we cannot -clearly separate the two, but also because, in the great majority of -cases, the first serve our purposes nearly or quite as well as the -last—are simply the abbreviated signs we substitute for those more -elaborate signs which are our equivalents for real objects. Those very -imperfect representations of ordinary things which we habitually make in -thinking, we know can be developed into adequate ones if needful. Those -concepts of larger magnitudes and more extensive classes which we cannot -make adequate, we still find can be verified by some indirect process of -measurement or enumeration. And even in the case of such an utterly -inconceivable object as the Solar System, we yet, through the fulfilment -of predictions founded on our symbolic conception of it, gain the -conviction that this symbolic conception stands for an actual existence, -and, in a sense, truly expresses certain of its constituent relations. -Thus our symbolic conceptions being in the majority of cases capable of -development into complete ones, and in most other cases serving as steps -to conclusions which are proved valid by their correspondence with -observation, we acquire a confirmed habit of dealing with them as true -conceptions—as real representations of actualities. Learning by long -experience that they can, if needful, be verified, we are led habitually -to accept them without verification. And thus we open the door to some -which profess to stand for known things, but which really stand for -things that cannot be known in any way. - -To sum up, we must say of conceptions in general, that they are complete -only when the attributes of the object conceived are of such number and -kind that they can be represented in consciousness so nearly at the same -time as to seem all present together; that as the objects conceived -become larger and more complex, some of the attributes first thought of -fade from consciousness before the rest have been represented, and the -conception thus becomes imperfect; that when the size, complexity, or -discreteness of the object conceived becomes very great, only a small -portion of its attributes can be thought of at once, and the conception -formed of it thus becomes so inadequate as to be a mere symbol; that -nevertheless such symbolic conceptions, which are indispensable in -general thinking, are legitimate, provided that by some cumulative or -indirect process of thought, or by the fulfilment of predictions based -on them, we can assure ourselves that they stand for actualities; but -that when our symbolic conceptions are such that no cumulative or -indirect processes of thought can enable us to ascertain that there are -corresponding actualities, nor any predictions be made whose fulfilment -can prove this, then they are altogether vicious and illusive, and in no -way distinguishable from pure fictions. - - * * * * * - -§ 10. And now to consider the bearings of this general truth on our -immediate topic—Ultimate Religious Ideas. - -To the aboriginal man and to every civilized child the problem of the -Universe suggests itself. What is it? and whence comes it? are questions -that press for solution, when, from time to time, the imagination rises -above daily trivialities. To fill the vacuum of thought, any theory that -is proposed seems better than none. And in the absence of others, any -theory that is proposed easily gains a footing and afterwards maintains -its ground: partly from the readiness of mankind to accept proximate -explanations; partly from the authority which soon accumulates round -such explanations when given. - -A critical examination, however, will prove not only that no current -hypothesis is tenable, but also that no tenable hypothesis can be -framed. - - * * * * * - -§ 11. Respecting the origin of the Universe three verbally intelligible -suppositions may be made. We may assert that it is self-existent; or -that it is self-created; or that it is created by an external agency. -Which of these suppositions is most credible it is not needful here to -inquire. The deeper question, into which this finally merges, is, -whether any one of them is even conceivable in the true sense of the -word. Let us successively test them. - -When we speak of a man as self-supporting, of an apparatus as -self-acting, or of a tree as self-developed, our expressions, however -inexact, stand for things that can be realized in thought with tolerable -completeness. Our conception of the self-development of a tree is -doubtless symbolic. But though we cannot really represent in -consciousness the entire series of complex changes through which the -tree passes, yet we can thus represent the leading features of the -series; and general experience teaches us that by long continued -observation we could gain the power to realize in thought a series of -changes more fully representing the actual series: that is, we know that -our symbolic conception of self-development can be expanded into -something like a real conception; and that it expresses, however -inaccurately, an actual process in nature. But when we speak of -self-existence, and, helped by the above analogies, form some vague -symbolic conception of it, we delude ourselves in supposing that this -symbolic conception is of the same order as the others. On joining the -word _self_ to the word _existence_, the force of association makes us -believe we have a thought like that suggested by the compound word -self-acting. An endeavour to expand this symbolic conception, however, -will undeceive us. In the first place, it is clear that by -self-existence we especially mean, an existence independent of any -other—not produced by any other: the assertion of self-existence is -simply an indirect denial of creation. In thus excluding the idea of any -antecedent cause, we necessarily exclude the idea of a beginning; for to -admit the idea of a beginning—to admit that there was a time when the -existence had not commenced—is to admit that its commencement was -determined by something, or was caused; which is a contradiction. -Self-existence, therefore, necessarily means existence without a -beginning; and to form a conception of self-existence is to form a -conception of existence without a beginning. Now by no mental effort can -we do this. To conceive existence through infinite past-time, implies -the conception of infinite past-time, which is an impossibility. - To this let us add, that even were self-existence conceivable, it -would not in any sense be an explanation of the Universe. No one will -say that the existence of an object at the present moment is made easier -to understand by the discovery that it existed an hour ago, or a day -ago, or a year ago; and if its existence now is not made in the least -degree more comprehensible by its existence during some previous finite -period of time, then no accumulation of such finite periods, even could -we extend them to an infinite period, would make it more comprehensible. -Thus the Atheistic theory is not only absolutely unthinkable, but, even -if it were thinkable, would not be a solution. The assertion that the -Universe is self-existent does not really carry us a step beyond the -cognition of its present existence; and so leaves us with a mere -re-statement of the mystery. - -The hypothesis of self-creation, which practically amounts to what is -called Pantheism, is similarly incapable of being represented in -thought. Certain phenomena, such as the precipitation of invisible -vapour into cloud, aid us in forming a symbolic conception of a -self-evolved Universe; and there are not wanting indications in the -heavens, and on the earth, which help us to render this conception -tolerably definite. But while the succession of phases through which the -Universe has passed in reaching its present form, may perhaps be -comprehended as in a sense self-determined; yet the impossibility of -expanding our symbolic conception of self-creation into a real -conception, remains as complete as ever. Really to conceive -self-creation, is to conceive potential existence passing into actual -existence by some inherent necessity; which we cannot do. We -cannot form any idea of a potential existence of the universe, as -distinguished from its actual existence. If represented in thought at -all, potential existence must be represented as _something_, that is as -an actual existence; to suppose that it can be represented as nothing, -involves two absurdities—that nothing is more than a negation, and can -be positively represented in thought; and that one nothing is -distinguished from all other nothings by its power to develope into -something. Nor is this all. We have no state of consciousness answering -to the words—an inherent necessity by which potential existence became -actual existence. To render them into thought, existence, having for an -indefinite period remained in one form, must be conceived as passing -without any external or additional impulse, into another form; and this -involves the idea of a change without a cause—a thing of which no idea -is possible. Thus the terms of this hypothesis do not stand for real -thoughts; but merely suggest the vaguest symbols incapable of any -interpretation. Moreover, even were it true that potential -existence is conceivable as a different thing from actual existence; and -that the transition from the one to the other can be mentally realized -as a self-determined change; we should still be no forwarder: the -problem would simply be removed a step back. For whence the potential -existence? This would just as much require accounting for as actual -existence; and just the same difficulties would meet us. Respecting the -origin of such a latent power, no other suppositions could be made than -those above named—self-existence, self-creation, creation by external -agency. The self-existence of a potential universe is no more -conceivable than we have found the self-existence of the actual universe -to be. The self-creation of such a potential universe would involve over -again the difficulties here stated—would imply behind this potential -universe a more remote potentiality; and so on in an infinite series, -leaving us at last no forwarder than at first. While to assign as the -source of this potential universe an external agency, would be to -introduce the notion of a potential universe for no purpose whatever. - -There remains to be examined the commonly-received or theistic -hypothesis—creation by external agency. Alike in the rudest creeds and -in the cosmogony long current among ourselves, it is assumed that the -genesis of the Heavens and the Earth is effected somewhat after the -manner in which a workman shapes a piece of furniture. And this -assumption is made not by theologians only, but by the immense -majority of philosophers, past and present. Equally in the writings of -Plato, and in those of not a few living men of science, we find it -taken for granted that there is an analogy between the process of -creation and the process of manufacture. Now in the first place, -not only is this conception one that cannot by any cumulative process -of thought, or the fulfilment of predictions based on it, be shown to -answer to anything actual; and not only is it that in the absence of -all evidence respecting the process of creation, we have no proof of -correspondence even between this limited conception and some limited -portion of the fact; but it is that the conception is not even -consistent with itself—cannot be realized in thought, when all its -assumptions are granted. Though it is true that the proceedings of a -human artificer may vaguely symbolize to us a method after which the -Universe might be shaped, yet they do not help us to comprehend the -real mystery; namely, the origin of the material of which the Universe -consists. The artizan does not make the iron, wood, or stone, he uses; -but merely fashions and combines them. If we suppose suns, and -planets, and satellites, and all they contain to have been similarly -formed by a “Great Artificer,” we suppose merely that certain -pre-existing elements were thus put into their present arrangement. -But whence the pre-existing elements? The comparison helps us not in -the least to understand that; and unless it helps us to understand -that, it is worthless. The production of matter out of nothing is the -real mystery, which neither this simile nor any other enables us to -conceive; and a simile which does not enable us to conceive this, may -just as well be dispensed with. Still more manifest does the -insufficiency of this theory of creation become, when we turn from -material objects to that which contains them—when instead of matter we -contemplate space. Did there exist nothing but an immeasurable void, -explanation would be needed as much as now. There would still arise -the question—how came it so? If the theory of creation by external -agency were an adequate one, it would supply an answer; and its answer -would be—space was made in the same manner that matter was made. But -the impossibility of conceiving this is so manifest, that no one dares -to assert it. For if space was created, it must have been previously -non-existent. The non-existence of space cannot, however, by any -mental effort be imagined. It is one of the most familiar truths that -the idea of space as surrounding us on all sides, is not for a moment -to be got rid of—not only are we compelled to think of space as now -everywhere present, but we are unable to conceive its absence either -in the past or the future. And if the non-existence of space is -absolutely inconceivable, then, necessarily, its creation is -absolutely inconceivable. Lastly, even supposing that the -genesis of the Universe could really be represented in thought as the -result of an external agency, the mystery would be as great as ever; -for there would still arise the question—how came there to be an -external agency? To account for this only the same three hypotheses -are possible—self-existence, self-creation, and creation by external -agency. Of these the last is useless: it commits us to an infinite -series of such agencies, and even then leaves us where we were. By the -second we are practically involved in the same predicament; since, as -already shown, self-creation implies an infinite series of potential -existences. We are obliged therefore to fall back upon the first, -which is the one commonly accepted and commonly supposed to be -satisfactory. Those who cannot conceive a self-existent universe; and -who therefore assume a creator as the source of the universe; take for -granted that they can conceive a self-existent creator. The mystery -which they recognize in this great fact surrounding them on every -side, they transfer to an alleged source of this great fact; and then -suppose that they have solved the mystery. But they delude themselves. -As was proved at the outset of the argument, self-existence is -rigorously inconceivable; and this holds true whatever be the nature -of the object of which it is predicated. Whoever agrees that the -atheistic hypothesis is untenable because it involves the impossible -idea of self-existence, must perforce admit that the theistic -hypothesis is untenable if it contains the same impossible idea. - -Thus these three different suppositions respecting the origin of things, -verbally intelligible though they are, and severally seeming to their -respective adherents quite rational, turn out, when critically examined, -to be literally unthinkable. It is not a question of probability, or -credibility, but of conceivability. Experiment proves that the elements -of these hypotheses cannot even be put together in consciousness; and we -can entertain them only as we entertain such pseud-ideas as a square -fluid and a moral substance—only by abstaining from the endeavour to -render them into actual thoughts. Or, reverting to our original mode of -statement, we may say that they severally involve symbolic conceptions -of the illegitimate and illusive kind. Differing so widely as they seem -to do, the atheistic, the pantheistic, and the theistic hypotheses -contain the same ultimate element. It is impossible to avoid making the -assumption of self-existence somewhere; and whether that assumption be -made nakedly, or under complicated disguises, it is equally vicious, -equally unthinkable. Be it a fragment of matter, or some fancied -potential form of matter, or some more remote and still less imaginable -cause, our conception of its self-existence can be formed only by -joining with it the notion of unlimited duration through past time. And -as unlimited duration is inconceivable, all those formal ideas into -which it enters are inconceivable; and indeed, if such an expression is -allowable, are the more inconceivable in proportion as the other -elements of the ideas are indefinite. So that in fact, impossible as it -is to think of the actual universe as self-existing, we do but multiply -impossibilities of thought by every attempt we make to explain its -existence. - - * * * * * - -§ 12. If from the origin of the Universe we turn to its nature, the like -insurmountable difficulties rise up before us on all sides—or rather, -the same difficulties under new aspects. We find ourselves on the one -hand obliged to make certain assumptions; and yet on the other hand we -find these assumptions cannot be represented in thought. - -When we inquire what is the meaning of the various effects produced upon -our senses—when we ask how there come to be in our consciousness -impressions of sounds, of colours, of tastes, and of those various -attributes which we ascribe to bodies; we are compelled to regard them -as the effects of some cause. We may stop short in the belief that this -cause is what we call matter. Or we may conclude, as some do, that -matter is only a certain mode of manifestation of spirit; which is -therefore the true cause. Or, regarding matter and spirit as proximate -agencies, we may attribute all the changes wrought in our consciousness -to immediate divine power. But be the cause we assign what it may, we -are obliged to suppose _some_ cause. And we are not only obliged to -suppose some cause, but also a first cause. The matter, or spirit, or -whatever we assume to be the agent producing on us these various -impressions, must either be the first cause of them or not. If it is the -first cause, the conclusion is reached. If it is not the first cause, -then by implication there must be a cause behind it; which thus becomes -the real cause of the effect. Manifestly, however complicated the -assumptions, the same conclusion must inevitably be reached. We cannot -think at all about the impressions which the external world produces on -us, without thinking of them as caused; and we cannot carry out an -inquiry concerning their causation, without inevitably committing -ourselves to the hypothesis of a First Cause. - -But now if we go a step further, and ask what is the nature of this -First Cause, we are driven by an inexorable logic to certain further -conclusions. Is the First Cause finite or infinite? If we say finite we -involve ourselves in a dilemma. To think of the First Cause as finite, -is to think of it as limited. To think of it as limited, necessarily -implies a conception of something beyond its limits: it is absolutely -impossible to conceive a thing as bounded without conceiving a region -surrounding its boundaries. What now must we say of this region? If the -First Cause is limited, and there consequently lies something outside of -it, this something must have no First Cause—must be uncaused. But if we -admit that there can be something uncaused, there is no reason to assume -a cause for anything. If beyond that finite region over which the First -Cause extends, there lies a region, which we are compelled to regard as -infinite, over which it does not extend—if we admit that there is an -infinite uncaused surrounding the finite caused; we tacitly abandon the -hypothesis of causation altogether. Thus it is impossible to consider -the First Cause as finite. And if it cannot be finite it must be -infinite. - -Another inference concerning the First Cause is equally unavoidable. It -must be independent. If it is dependent it cannot be the First Cause; -for that must be the First Cause on which it depends. It is not enough -to say that it is partially independent; since this implies some -necessity which determines its partial dependence, and this necessity, -be it what it may, must be a higher cause, or the true First Cause, -which is a contradiction. But to think of the First Cause as totally -independent, is to think of it as that which exists in the absence of -all other existence; seeing that if the presence of any other existence -is necessary, it must be partially dependent on that other existence, -and so cannot be the First Cause. Not only however must the First Cause -be a form of being which has no necessary relation to any other form of -being, but it can have no necessary relation within itself. There can be -nothing in it which determines change, and yet nothing which prevents -change. For if it contains something which imposes such necessities or -restraints, this something must be a cause higher than the First Cause, -which is absurd. Thus the First Cause must be in every sense perfect, -complete, total: including within itself all power, and transcending all -law. Or to use the established word, it must be absolute. - -Here then respecting the nature of the Universe, we seem committed to -certain unavoidable conclusions. The objects and actions surrounding us, -not less than the phenomena of our own consciousness, compel us to ask a -cause; in our search for a cause, we discover no resting place until we -arrive at the hypothesis of a First Cause; and we have no alternative -but to regard this First Cause as Infinite and Absolute. These are -inferences forced upon us by arguments from which there appears no -escape. It is hardly needful however to show those who have followed -thus far, how illusive are these reasonings and their results. But that -it would tax the reader’s patience to no purpose, it might easily be -proved that the materials of which the argument is built, equally with -the conclusions based on them, are merely symbolic conceptions of the -illegitimate order. Instead, however, of repeating the disproof used -above, it will be desirable to pursue another method; showing the -fallacy of these conclusions by disclosing their mutual contradictions. - -Here I cannot do better than avail myself of the demonstration which Mr -Mansel, carrying out in detail the doctrine of Sir William Hamilton, has -given in his “Limits of Religious Thought.” And I gladly do this, not -only because his mode of presentation cannot be improved, but also -because, writing as he does in defence of the current Theology, his -reasonings will be the more acceptable to the majority of readers. - - * * * * * - -§ 13. Having given preliminary definitions of the First Cause, of the -Infinite, and of the Absolute, Mr Mansel says:— - -“But these three conceptions, the Cause, the Absolute, the Infinite, all -equally indispensable, do they not imply contradiction to each other, -when viewed in conjunction, as attributes of one and the same Being? A -Cause cannot, as such, be absolute: the Absolute cannot, as such, be a -cause. The cause, as such, exists only in relation to its effect: the -cause is a cause of the effect; the effect is an effect of the cause. On -the other hand, the conception of the Absolute implies a possible -existence out of all relation. We attempt to escape from this apparent -contradiction, by introducing the idea of succession in time. The -Absolute exists first by itself, and afterwards becomes a Cause. But -here we are checked by the third conception, that of the Infinite. How -can the Infinite become that which it was not from the first? If -Causation is a possible mode of existence, that which exists without -causing is not infinite; that which becomes a cause has passed beyond -its former limits.” * * * - -“Supposing the Absolute to become a cause, it will follow that it -operates by means of freewill and consciousness. For a necessary cause -cannot be conceived as absolute and infinite. If necessitated by -something beyond itself, it is thereby limited by a superior power; and -if necessitated by itself, it has in its own nature a necessary relation -to its effect. The act of causation must therefore be voluntary; and -volition is only possible in a conscious being. But consciousness again -is only conceivable as a relation. There must be a conscious subject, -and an object of which he is conscious. The subject is a subject to the -object; the object is an object to the subject; and neither can exist by -itself as the absolute. This difficulty, again, may be for the moment -evaded, by distinguishing between the absolute as related to another and -the absolute as related to itself. The Absolute, it may be said, may -possibly be conscious, provided it is only conscious of itself. But this -alternative is, in ultimate analysis, no less self-destructive than the -other. For the object of consciousness, whether a mode of the subject’s -existence or not, is either created in and by the act of consciousness, -or has an existence independent of it. In the former case, the object -depends upon the subject, and the subject alone is the true absolute. In -the latter case, the subject depends upon the object, and the object -alone is the true absolute. Or if we attempt a third hypothesis, and -maintain that each exists independently of the other, we have no -absolute at all, but only a pair of relatives; for coexistence, whether -in consciousness or not, is itself a relation.” - -“The corollary from this reasoning is obvious. Not only is the Absolute, -as conceived, incapable of a necessary relation to anything else; but it -is also incapable of containing, by the constitution of its own nature, -an essential relation within itself; as a whole, for instance, composed -of parts, or as a substance consisting of attributes, or as a conscious -subject in antithesis to an object. For if there is in the absolute any -principle of unity, distinct from the mere accumulation of parts or -attributes, this principle alone is the true absolute. If, on the other -hand, there is no such principle, then there is no absolute at all, but -only a plurality of relatives. The almost unanimous voice of philosophy, -in pronouncing that the absolute is both one and simple, must be -accepted as the voice of reason also, so far as reason has any voice in -the matter. But this absolute unity, as indifferent and containing no -attributes, can neither be distinguished from the multiplicity of finite -beings by any characteristic feature, nor be identified with them in -their multiplicity. Thus we are landed in an inextricable dilemma. The -Absolute cannot be conceived as conscious, neither can it be conceived -as unconscious: it cannot be conceived as complex, neither can it be -conceived as simple: it cannot be conceived by difference, neither can -it be conceived by the absence of difference: it cannot be identified -with the universe, neither can it be distinguished from it. The One and -the Many, regarded as the beginning of existence, are thus alike -incomprehensible.” - -“The fundamental conceptions of Rational Theology being thus -self-destructive, we may naturally expect to find the same antagonism -manifested in their special applications. * * * How, for example, can -Infinite Power be able to do all things, and yet Infinite Goodness be -unable to do evil? How can Infinite Justice exact the utmost penalty for -every sin, and yet Infinite Mercy pardon the sinner? How can Infinite -Wisdom know all that is to come, and yet Infinite Freedom be at liberty -to do or to forbear? How is the existence of Evil compatible with that -of an infinitely perfect Being; for if he wills it, he is not infinitely -good; and if he wills it not, his will is thwarted and his sphere of -action limited?” * * * - -“Let us, however, suppose for an instant that these difficulties are -surmounted, and the existence of the Absolute securely established on -the testimony of reason. Still we have not succeeded in reconciling this -idea with that of a Cause: we have done nothing towards explaining how -the absolute can give rise to the relative, the infinite to the finite. -If the condition of casual activity is a higher state than that of -quiescence, the Absolute, whether acting voluntarily or involuntarily, -has passed from a condition of comparative imperfection to one of -comparative perfection; and therefore was not originally perfect. If the -state of activity is an inferior state to that of quiescence, the -Absolute, in becoming a cause, has lost its original perfection. There -remains only the supposition that the two states are equal, and the act -of creation one of complete indifference. But this supposition -annihilates the unity of the absolute, or it annihilates itself. If the -act of creation is real, and yet indifferent, we must admit the -possibility of two conceptions of the absolute, the one as productive, -the other as non-productive. If the act is not real, the supposition -itself vanishes.” * * * - -“Again, how can the relative be conceived as coming into being? If it is -a distinct reality from the absolute, it must be conceived as passing -from non-existence into existence. But to conceive an object as -non-existent, is again a self-contradiction; for that which is conceived -exists, as an object of thought, in and by that conception. We may -abstain from thinking of an object at all; but, if we think of it, we -cannot but think of it as existing. It is possible at one time not to -think of an object at all, and at another to think of it as already in -being; but to think of it in the act of becoming, in the progress from -not being into being, is to think that which, in the very thought, -annihilates itself.” * * * - -“To sum up briefly this portion of my argument. The conception of the -Absolute and Infinite, from whatever side we view it, appears -encompassed with contradictions. There is a contradiction in supposing -such an object to exist, whether alone or in conjunction with others; -and there is a contradiction in supposing it not to exist. There is a -contradiction in conceiving it as one; and there is a contradiction in -conceiving it as many. There is a contradiction in conceiving it as -personal; and there is a contradiction in conceiving it as impersonal. -It cannot, without contradiction, be represented as active; nor, without -equal contradiction, be represented as inactive. It cannot be conceived -as the sum of all existence; nor yet can it be conceived as a part only -of that sum.” - - * * * * * - -§ 14. And now what is the bearing of these results on the question -before us? Our examination of Ultimate Religious Ideas has been carried -on with the view of making manifest some fundamental verity contained in -them. Thus far however we have arrived at negative conclusions only. -Criticising the essential conceptions involved in the different orders -of beliefs, we find no one of them to be logically defensible. Passing -over the consideration of credibility, and confining ourselves to that -of conceivability, we see that Atheism, Pantheism, and Theism, when -rigorously analysed, severally prove to be absolutely unthinkable. -Instead of disclosing a fundamental verity existing in each, our -investigation seems rather to have shown that there is no fundamental -verity contained in any. To carry away this conclusion, however, would -be a fatal error; as we shall shortly see. - -Leaving out the accompanying moral code, which is in all cases a -supplementary growth, every Religion may be defined as an _à priori_ -theory of the Universe. The surrounding facts being given, some form of -agency is alleged which, in the opinion of those alleging it, accounts -for these facts. Be it in the rudest Fetishism, which assumes a separate -personality behind every phenomenon; be it in Polytheism, in which these -personalities are partially generalized; be it in Monotheism, in which -they are wholly generalized; or be it in Pantheism, in which the -generalized personality becomes one with the phenomena; we equally find -an hypothesis which is supposed to render the Universe comprehensible. -Nay, even that which is commonly regarded as the negation of all -Religion—even positive Atheism, comes within the definition; for it, -too, in asserting the self-existence of Space, Matter, and Motion, which -it regards as adequate causes of every appearance, propounds an _à -priori_ theory from which it holds the facts to be deducible. Now every -theory tacitly asserts two things: firstly, that there is something to -be explained; secondly, that such and such is the explanation. Hence, -however widely different speculators may disagree in the solutions they -give of the same problem; yet by implication they agree that there is a -problem to be solved. Here then is an element which all creeds have in -common. Religions diametrically opposed in their overt dogmas, are yet -perfectly at one in the tacit conviction that the existence of the world -with all it contains and all which surrounds it, is a mystery ever -pressing for interpretation. On this point, if on no other, there is -entire unanimity. - -Thus we come within sight of that which we seek. In the last chapter, -reasons were given for inferring that human beliefs in general, and -especially the perennial ones, contain, under whatever disguises of -error, some soul of truth; and here we have arrived at a truth -underlying even the grossest superstitions. We saw further that this -soul of truth was most likely to be some constituent common to -conflicting opinions of the same order; and here we have a constituent -which may be claimed alike by all religions. It was pointed out that -this soul of truth would almost certainly be more abstract than any of -the beliefs involving it; and the truth we have arrived at is one -exceeding in abstractness the most abstract religious doctrines. In -every respect, therefore, our conclusion answers to the requirements. It -has all the characteristics which we inferred must belong to that -fundamental verity expressed by religions in general. - -That this is the vital element in all religions is further proved by the -fact, that it is the element which not only survives every change, but -grows more distinct the more highly the religion is developed. -Aboriginal creeds, though pervaded by the idea of personal agencies -which are usually unseen, yet conceive these agencies under perfectly -concrete and ordinary forms—class them with the visible agencies of men -and animals; and so hide a vague perception of mystery in disguises as -unmysterious as possible. The Polytheistic conceptions in their advanced -phases, represent the presiding personalities in greatly idealized -shapes, existing in a remote region, working in subtle ways, and -communicating with men by omens or through inspired persons; that is, -the ultimate causes of things are regarded as less familiar and -comprehensible. The growth of a Monotheistic faith, accompanied as it is -by a denial of those beliefs in which the divine nature is assimilated -to the human in all its lower propensities, shows us a further step in -the same direction; and however imperfectly this higher faith is at -first realized, we yet see in altars “to the unknown and unknowable -God,” and in the worship of a God that cannot by any searching be found -out, that there is a clearer recognition of the inscrutableness of -creation. Further developments of theology, ending in such assertions as -that “a God understood would be no God at all,” and “to think that God -is, as we can think him to be, is blasphemy,” exhibit this recognition -still more distinctly; and it pervades all the cultivated theology of -the present day. Thus while other constituents of religious creeds one -by one drop away, this remains and grows even more manifest; and so is -shown to be the essential constituent. - -Nor does the evidence end here. Not only is the omnipresence of -something which passes comprehension, that most abstract belief which is -common to all religions, which becomes the more distinct in proportion -as they develope, and which remains after their discordant elements have -been mutually cancelled; but it is that belief which the most unsparing -criticism of each leaves unquestionable—or rather makes ever clearer. It -has nothing to fear from the most inexorable logic; but on the contrary -is a belief which the most inexorable logic shows to be more profoundly -true than any religion supposes. For every religion, setting out though -it does with the tacit assertion of a mystery, forthwith proceeds to -give some solution of this mystery; and so asserts that it is not a -mystery passing human comprehension. But an examination of the solutions -they severally propound, shows them to be uniformly invalid. The -analysis of every possible hypothesis proves, not simply that no -hypothesis is sufficient, but that no hypothesis is even thinkable. And -thus the mystery which all religions recognize, turns out to be a far -more transcendent mystery than any of them suspect—not a relative, but -an absolute mystery. - -Here, then, is an ultimate religious truth of the highest possible -certainty—a truth in which religions in general are at one with each -other, and with a philosophy antagonistic to their special dogmas. And -this truth, respecting which there is a latent agreement among all -mankind from the fetish-worshipper to the most stoical critic of human -creeds, must be the one we seek. If Religion and Science are to be -reconciled, the basis of reconciliation must be this deepest, widest, -and most certain of all facts—that the Power which the Universe -manifests to us is utterly inscrutable. - ------ - -Footnote 6: - - Those who may have before met with this term, will perceive that it is - here used in quite a different sense. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - ULTIMATE SCIENTIFIC IDEAS. - - -§ 15. What are Space and Time? Two hypotheses are current respecting -them: the one that they are objective, and the other that they are -subjective—the one that they are external to, and independent of, -ourselves, the other that they are internal, and appertain to our own -consciousness. Let us see what becomes of these hypotheses under -analysis. - -To say that Space and Time exist objectively, is to say that they are -entities. The assertion that they are non-entities is self-destructive: -non-entities are non-existences; and to allege that non-existences exist -objectively, is a contradiction in terms. Moreover, to deny that Space -and Time are things, and so by implication to call them nothings, -involves the absurdity that there are two kinds of nothing. Neither can -they be regarded as attributes of some entity; seeing, not only that it -is impossible really to conceive any entity of which they are -attributes, but seeing further that we cannot think of them as -disappearing, even if everything else disappeared; whereas attributes -necessarily disappear along with the entities they belong to. Thus as -Space and Time cannot be either non-entities, nor the attributes of -entities, we have no choice but consider them as entities. But -while, on the hypothesis of their objectivity, Space and Time must be -classed as things, we find, on experiment, that to represent them in -thought as things is impossible. To be conceived at all, a thing must be -conceived as having attributes. We can distinguish something from -nothing, only by the power which the something has to act on our -consciousness; the several affections it produces on our consciousness -(or else the hypothetical causes of them), we attribute to it, and call -its attributes; and the absence of these attributes is the absence of -the terms in which the something is conceived, and involves the absence -of a conception. What now are the attributes of Space? The only one -which it is possible for a moment to think of as belonging to it, is -that of extension; and to credit it with this implies a confusion of -thought. For extension and Space are convertible terms: by extension, as -we ascribe it to surrounding objects, we mean occupancy of Space; and -thus to say that Space is extended, is to say that Space occupies Space. -How we are similarly unable to assign any attribute to Time, scarcely -needs pointing out. Nor are Time and Space unthinkable as entities -only from the absence of attributes; there is another peculiarity, -familiar to readers of metaphysics, which equally excludes them from the -category. All entities which we actually know as such, are limited; and -even if we suppose ourselves either to know or to be able to conceive -some unlimited entity, we of necessity in so classing it positively -separate it from the class of limited entities. But of Space and Time we -cannot assert either limitation or the absence of limitation. We find -ourselves totally unable to form any mental image of unbounded Space; -and yet totally unable to imagine bounds beyond which there is no Space. -Similarly at the other extreme: it is impossible to think of a limit to -the divisibility of Space; yet equally impossible to think of its -infinite divisibility. And, without stating them, it will be seen that -we labour under like impotencies in respect to Time. Thus we -cannot conceive Space and Time as entities, and are equally disabled -from conceiving them as either the attributes of entities or as -non-entities. We are compelled to think of them as existing; and yet -cannot bring them within those conditions under which existences are -represented in thought. - -Shall we then take refuge in the Kantian doctrine? shall we say that -Space and Time are forms of the intellect,—“_à priori_ laws or -conditions of the conscious mind”? To do this is to escape from great -difficulties by rushing into greater. The proposition with which Kant’s -philosophy sets out, verbally intelligible though it is, cannot by any -effort be rendered into thought—cannot be interpreted into an idea -properly so called, but stands merely for a pseud-idea. In the -first place, to assert that Space and Time, as we are conscious of them, -are subjective conditions, is by implication to assert that they are not -objective realities: if the Space and Time present to our minds belong -to the _ego_, then of necessity they do not belong to the _non-ego_. Now -it is absolutely impossible to think this. The very fact on which Kant -bases his hypothesis—namely that our consciousness of Space and Time -cannot be suppressed—testifies as much; for that consciousness of Space -and Time which we cannot rid ourselves of, is the consciousness of them -as existing objectively. It is useless to reply that such an inability -must inevitably result if they are subjective forms. The question here -is—What does consciousness directly testify? And the direct testimony of -consciousness is, that Time and Space are not within but without the -mind; and so absolutely independent of it that they cannot be conceived -to become non-existent even were the mind to become non-existent. - Besides being positively unthinkable in what it tacitly denies, -the theory of Kant is equally unthinkable in what it openly affirms. It -is not simply that we cannot combine the thought of Space with the -thought of our own personality, and contemplate the one as a property of -the other—though our inability to do this would prove the -inconceivableness of the hypothesis—but it is that the hypothesis -carries in itself the proof of its own inconceivableness. For if Space -and Time are forms of thought, they can never be thought of; since it is -impossible for anything to be at once the _form_ of thought and the -_matter_ of thought. That Space and Time are objects of consciousness, -Kant emphatically asserts by saying that it is impossible to suppress -the consciousness of them. How then, if they are _objects_ of -consciousness, can they at the same time be _conditions_ of -consciousness? If Space and Time are the conditions under which we -think, then when we think of Space and Time themselves, our thoughts -must be unconditioned; and if there can thus be unconditioned thoughts, -what becomes of the theory? - -It results therefore that Space and Time are wholly incomprehensible. -The immediate knowledge which we seem to have of them, proves, when -examined, to be total ignorance. While our belief in their objective -reality is insurmountable, we are unable to give any rational account of -it. And to posit the alternative belief (possible to state but -impossible to realize) is merely to multiply irrationalities. - - * * * * * - -§ 16. Were it not for the necessities of the argument, it would be -inexcusable to occupy the reader’s attention with the threadbare, and -yet unended, controversy respecting the divisibility of matter. Matter -is either infinitely divisible or it is not: no third possibility can be -named. Which of the alternatives shall we accept? If we say that Matter -is infinitely divisible, we commit ourselves to a supposition not -realizable in thought. We can bisect and re-bisect a body, and -continually repeating the act until we reduce its parts to a size no -longer physically divisible, may then mentally continue the process -without limit. To do this, however, is not really to conceive the -infinite divisibility of matter, but to form a symbolic conception -incapable of expansion into a real one, and not admitting of other -verification. Really to conceive the infinite divisibility of matter, is -mentally to follow out the divisions to infinity; and to do this would -require infinite time. On the other hand, to assert that matter is not -infinitely divisible, is to assert that it is reducible to parts which -no conceivable power can divide; and this verbal supposition can no more -be represented in thought than the other. For each of such ultimate -parts, did they exist, must have an under and an upper surface, a right -and a left side, like any larger fragment. Now it is impossible to -imagine its sides so near that no plane of section can be conceived -between them; and however great be the assumed force of cohesion, it is -impossible to shut out the idea of a greater force capable of overcoming -it. So that to human intelligence the one hypothesis is no more -acceptable than the other; and yet the conclusion that one or other must -agree with the fact, seems to human intelligence unavoidable. - -Again, leaving this insoluble question, let us ask whether substance -has, in reality, anything like that extended solidity which it presents -to our consciousness. The portion of space occupied by a piece of metal, -seems to eyes and fingers perfectly filled: we perceive a homogeneous, -resisting mass, without any breach of continuity. Shall we then say that -Matter is as actually solid as it appears? Shall we say that whether it -consists of an infinitely divisible element or of ultimate units -incapable of further division, its parts are everywhere in actual -contact? To assert as much entangles us in insuperable difficulties. -Were Matter thus absolutely solid, it would be, what it is -not—absolutely incompressible; since compressibility, implying the -nearer approach of constituent parts, is not thinkable unless there is -unoccupied space between the parts. Nor is this all. It is an -established mechanical truth, that if a body, moving at a given -velocity, strikes an equal body at rest in such wise that the two move -on together, their joint velocity will be but half that of the striking -body. Now it is a law of which the negation is inconceivable, that in -passing from any one degree of magnitude to any other, all intermediate -degrees must be passed through. Or, in the case before us, a body moving -at velocity 4, cannot, by collision, be reduced to velocity 2, without -passing through all velocities between 4 and 2. But were Matter truly -solid—were its units absolutely incompressible and in absolute -contact—this “law of continuity,” as it is called, would be broken in -every case of collision. For when, of two such units, one moving at -velocity 4 strikes another at rest, the striking unit must have its -velocity 4 instantaneously reduced to velocity 2; must pass from -velocity 4 to velocity 2 without any lapse of time, and without passing -through intermediate velocities; must be moving with velocities 4 and 2 -at the same instant, which is impossible. - -The supposition that Matter is absolutely solid being untenable, there -presents itself the Newtonian supposition, that it consists of solid -atoms not in contact but acting on each other by attractive and -repulsive forces, varying with the distances. To assume this, however, -merely shifts the difficulty: the problem is simply transferred from the -aggregated masses of matter to these hypothetical atoms. For granting -that Matter, as we perceive it, is made up of such dense extended units -surrounded by atmospheres of force, the question still arises—What is -the constitution of these units? We have no alternative but to regard -each of them as a small piece of matter. Looked at through a mental -microscope, each becomes a mass of substance such as we have just been -contemplating. Exactly the same inquiries may be made respecting the -parts of which each atom consists; while exactly the same difficulties -stand in the way of every answer. And manifestly, even were the -hypothetical atom assumed to consist of still minuter ones, the -difficulty would re-appear at the next step; nor could it be got rid of -even by an infinite series of such assumptions. - -Boscovich’s conception yet remains to us. Seeing that Matter could not, -as Leibnitz suggested, be composed of unextended monads (since the -juxtaposition of an infinity of points having no extension, could not -produce that extension which matter possesses); and perceiving -objections to the view entertained by Newton; Boscovich proposed an -intermediate theory, uniting, as he considered, the advantages of both -and avoiding their difficulties. His theory is, that the constituents of -Matter are centres of force—points without dimensions, which attract and -repel each other in suchwise as to be kept at specific distances apart. -And he argues, mathematically, that the forces possessed by such centres -might so vary with the distances, that under given conditions the -centres would remain in stable equilibrium with definite interspaces; -and yet, under other conditions, would maintain larger or smaller -interspaces. This speculation however, ingeniously as it is elaborated, -and eluding though it does various difficulties, posits a proposition -which cannot by any effort be represented in thought: it escapes all the -inconceivabilities above indicated, by merging them in the one -inconceivability with which it sets out. A centre of force absolutely -without extension is unthinkable: answering to these words we can form -nothing more than a symbolic conception of the illegitimate order. The -idea of resistance cannot be separated in thought from the idea of an -extended body which offers resistance. To suppose that central forces -can reside in points not infinitesimally small but occupying no space -whatever—points having position only, with nothing to mark their -position—points in no respect distinguishable from the surrounding -points that are not centres of force;—to suppose this, is utterly beyond -human power. - -Here it may possibly be said, that though all hypotheses respecting the -constitution of Matter commit us to inconceivable conclusions when -logically developed, yet we have reason to think that one of them -corresponds with the fact. Though the conception of Matter as consisting -of dense indivisible units, is symbolic and incapable of being -completely thought out, it may yet be supposed to find indirect -verification in the truths of chemistry. These, it is argued, -necessitate the belief that Matter consists of particles of specific -weights, and therefore of specific sizes. The general law of definite -proportions seems impossible on any other condition than the existence -of ultimate atoms; and though the combining weights of the respective -elements are termed by chemists their “equivalents,” for the purpose of -avoiding a questionable assumption, we are unable to think of the -combination of such definite weights, without supposing it to take place -between definite numbers of definite particles. And thus it would appear -that the Newtonian view is at any rate preferable to that of Boscovich. - A disciple of Boscovich, however, may reply that his master’s -theory is involved in that of Newton; and cannot indeed be escaped. -“What,” he may ask, “is it that holds together the parts of these -ultimate atoms?”. “A cohesive force,” his opponent must answer. “And -what,” he may continue, “is it that holds together the parts of any -fragments into which, by sufficient force, an ultimate atom might be -broken?” Again the answer must be—a cohesive force. “And what,” he may -still ask, “if the ultimate atom were, as we can imagine it to be, -reduced to parts as small in proportion to it, as it is in proportion to -a tangible mass of matter—what must give each part the ability to -sustain itself, and to occupy space?” Still there is no answer but—a -cohesive force. Carry the process in thought as far as we may, until the -extension of the parts is less than can be imagined, we still cannot -escape the admission of forces by which the extension is upheld; and we -can find no limit until we arrive at the conception of centres of force -without any extension. - -Matter then, in its ultimate nature, is as absolutely incomprehensible -as Space and Time. Frame what suppositions we may, we find on tracing -out their implications that they leave us nothing but a choice between -opposite absurdities. - - * * * * * - -§ 17. A body impelled by the hand is clearly perceived to move, and to -move in a definite direction: there seems at first sight no possibility -of doubting that its motion is real, or that it is towards a given -point. Yet it is easy to show that we not only may be, but usually are, -quite wrong in both these judgments. Here, for instance, is a ship -which, for simplicity’s sake, we will suppose to be anchored at the -equator with her head to the West. When the captain walks from stem to -stern, in what direction does he move? East is the obvious answer—an -answer which for the moment may pass without criticism. But now the -anchor is heaved, and the vessel sails to the West with a velocity equal -to that at which the captain walks. In what direction does he now move -when he goes from stem to stern? You cannot say East, for the vessel is -carrying him as fast towards the West as he walks to the East; and you -cannot say West for the converse reason. In respect to surrounding space -he is stationary; though to all on board the ship he seems to be moving. -But now are we quite sure of this conclusion?—Is he really stationary? -When we take into account the Earth’s motion round its axis, we find -that instead of being stationary he is travelling at the rate of 1000 -miles per hour to the East; so that neither the perception of one who -looks at him, nor the inference of one who allows for the ship’s motion, -is anything like the truth. Nor indeed, on further consideration, shall -we find this revised conclusion to be much better. For we have forgotten -to allow for the Earth’s motion in its orbit. This being some 68,000 -miles per hour, it follows that, assuming the time to be midday, he is -moving, not at the rate of 1000 miles per hour to the East, but at the -rate of 67,000 miles per hour to the West. Nay, not even now have we -discovered the true rate and the true direction of his movement. With -the Earth’s progress in its orbit, we have to join that of the whole -Solar system towards the constellation Hercules; and when we do this, we -perceive that he is moving neither East nor West, but in a line inclined -to the plane of the Ecliptic, and at a velocity greater or less -(according to the time of the year) than that above named. To which let -us add, that were the dynamic arrangements of our sidereal system fully -known to us, we should probably discover the direction and rate of his -actual movement to differ considerably even from these. How -illusive are our ideas of Motion, is thus made sufficiently manifest. -That which seems moving proves to be stationary; that which seems -stationary proves to be moving; while that which we conclude to be going -rapidly in one direction, turns out to be going much more rapidly in the -opposite direction. And so we are taught that what we are conscious of -is not the real motion of any object, either in its rate or direction; -but merely its motion as measured from an assigned position—either the -position we ourselves occupy or some other. Yet in this very process of -concluding that the motions we perceive are not the real motions, we -tacitly assume that there are real motions. In revising our successive -judgments concerning a body’s course or velocity, we take for granted -that there is an actual course and an actual velocity—we take for -granted that there are fixed points in space with respect to which all -motions are absolute; and we find it impossible to rid ourselves of this -idea. Nevertheless, absolute motion cannot even be imagined, much less -known. Motion as taking place apart from those limitations of space -which we habitually associate with it, is totally unthinkable. For -motion is change of place; but in unlimited space, change of place is -inconceivable, because place itself is inconceivable. Place can be -conceived only by reference to other places; and in the absence of -objects dispersed through space, a place could be conceived only in -relation to the limits of space; whence it follows that in unlimited -space, place cannot be conceived—all places must be equidistant from -boundaries that do not exist. Thus while we are obliged to think that -there is an absolute motion, we find absolute motion incomprehensible. - -Another insuperable difficulty presents itself when we contemplate the -transfer of Motion. Habit blinds us to the marvelousness of this -phenomenon. Familiar with the fact from childhood, we see nothing -remarkable in the ability of a moving thing to generate movement in a -thing that is stationary. It is, however, impossible to understand it. -In what respect does a body after impact differ from itself before -impact? What is this added to it which does not sensibly affect any of -its properties and yet enables it to traverse space? Here is an object -at rest and here is the same object moving. In the one state it has no -tendency to change its place; but in the other it is obliged at each -instant to assume a new position. What is it which will for ever go on -producing this effect without being exhausted? and how does it dwell in -the object? The motion you say has been communicated. But how?—What has -been communicated? The striking body has not transferred a _thing_ to -the body struck; and it is equally out of the question to say that it -has transferred an _attribute_. What then has it transferred? - -Once more there is the old puzzle concerning the connexion between -Motion and Rest. We daily witness the gradual retardation and final -stoppage of things projected from the hand or otherwise impelled; and we -equally often witness the change from Rest to Motion produced by the -application of force. But truly to represent these transitions in -thought, we find impossible. For a breach of the law of continuity seems -necessarily involved; and yet no breach of it is conceivable. A body -travelling at a given velocity cannot be brought to a state of rest, or -no velocity, without passing through all intermediate velocities. At -first sight nothing seems easier than to imagine it doing this. It is -quite possible to think of its motion as diminishing insensibly until it -becomes infinitesimal; and many will think equally possible to pass in -thought from infinitesimal motion to no motion. But this is an error. -Mentally follow out the decreasing velocity as long as you please, and -there still remains _some_ velocity. Halve and again halve the rate of -movement for ever, yet movement still exists; and the smallest movement -is separated by an impassable gap from no movement. As something, -however minute, is infinitely great in comparison with nothing; so is -even the least conceivable motion, infinite as compared with rest. - The converse perplexities attendant on the transition from Rest to -Motion, need not be specified. These, equally with the foregoing, show -us that though we are obliged to think of such changes as actually -occurring, their occurrence cannot be realized. - -Thus neither when considered in connexion with Space, nor when -considered in connexion with Matter, nor when considered in connexion -with Rest, do we find that Motion is truly cognizable. All efforts to -understand its essential nature do but bring us to alternative -impossibilities of thought. - - * * * * * - -§ 18. On lifting a chair, the force exerted we regard as equal to that -antagonistic force called the weight of the chair; and we cannot think -of these as equal without thinking of them as like in kind; since -equality is conceivable only between things that are connatural. The -axiom that action and reaction are equal and in opposite directions, -commonly exemplified by this very instance of muscular effort _versus_ -weight, cannot be mentally realized on any other condition. Yet, -contrariwise, it is incredible that the force as existing in the chair -really resembles the force as present to our minds. It scarcely needs to -point out that the weight of the chair produces in us various feelings -according as we support it by a single finger, or the whole hand, or the -leg; and hence to argue that as it cannot be like all these sensations -there is no reason to believe it like any. It suffices to remark that -since the force as known to us is an affection of consciousness, we -cannot conceive the force existing in the chair under the same form -without endowing the chair with consciousness. So that it is absurd to -think of Force as in itself like our sensation of it, and yet necessary -so to think of it if we realize it in consciousness at all. - -How, again, can we understand the connexion between Force and Matter? -Matter is known to us only through its manifestations of Force: our -ultimate test of Matter is the ability to resist: abstract its -resistance and there remains nothing but empty extension. Yet, on the -other hand, resistance is equally unthinkable apart from Matter—apart -from something extended. Not only, as pointed out some pages back, are -centres of force devoid of extension unimaginable; but, as an inevitable -corollary, we cannot imagine either extended or unextended centres of -force to attract and repel other such centres at a distance, without the -intermediation of some kind of matter. We have here to remark, what -could not without anticipation be remarked when treating of Matter, that -the hypothesis of Newton, equally with that of Boscovich, is open to the -charge that it supposes one thing to act upon another through a space -which is absolutely empty—a supposition which cannot be represented in -thought. This charge is indeed met by the introduction of a hypothetical -fluid existing between the atoms or centres. But the problem is not thus -solved: it is simply shifted, and re-appears when the constitution of -this fluid is inquired into. How impossible it is to elude the -difficulty presented by the transfer of Force through space, is best -seen in the case of astronomical forces. The Sim acts upon us in such -way as to produce the sensations of light and heat; and we have -ascertained that between the cause as existing in the Sun, and the -effect as experienced on the Earth, a lapse of about eight minutes -occurs: whence unavoidably result in us, the conceptions of both a force -and a motion. So that for the assumption of a luminiferous ether, there -is the defence, not only that the exercise of force through 95,000,000 -of miles of absolute vacuum is inconceivable, but also that it is -impossible to conceive motion in the absence of something moved. -Similarly in the case of gravitation. Newton described himself as unable -to think that the attraction of one body for another at a distance, -could be exerted in the absence of an intervening medium. But now let us -ask how much the forwarder we are if an intervening medium be assumed. -This ether whose undulations according to the received hypothesis -constitute heat and light, and which is the vehicle of gravitation—how -is it constituted? We must regard it, in the way that physicists do -regard it, as composed of atoms which attract and repel each -other—infinitesimal it may be in comparison with those of ordinary -matter, but still atoms. And remembering that this ether is -imponderable, we are obliged to conclude that the ratio between the -interspaces of these atoms and the atoms themselves, is incommensurably -greater than the like ratio in ponderable matter; else the densities -could not be incommensurable. Instead then of a direct action by the Sun -upon the Earth without anything intervening, we have to conceive the -Sun’s action propagated through a medium whose molecules are probably as -small relatively to their interspaces as are the Sun and Earth compared -with the space between them: we have to conceive these infinitesimal -molecules acting on each other through absolutely vacant spaces which -are immense in comparison with their own dimensions. How is this -conception easier than the other? We still have mentally to represent a -body as acting where it is not, and in the absence of anything by which -its action may be transferred; and what matters it whether this takes -place on a large or a small scale? We see therefore that the -exercise of Force is altogether unintelligible. We cannot imagine it -except through the instrumentality of something having extension; and -yet when we have assumed this something, we find the perplexity is not -got rid of but only postponed. We are obliged to conclude that matter, -whether ponderable or imponderable, and whether aggregated or in its -hypothetical units, acts upon matter through absolutely vacant space; -and yet this conclusion is positively unthinkable. - -Again, Light, Heat, Gravitation and all central forces, vary inversely -as the squares of the distances; and physicists in their investigations -assume that the units of matter act upon each other according to the -same law—an assumption which indeed they are obliged to make; since this -law is not simply an empirical one, but one deducible mathematically -from the relations of space—one of which the negation is inconceivable. -But now, in any mass of matter which is in internal equilibrium, what -must follow? The attractions and repulsions of the constituent atoms are -balanced. Being balanced, the atoms remain at their present distances; -and the mass of matter neither expands nor contracts. But if the forces -with which two adjacent atoms attract and repel each other both vary -inversely as the squares of the distances, as they must; and if they are -in equilibrium at their present distances, as they are; then, -necessarily, they will be in equilibrium at all other distances. Let the -atoms be twice as far apart, and their attractions and repulsions will -both be reduced to one fourth of their present amounts. Let them be -brought within half the distance, and their attractions and repulsions -will both be quadrupled. Whence it follows that this matter will as -readily as not assume any other density; and can offer no resistance to -any external agents. Thus we are obliged to say that these antagonist -molecular forces do not both vary inversely as the squares of the -distances, which is unthinkable; or else that matter does not possess -that attribute of resistance by which alone we distinguish it from empty -space, which is absurd. - -While then it is impossible to form any idea of Force in itself, it is -equally impossible to comprehend either its mode of exercise or its law -of variation. - - * * * * * - -§ 19. Turning now from the outer to the inner world, let us contemplate, -not the agencies to which we ascribe our subjective modifications, but -the subjective modifications themselves. These constitute a series. -Difficult as we find it distinctly to separate and individualize them, -it is nevertheless beyond question that our states of consciousness -occur in succession. - -Is this chain of states of consciousness infinite or finite? We cannot -say infinite; not only because we have indirectly reached the conclusion -that there was a period when it commenced, but also because all infinity -is inconceivable—an infinite series included. We cannot say finite; for -we have no knowledge of either of its ends. Go back in memory as far as -we may, we are wholly unable to identify our first states of -consciousness: the perspective of our thoughts vanishes in a dim -obscurity where we can make out nothing. Similarly at the other extreme. -We have no immediate knowledge of a termination to the series at a -future time; and we cannot really lay hold of that temporary termination -of the series reached at the present moment. For the state of -consciousness recognized by us as our last, is not truly our last. That -any mental affection may be contemplated as one of the series, it must -be remembered—_represented_ in thought, not _presented_. The truly last -state of consciousness is that which is passing in the very act of -contemplating a state just past—that in which we are thinking of the one -before as the last. So that the proximate end of the chain eludes us, as -well as the remote end. - -“But,” it may be said, “though we cannot directly _know_ consciousness -to be finite in duration, because neither of its limits can be actually -reached; yet we can very well _conceive_ it to be so.” No: not even this -is true. In the first place, we cannot _con_ceive the terminations of -that consciousness which alone we really know—our own—any more than we -can _per_ceive its terminations. For in truth the two acts are here one. -In either case such terminations must be, as above said, not presented -in thought, but represented; and they must be represented as in the act -of occurring. Now to represent the termination of consciousness as -occurring in ourselves, is to think of ourselves as contemplating the -cessation of the last state of consciousness; and this implies a -supposed continuance of consciousness after its last state, which is -absurd. In the second place, if we regard the matter objectively—if we -study the phenomena as occurring in others, or in the abstract, we are -equally foiled. Consciousness implies perpetual change and the perpetual -establishment of relations between its successive phases. To be known at -all, any mental affection must be known as such or such—as like these -foregoing ones or unlike those: if it is not thought of in connexion -with others—not distinguished or identified by comparison with others, -it is not recognized—is not a state of consciousness at all. A last -state of consciousness, then, like any other, can exist only through a -perception of its relations to previous states. But such perception of -its relations must constitute a state later than the last, which is a -contradiction. Or to put the difficulty in another form:—If ceaseless -change of state is the condition on which alone consciousness exists, -then when the supposed last state has been reached by the completion of -the preceding change, change has ceased; therefore consciousness has -ceased; therefore the supposed last state is not a state of -consciousness at all; therefore there can be no last state of -consciousness. In short, the perplexity is like that presented by the -relations of Motion and Rest. As we found it was impossible really to -conceive Rest becoming Motion or Motion becoming Rest; so here we find -it is impossible really to conceive either the beginning or the ending -of those changes which constitute consciousness. - -Hence, while we are unable either to believe or to conceive that the -duration of consciousness is infinite, we are equally unable either to -know it as finite, or to conceive it as finite. - - * * * * * - -§ 20. Nor do we meet with any greater success when, instead of the -extent of consciousness, we consider its substance. The question—What is -this that thinks? admits of no better solution than the question to -which we have just found none but inconceivable answers. - -The existence of each individual as known to himself, has been always -held by mankind at large, the most incontrovertible of truths. To say—“I -am as sure of it as I am sure that I exist,” is, in common speech, the -most emphatic expression of certainty. And this fact of personal -existence, testified to by the universal consciousness of men, has been -made the basis of sundry philosophies; whence may be drawn the -inference, that it is held by thinkers, as well as by the vulgar, to be -beyond all facts unquestionable. - -Belief in the reality of self, is, indeed, a belief which no hypothesis -enables us to escape. What shall we say of these successive impressions -and ideas which constitute consciousness? Shall we say that they are the -affections of something called mind, which, as being the subject of -them, is the real _ego_? If we say this, we manifestly imply that the -_ego_ is an entity. Shall we assert that these impressions and ideas are -not the mere superficial changes wrought on some thinking substance, but -are themselves the very body of this substance—are severally the -modified forms which it from moment to moment assumes? This hypothesis, -equally with the foregoing, implies that the individual exists as a -permanent and distinct being; since modifications necessarily involve -something modified. Shall we then betake ourselves to the sceptic’s -position, and argue that we know nothing more than our impressions and -ideas themselves—that these are to us the only existences; and that the -personality said to underlie them is a mere fiction? We do not even thus -escape; since this proposition, verbally intelligible but really -unthinkable, itself makes the assumption which it professes to -repudiate. For how can consciousness be wholly resolved into impressions -and ideas, when an impression of necessity implies something impressed? -Or again, how can the sceptic who has decomposed his consciousness into -impressions and ideas, explain the fact that he considers them as _his_ -impressions and ideas? Or once more, if, as he must, he admits that he -has an impression of his personal existence, what warrant can he show -for rejecting this impression as unreal while he accepts all his other -impressions as real? Unless he can give satisfactory answers to these -queries, which he cannot, he must abandon his conclusions; and must -admit the reality of the individual mind. - -But now, unavoidable as is this belief—established though it is, not -only by the assent of mankind at large, endorsed by divers philosophers, -but by the suicide of the sceptical argument—it is yet a belief -admitting of no justification by reason: nay, indeed, it is a belief -which reason, when pressed for a distinct answer, rejects. One of the -most recent writers who has touched upon this question—Mr Mansel—does -indeed contend that in the consciousness of self, we have a piece of -real knowledge. The validity of immediate intuition he holds in this -case unquestionable: remarking that “let system-makers say what they -will, the unsophisticated sense of mankind refuses to acknowledge that -mind is but a bundle of states of consciousness, as matter is (possibly) -a bundle of sensible qualities.” On which position the obvious comment -is, that it does not seem altogether a consistent one for a Kantist, who -pays but small respect to “the unsophisticated sense of mankind” when it -testifies to the objectivity of space. Passing over this, however, it -may readily be shown that a cognition of self, properly so called, is -absolutely negatived by the laws of thought. The fundamental condition -to all consciousness, emphatically insisted upon by Mr Mansel in common -with Sir William Hamilton and others, is the antithesis of subject and -object. And on this “primitive dualism of consciousness,” “from which -the explanations of philosophy must take their start,” Mr Mansel founds -his refutation of the German absolutists. But now, what is the corollary -from this doctrine, as bearing on the consciousness of self? The mental -act in which self is known, implies, like every other mental act, a -perceiving subject and a perceived object. If, then, the object -perceived is self, what is the subject that perceives? or if it is the -true self which thinks, what other self can it be that is thought of? -Clearly, a true cognition of self implies a state in which the knowing -and the known are one—in which subject and object are identified; and -this Mr Mansel rightly holds to be the annihilation of both. - -So that the personality of which each is conscious, and of which the -existence is to each a fact beyond all others the most certain, is yet a -thing which cannot truly be known at all: knowledge of it is forbidden -by the very nature of thought. - - * * * * * - -§ 21. Ultimate Scientific Ideas, then, are all representative of -realities that cannot be comprehended. After no matter how great a -progress in the colligation of facts and the establishment of -generalizations ever wider and wider—after the merging of limited and -derivative truths in truths that are larger and deeper has been carried -no matter how far; the fundamental truth remains as much beyond reach as -ever. The explanation of that which is explicable, does but bring out -into greater clearness the inexplicableness of that which remains -behind. 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 beginning nor the end. If, tracing back the -evolution of things, he allows himself to entertain the hypothesis that -the Universe 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. In like manner if he -looks inward, he perceives that both ends of the thread of consciousness -are beyond his grasp; nay, even beyond his power to think of as having -existed or as existing in time to come. When, again, he turns from the -succession of phenomena, external or internal, to their intrinsic -nature, he is just as much at fault. Supposing him in every case able to -resolve the appearances, properties, and movements of things, into -manifestations of Force in Space and Time; he still finds that Force, -Space, and Time pass all understanding. Similarly, though the analysis -of mental actions may finally bring him down to sensations, as the -original materials out of which all thought is woven, yet he is little -forwarder; for he can give no account either of sensations themselves or -of that something which is conscious of sensations. Objective and -subjective things he thus ascertains to be alike inscrutable in their -substance and genesis. In all directions his investigations eventually -bring him face to face with an insoluble enigma; and he ever more -clearly perceives it to be an insoluble enigma. He learns at once the -greatness and the littleness of the human intellect—its power in dealing -with all that comes within the range of experience; its impotence in -dealing with all that transcends experience. He realizes with a special -vividness the utter incomprehensibleness of the simplest fact, -considered in itself. He, more than any other, truly _knows_ that in its -ultimate essence nothing can be known. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - THE RELATIVITY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE. - - -§ 22. The same conclusion is thus arrived at, from whichever point we -set out. If, respecting the origin and nature of things, we make some -assumption, we find that through an inexorable logic it inevitably -commits us to alternative impossibilities of thought; and this holds -true of every assumption that can be imagined. If, contrariwise, we make -no assumption, but set out from the sensible properties of surrounding -objects, and, ascertaining their special laws of dependence, go on to -merge these in laws more and more general, until we bring them all under -some most general laws; we still find ourselves as far as ever from -knowing what it is which manifests these properties to us: clearly as we -seem to know it, our apparent knowledge proves on examination to be -utterly irreconcilable with itself. Ultimate religious ideas and -ultimate scientific ideas, alike turn out to be merely symbols of the -actual, not cognitions of it. - -The conviction, so reached, that human intelligence is incapable of -absolute knowledge, is one that has been slowly gaining ground as -civilization has advanced. Each new ontological theory, from time to -time propounded in lieu of previous ones shown to be untenable, has been -followed by a new criticism leading to a new scepticism. All possible -conceptions have been one by one tried and found wanting; and so the -entire field of speculation has been gradually exhausted without -positive result: the only result arrived at being the negative one above -stated—that the reality existing behind all appearances is, and must -ever be, unknown. To this conclusion almost every thinker of note has -subscribed. “With the exception,” says Sir William Hamilton, “of a few -late Absolutist theorisers in Germany, this is, perhaps, the truth of -all others most harmoniously re-echoed by every philosopher of every -school.” And among these he names—Protagoras, Aristotle, St. Augustin, -Boethius, Averroes, Albertus Magnus, Gerson, Leo Hebræus, Melancthon, -Scaliger, Francis Piccolomini, Giordano Bruno, Campanella, Bacon, -Spinoza, Newton, Kant. - -It yet remains to point out how this belief may be established -rationally, as well as empirically. Not only is it that, as in the -earlier thinkers above named, a vague perception of the inscrutableness -of things in themselves results from discovering the illusiveness of -sense-impressions; and not only is it that, as shown in the foregoing -chapters, definite experiments evolve alternative impossibilities of -thought out of every ultimate conception we can frame; but it is that -the relativity of our knowledge is demonstrable analytically. The -induction drawn from general and special experiences, may be confirmed -by a deduction from the nature of our intelligence. Two ways of reaching -such a deduction exist. Proof that our cognitions are not, and never can -be, absolute, is obtainable by analyzing either the _product_ of -thought, or the _process_ of thought. Let us analyze each. - - * * * * * - -§ 23. If, when walking through the fields some day in September, you -hear a rustle a few yards in advance, and on observing the ditch-side -where it occurs, see the herbage agitated, you will probably turn -towards the spot to learn by what this sound and motion are produced. As -you approach there flutters into the ditch, a partridge; on seeing which -your curiosity is satisfied—you have what you call an _explanation_ of -the appearances. The explanation, mark, amounts to this; that whereas -throughout life you have had countless experiences of disturbance among -small stationary bodies, accompanying the movement of other bodies among -them, and have generalized the relation between such disturbances and -such movements, you consider this particular disturbance explained, on -finding it to present, an instance of the like relation. Suppose -you catch the partridge; and, wishing to ascertain why it did not -escape, examine it, and find at one spot, a slight trace of blood upon -its feathers. You now _understand_, as you say, what has disabled the -partridge. It has been wounded by a sportsman—adds another case to the -many cases already seen by you, of birds being killed or injured by the -shot discharged at them from fowling-pieces. And in assimilating this -case to other such cases, consists your understanding of it. But -now, on consideration, a difficulty suggests itself. Only a single shot -has struck the partridge, and that not in a vital place: the wings are -uninjured, as are also those muscles which move them; and the creature -proves by its struggles that it has abundant strength. Why then, you -inquire of yourself, does it not fly? Occasion favouring, you put the -question to an anatomist, who furnishes you with _a solution_. He points -out that this solitary shot has passed close to the place at which the -nerve supplying the wing-muscles of one side, diverges from the spine; -and that a slight injury to this nerve, extending even to the rupture of -a few fibres, may, by preventing a perfect co-ordination in the actions -of the two wings, destroy the power of flight. You are no longer -puzzled. But what has happened?—what has changed your state from one of -perplexity to one of _comprehension_? Simply the disclosure of a class -of previously known cases, along with which you can include this case. -The connexion between lesions of the nervous system and paralysis of -limbs has been already many times brought under your notice; and you -here find a relation of cause and effect that is essentially similar. - -Let us suppose you are led on to make further inquiries concerning -organic actions, which, conspicuous and remarkable as they are, you had -not before cared to understand. How is respiration effected? you ask—why -does air periodically rush into the lungs? The answer is that in the -higher vertebrata, as in ourselves, influx of air is caused by an -enlargement of the thoracic cavity, due, partly to depression of the -diaphragm, partly to elevation of the ribs. But how does elevation of -the ribs enlarge the cavity? In reply the anatomist shows you that the -plane of each pair of ribs makes an acute angle with the spine; that -this angle widens when the moveable ends of the ribs are raised; and he -makes you realize the consequent dilatation of the cavity, by pointing -out how the area of a parallelogram increases as its angles approach to -right angles—you understand this special fact when you see it to be an -instance of a general geometrical fact. There still arises, however, the -question—why does the air rush into this enlarged cavity? To which comes -the answer that, when the thoracic cavity is enlarged, the contained -air, partially relieved from pressure, expands, and so loses some of its -resisting power; that hence it opposes to the pressure of the external -air a less pressure; and that as air, like every other fluid, presses -equally in all directions, motion must result along any line in which -the resistance is less than elsewhere; whence follows an inward current. -And this _interpretation_ you recognize as one, when a few facts of like -kind, exhibited more plainly in a visible fluid such as water, are cited -in illustration. Again, when it was pointed out that the limbs are -compound levers acting in essentially the same way as levers of iron or -wood, you might consider yourself as having obtained a partial -_rationale_ of animal movements. The contraction of a muscle, seeming -before utterly unaccountable, would seem less unaccountable were you -shown how, by a galvanic current, a series of soft iron magnets could be -made to shorten itself, through the attraction of each magnet for its -neighbours:—an alleged analogy which especially answers the purpose of -our argument; since, whether real or fancied, it equally illustrates the -mental illumination that results on finding a class of cases within -which a particular case may possibly be included. And it may be further -noted how, in the instance here named, an additional feeling of -comprehension arises on remembering that the influence conveyed through -the nerves to the muscles, is, though not positively electric, yet a -form of force nearly allied to the electric. Similarly when you -learn that animal heat arises from chemical combination, and so is -evolved as heat is evolved in other chemical combinations—when you learn -that the absorption of nutrient fluids through the coats of the -intestines, is an instance of osmotic action—when you learn that the -changes undergone by food during digestion, are like changes -artificially producible in the laboratory; you regard yourself as -_knowing_ something about the natures of these phenomena. - -Observe now what we have been doing. Turning to the general question, -let us note where these successive interpretations have carried us. We -began with quite special and concrete facts. In explaining each, and -afterwards explaining the more general facts of which they are -instances, we have got down to certain highly general facts:—to a -geometrical principle or property of space, to a simple law of -mechanical action, to a law of fluid equilibrium—to truths in physics, -in chemistry, in thermology, in electricity. The particular phenomena -with which we set out, have been merged in larger and larger groups of -phenomena; and as they have been so merged, we have arrived at solutions -that we consider profound in proportion as this process has been carried -far. Still deeper explanations are simply further steps in the same -direction. When, for instance, it is asked why the law of action of the -lever is what it is, or why fluid equilibrium and fluid motion exhibit -the relations which they do, the answer furnished by mathematicians -consists in the disclosure of the principle of virtual velocities—a -principle holding true alike in fluids and solids—a principle under -which the others are comprehended. And similarly, the insight obtained -into the phenomena of chemical combination, heat, electricity, &c., -implies that a rationale of them, when found, will be the exposition of -some highly general fact respecting the constitution of matter, of which -chemical, electrical, and thermal facts, are merely different -manifestations. - -Is this process limited or unlimited? Can we go on for ever explaining -classes of facts by including them in larger classes; or must we -eventually come to a largest class? The supposition that the process is -unlimited, were any one absurd enough to espouse it, would still imply -that an ultimate explanation could not be reached; since infinite time -would be required to reach it. While the unavoidable conclusion that it -is limited (proved not only by the finite sphere of observation open to -us, but also by the diminution in the number of generalizations that -necessarily accompanies increase of their breadth) equally implies that -the ultimate fact cannot be understood. For if the successively deeper -interpretations of nature which constitute advancing knowledge, are -merely successive inclusions of special truths in general truths, and of -general truths in truths still more general; it obviously follows that -the most general truth, not admitting of inclusion in any other, does -not admit of interpretation. Manifestly, as the _most_ general cognition -at which we arrive cannot be reduced to a _more_ general one, it cannot -be understood. Of necessity, therefore, explanation must eventually -bring us down to the inexplicable. The deepest truth which we can get -at, must be unaccountable. Comprehension must become something other -than comprehension, before the ultimate fact can be comprehended. - - * * * * * - -§ 24. The inference which we thus find forced upon us when we analyze -the product of thought, as exhibited objectively in scientific -generalizations, is equally forced upon us by an analysis of the process -of thought, as exhibited subjectively in consciousness. The -demonstration of the necessarily relative character of our knowledge, as -deduced from the nature of intelligence, has been brought to its most -definite shape by Sir William Hamilton. I cannot here do better than -extract from his essay on the “Philosophy of the Unconditioned,” the -passage containing the substance of his doctrine. - -“The mind can conceive,” he argues, “and consequently can know,” only -the _limited, and the conditionally limited_. The unconditionally -unlimited, or the _Infinite_, the unconditionally limited, or the -_Absolute_, cannot positively be construed to the mind; they can be -conceived, only by a thinking away from, or abstraction of, those very -conditions under which thought itself is realized; consequently, the -notion of the Unconditioned is only negative,—negative of the -conceivable itself. For example, on the one hand we can positively -conceive, neither an absolute whole, that is, a whole so great, that we -cannot also conceive it as a relative part of a still greater whole; nor -an absolute part, that is, a part so small, that we cannot also conceive -it as a relative whole, divisible into smaller parts. On the other hand, -we cannot positively represent, or realize, or construe to the mind (as -here understanding and imagination coincide), an infinite whole, for -this could only be done by the infinite synthesis in thought of finite -wholes, which would itself require an infinite time for its -accomplishment; nor, for the same reason, can we follow out in thought -an infinite divisibility of parts. The result is the same, whether we -apply the process to limitation in _space_, in _time_, or in _degree_. -The unconditional negation, and the unconditional affirmation of -limitation; in other words, the _infinite_ and _absolute, properly so -called_, are thus equally inconceivable to us. - -As the conditionally limited (which we may briefly call the -_conditioned_) is thus the only possible object of knowledge and of -positive thought—thought necessarily supposes conditions. To _think_ is -to _condition_; and conditional limitation is the fundamental law of the -possibility of thought. For, as the greyhound cannot outstrip his -shadow, nor (by a more appropriate simile) the eagle outsoar the -atmosphere in which he floats, and by which alone he may be supported; -so the mind cannot transcend that sphere of limitation, within and -through which exclusively the possibility of thought is realized. -Thought is only of the conditioned; because, as we have said, to think -is simply to condition. The _absolute_ is conceived merely by a negation -of conceivability; and all that we know, is only known as - - ——‘won from the void and formless _infinite_.’ - -How, indeed, it could ever be doubted that thought is only of the -conditioned, may well be deemed a matter of the profoundest -admiration. Thought cannot transcend consciousness; consciousness is -only possible under the antithesis of a subject and object of thought, -known only in correlation, and mutually limiting each other; while, -independently of this, all that we know either of subject or object, -either of mind or matter, is only a knowledge in each of the -particular, of the plural, of the different, of the modified, of the -phenomenal. We admit that the consequence of this doctrine is,—that -philosophy, if viewed as more than a science of the conditioned, is -impossible. Departing from the particular, we admit, that we can -never, in our highest generalizations, rise above the finite; that our -knowledge, whether of mind or matter, can be nothing more than a -knowledge of the relative manifestations of an existence, which in -itself it is our highest wisdom to recognize as beyond the reach of -philosophy,—in the language of St Austin,—‘_cognoscendo ignorari, et -ignorando cognosci_.’ - -“The conditioned is the mean between two extremes,—two inconditionates, -exclusive of each other, neither of which _can be conceived as -possible_, but of which, on the principles of contradiction and excluded -middle, one _must be admitted as necessary_. On this opinion, therefore, -reason is shown to be weak, but not deceitful. The mind is not -represented as conceiving two propositions subversive of each other, as -equally possible; but only, as unable to understand as possible, either -of two extremes; one of which, however, on the ground of their mutual -repugnance, it is compelled to recognize as true. We are thus taught the -salutary lesson, that the capacity of thought is not to be constituted -into the measure of existence; and are warned from recognizing the -domain of our knowledge as necessarily co-extensive with the horizon of -our faith. And by a wonderful revelation, we are thus, in the very -consciousness of our inability to conceive aught above the relative and -finite, inspired with a belief in the existence of something -unconditioned beyond the sphere of all comprehensible reality.” - -Clear and conclusive as this statement of the case appears when -carefully studied, it is expressed in so abstract a manner as to be not -very intelligible to the general reader. A more popular presentation of -it, with illustrative applications, as given by Mr Mansel in his “Limits -of Religious Thought,” will make it more fully understood. The following -extracts, which I take the liberty of making from his pages, will -suffice. - -“The very conception of consciousness, in whatever mode it may be -manifested, necessarily implies _distinction between one object and -another_. To be conscious, we must be conscious of something; and that -something can only be known, as that which it is, by being distinguished -from that which it is not. But distinction is necessarily limitation; -for, if one object is to be distinguished from another, it must possess -some form of existence which the other has not, or it must not possess -some form which the other has. But it is obvious the Infinite cannot be -distinguished, as such, from the Finite, by the absence of any quality -which the Finite possesses; for such absence would be a limitation. Nor -yet can it be distinguished by the presence of an attribute which the -Finite has not; for, as no finite part can be a constituent of an -infinite whole, this differential characteristic must itself be -infinite; and must at the same time have nothing in common with the -finite. We are thus thrown back upon our former impossibility; for this -second infinite will be distinguished from the finite by the absence of -qualities which the latter possesses. A consciousness of the Infinite as -such thus necessarily involves a self-contradiction; for it implies the -recognition, by limitation and difference, of that which can only be -given as unlimited and indifferent. * * * - -“This contradiction, which is utterly inexplicable on the supposition -that the infinite is a positive object of human thought, is at once -accounted for, when it is regarded as the mere negation of thought. If -all thought is limitation;—if whatever we conceive is, by the very act -of conception, regarded as finite,—_the infinite_, from a human point of -view, is merely a name for the absence of those conditions under which -thought is possible. To speak of a _Conception of the Infinite_ is, -therefore, at once to affirm those conditions and to deny them. The -contradiction, which we discover in such a conception, is only that -which we have ourselves placed there, by tacitly assuming the -conceivability of the inconceivable. The condition of consciousness is -distinction; and condition of distinction is limitation. We can have no -consciousness of Being in general which is not some Being in particular: -a _thing_, in consciousness, is one thing out of many. In assuming the -possibility of an infinite object of consciousness, I assume, therefore, -that it is at the same time limited and unlimited;—actually something, -without which it could not be an object of consciousness, and actually -nothing, without which it could not be infinite. * * * - -“A second characteristic of Consciousness is, that it is only possible -in the form of a _relation_. There must be a Subject, or person -conscious, and an Object, or thing of which he is conscious. There can -be no consciousness without the union of these two factors; and, in that -union, each exists only as it is related to the other. The subject is a -subject, only in so far as it is conscious of an object: the object is -an object, only in so far as it is apprehended by a subject: and the -destruction of either is the destruction of consciousness itself. It is -thus manifest that a consciousness of the Absolute is equally -self-contradictory with that of the Infinite. To be conscious of the -Absolute as such, we must know that an object, which is given in -relation to our consciousness, is identical with one which exists in its -own nature, out of all relation to consciousness. But to know this -identity, we must be able to compare the two together; and such a -comparison is itself a contradiction. We are in fact required to compare -that of which we are conscious with that of which we are not conscious; -the comparison itself being an act of consciousness, and only possible -through the consciousness of both its objects. It is thus manifest that, -even if we could be conscious of the absolute, we could not possibly -know that it is the absolute: and, as we can be conscious of an object -as such, only by knowing it to be what it is, this is equivalent to an -admission that we cannot be conscious of the absolute at all. As an -object of consciousness, every thing is necessarily relative; and what a -thing may be out of consciousness, no mode of consciousness can tell us. - -“This contradiction, again, admits of the same explanation as the -former. Our whole notion of existence is necessarily relative; for it is -existence as conceived by us. But _Existence_, as we conceive it, is but -a name for the several ways in which objects are presented to our -consciousness,—a general term, embracing a variety of relations. _The -Absolute_, on the other hand, is a term expressing no object of thought, -but only a denial of the relation by which thought is constituted. To -assume absolute existence as an object of thought, is thus to suppose a -relation existing when the related terms exist no longer. An object of -thought exists, as such, in and through its relation to a thinker; while -the Absolute, as such, is independent of all relation. The _Conception -of the Absolute_ thus implies at the same time the presence and absence -of the relation by which thought is constituted; and our various -endeavours to represent it are only so many modified forms of the -contradiction involved in our original assumption. Here, too, the -contradiction is one which we ourselves have made. It does not imply -that the Absolute cannot exist; but it implies, most certainly, that we -cannot conceive it as existing.” - -Here let me point out how the same general inference may be evolved from -another fundamental condition of thought, omitted by Sir W. Hamilton, -and not supplied by Mr Mansel;—a condition which, under its obverse -aspect, we have already contemplated in the last section. Every complete -act of consciousness, besides distinction and relation, also implies -likeness. Before it can become an idea, or constitute a piece of -knowledge, a mental state must not only be known as separate in kind -from certain foregoing states to which it is known as related by -succession; but it must further be known as of the same kind with -certain other foregoing states. That organization of changes which -constitutes thinking, involves continuous integration as well as -continuous differentiation. Were each new affection of the mind -perceived simply as an affection in some way contrasted with the -preceding ones—were there but a chain of impressions, each of which as -it arose was merely distinguished from its predecessors; consciousness -would be an utter chaos. To produce that orderly consciousness which we -call intelligence, there requires the assimilation of each impression to -others, that occurred earlier in the series. Both the successive mental -states, and the successive relations which they bear to each other, must -be classified; and classification involves not only a parting of the -unlike, but also a binding together of the like. In brief, a true -cognition is possible only through an accompanying recognition. - Should it be objected that if so, there cannot be a first -cognition, and hence there can be no cognition; the reply is, that -cognition proper arises gradually—that during the first stage of -incipient intelligence, before the feelings produced by intercourse with -the outer world have been put into order, there _are_ no cognitions, -strictly so called; and that, as every infant shows us, these slowly -emerge out of the confusion of unfolding consciousness as fast as the -experiences are arranged into groups—as fast as the most frequently -repeated sensations, and their relations to each other, become familiar -enough to admit of their recognition as such or such, whenever they -recur. Should it be further objected that if cognition pre-supposes -recognition, there can be, no cognition, even by an adult, of an object -never before seen; there is still the sufficient answer that in so far -as it is not assimilated to previously-seen objects, it is _not_ known, -and that it _is_ known in so far as it is assimilated to them. Of this -paradox the interpretation is, that an object is classifiable in various -ways, with various degrees of completeness. An animal hitherto _unknown_ -(mark the word), though not referable to any established species or -genus, is yet _recognized_ as belonging to one of the larger -divisions—mammals, birds, reptiles, or fishes; or should it be so -anomalous that its alliance with any of these is not determinable, it -may yet be classed as vertebrate or invertebrate; or if it be one of -those organisms of which it is doubtful whether the animal or vegetal -characteristics predominate, it is still known as a living body; even -should it be questioned whether it is organic, it remains beyond -question that it is a material object, and it is cognized by being -recognized as such. Whence it is manifest that a thing is perfectly -known only when it is in all respects like certain things previously -observed; that in proportion to the number of respects in which it is -unlike them, is the extent to which it is unknown; and that hence when -it has absolutely no attribute in common with anything else, it must be -absolutely beyond the bounds of knowledge. - -Observe the corollary which here concerns us. A cognition of the Real, -as distinguished from the Phenomenal, must, if it exists, conform to -this law of cognition in general. The First Cause, the Infinite, the -Absolute, to be known at all, must be classed. To be positively thought -of, it must be thought of as such or such—as of this or that kind. Can -it be like in kind to anything of which we have sensible experience? -Obviously not. Between the creating and the created, there must be a -distinction transcending any of the distinctions existing between -different divisions of the created. That which is uncaused cannot be -assimilated to that which is caused: the two being, in the very naming, -antithetically opposed. The Infinite cannot be grouped along with -something that is finite; since, in being so grouped, it must be -regarded as not-infinite. It is impossible to put the Absolute in the -same category with anything relative, so long as the Absolute is defined -as that of which no necessary relation can be predicated. Is it then -that the Actual, though unthinkable by classification with the Apparent, -is thinkable by classification with itself? This supposition is equally -absurd with the other. It implies the plurality of the First Cause, the -Infinite, the Absolute; and this implication is self-contradictory. -There cannot be more than one First Cause; seeing that the existence of -more than one would involve the existence of something necessitating -more than one, which something would be the true First Cause. How -self-destructive is the assumption of two or more Infinites, is manifest -on remembering that such Infinites, by limiting each other, would become -finite. And similarly, an Absolute which existed not alone but along -with other Absolutes, would no longer be an absolute but a relative. The -Unconditioned therefore, as class-able neither with any form of the -conditioned nor with any other Unconditioned, cannot be classed at all. -And to admit that it cannot be known as of such or such kind, is to -admit that it is unknowable. - -Thus, from the very nature of thought, the relativity of our knowledge -is inferable in three several ways. As we find by analyzing it, and as -we see it objectively displayed in every proposition, a thought involves -_relation_, _difference_, _likeness_. Whatever does not present each of -these does not admit of cognition. And hence we may say that the -Unconditioned, as presenting none of them, is trebly unthinkable. - - * * * * * - -§ 25. From yet another point of view we may discern the same great -truth. If, instead of examining our intellectual powers directly as -exhibited in the act of thought, or indirectly as exhibited in thought -when expressed by words, we look at the connexion between the mind and -the world, a like conclusion is forced upon us. In the very definition -of Life, when reduced to its most abstract shape, this ultimate -implication becomes visible. - -All vital actions, considered not separately but in their ensemble, have -for their final purpose the balancing of certain outer processes by -certain inner processes. There are unceasing external forces tending to -bring the matter of which organic bodies consist, into that state of -stable equilibrium displayed by inorganic bodies; there are internal -forces by which this tendency is constantly antagonized; and the -perpetual changes which constitute Life, may be regarded as incidental -to the maintenance of the antagonism. To preserve the erect posture, for -instance, we see that certain weights have to be neutralized by certain -strains: each limb or other organ, gravitating to the Earth and pulling -down the parts to which it is attached, has to be preserved in position -by the tension of sundry muscles; or in other words, the group of forces -which would if allowed bring the body to the ground, has to be -counterbalanced by another group of forces. Again, to keep up the -temperature at a particular point, the external process of radiation and -absorption of heat by the surrounding medium, must be met by a -corresponding internal process of chemical combination, whereby more -heat may be evolved; to which add, that if from atmospheric changes the -loss becomes greater or less, the production must become greater or -less. And similarly throughout the organic actions in general. - -When we contemplate the lower kinds of life, we see that the -correspondences thus maintained are direct and simple; as in a plant, -the vitality of which mainly consists in osmotic and chemical actions -responding to the co-existence of light, heat, water, and carbonic acid -around it. But in animals, and especially in the higher orders of them, -the correspondences become extremely complex. Materials for growth and -repair not being, like those which plants require, everywhere present, -but being widely dispersed and under special forms, have to be found, to -be secured, and to be reduced to a fit state for assimilation. Hence the -need for locomotion; hence the need for the senses; hence the need for -prehensile and destructive appliances; hence the need for an elaborate -digestive apparatus. Observe, however, that these successive -complications are essentially nothing but aids to the maintenance of the -organic balance in its integrity, in opposition to those physical, -chemical, and other agencies which tend to overturn it. And observe, -moreover, that while these successive complications subserve this -fundamental adaptation of inner to outer actions, they are themselves -nothing else but further adaptations of inner to outer actions. For what -are those movements by which a predatory creature pursues its prey, or -by which its prey seeks to escape, but certain changes in the organism -fitted to meet certain changes in its environment? What is that compound -operation which constitutes the perception of a piece of food, but a -particular correlation of nervous modifications, answering to a -particular correlation of physical properties? What is that process by -which food when swallowed is reduced to a fit form for assimilation, but -a set of mechanical and chemical actions responding to the mechanical -and chemical actions which distinguish the food? Whence it becomes -manifest, that while Life in its simplest form is the correspondence of -certain inner physico-chemical actions with certain outer -physico-chemical actions, each advance to a higher form of Life consists -in a better preservation of this primary correspondence by the -establishment of other correspondences. - -Divesting this conception of all superfluities and reducing it to its -most abstract shape, we see that Life is definable as the continuous -adjustment of internal relations to external relations. And when we so -define it, we discover that the physical and the psychial life are -equally comprehended by the definition. We perceive that this which we -call Intelligence, shows itself when the external relations to which the -internal ones are adjusted, begin to be numerous, complex, and remote in -time or space; that every advance in Intelligence essentially consists -in the establishment of more varied, more complete, and more involved -adjustments; and that even the highest achievements of science are -resolvable into mental relations of co-existence and sequence, so -co-ordinated as exactly to tally with certain relations of co-existence -and sequence that occur externally. A caterpillar, wandering at random -and at length finding its way on to a plant having a certain odour, -begins to eat—has inside of it an organic relation between a particular -impression and a particular set of actions, answering to the relation -outside of it, between scent and nutriment. The sparrow, guided by the -more complex correlation of impressions which the colour, form, and -movements of the caterpillar gave it; and guided also by other -correlations which measure the position and distance of the caterpillar; -adjusts certain correlated muscular movements in such way as to seize -the caterpillar. Through a much greater distance in space is the hawk, -hovering above, affected by the relations of shape and motion which the -sparrow presents; and the much more complicated and prolonged series of -related nervous and muscular changes, gone through in correspondence -with the sparrow’s changing relations of position, finally succeed when -they are precisely adjusted to these changing relations. In the fowler, -experience has established a relation between the appearance and flight -of a hawk and the destruction of other birds, including game; there is -also in him an established relation between those visual impressions -answering to a certain distance in space, and the range of his gun; and -he has learned, too, by frequent observation, what relations of position -the sights must bear to a point somewhat in advance of the flying bird, -before he can fire with success. Similarly if we go back to the -manufacture of the gun. By relations of co-existence between colour, -density, and place in the earth, a particular mineral is known as one -which yields iron; and the obtainment of iron from it, results when -certain correlated acts of ours, are adjusted to certain correlated -affinities displayed by ironstone, coal, and lime, at a high -temperature. If we descend yet a step further, and ask a chemist to -explain the explosion of gunpowder, or apply to a mathematician for a -theory of projectiles, we still find that special or general relations -of co-existence and sequence between properties, motions, spaces &c., -are all they can teach us. And lastly, let it be noted that what we call -_truth_, guiding us to successful action and the consequent maintenance -of life, is simply the accurate correspondence of subjective to -objective relations; while _error_, leading to failure and therefore -towards death, is the absence of such accurate correspondence. - -If, then, Life in all its manifestations, inclusive of Intelligence in -its highest forms, consists in the continuous adjustment of internal -relations to external relations, the necessarily relative character of -our knowledge becomes obvious. The simplest cognition being the -establishment of some connexion between subjective states, answering to -some connexion between objective agencies; and each successively more -complex cognition being the establishment of some more involved -connexion of such states, answering to some more involved connexion of -such agencies; it is clear that the process, no matter how far it be -carried, can never bring within the reach of Intelligence, either the -states themselves or the agencies themselves. Ascertaining which things -occur along with which, and what things follow what, supposing it to be -pursued exhaustively, must still leave us with co-existences and -sequences only. If every act of knowing is the formation of a relation -in consciousness parallel to a relation in the environment, then the -relativity of knowledge is self-evident—becomes indeed a truism. -Thinking being relationing, no thought can ever express more than -relations. - -And here let us not omit to mark how that to which our intelligence is -confined, is that with which alone our intelligence is concerned. The -knowledge within our reach, is the only knowledge that can be of service -to us. This maintenance of a correspondence between internal actions and -external actions, which both constitutes our life at each moment and is -the means whereby life is continued through subsequent moments, merely -requires that the agencies acting upon us shall be known in their -co-existences and sequences, and not that they shall be known in -themselves. If _x_ and _y_ are two uniformly connected properties in -some outer object, while _a_ and _b_ are the effects they produce in our -consciousness; and if while the property _x_ produces in us the -indifferent mental state _a_, the property _y_ produces in us the -painful mental state _b_ (answering to a physical injury); then, all -that is requisite for our guidance, is, that _x_ being the uniform -accompaniment of _y_ externally, _a_ shall be the uniform accompaniment -of _b_ internally; so that when, by the presence of _x_, _a_ is produced -in consciousness, _b_, or rather the idea of _b_, shall follow it, and -excite the motions by which the effect of _y_ may be escaped. The sole -need is that _a_ and _b_ and the relation between them, shall always -answer to _x_ and _y_ and the relation between them. It matters nothing -to us if _a_ and _b_ are like _x_ and _y_ or not. Could they be exactly -identical with them, we should not be one whit the better off; and their -total dissimilarity is no disadvantage to us. - -Deep down then in the very nature of Life, the relativity of our -knowledge is discernible. The analysis of vital actions in general, -leads not only to the conclusion that things in themselves cannot be -known to us; but also to the conclusion that knowledge of them, were it -possible, would be useless. - - * * * * * - -§ 26. There still remains the final question—What must we say concerning -that which transcends knowledge? Are we to rest wholly in the -consciousness of phenomena?—is the result of inquiry to exclude utterly -from our minds everything but the relative? or must we also believe in -something beyond the relative? - -The answer of pure logic is held to be, that by the limits of our -intelligence we are rigorously confined within the relative; and that -anything transcending the relative can be thought of only as a pure -negation, or as a non-existence. “The _absolute_ is conceived merely by -a negation of conceivability,” writes Sir William Hamilton. “The -_Absolute_ and the _Infinite_” says Mr Mansel, “are thus, like the -_Inconceivable_ and the _Imperceptible_, names indicating, not an object -of thought or of consciousness at all, but the mere absence of the -conditions under which consciousness is possible.” From each of which -extracts may be deduced the conclusion, that since reason cannot warrant -us in affirming the positive existence of what is cognizable only as a -negation, we cannot rationally affirm the positive existence of anything -beyond phenomena. - -Unavoidable as this conclusion seems, it involves, I think, a grave -error. If the premiss be granted, the inference must doubtless be -admitted; but the premiss, in the form presented by Sir William -Hamilton and Mr Mansel, is not strictly true. Though, in the foregoing -pages, the arguments used by these writers to show that the Absolute -is unknowable, have been approvingly quoted; and though these -arguments have been enforced by others equally thoroughgoing; yet -there remains to be stated a qualification, which saves us from that -scepticism otherwise necessitated. It is not to be denied that so long -as we confine ourselves to the purely logical aspect of the question, -the propositions quoted above must be accepted in their entirety; but -when we contemplate its more general, or psychological, aspect, we -find that these propositions are imperfect statements of the truth: -omitting, or rather excluding, as they do, an all-important fact. To -speak specifically:—Besides that _definite_ consciousness of which -Logic formulates the laws, there is also an _indefinite_ consciousness -which cannot be formulated. Besides complete thoughts, and besides the -thoughts which though incomplete admit of completion, there are -thoughts which it is impossible to complete; and yet which are still -real, in the sense that they are normal affections of the intellect. - -Observe in the first place, that every one of the arguments by which the -relativity of our knowledge is demonstrated, distinctly postulates the -positive existence of something beyond the relative. To say that we -cannot know the Absolute, is, by implication, to affirm that there _is_ -an Absolute. In the very denial of our power to learn _what_ the -Absolute is, there lies hidden the assumption _that_ it is; and the -making of this assumption proves that the Absolute has been present to -the mind, not as a nothing, but as a something. Similarly with every -step in the reasoning by which this doctrine is upheld. The Noumenon, -everywhere named as the antithesis of the Phenomenon, is throughout -necessarily thought of as an actuality. It is rigorously impossible to -conceive that our knowledge is a knowledge of Appearances only, without -at the same time conceiving a Reality of which they are appearances; for -appearance without reality is unthinkable. Strike out from the argument -the terms Unconditioned, Infinite, Absolute, with their equivalents, and -in place of them write, “negation of conceivability,” or “absence of the -conditions under which consciousness is possible,” and you find that the -argument becomes nonsense. Truly to realize in thought any one of the -propositions of which the argument consists, the Unconditioned must be -represented as positive and not negative. How then can it be a -legitimate conclusion from the argument, that our consciousness of it is -negative? An argument, the very construction of which assigns to a -certain term a certain meaning, but which ends in showing that this term -has no such meaning, is simply an elaborate suicide. Clearly, then, the -very demonstration that a _definite_ consciousness of the Absolute is -impossible to us, unavoidably presupposes an _indefinite_ consciousness -of it. - -Perhaps the best way of showing that by the necessary conditions of -thought, we are obliged to form a positive though vague consciousness of -this which transcends distinct consciousness, is to analyze our -conception of the antithesis between Relative and Absolute. It is a -doctrine called in question by none, that such antinomies of thought as -Whole and Part, Equal and Unequal, Singular and Plural, are necessarily -conceived as correlatives: the conception of a part is impossible -without the conception of a whole; there can be no idea of equality -without one of inequality. And it is admitted that in the same manner, -the Relative is itself conceivable as such, only by opposition to the -Irrelative or Absolute. Sir William Hamilton however, in his -trenchant (and in most parts unanswerable) criticism on Cousin, -contends, in conformity with his position above stated, that one of -these correlatives is nothing whatever beyond the negation of the other. -“Correlatives” he says “certainly suggest each other, but correlatives -may, or may not, be equally real and positive. In thought -contradictories necessarily imply each other, for the knowledge of -contradictories is one. But the reality of one contradictory, so far -from guaranteeing the reality of the other, is nothing else than its -negation. Thus every positive notion (the concept of a thing by what it -is) suggests a negative notion (the concept of a thing by what it is -not); and the highest positive notion, the notion of the conceivable, is -not without its corresponding negative in the notion of the -inconceivable. But though these mutually suggest each other, the -positive alone is real; the negative is only an abstraction of the -other, and in the highest generality, even an abstraction of thought -itself.” Now the assertion that of such contradictories “the -negative is _only_ an abstraction of the other”—“is _nothing_ else than -its negation,”—is not true. In such correlatives as Equal and Unequal, -it is obvious enough that the negative concept contains something -besides the negation of the positive one; for the things of which -equality is denied are not abolished from consciousness by the denial. -And the fact overlooked by Sir William Hamilton, is, that the like holds -even with those correlatives of which the negative is inconceivable, in -the strict sense of the word. Take for example the Limited and the -Unlimited. Our notion of the Limited is composed, firstly of a -consciousness of some kind of being, and secondly of a consciousness of -the limits under which it is known. In the antithetical notion of the -Unlimited, the consciousness of limits is abolished; but not the -consciousness of some kind of being. It is quite true that in the -absence of conceived limits, this consciousness ceases to be a concept -properly so called; but it is none the less true that it remains as a -mode of consciousness. If, in such cases, the negative contradictory -were, as alleged, “_nothing else_” than the negation of the other, and -therefore a mere nonentity, then it would clearly follow that negative -contradictories could be used interchangeably: the Unlimited might be -thought of as antithetical to the Divisible; and the Indivisible as -antithetical to the Limited. While the fact that they cannot be so used, -proves that in consciousness the Unlimited and the Indivisible are -qualitatively distinct, and therefore positive or real; since -distinction cannot exist between nothings. The error, (very naturally -fallen into by philosophers intent on demonstrating the limits and -conditions of consciousness,) consists in assuming that consciousness -contains _nothing but_ limits and conditions; to the entire neglect of -that which is limited and conditioned. It is forgotten that there is -something which alike forms the raw material of definite thought and -remains after the definiteness which thinking gave to it has been -destroyed. Now all this applies by change of terms to the last and -highest of these antinomies—that between the Relative and the -Non-relative. We are conscious of the Relative as existence under -conditions and limits; it is impossible that these conditions and limits -can be thought of apart from something to which they give the form; the -abstraction of these conditions and limits, is, by the hypothesis, the -abstraction of them _only_; consequently there must be a residuary -consciousness of something which filled up their outlines; and this -indefinite something constitutes our consciousness of the Non-relative -or Absolute. Impossible though it is to give to this consciousness any -qualitative or quantitative expression whatever, it is not the less -certain that it remains with us as a positive and indestructible element -of thought. - -Still more manifest will this truth become when it is observed that our -conception of the Relative itself disappears, if our conception of the -Absolute is a pure negation. It is admitted, or rather it is contended, -by the writers I have quoted above, that contradictories can be known -only in relation to each other—that Equality, for instance, is -unthinkable apart from its correlative Inequality; and that thus the -Relative can itself be conceived only by opposition to the Non-relative. -It is also admitted, or rather contended, that the consciousness of a -relation implies a consciousness of both the related members. If we are -required to conceive the relation between the Relative and Non-relative -without being conscious of both, “we are in fact” (to quote the words of -Mr Mansel differently applied) “required to compare that of which we are -conscious with that of which we are not conscious; the comparison itself -being an act of consciousness, and only possible through the -consciousness of both its objects.” What then becomes of the assertion -that “the Absolute is conceived merely by a negation of conceivability,” -or as “the mere absence of the conditions under which consciousness is -possible?” If the Non-relative or Absolute, is present in thought only -as a mere negation, then the relation between it and the Relative -becomes unthinkable, because one of the terms of the relation is absent -from consciousness. And if this relation is unthinkable, then is the -Relative itself unthinkable, for want of its antithesis: whence results -the disappearance of all thought whatever. - -Let me here point out that both Sir Wm Hamilton and Mr Mansel, do, in -other places, distinctly imply that our consciousness of the Absolute, -indefinite though it is, is positive and not negative. The very passage -already quoted from Sir Wm Hamilton, in which he asserts that “the -_absolute_ is conceived merely by a negation of conceivability,” itself -ends with the remark that, “by a wonderful revelation, we are thus, in -the very consciousness of our inability to conceive aught above the -relative and finite, inspired with a belief in the existence of -something unconditioned beyond the sphere of all comprehensible -reality.” The last of these assertions practically admits that which the -other denies. By the laws of thought as Sir Wm Hamilton has interpreted -them, he finds himself forced to the conclusion that our consciousness -of the Absolute is a pure negation. He nevertheless finds that there -does exist in consciousness an irresistible conviction of the real -“existence of something unconditioned.” And he gets over the -inconsistency by speaking of this conviction as “a wonderful -revelation”—“a belief” with which we are “inspired:” thus apparently -hinting that it is supernaturally at variance with the laws of thought. -Mr Mansel is betrayed into a like inconsistency. When he says that “we -are compelled, by the constitution of our minds, to believe in the -existence of an Absolute and Infinite Being,—a belief which appears -forced upon us, as the complement of our consciousness of the relative -and the finite;” he clearly says by implication that this consciousness -is positive, and not negative. He tacitly admits that we are obliged to -regard the Absolute as something more than a negation—that our -consciousness of it is _not_ “the mere absence of the conditions under -which consciousness is possible.” - -The supreme importance of this question must be my apology for taxing -the reader’s attention a little further, in the hope of clearing up the -remaining difficulties. The necessarily positive character of our -consciousness of the Unconditioned, which, as we have seen, follows from -an ultimate law of thought, will be better understood on contemplating -the process of thought. - -One of the arguments used to prove the relativity of our knowledge, is, -that we cannot conceive Space or Time as either limited or unlimited. It -is pointed out that when we imagine a limit, there simultaneously arises -the consciousness of a space or time existing beyond the limit. This -remoter space or time, though not contemplated as definite, is yet -contemplated as real. Though we do not form of it a conception proper, -since we do not bring it within bounds, there is yet in our minds the -unshaped material of a conception. Similarly with our consciousness of -Cause. We are no more able to form a circumscribed idea of Cause, than -of Space or Time; and we are consequently obliged to think of the Cause -which transcends the limits of our thought as positive though -indefinite. Just in the same manner that on conceiving any bounded -space, there arises a nascent consciousness of space outside the bounds; -so, when we think of any definite cause, there arises a nascent -consciousness of a cause behind it: and in the one case as in the other, -this nascent consciousness is in substance like that which suggests it, -though without form. The momentum of thought inevitably carries us -beyond conditioned existence to unconditioned existence; and this ever -persists in us as the body of a thought to which we can give no shape. - -Hence our firm belief in objective reality—a belief which metaphysical -criticisms cannot for a moment shake. When we are taught that a piece of -matter, regarded by us as existing externally, cannot be really known, -but that we can know only certain impressions produced on us, we are -yet, by the relativity of our thought, compelled to think of these in -relation to a positive cause—the notion of a real existence which -generated these impressions becomes nascent. If it be proved to us that -every notion of a real existence which we can frame, is utterly -inconsistent with itself—that matter, however conceived by us, cannot be -matter as it actually is, our conception, though transfigured, is not -destroyed: there remains the sense of reality, dissociated as far as -possible from those special forms under which it was before represented -in thought. Though Philosophy condemns successively each attempted -conception of the Absolute—though it proves to us that the Absolute is -not this, nor that, nor that—though in obedience to it we negative, one -after another, each idea as it arises; yet, as we cannot expel the -entire contents of consciousness, there ever remains behind an element -which passes into new shapes. The continual negation of each particular -form and limit, simply results in the more or less complete abstraction -of all forms and limits; and so ends in an indefinite consciousness of -the unformed and unlimited. - -And here we come face to face with the ultimate difficulty—How can there -possibly be constituted a consciousness of the unformed and unlimited, -when, by its very nature, consciousness is possible only under forms and -limits? If every consciousness of existence is a consciousness of -existence as conditioned, then how, after the negation of conditions, -can there be any residuum?. Though not directly withdrawn by the -withdrawal of its conditions, must not the raw material of consciousness -be withdrawn by implication? Must it not vanish when the conditions of -its existence vanish? That there must be a solution of this -difficulty is manifest; since even those who would put it, do, as -already shown, admit that we have some such consciousness; and the -solution appears to be that above shadowed forth. Such consciousness is -not, and cannot be, constituted by any single mental act; but is the -product of many mental acts. In each concept there is an element which -persists. It is alike impossible for this element to be absent from -consciousness, and for it to be present in consciousness alone: either -alternative involves unconsciousness—the one from the want of the -substance; the other from the want of the form. But the persistence of -this element under successive conditions, _necessitates_ a sense of it -as distinguished from the conditions, and independent of them. The sense -of a something that is conditioned in every thought, cannot be got rid -of, because the something cannot be got rid of. How then must the sense -of this something be constituted? Evidently by combining successive -concepts deprived of their limits and conditions. We form this -indefinite thought, as we form many of our definite thoughts, by the -coalescence of a series of thoughts. Let me illustrate this. A -large complex object, having attributes too numerous to be represented -at once, is yet tolerably well conceived by the union of several -representations, each standing for part of its attributes. On thinking -of a piano, there first rises in imagination its visual appearance, to -which are instantly added (though by separate mental acts) the ideas of -its remote side and of its solid substance. A complete conception, -however, involves the strings, the hammers, the dampers, the pedals; and -while successively adding these to the conception, the attributes first -thought of lapse more or less completely out of consciousness. -Nevertheless, the whole group constitutes a representation of the piano. -Now as in this case we form a definite concept of a special existence, -by imposing limits and conditions in successive acts; so, in the -converse case, by taking away the limits and conditions in successive -acts, we form an indefinite notion of general existence. By fusing a -series of states of consciousness, in each of which, as it arises, the -limitations and conditions are abolished, there is produced a -consciousness of something unconditioned. To speak more -rigorously:—this consciousness is not the abstract of any one group of -thoughts, ideas, or conceptions; but it is the abstract of _all_ -thoughts, ideas, or conceptions. That which is common to them all, and -cannot be got rid of, is what we predicate by the word existence. -Dissociated as this becomes from each of its modes by the perpetual -change of those modes, it remains as an indefinite consciousness of -something constant under all modes—of being apart from its appearances. -The distinction we feel between special and general existence, is the -distinction between that which is changeable in us, and that which is -unchangeable. The contrast between the Absolute and the Relative in our -minds, is really the contrast between that mental element which exists -absolutely, and those which exist relatively. - -By its very nature, therefore, this ultimate mental element is at once -necessarily indefinite and necessarily indestructible. Our consciousness -of the unconditioned being literally the unconditioned consciousness, or -raw material of thought to which in thinking we give definite forms, it -follows that an ever-present sense of real existence is the very basis -of our intelligence. As we can in successive mental acts get rid of all -particular conditions and replace them by others, but cannot get rid of -that undifferentiated substance of consciousness which is conditioned -anew in every thought; there ever remains with us a sense of that which -exists persistently and independently of conditions. At the same time -that by the laws of thought we are rigorously prevented from forming a -conception of absolute existence; we are by the laws of thought equally -prevented from ridding ourselves of the consciousness of absolute -existence: this consciousness being, as we here see, the obverse of our -self-consciousness. And since the only possible measure of relative -validity among our beliefs, is the degree of their persistence in -opposition to the efforts made to change them, it follows that this -which persists at all times, under all circumstances, and cannot cease -until consciousness ceases, has the highest validity of any. - -To sum up this somewhat too elaborate argument:—We have seen how in the -very assertion that all our knowledge, properly so called, is Relative, -there is involved the assertion that there exists a Non-relative. We -have seen how, in each step of the argument by which this doctrine is -established, the same assumption is made. We have seen how, from the -very necessity of thinking in relations, it follows that the Relative is -itself inconceivable, except as related to a real Non-relative. We have -seen that unless a real Non-relative or Absolute be postulated, the -Relative itself becomes absolute; and so brings the argument to a -contradiction. And on contemplating the process of thought, we have -equally seen how impossible it is to get rid of the consciousness of an -actuality lying behind appearances; and how, from this impossibility, -results our indestructible belief in that actuality. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - THE RECONCILIATION. - - -§ 27. Thus do all lines of argument converge to the same conclusion. The -inference reached _à priori_. in the last chapter, confirms the -inferences which, in the two preceding chapters, were reached _à -posteriori_. Those imbecilities of the understanding that disclose -themselves when we try to answer the highest questions of objective -science, subjective science proves to be necessitated by the laws of -that understanding. We not only learn by the frustration of all our -efforts, that the reality underlying appearances is totally and for ever -inconceivable by us; but we also learn why, from the very nature of our -intelligence, it must be so. Finally we discover that this conclusion, -which, in its unqualified form, seems opposed to the instinctive -convictions of mankind, falls into harmony with them when the missing -qualification is supplied. Though the Absolute cannot in any manner or -degree be known, in the strict sense of knowing, yet we find that its -positive existence is a necessary datum of consciousness; that so long -as consciousness continues, we cannot for an instant rid it of this -datum; and that thus the belief which this datum constitutes, has a -higher warrant than any other whatever. - -Here then is that basis of agreement we set out to seek. This conclusion -which objective science illustrates, and subjective science shows to be -unavoidable,—this conclusion which, while it in the main expresses the -doctrine of the English school of philosophy, recognizes also a soul of -truth in the doctrine of the antagonist German school—this conclusion -which brings the results of speculation into harmony with those of -common sense; is also the conclusion which reconciles Religion with -Science. Common Sense asserts the existence of a reality; Objective -Science proves that this reality cannot be what we think it; Subjective -Science shows why we cannot think of it as it is, and yet are compelled -to think of it as existing; and in this assertion of a Reality utterly -inscrutable in nature, Religion finds an assertion essentially -coinciding with her own. We are obliged to regard every phenomenon as a -manifestation of some Power by which we are acted upon; phenomena being, -so far as we can ascertain, unlimited in their diffusion, we are obliged -to regard this Power as omnipresent; and criticism teaches us that this -Power is wholly incomprehensible. In this consciousness of an -Incomprehensible Omnipresent Power, we have just that consciousness on -which Religion dwells. And so we arrive at the point where Religion and -Science coalesce. - -To understand fully how real is the reconciliation thus reached, it will -be needful to look at the respective attitudes that Religion and Science -have all along maintained towards this conclusion. We must observe how, -all along, the imperfections of each have been undergoing correction by -the other; and how the final out-come of their mutual criticisms, can be -nothing else than an entire agreement on this deepest and widest of all -truths. - - * * * * * - -§ 28. In Religion let us recognize the high merit that from the -beginning it has dimly discerned the ultimate verity, and has never -ceased to insist upon it. In its earliest and crudest forms it -manifested, however vaguely and inconsistently, an intuition forming the -germ of this highest belief in which all philosophies finally unite. The -consciousness of a mystery is traceable in the rudest fetishism. Each -higher religious creed, rejecting those definite and simple -interpretations of Nature previously given, has become more religious by -doing this. As the quite concrete and conceivable agencies alleged as -the causes of things, have been replaced by agencies less concrete and -conceivable, the element of mystery has of necessity become more -predominant. Through all its successive phases the disappearance of -those positive dogmas by which the mystery was made unmysterious, has -formed the essential change delineated in religious history. And so -Religion has ever been approximating towards that complete recognition -of this mystery which is its goal. - -For its essentially valid belief, Religion has constantly done battle. -Gross as were the disguises under which it first espoused this belief, -and cherishing this belief, though it still does, under disfiguring -vestments, it has never ceased to maintain and defend it. It has -everywhere established and propagated one or other modification of the -doctrine that all things are manifestations of a Power that transcends -our knowledge. Though from age to age, Science has continually defeated -it wherever they have come in collision, and has obliged it to -relinquish one or more of its positions; it has still held the remaining -ones with undiminished tenacity. No exposure of the logical -inconsistency of its conclusions—no proof that each of its particular -dogmas was absurd, has been able to weaken its allegiance to that -ultimate verity for which it stands. After criticism has abolished all -its arguments and reduced it to silence, there has still remained with -it the indestructible consciousness of a truth which, however faulty the -mode in which it had been expressed, was yet a truth beyond cavil. To -this conviction its adherence has been substantially sincere. And for -the guardianship and diffusion of it, Humanity has ever been, and must -ever be, its debtor. - -But while from the beginning, Religion has had the all-essential office -of preventing men from being wholly absorbed in the relative or -immediate, and of awakening them to a consciousness of something beyond -it, this office has been but very imperfectly discharged. Religion has -ever been more or less irreligious; and it continues to be partially -irreligious even now. In the first place, as implied above, it has -all along professed to have some knowledge of that which transcends -knowledge; and has so contradicted its own teachings. While with one -breath it has asserted that the Cause of all things passes -understanding, it has, with the next breath, asserted that the Cause of -all things possesses such or such attributes—can be in so far -understood. In the second place, while in great part sincere in -its fealty to the great truth it had had to uphold, it has often been -insincere, and consequently irreligious, in maintaining the untenable -doctrines by which it has obscured this great truth. Each assertion -respecting the nature, acts, or motives of that Power which the Universe -manifests to us, has been repeatedly called in question, and proved to -be inconsistent with itself, or with accompanying assertions. Yet each -of them has been age after age insisted on, in spite of a secret -consciousness that it would not bear examination. Just as though unaware -that its central position was impregnable, Religion has obstinately held -every outpost long after it was obviously indefensible. And this -naturally introduces us to the third and most serious form of irreligion -which Religion has displayed; namely, an imperfect belief in that which -it especially professes to believe. How truly its central position _is_ -impregnable, Religion has never adequately realized. In the devoutest -faith as we habitually see it, there lies hidden an innermost core of -scepticism; and it is this scepticism which causes that dread of inquiry -displayed by Religion when face to face with Science. Obliged to abandon -one by one the superstitions it once tenaciously held, and daily finding -its cherished beliefs more and more shaken, Religion shows a secret fear -that all things may some day be explained; and thus itself betrays a -lurking doubt whether that Incomprehensible Cause of which it is -conscious, is really incomprehensible. - -Of Religion then, we must always remember, that amid its many errors and -corruptions it has asserted and diffused a supreme verity. From the -first, the recognition of this supreme verity, in however imperfect a -manner, has been its vital element; and its various defects, once -extreme but gradually diminishing, have been so many failures to -recognize in full that which it recognized in part. The truly religious -element of Religion has always been good; that which has proved -untenable in doctrine and vicious in practice, has been its irreligious -element; and from this it has been ever undergoing purification. - - * * * * * - -§ 29. And now observe that all along, the agent which has effected the -purification has been Science. We habitually overlook the fact that this -has been one of its functions. Religion ignores its immense debt to -Science; and Science is scarcely at all conscious how much Religion owes -it. Yet it is demonstrable that every step by which Religion has -progressed from its first low conception to the comparatively high one -it has now reached, Science has helped it, or rather forced it, to take; -and that even now, Science is urging further steps in the same -direction. - -Using the word Science in its true sense, as comprehending all positive -and definite knowledge of the order existing among surrounding -phenomena, it becomes manifest that from the outset, the discovery of an -established order has modified that conception of disorder, or -undetermined order, which underlies every superstition. As fast as -experience proves that certain familiar changes always happen in the -same sequence, there begins to fade from the mind the conception of a -special personality to whose variable will they were before ascribed. -And when, step by step, accumulating observations do the like with the -less familiar changes, a similar modification of belief takes place with -respect to them. - -While this process seems to those who effect, and those who undergo it, -an anti-religious one, it is really the reverse. Instead of the specific -comprehensible agency before assigned, there is substituted a less -specific and less comprehensible agency; and though this, standing in -opposition to the previous one, cannot at first call forth the same -feeling, yet, as being less comprehensible, it must eventually call -forth this feeling more fully. Take an instance. Of old the Sun -was regarded as the chariot of a god, drawn by horses. How far the idea -thus grossly expressed, was idealized, we need not inquire. It suffices -to remark that this accounting for the apparent motion of the Sun by an -agency like certain visible terrestrial agencies, reduced a daily wonder -to the level of the commonest intellect. When, many centuries after, -Kepler discovered that the planets moved round the Sun in ellipses and -described equal areas in equal times, he concluded that in each planet -there must exist a spirit to guide its movements. Here we see that with -the progress of Science, there had disappeared the idea of a gross -mechanical traction, such as was first assigned in the case of the Sun; -but that while for this there was substituted an indefinite and -less-easily conceivable force, it was still thought needful to assume a -special personal agent as a cause of the regular irregularity of motion. -When, finally, it was proved that these planetary revolutions with all -their variations and disturbances, conformed to one universal law—when -the presiding spirits which Kepler conceived were set aside, and the -force of gravitation put in their place; the change was really the -abolition of an imaginable agency, and the substitution of an -unimaginable one. For though the _law_ of gravitation is within our -mental grasp, it is impossible to realize in thought the _force_ of -gravitation. Newton himself confessed the force of gravitation to be -incomprehensible without the intermediation of an ether; and, as we have -already seen, (§ 18,) the assumption of an ether does not in the least -help us. Thus it is with Science in general. Its progress in -grouping particular relations of phenomena under laws, and these special -laws under laws more and more general, is of necessity a progress to -causes that are more and more abstract. And causes more and more -abstract, are of necessity causes less and less conceivable; since the -formation of an abstract conception involves the dropping of certain -concrete elements of thought. Hence the most abstract conception, to -which Science is ever slowly approaching, is one that merges into the -inconceivable or unthinkable, by the dropping of all concrete elements -of thought. And so is justified the assertion, that the beliefs which -Science has forced upon Religion, have been intrinsically more religious -than those which they supplanted. - -Science however, like Religion, has but very incompletely fulfilled its -office. As Religion has fallen short of its function in so far as it has -been irreligious; so has Science fallen short of its function in so far -as it has been unscientific. Let us note the several parallelisms. - In its earlier stages, Science, while it began to teach the -constant relations of phenomena, and so discredited the belief in -separate personalities as the causes of them, itself substituted the -belief in causal agencies which, if not personal, were yet concrete. -When certain facts were said to show “Nature’s abhorrence of a vacuum,” -when the properties of gold were explained as due to some entity called -“aureity,” and when the phenomena of life were attributed to “a vital -principle;” there was set up a mode of interpreting the facts, which, -while antagonistic to the religious mode, because assigning other -agencies, was also unscientific, because it professed to know that about -which nothing was known. Having abandoned these metaphysical -agencies—having seen that they were not independent existences, but -merely special combinations of general causes, Science has more recently -ascribed extensive groups of phenomena to electricity, chemical -affinity, and other like general powers. But in speaking of these as -ultimate and independent entities, Science has preserved substantially -the same attitude as before. Accounting thus for all phenomena, those of -Life and Thought included, it has not only maintained its seeming -antagonism to Religion, by alleging agencies of a radically unlike kind; -but, in so far as it has tacitly assumed a knowledge of these agencies, -it has continued unscientific. At the present time, however, the most -advanced men of science are abandoning these later conceptions, as their -predecessors abandoned the earlier ones. Magnetism, heat, light &c, -which were awhile since spoken of as so many distinct imponderables, -physicists are now beginning to regard as different modes of -manifestation of some one universal force; and in so doing are ceasing -to think of this force as comprehensible. In each phase of its -progress, Science has thus stopped short with superficial solutions—has -unscientifically neglected to ask what was the nature of the agents it -so familiarly invoked. Though in each succeeding phase it has gone a -little deeper, and merged its supposed agents in more general and -abstract ones, it has still, as before, rested content with these as if -they were ascertained realities. And this, which has all along been the -unscientific characteristic of Science, has all along been a part cause -of its conflict with Religion. - - * * * * * - -§ 30. We see then that from the first, the faults of both Religion and -Science have been the faults of imperfect development. Originally a mere -rudiment, each has been growing into a more complete form; the vice of -each has in all times been its incompleteness; the disagreements between -them have throughout been nothing more than the consequences of their -incompleteness; and as they reach their final forms, they come into -entire harmony. - -The progress of intelligence has throughout been dual. Though it has not -seemed so to those who made it, every step in advance has been a step -towards both the natural and the supernatural. The better interpretation -of each phenomenon has been, on the one hand, the rejection of a cause -that was relatively conceivable in its nature but unknown in the order -of its actions, and, on the other hand, the adoption of a cause that was -known in the order of its actions but relatively inconceivable in its -nature. The first advance out of universal fetishism, manifestly -involved the conception of agencies less assimilable to the familiar -agencies of men and animals, and therefore less understood; while, at -the same time, such newly-conceived agencies in so far as they were -distinguished by their uniform effects, were better understood than -those they replaced. All subsequent advances display the same double -result. Every deeper and more general power arrived at as a cause of -phenomena, has been at once less comprehensible than the special ones it -superseded, in the sense of being less definitely representable in -thought; while it has been more comprehensible in the sense that its -actions have been more completely predicable. The progress has thus been -as much towards the establishment of a positively unknown as towards the -establishment of a positively known. Though as knowledge approaches its -culmination, every unaccountable and seemingly supernatural fact, is -brought into the category of facts that are accountable or natural; yet, -at the same time, all accountable or natural facts are proved to be in -their ultimate genesis unaccountable and supernatural. And so there -arise two antithetical states of mind, answering to the opposite sides -of that existence about which we think. While our consciousness of -Nature under the one aspect constitutes Science, our consciousness of it -under the other aspect constitutes Religion. - -Otherwise contemplating the facts, we may say that Religion and Science -have been undergoing a slow differentiation; and that their ceaseless -conflicts have been due to the imperfect separation of their spheres and -functions. Religion has, from the first, struggled to unite more or less -science with its nescience; Science has, from the first, kept hold of -more or less nescience as though it were a part of science. Each has -been obliged gradually to relinquish that territory which it wrongly -claimed, while it has gained from the other that to which it had a -right; and the antagonism between them has been an inevitable -accompaniment of this process. A more specific statement will make this -clear. Religion, though at the outset it asserted a mystery, also -made numerous definite assertions respecting this mystery—professed to -know its nature in the minutest detail; and in so far as it claimed -positive knowledge, it trespassed upon the province of Science. From the -times of early mythologies, when such intimate acquaintance with the -mystery was alleged, down to our own days, when but a few abstract and -vague propositions are maintained, Religion has been compelled by -Science to give up one after another of its dogmas—of those assumed -cognitions which it could not substantiate. In the mean time, Science -substituted for the personalities to which Religion ascribed phenomena, -certain metaphysical entities; and in doing this it trespassed on the -province of Religion; since it classed among the things which it -comprehended, certain forms of the incomprehensible. Partly by the -criticisms of Religion, which has occasionally called in question its -assumptions, and partly as a consequence of spontaneous growth, Science -has been obliged to abandon these attempts to include within the -boundaries of knowledge that which cannot be known; and has so yielded -up to Religion that which of right belonged to it. So long as this -process of differentiation is incomplete, more or less of antagonism -must continue. Gradually as the limits of possible cognition are -established, the causes of conflict will diminish. And a permanent peace -will be reached when Science becomes fully convinced that its -explanations are proximate and relative; while Religion becomes fully -convinced that the mystery it contemplates is ultimate and absolute. - -Religion and Science are therefore necessary correlatives. As already -hinted, they stand respectively for those two antithetical modes of -consciousness which cannot exist asunder. A known cannot be thought of -apart from an unknown; nor can an unknown be thought of apart from a -known. And by consequence neither can become more distinct without -giving greater distinctness to the other. To carry further a metaphor -before used,—they are the positive and negative poles of thought; of -which neither can gain in intensity without increasing the intensity of -the other. - - * * * * * - -§ 31. Thus the consciousness of an Inscrutable Power manifested to us -through all phenomena, has been growing ever clearer; and must -eventually be freed from its imperfections. The certainty that on the -one hand such a Power exists, while on the other hand its nature -transcends intuition and is beyond imagination, is the certainty towards -which intelligence has from the first been progressing. To this -conclusion Science inevitably arrives as it reaches its confines; while -to this conclusion Religion is irresistibly driven by criticism. And -satisfying as it does the demands of the most rigorous logic at the same -time that it gives the religious sentiment the widest possible sphere of -action, it is the conclusion we are bound to accept without reserve or -qualification. - -Some do indeed allege that though the Ultimate Cause of things cannot -really be thought of by us as having specified attributes, it is yet -incumbent upon us to assert these attributes. Though the forms of our -consciousness are such that the Absolute cannot in any manner or degree -be brought within them, we are nevertheless told that we must represent -the Absolute to ourselves under these forms. As writes Mr Mansel, in the -work from which I have already quoted largely—“It is our duty, then, to -think of God as personal; and it is our duty to believe that He is -infinite.” - -That this is not the conclusion here adopted, needs hardly be said. If -there be any meaning in the foregoing arguments, duty requires us -neither to affirm nor deny personality. Our duty is to submit ourselves -with all humility to the established limits of our intelligence; and not -perversely to rebel against them. Let those who can, believe that there -is eternal war set between our intellectual faculties and our moral -obligations. I for one, admit no such radical vice in the constitution -of things. - -This which to most will seem an essentially irreligious position, is an -essentially religious one—nay is _the_ religious one, to which, as -already shown, all others are but approximations. In the estimate it -implies of the Ultimate Cause, it does not fall short of the alternative -position, but exceeds it. Those who espouse this alternative position, -make the erroneous assumption that the choice is between personality and -something lower than personality; whereas the choice is rather between -personality and something higher. Is it not just possible that there is -a mode of being as much transcending Intelligence and Will, as these -transcend mechanical motion? It is true that we are totally unable to -conceive any such higher mode of being. But this is not a reason for -questioning its existence; it is rather the reverse. Have we not seen -how utterly incompetent our minds are to form even an approach to a -conception of that which underlies all phenomena? Is it not proved that -this incompetency is the incompetency of the Conditioned to grasp the -Unconditioned? Does it not follow that the Ultimate Cause cannot in any -respect be conceived by us because it is in every respect greater than -can be conceived? And may we not therefore rightly refrain from -assigning to it any attributes whatever, on the ground that such -attributes, derived as they must be from our own natures, are not -elevations but degradations? Indeed it seems somewhat strange that men -should suppose the highest worship to lie in assimilating the object of -their worship to themselves. Not in asserting a transcendant difference, -but in asserting a certain likeness, consists the element of their creed -which they think essential. It is true that from the time when the -rudest savages imagined the causes of all things to be creatures of -flesh and blood like themselves, down to our own time, the degree of -assumed likeness has been diminishing. But though a bodily form and -substance similar to that of man, has long since ceased, among -cultivated races, to be a literally-conceived attribute of the Ultimate -Cause—though the grosser human desires have been also rejected as unfit -elements of the conception—though there is some hesitation in ascribing -even the higher human feelings, save in greatly idealized shapes; yet it -is still thought not only proper, but imperative, to ascribe the most -abstract qualities of our nature. To think of the Creative Power as in -all respects anthropomorphous, is now considered impious by men who yet -hold themselves bound to think of the Creative Power as in some respects -anthropomorphous; and who do not see that the one proceeding is but an -evanescent form of the other. And then, most marvellous of all, this -course is persisted in even by those who contend that we are wholly -unable to frame any conception whatever of the Creative Power. After it -has been shown that every supposition respecting the genesis of the -Universe commits us to alternative impossibilities of thought—after it -has been shown that each attempt to conceive real existence ends in an -intellectual suicide—after it has been shown why, by the very -constitution of our minds, we are eternally debarred from thinking of -the Absolute; it is still asserted that we ought to think of the -Absolute thus and thus. In all imaginable ways we find thrust upon us -the truth, that we are not permitted to know—nay are not even permitted -to conceive—that Reality which is behind the veil of Appearance; and yet -it is said to be our duty to believe (and in so far to conceive) that -this Reality exists in a certain defined manner. Shall we call this -reverence? or shall we call it the reverse? - -Volumes might be written upon the impiety of the pious. Through the -printed and spoken thoughts of religious teachers, may almost everywhere -be traced a professed familiarity with the ultimate mystery of things, -which, to say the least of it, seems anything but congruous with the -accompanying expressions of humility. And surprisingly enough, those -tenets which most clearly display this familiarity, are those insisted -upon as forming the vital elements of religious belief. The attitude -thus assumed, can be fitly represented only by further developing a -simile long current in theological controversies—the simile of the -watch. If for a moment we made the grotesque supposition that the -tickings and other movements of a watch constituted a kind of -consciousness; and that a watch possessed of such a consciousness, -insisted on regarding the watchmaker’s actions as determined like its -own by springs and escapements; we should simply complete a parallel of -which religious teachers think much. And were we to suppose that a watch -not only formulated the cause of its existence in these mechanical -terms, but held that watches were bound out of reverence so to formulate -this cause, and even vituperated, as atheistic watches, any that did not -venture so to formulate it; we should merely illustrate the presumption -of theologians by carrying their own argument a step further. A -few extracts will bring home to the reader the justice of this -comparison. We are told, for example, by one of high repute among -religious thinkers, that the Universe is “the manifestation and abode of -a Free Mind, like our own; embodying His personal thought in its -adjustments, realizing His own ideal in its phenomena, just as we -express own inner faculty and character through the natural language of -an external life. In this view, we interpret Nature by Humanity; we find -the key to her aspects in such purposes and affections as our own -consciousness enables us to conceive; we look everywhere for physical -signals of an ever-living Will; and decipher the universe as the -autobiography of an Infinite Spirit, repeating itself in miniature -within our Finite Spirit.” The same writer goes still further. He not -only thus parallels the assimilation of the watchmaker to the watch,—he -not only thinks the created can “decipher” “the autobiography” of the -Creating; but he asserts that the necessary limits of the one are -necessary limits of the other. The primary qualities of bodies, he says, -“belong eternally to the material datum objective to God” and control -his acts; while the secondary ones are “products of pure Inventive -Reason and Determining Will”—constitute “the realm of Divine -originality.” * * * “While on this Secondary field His Mind and ours are -thus contrasted, they meet in resemblance again upon the Primary: for -the evolutions of deductive Reason there is but one track possible to -all intelligences; no _merum arbitrium_ can interchange the false and -true, or make more than one geometry, one scheme of pure Physics, for -all worlds; and the Omnipotent Architect Himself, in realizing the -Kosmical conception, in shaping the orbits out of immensity and -determining seasons out of eternity, could but follow the laws of -curvature, measure and proportion.” That is to say, the Ultimate Cause -is like a human mechanic, not only as “shaping” the “material datum -objective to” Him, but also as being obliged to conform to the necessary -properties of that “datum.” Nor is this all. There follows some account -of “the Divine psychology,” to the extent of saying that “we learn” “the -character of God—the order of affections in Him” from “the distribution -of authority in the hierarchy of our impulses.” In other words, it is -alleged that the Ultimate Cause has desires that are to be classed as -higher and lower like our own.[7] Every one has heard of the king -who wished he had been present at the creation of the world, that he -might have given good advice. He was humble however compared with those -who profess to understand not only the relation of the Creating to the -created, but also how the Creating is constituted. And yet this -transcendant audacity, which claims to penetrate the secrets of the -Power manifested to us through all existence—nay even to stand behind -that Power and note the conditions to its action—this it is which passes -current as piety! May we not without hesitation affirm that a sincere -recognition of the truth that our own and all other existence is a -mystery absolutely and for ever beyond our comprehension, contains more -of true religion than all the dogmatic theology ever written? - -Meanwhile let us recognize whatever of permanent good there is in these -persistent attempts to frame conceptions of that which cannot be -conceived. From the beginning it has been only through the successive -failures of such conceptions to satisfy the mind, that higher and higher -ones have been gradually reached; and doubtless, the conceptions now -current are indispensable as transitional modes of thought. Even more -than this may be willingly conceded. It is possible, nay probable, that -under their most abstract forms, ideas of this order will always -continue to occupy the background of our consciousness. Very likely -there will ever remain a need to give shape to that indefinite sense of -an Ultimate Existence, which forms the basis of our intelligence. We -shall always be under the necessity of contemplating it as _some_ mode -of being; that is—of representing it to ourselves in _some_ form of -thought, however vague. And we shall not err in doing this so long as we -treat every notion we thus frame as merely a symbol, utterly without -resemblance to that for which it stands. Perhaps the constant formation -of such symbols and constant rejection of them as inadequate, may be -hereafter, as it has hitherto been, a means of discipline. Perpetually -to construct ideas requiring the utmost stretch of our faculties, and -perpetually to find that such ideas must be abandoned as futile -imaginations, may realize to us more fully than any other course, the -greatness of that which we vainly strive to grasp. Such efforts and -failures may serve to maintain in our minds a due sense of the -incommensurable difference between the Conditioned and the -Unconditioned. By continually seeking to know and being continually -thrown back with a deepened conviction of the impossibility of knowing, -we may keep alive the consciousness that it is alike our highest wisdom -and our highest duty to regard that through which all things exist as -The Unknowable. - - * * * * * - -§ 32. An immense majority will refuse with more or less of indignation, -a belief seeming to them so shadowy and indefinite. Having always -embodied the Ultimate Cause so far as was needful to its mental -realization, they must necessarily resent the substitution of an -Ultimate Cause which cannot be mentally realized at all. “You offer us,” -they say, “an unthinkable abstraction in place of a Being towards whom -we may entertain definite feelings. Though we are told that the Absolute -is real, yet since we are not allowed to conceive it, it might as well -be a pure negation. Instead of a Power which we can regard as having -some sympathy with us, you would have us contemplate a Power to which no -emotion whatever can be ascribed. And so we are to be deprived of the -very substance of our faith.” - -This kind of protest of necessity accompanies every change from a lower -creed to a higher. The belief in a community of nature between himself -and the object of his worship, has always been to man a satisfactory -one; and he has always accepted with reluctance those successively less -concrete conceptions which have been forced upon him. Doubtless, in all -times and places, it has consoled the barbarian to think of his deities -as so exactly like himself in nature, that they could be bribed by -offerings of food; and the assurance that deities could not be so -propitiated, must have been repugnant, because it deprived him of an -easy method of gaining supernatural protection. To the Greeks it was -manifestly a source of comfort that on occasions of difficulty they -could obtain, through oracles, the advice of their gods,—nay, might even -get the personal aid of their gods in battle; and it was probably a very -genuine anger which they visited upon philosophers who called in -question these gross ideas of their mythology. A religion which teaches -the Hindoo that it is impossible to purchase eternal happiness by -placing himself under the wheel of Juggernaut, can scarcely fail to seem -a cruel one to him; since it deprives him of the pleasurable -consciousness that he can at will exchange miseries for joys. Nor is it -less clear that to our Catholic ancestors, the beliefs that crimes could -be compounded for by the building of churches, that their own -punishments and those of their relatives could be abridged by the saying -of masses, and that divine aid or forgiveness might be gained through -the intercession of saints, were highly solacing ones; and that -Protestantism, in substituting the conception of a God so comparatively -unlike ourselves as not to be influenced by such methods, must have -appeared to them hard and cold. Naturally, therefore, we must expect a -further step in the same direction to meet with a similar resistance -from outraged sentiments. No mental revolution can be accomplished -without more or less of laceration. Be it a change of habit or a change -of conviction, it must, if the habit or conviction be strong, do -violence to some of the feelings; and these must of course oppose it. -For long-experienced, and therefore definite, sources of satisfaction, -have to be substituted sources of satisfaction that have not been -experienced, and are therefore indefinite. That which is relatively well -known and real, has to be given up for that which is relatively unknown -and ideal. And of course such an exchange cannot be made without a -conflict involving pain. Especially then must there arise a strong -antagonism to any alteration in so deep and vital a conception as that -with which we are here dealing. Underlying, as this conception does, all -others, a modification of it threatens to reduce the superstructure to -ruins. Or to change the metaphor—being the root with which are connected -our ideas of goodness, rectitude, or duty, it appears impossible that it -should be transformed without causing these to wither away and die. The -whole higher part of the nature almost of necessity takes up arms -against a change which, by destroying the established associations of -thought, seems to eradicate morality. - -This is by no means all that has to be said for such protests. There is -a much deeper meaning in them. They do not simply express the natural -repugnance to a revolution of belief, here made specially intense by the -vital importance of the belief to be revolutionized; but they also -express an instinctive adhesion to a belief that is in one sense the -best—the best for those who thus cling to it, though not abstractedly -the best. For here let me remark that what were above spoken of as -the imperfections of Religion, at first great but gradually diminishing, -have been imperfections only as measured by an absolute standard; and -not as measured by a relative one. Speaking generally, the religion -current in each age and among each people, has been as near an -approximation to the truth as it was then and there possible for men to -receive: the more or less concrete forms in which it has embodied the -truth, have simply been the means of making thinkable what would -otherwise have been unthinkable; and so have for the time being served -to increase its impressiveness. If we consider the conditions of -the case, we shall find this to be an unavoidable conclusion. During -each stage of evolution, men must think in such terms of thought as they -possess. While all the conspicuous changes of which they can observe the -origins, have men and animals as antecedents, they are unable to think -of antecedents in general under any other shapes; and hence creative -agencies are of necessity conceived by them in these shapes. If during -this phase, these concrete conceptions were taken from them, and the -attempt made to give them comparatively abstract conceptions, the result -would be to leave their minds with none at all; since the substituted -ones could not be mentally represented. Similarly with every successive -stage of religious belief, down to the last. Though, as accumulating -experiences slowly modify the earliest ideas of causal personalities, -there grow up more general and vague ideas of them; yet these cannot be -at once replaced by others still more general and vague. Further -experiences must supply the needful further abstractions, before the -mental void left by the destruction of such inferior ideas can be filled -by ideas of a superior order. And at the present time, the refusal to -abandon a relatively concrete notion for a relatively abstract one, -implies the inability to frame the relatively abstract one; and so -proves that the change would be premature and injurious. Still -more clearly shall we see the injuriousness of any such premature -change, on observing that the effects of a belief upon conduct must be -diminished in proportion as the vividness with which it is realized -becomes less. Evils and benefits akin to those which the savage has -personally felt, or learned from those who have felt them, are the only -evils and benefits he can understand; and these must be looked for as -coming in ways, like those of which he has had experience. His deities -must be imagined to have like motives and passions and methods with the -beings around him; for motives and passions and methods of a higher -character, being unknown to him, and in great measure unthinkable by -him, cannot be so realized in thought as to influence his deeds. During -every phase of civilization, the actions of the Unseen Reality, as well -as the resulting rewards and punishments, being conceivable only in such -forms as experience furnishes, to supplant them by higher ones before -wider experiences have made higher ones conceivable, is to set up vague -and uninfluential motives for definite and influential ones. Even now, -for the great mass of men, unable through lack of culture to trace out -with due clearness those good and bad consequences which conduct brings -round through the established order of the Unknowable, it is needful -that there should be vividly depicted future torments and future -joys—pains and pleasures of a definite kind, produced in a manner direct -and simple enough to be clearly imagined. Nay still more must be -conceded. Few if any are as yet fitted wholly to dispense with such -conceptions as are current. The highest abstractions take so great a -mental power to realize with any vividness, and are so inoperative upon -conduct unless they are vividly realized, that their regulative effects -must for a long period to come be appreciable on but a small minority. -To see clearly how a right or wrong act generates consequences, internal -and external, that go on branching out more widely as years progress, -requires a rare power of analysis. To mentally represent even a single -series of these consequences, as it stretches out into the remote -future, requires an equally rare power of imagination. And to estimate -these consequences in their totality, ever multiplying in number while -diminishing in intensity, requires a grasp of thought possessed by none. -Yet it is only by such analysis, such imagination, and such grasp, that -conduct can be rightly guided in the absence of all other control: only -so can ultimate rewards and penalties be made to outweigh proximate -pains and pleasures. Indeed, were it not that throughout the progress of -the race, men’s experiences of the effects of conduct have been slowly -generalized into principles—were it not that these principles have been -from generation to generation insisted on by parents, upheld by public -opinion, sanctified by religion, and enforced by threats of eternal -damnation for disobedience—were it not that under these potent -influences, habits have been modified, and the feelings proper to them -made innate—were it not, in short, that we have been rendered in a -considerable degree organically moral; it is certain that disastrous -results would ensue from the removal of those strong and distinct -motives which the current belief supplies. Even as it is, those who -relinquish the faith in which they have been brought up, for this most -abstract faith in which Science and Religion unite, may not uncommonly -fail to act up to their convictions. Left to their organic morality, -enforced only by general reasonings imperfectly wrought out and -difficult to keep before the mind, their defects of nature will often -come out more strongly than they would have done under their previous -creed. The substituted creed can become adequately operative only when -it becomes, like the present one, an element in early education, and has -the support of a strong social sanction. Nor will men be quite ready for -it until, through the continuance of a discipline which has already -partially moulded them to the conditions of social existence, they are -completely moulded to those conditions. - -We must therefore recognize the resistance to a change of theological -opinion, as in great measure salutary. It is not simply that strong and -deep-rooted feelings are necessarily excited to antagonism—it is not -simply that the highest moral sentiments join in the condemnation of a -change which seems to undermine their authority; but it is that a real -adaptation exists between an established belief and the natures of those -who defend it; and that the tenacity of the defence measures the -completeness of the adaptation. Forms of religion, like forms of -government, must be fit for those who live under them; and in the one -case as in the other, that form which is fittest is that for which there -is an instinctive preference. As certainly as a barbarous race needs a -harsh terrestrial rule, and habitually shows attachment to a despotism -capable of the necessary rigour; so certainly does such a race need a -belief in a celestial rule that is similarly harsh, and habitually shows -attachment to such a belief. And just in the same way that the sudden -substitution of free institutions for tyrannical ones, is sure to be -followed by a reaction; so, if a creed full of dreadful ideal penalties -is all at once replaced by one presenting ideal penalties that are -comparatively gentle, there will inevitably be a return to some -modification of the old belief. The parallelism holds yet further. -During those early stages in which there is an extreme incongruity -between the relatively best and the absolutely best, both political and -religious changes, when at rare intervals they occur, are necessarily -violent; and necessarily entail violent retrogressions. But as the -incongruity between that which is and that which should be, diminishes, -the changes become more moderate, and are succeeded by more moderate -retrogressions; until, as these movements and counter-movements decrease -in amount and increase in frequency, they merge into an almost -continuous growth. That adhesion to old institutions and beliefs, which, -in primitive societies, opposes an iron barrier to any advance, and -which, after the barrier has been at length burst through, brings back -the institutions and beliefs from that too-forward position to which the -momentum of change had carried them, and so helps to re-adapt social -conditions to the popular character—this adhesion to old institution and -beliefs, eventually becomes the constant check by which the constant -advance is prevented from being too rapid. This holds true of religious -creeds and forms, as of civil ones. And so we learn that theological -conservatism, like political conservatism, has an all-important -function. - - * * * * * - -§ 33. That spirit of toleration which is so marked a characteristic of -modern times, and is daily growing more conspicuous, has thus a far -deeper meaning than is supposed. What we commonly regard simply as a due -respect for the right of private judgment, is really a necessary -condition to the balancing of the progressive and conservative -tendencies—is a means of maintaining the adaptation between men’s -beliefs and their natures. It is therefore a spirit to be fostered; and -it is a spirit which the catholic thinker, who perceives the functions -of these various conflicting creeds, should above all other men display. - Doubtless whoever feels the greatness of the error to which his -fellows cling and the greatness of the truth which they reject, will -find it hard to show a due patience. It is hard for him to listen calmly -to the futile arguments used in support of irrational doctrines, and to -the misrepresentation of antagonist doctrines. It is hard for him to -bear the manifestation of that pride of ignorance which so far exceeds -the pride of science. Naturally enough such a one will be indignant when -charged with irreligion because he declines to accept the -carpenter-theory of creation as the most worthy one. He may think it -needless as it is difficult, to conceal his repugnance to a creed which -tacitly ascribes to The Unknowable a love of adulation such as would be -despised in a human being. Convinced as he is that all punishment, as we -see it wrought out in the order of nature, is but a disguised -beneficence, there will perhaps escape from him an angry condemnation of -the belief that punishment is a divine vengeance, and that divine -vengeance is eternal. He may be tempted to show his contempt when he is -told that actions instigated by an unselfish sympathy or by a pure love -of rectitude, are intrinsically sinful; and that conduct is truly good -only when it is due to a faith whose openly-professed motive is -other-worldliness. But he must restrain such feelings. Though he may be -unable to do this during the excitement of controversy, or when -otherwise brought face to face with current superstitions, he must yet -qualify his antagonism in calmer moments; so that his mature judgment -and resulting conduct may be without bias. - -To this end let him ever bear in mind three cardinal facts—two of them -already dwelt upon, and one still to be pointed out. The first is -that with which we set out; namely the existence of a fundamental verity -under all forms of religion, however degraded. In each of them there is -a soul of truth. Through the gross body of dogmas traditions and rites -which contain it, it is always visible—dimly or clearly as the case may -be. This it is which gives vitality even to the rudest creed; this it is -which survives every modification; and this it is which we must not -forget when condemning the forms under which it is presented. The -second of these cardinal facts, set forth at length in the foregoing -section, is, that while those concrete elements in which each creed -embodies this soul of truth, are bad as measured by an absolute -standard, they are good as measured by a relative standard. Though from -higher perceptions they hide the abstract verity within them; yet to -lower perceptions they render this verity more appreciable than it would -otherwise be. They serve to make real and influential over men, that -which would else be unreal and uninfluential. Or we may call them the -protective envelopes, without which the contained truth would die. - The remaining cardinal fact is, that these various beliefs are -parts of the constituted order of things; and not accidental but -necessary parts. Seeing how one or other of them is everywhere present; -is of perennial growth; and when cut down, redevelops in a form but -slightly modified; we cannot avoid the inference that they are needful -accompaniments of human life, severally fitted to the societies in which -they are indigenous. From the highest point of view, we must recognize -them as elements in that great evolution of which the beginning and end -are beyond our knowledge or conception—as modes of manifestation of The -Unknowable; and as having this for their warrant. - -Our toleration therefore should be the widest possible. Or rather, we -should aim at something beyond toleration, as commonly understood. In -dealing with alien beliefs, our endeavour must be, not simply to refrain -from injustice of word or deed; but also to do justice by an open -recognition of positive worth. We must qualify our disagreement with as -much as may be of sympathy. - - * * * * * - -§ 34. These admissions will perhaps be held to imply, that the current -theology should be passively accepted; or, at any rate, should not be -actively opposed. “Why,” it may be asked, “if all creeds have an average -fitness to their times and places, should we not rest content with that -to which we are born? If the established belief contains an essential -truth—if the forms under which it presents this truth, though -intrinsically bad, are extrinsically good—if the abolition of these -forms would be at present detrimental to the great majority—nay, if -there are scarcely any to whom the ultimate and most abstract belief can -furnish an adequate rule of life; surely it is wrong, for the present at -least, to propagate this ultimate and most abstract belief.” - -The reply is, that though existing religious ideas and institutions have -an average adaptation to the characters of the people who live under -them; yet, as these characters are ever changing, the adaptation is ever -becoming imperfect; and the ideas and institutions need remodelling with -a frequency proportionate to the rapidity of the change. Hence, while it -is requisite that free play should be given to conservative thought and -action, progressive thought and action must also have free play. Without -the agency of both, there cannot be those continual re-adaptations which -orderly progress demands. - -Whoever hesitates to utter that which he thinks the highest truth, lest -it should be too much in advance of the time, may reassure himself by -looking at his acts from an impersonal point of view. Let him duly -realize the fact that opinion is the agency through which character -adapts external arrangements to itself—that his opinion rightly forms -part of this agency—is a unit of force, constituting, with other such -units, the general power which works out social changes; and he will -perceive that he may properly give full utterance to his innermost -conviction: leaving it to produce what effect it may. It is not for -nothing that he has in him these sympathies with some principles and -repugnance to others. He, with all his capacities, and aspirations, and -beliefs, is not an accident, but a product of the time. He must remember -that while he is a descendant of the past, he is a parent of the future; -and that his thoughts are as children born to him, which he may not -carelessly let die. He, like every other man, may properly consider -himself as one of the myriad agencies through whom works the Unknown -Cause; and when the Unknown Cause produces in him a certain belief, he -is thereby authorized to profess and act out that belief. For, to render -in their highest sense the words of the poet— - - ——Nature is made better by no mean, - But nature makes that mean: over that art - Which you say adds to nature, is an art - That nature makes. - -Not as adventitious therefore will the wise man regard the faith which -is in him. The highest truth he sees he will fearlessly utter; knowing -that, let what may come of it, he is thus playing his right part in the -world—knowing that if he can effect the change he aims at—well: if -not—well also; though not _so_ well. - ------ - -Footnote 7: - - These extracts are from an article entitled “Nature and God,” - published in the _National Review_ for October, 1860. - - - - - PART II. - - LAWS OF THE KNOWABLE. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - LAWS IN GENERAL. - - -§ 35. We have seen that intellectual advance has been dual—has been -towards the establishment of both a positively unknown and a positively -known. In making ever more certain the inaccessibility of one kind of -truth, experience has made ever more certain the accessibility of -another kind. The differentiation of the knowable from the unknowable, -is shown as much in the reduction of the one to perfect clearness, as in -the reduction of the other to impenetrable mystery. Progressing -enlightenment discloses a definite limit to human intelligence; and -while all which lies on the other side of the limit, is, with increasing -distinctness, seen to transcend our finite faculties, it grows more and -more obvious that all which lies on this side of the limit may become an -indisputable possession. - -To speak specifically—it has been shown that though we can never learn -the _nature_ of that which is manifested to us, we are daily learning -more completely the _order_ of its manifestations. We are conscious of -effects produced in us by something separate from ourselves. The effects -of which we are conscious—the changes of consciousness which make up our -mental life, we ascribe to the forces of an external world. The -intrinsic character of these forces—of this external world—of that which -underlies all appearances, we find inscrutable; as is also the internal -something whose changes constitute consciousness, but at the same time -we find that among the changes of consciousness thus produced, there -exist various constant relations; and we have no choice but to ascribe -constancy to the relations which subsist among the inscrutable causes of -these changes. Observation early discloses certain invariable connexions -of coexistence and sequence among phenomena. Accumulating experiences -tend continually to augment the number of invariable connexions -recognized. When, as in the later stages of civilization, there arises -not only a diligent gathering together of experiences but a critical -comparison of them, more remote and complex connexions are added to the -list. And gradually there grows up the habit of regarding these -uniformities of relation as characterizing all manifestations of the -Unknowable. Under the endless variety and seeming irregularity, there is -ever more clearly discerned that “constant course of procedure” which we -call Law. - -The growing belief in the universality of Law, is so conspicuous to all -cultivated minds as scarcely to need illustration. None who read these -pages will ask for proof that this has been the central element of -intellectual progress. But though the fact is sufficiently familiar, the -philosophy of the fact is not so; and it will be desirable now to -consider it. Partly because the development of our conception of Law -will so be rendered more comprehensible; but chiefly because our -subsequent course will thus be facilitated; I propose here to enumerate -the several conditions that determine the order in which the various -relations among phenomena are discovered. Seeing, as we shall, the -consequent necessity of this order; and enabled, as we shall also be, to -estimate the future by inference from the past; we shall perceive how -inevitable is our advance towards the ultimatum that has been indicated. - - * * * * * - -§ 36. The recognition of Law, being the recognition of uniformity of -relations among phenomena, it follows that the order in which different -groups of phenomena are reduced to law, must depend on the frequency and -distinctness with which the uniform relations they severally present, -are experienced. At any given stage of progress, those uniformities will -be most recognized with which men’s minds have been oftenest and most -strongly impressed. In proportion partly to the number of times a -relation has been presented to consciousness (not merely to the senses); -and in proportion partly to the vividness with which the terms of the -relation have been cognized; will be the degree in which the constancy -of connexion is perceived. - -The frequency and impressiveness with which different classes of -relations are repeated in conscious experience, thus primarily -determining the succession in which they are generalized, there result -certain derivative principles to which this succession must more -immediately and obviously conform. First in importance comes _the -directness with which personal welfare is affected_. While, among -surrounding things, many do not appreciably influence the body in any -way, some act detrimentally and some beneficially, in various degrees; -and manifestly, those things whose actions on the organism are most -influential, will, cæteris paribus, be those whose laws of action are -earliest observed. Second in order, is _the conspicuousness of one -or both the phenomena between which a relation is to be perceived_. On -every side are countless phenomena so concealed as to be detected only -by close observation; others not obtrusive enough to attract notice; -others which moderately solicit the attention; others so imposing or -vivid as to force themselves upon consciousness; and supposing -incidental conditions to be the same, these last will of course be among -the first to have their relations generalized. In the third place, -we have _the absolute frequency with which the relations occur_. There -are coexistences and sequences of all degrees of commonness, from those -which are ever present to those which are extremely rare; and it is -clear that the rare coexistences and sequences, as well as the sequences -which are very long in taking place, will not be reduced to law so soon -as those which are familiar and rapid. Fourthly has to be added -_the relative frequency of occurrence_. Many events and appearances are -more or less limited to times and places; and as a relation which does -not exist within the environment of an observer, cannot be cognized by -him, however common it may be elsewhere or in another age, we have to -take account of the surrounding physical circumstances, as well as the -state of society, of the arts, and of the sciences—all of which affect -the frequency with which certain groups of facts are exposed to -observation. The fifth corollary to be noticed, is, that the -succession in which different classes of phenomena are reduced to law, -depends in part on their _simplicity_. Phenomena presenting great -composition of causes or conditions, have their essential relations so -masked, that it requires accumulated experiences to impress upon -consciousness the true connexion of antecedents and consequents they -involve. Hence, other things equal, the progress of generalization will -be from the simple to the complex; and this it is which M. Comte has -wrongly asserted to be the sole regulative principle of the progress. - Sixth, and last, comes _the degree of abstractness_. Concrete -relations are the earliest acquisitions. The colligation of any group of -these into a general relation, which is the first step in abstraction, -necessarily comes later than the discovery of the relations colligated. -The union of a number of these lowest generalizations into a higher and -more abstract generalization, is necessarily subsequent to the formation -of such lowest generalizations. And so on continually, until the highest -and most abstract generalizations have been reached. - -These then are the several derivative principles. The frequency and -vividness with which uniform relations are repeated in conscious -experience, determining the recognition of their uniformity; and this -frequency and vividness depending on the above conditions; it follows -that the order in which different classes of facts are generalized, must -depend on the extent to which the above conditions are fulfilled in each -class. Let us mark how the facts harmonize with this conclusion: taking -first a few that elucidate the general truth, and afterwards some that -are illustrative of the several special truths which we here see follow -from it. - - * * * * * - -§ 37. The relations earliest known as uniformities, are those subsisting -between the common physical properties of matter—tangibility, -visibility, cohesion, weight &c. We have no trace of an era in human -history when the resistance offered by every visible object, was -regarded as caused by the will of the object; or when the pressure of a -body on the hand supporting it, was ascribed to the direct agency of a -living being. And accordingly, we see that these are the relations -oftenest repeated in consciousness; being as they are, objectively -frequent, conspicuous, simple, concrete, and of immediate personal -concern. - -Similarly with respect to the ordinary phenomena of motion. The fall of -a mass on the withdrawal of its support, is a sequence which directly -affects bodily welfare, is conspicuous, simple, concrete, and very often -repeated. Hence it is one of the uniformities recognized before the dawn -of tradition. We know of no time when movements due to terrestrial -gravitation were attributed to volition. Only when the relation is -obscured—only, as in the case of an aerolite, where the antecedent of -the descent is unperceived, do we find the fetishistic conception -persistent. On the other hand, motions of intrinsically the same -order as that of a falling stone—those of the heavenly bodies—long -remain ungeneralized; and until their uniformity is seen, are construed -as results of will. This difference is clearly not dependent on -comparative complexity or abstractness; since the motion of a planet in -an ellipse, is as simple and concrete a phenomenon as the motion of a -projected arrow in a parabola. But the antecedents are not conspicuous; -the sequences are of long duration; and they are infrequently repeated. -Hence in a given period, there cannot be the same multiplied experiences -of them. And that this is the chief cause of their slow reduction to -law, we see in the fact that they are severally generalized in the order -of their frequency and conspicuousness—the moon’s monthly cycle, the -sun’s annual change, the periods of the inferior planets, the periods of -the superior planets. - -While astronomical sequences were still ascribed to volition, certain -terrestrial sequences of a different kind, but some of them equally -without complication, were interpreted in like manner. The -solidification of water at a low temperature, is a phenomenon that is -simple, concrete, and of much personal concern. But it is neither so -frequent as those which we saw are earliest generalized, nor is the -presence of the antecedent so uniformly conspicuous. Though in all but -tropical climates, mid-winter displays the relation between cold and -freezing with tolerable constancy; yet, during the spring and autumn, -the occasional appearance of ice in the mornings has no very manifest -connexion with coldness of the weather. Sensation being so inaccurate a -measure, it is not possible for the savage to experience the definite -relation between a temperature of 32° and the congealing of water; and -hence the long-continued conception of personal agency. Similarly, but -still more clearly, with the winds. The absence of regularity and the -inconspicuousness of the antecedents, allowed the mythological -explanation to survive for a great period. - -During the era in which the uniformity of many quite simple inorganic -relations was still unrecognized, certain classes of organic relations, -intrinsically very complex and special, were generalized. The constant -coexistence of feathers and a beak, of four legs with a bony internal -framework, of a particular leaf with poisonous berries, are facts which -were, and are, familiar to every savage. Did a savage find a bird with -teeth, or a mammal clothed with feathers, he would be as much surprised -as an instructed naturalist; and would probably make a fetish of the -anomalous form: so showing that while the exceptional relation suggested -the notion of a personal cause, the habitual relation did not. Now these -uniformities of organic structure which are so early perceived, are of -exactly the same class as those more numerous ones later established by -biology. The constant coexistence of mammary glands with two occipital -condyles in the skull, of vertebræ with teeth lodged in sockets, of -frontal horns with the habit of rumination, are generalizations as -purely empirical as those known to the aboriginal hunter. The vegetal -physiologist cannot in the least understand the complex relation between -the kind of leaf and the kind of fruit borne by a particular plant: he -knows these and like connexions simply in the same manner that the -barbarian knows them. But the fact that sundry of the uniform relations -which chiefly make up the organic sciences, were very early recognized, -is due to the high degree of vividness and frequency with which they -were presented to consciousness. Though the connexion between the form -of a given creature and the sound it makes, or the quality of its fur, -or the nature of its flesh, is extremely involved; yet the two terms of -the relation are conspicuous; are usually observed in close -juxtaposition in time and space; are so observed perhaps daily, or many -times a day; and above all a knowledge of their connexion has a direct -and obvious bearing on personal welfare. Meanwhile, we see that -innumerable other relations of exactly the same order, which are -displayed with even greater frequency by surrounding plants and animals, -remain for thousands of years unrecognized, if they are unobtrusive or -of no apparent moment. - -When, passing from this primitive stage to a more advanced stage, we -trace the discovery of those less familiar uniformities which constitute -what is technically distinguished as Science, we find the order of -discovery to be still determined in the same manner. We shall most -clearly see this in contemplating separately the influence of each -derivative condition; as was proposed in the last section. - - * * * * * - -§ 38. How relations that have an immediate bearing on the maintenance of -life, are, other things equal, necessarily fixed in the mind before -those which have no such immediate bearing, is abundantly illustrated in -the history of Science. The habits of existing uncivilized races, who -fix times by moons and barter so many of one article for so many of -another, show us that numeration, which is the germ of mathematical -science, commenced under the immediate pressure of personal wants; and -it can scarcely be doubted that those laws of numerical relations which -are embodied in the rules of arithmetic, were first brought to light -through the practice of mercantile exchange. Similarly with Geometry. -The derivation shows us that it originally included only certain methods -of partitioning ground and laying out buildings. The properties of the -scales and the lever, involving the first principle in mechanics, were -early generalized under the stimulus of commercial and architectural -needs. To fix the times of religious festivals and agricultural -operations, were the motives which led to the establishment of the -simpler astronomic periods. Such small knowledge of chemical relations -as was involved in ancient metallurgy, was manifestly obtained in -seeking how to improve tools and weapons. In the alchemy of later times, -we see how greatly an intense hope of private benefit contributed to the -disclosure of a certain class of uniformities. Nor is our own age barren -of illustrations. “Here,” says Humboldt when in Guiana, “as in many -parts of Europe, the sciences are thought worthy to occupy the mind, -only so far as they confer some immediate and practical benefit on -society.” “How is it possible to believe,” said a missionary to him, -“that you have left your country to come and be devoured by mosquitoes -on this river, and to measure lands that are not your own.” Our coasts -furnish like instances. Every sea-side naturalist knows how great is the -contempt with which fishermen regard the collection of objects for the -microscope or aquarium: their incredulity as to the possible value of -such things, being so great, that they can scarcely be induced even by -bribes to preserve the refuse of their nets. Nay, we need not go for -evidence beyond daily table-talk. The demand for “practical science”—for -a knowledge that can be brought to bear on the business of life; joined -to the ridicule commonly vented on pursuits that have no obvious use; -suffice to show that the order in which different coexistences and -sequences are discovered, greatly depends on the directness with which -they affect our welfare. - -That, when all other conditions are the same, obtrusive relations will -be generalized before unobtrusive ones, is so nearly a truism that -examples appear almost superfluous. If it be admitted that by the -aboriginal man, as by the child, the co-existent properties of large -surrounding objects are noticed before those of minute objects; and that -the external relations which bodies present are generalized before their -internal ones; it must be admitted that in all subsequent stages of -progress, the comparative conspicuousness of relations has greatly -affected the order in which they were recognized as uniform. Hence it -happened that after the establishment of those very manifest sequences -constituting a lunation, and those less manifest ones marking a year, -and those still less manifest ones marking the planetary periods, -Astronomy occupied itself with such inconspicuous sequences as those -displayed in the repeating cycle of lunar eclipses, and those which -suggested the theory of epicycles and eccentrics; while modern Astronomy -deals with still more inconspicuous sequences: some of which, as the -planetary rotations, are nevertheless the simplest which the heavens -present. In Physics, the early use of canoes implied an empirical -knowledge of certain hydrostatic relations that are intrinsically more -complex than sundry static relations then unknown; but these hydrostatic -relations were thrust upon observation. Or if we compare the solution of -the problem of specific gravity by Archimedes, with the discovery of -atmospheric pressure by Torricelli, (the two involving mechanical -relations of exactly the same kind,) we perceive that the much earlier -occurrence of the first than the last, was determined neither by a -difference in their bearings on personal welfare, nor by a difference in -the frequency with which illustrations of them come under observation, -nor by relative simplicity; but solely by the greater obtrusiveness of -the connexion between antecedent and consequent in the one case than in -the other. Similarly with Chemistry. The burning of wood, the rusting of -iron, the putrefaction of dead bodies, were early known as consequents -uniformly related to certain antecedents; but not until long after was -there reached a like empirical knowledge of the effect produced by air -in the decomposition of soil: a phenomenon of equal simplicity, equal or -greater importance, and greater frequency; but one that is extremely -unobtrusive. Among miscellaneous illustrations, it may be pointed out -that the connexions between lightning and thunder and between rain and -clouds, were established long before others of the same order; simply -because they thrust themselves on the attention. Or the long-delayed -discovery of the microscopic forms of life, with all the phenomena they -present, may be named as very clearly showing how certain groups of -relations that are not ordinarily perceptible, though in all other -respects like long-familiar relations, have to wait until changed -conditions render them perceptible. But, without further details, it -needs only to consider the inquiries which now occupy the electrician, -the chemist, the physiologist, to see that Science has advanced and is -advancing from the more conspicuous phenomena to the less conspicuous -ones. - -How the degree of absolute frequency of a relation affects the -recognition of its uniformity, we see in contrasting certain biological -facts. Death and disease are near akin in most of their relations to us; -while in respect of complexity, conspicuousness, and the directness with -which they personally concern us, diseases in general may be put pretty -nearly on a level with each other. But there are great differences in -the times at which the natural sequences they severally exhibit are -recognized as such. The connexion between death and bodily injury, -constantly displayed not only in men but in all inferior creatures, was -known as an established uniformity while yet diseases were thought -supernatural. Among diseases themselves, it is observable that -comparatively unusual ones were regarded as of demoniacal origin during -ages when the more frequent were ascribed to ordinary causes: a truth -paralleled indeed among our own peasantry, who by the use of charms show -a lingering superstition with respect to rare disorders, which they do -not show with respect to common ones, such as colds. Passing to physical -illustrations, we may note that within the historic period, whirlpools -were accounted for by the agency of water-spirits; but we do not find -that within the same period the disappearance of water on exposure -either to the sun or to artificial heat was interpreted in an analogous -way: though a much more marvellous occurrence, and a much more complex -one, its great frequency led to the early establishment of it as a -natural uniformity. Rainbows and comets do not differ greatly in -conspicuousness, and a rainbow is intrinsically the more involved -phenomenon; but chiefly because of their far greater commonness, -rainbows were perceived to have a direct dependence on sun and rain -while yet comets were regarded as supernatural appearances. - -That races living inland must long have remained ignorant of the daily -and monthly sequences of the tides, and that intertropical races could -not early have comprehended the phenomena of northern winters, are -extreme illustrations of the influence which relative frequency has on -the recognition of uniformities. Animals which, where they are -indigenous, call forth no surprise by their structure or habits, because -these are so familiar, when taken to a part of the earth where they have -never been seen, are looked at with an astonishment approaching to -awe—are even thought supernatural: a fact which will suggest numerous -others that show how the localization of phenomena, in part controls the -order in which they are reduced to law. Not only however does their -localization in space affect the progression, but also their -localization in time. Facts which are rarely if ever manifested during -one era, are rendered very frequent in another, simply through the -changes wrought by civilization. The lever, of which the properties are -illustrated in the use of sticks and weapons, is vaguely understood by -every savage—on applying it in a certain way he rightly anticipates -certain effects; but the action of the equally simple wedge, which is -not commonly displayed till tool-making has made some progress, is less -early generalized; while the wheel and axle, pulley, and screw, cannot -have their powers either empirically or rationally known till the -advance of the arts has more or less familiarized them. Through those -various means of exploration which we have inherited and are ever -increasing, we have become acquainted with a vast range of chemical -relations that were relatively non-existent to the primitive man: to -highly developed industries we owe both the substances and the apparatus -that have disclosed to us countless uniformities which our ancestors had -no opportunity of seeing, and therefore could not recognize. These and -sundry like instances that will occur to the reader, show that the -accumulated materials, and processes, and appliances, and products, -which characterize the environments of complex societies, greatly -increase the accessibility of various classes of relations; and by so -multiplying the experiences of them, or making them relatively frequent, -facilitate their generalization. To which add, that various classes of -phenomena presented by society itself, as for instance those which -political economy formulates, become relatively frequent and therefore -recognizable in advanced social states; while in less advanced ones they -are too rarely displayed to have their relations perceived, or, as in -the least advanced ones, are not displayed at all. - -That, where no other circumstances interfere, the order in which -different uniformities are established varies as their complexity, is -manifest. The geometry of straight lines was understood before the -geometry of curved lines; the properties of the circle before the -properties of the ellipse, parabola and hyperbola; and the equations of -curves of single curvature were ascertained before those of curves of -double curvature. Plane trigonometry comes in order of time and -simplicity before spherical trigonometry; and the mensuration of plane -surfaces and solids before the mensuration of curved surfaces and -solids. Similarly with mechanics: the laws of simple motion were -generalized before those of compound motion; and those of rectilinear -motion before those of curvilinear motion. The properties of equal-armed -levers, or scales, were understood before those of the lever with -unequal arms; and the law of the inclined plane was formulated earlier -than that of the screw, which involves it. In chemistry, the progress -has been from the simple inorganic compounds, to the more involved -organic ones. And where, as in most of the other sciences, the -conditions of the exploration are more complicated, we still may clearly -trace relative complexity as one of the determining circumstances. - -The progression from concrete relations to abstract ones, and from the -less abstract to the more abstract, is equally obvious. Numeration, -which in its primary form concerned itself only with groups of actual -objects, came earlier than simple arithmetic: the rules of which deal -with numbers apart from objects. Arithmetic, limited in its sphere to -concrete numerical relations, is alike earlier and less abstract than -Algebra, which deals with the relations of these relations. And in like -manner, the Infinitesimal Calculus comes after Algebra, both in order of -evolution and in order of abstractness. In Astronomy, the progress has -been from special generalizations, each expressing the motions of a -particular planet, to the generalizations of Kepler, expressing the -motions of the planets at large; and then to Newton’s generalization, -expressing the motions of all heavenly bodies whatever. Similarly with -Physics, Chemistry and Biology, there has ever been an advance from the -relations of particular facts and particular classes of facts, to the -relations presented by still wider classes—to truths of a high -generality or greater abstractness. - -Brief and rude as is this sketch of a mental development that has been -long and complicated, it fulfils its end if it displays the several -conditions that have regulated the course of the development. I venture -to think it shows inductively, what was deductively inferred, that the -order in which separate groups of uniformities are recognized, depends -not on one circumstance but on several circumstances. A survey of the -facts makes it manifest that the various classes of relations are -generalized in a certain succession, not solely because of one -particular kind of difference in their natures; but also because they -are variously placed with respect to time, space, other relations, and -our own constitutions: our perception of them being influenced by all -these conditions in endless combinations. The comparative degrees of -importance, of obtrusiveness, of absolute frequency, of relative -frequency, of simplicity, of concreteness, are every one of them -factors; and from their union in proportions that are more or less -different in every case, there results a highly complex process of -mental evolution. But while it thus becomes manifest that the proximate -causes of the succession in which relations are reduced to law, are -numerous and involved; it also becomes manifest that there is one -ultimate cause to which these proximate ones are subordinate. As the -several circumstances that determine the early or late recognition of -uniformities, are circumstances that determine the number and strength -of the impressions which these uniformities make on the mind; it follows -that the progression conforms to a certain fundamental principle of -psychology. We see _à posteriori_, what we concluded _à priori_, that -the order in which relations are generalized, depends on the frequency -and impressiveness with which they are repeated in conscious experience. - - * * * * * - -§ 39. And now to observe the bearings of these truths on our general -argument. Having roughly analyzed the progress of the past, let us take -advantage of the light thus thrown on the present, and consider what is -implied respecting the future. - -Note first that the likelihood of the universality of Law, has been ever -growing greater. Out of the countless coexistences and sequences with -which mankind are environed, they have been continually transferring -some from the group whose order was supposed to be arbitrary, to the -group whose order is known to be uniform. Age by age, the number of -recognized connexions of phenomena has been increasing; and that of -unrecognized connexions decreasing. And manifestly, as fast as the class -of ungeneralized relations becomes smaller, the probability that among -them there may be some that do not conform to law, becomes less. To put -the argument numerically—It is clear that when out of surrounding -phenomena a hundred of several kinds have been found to occur in -constant connexions, there arises a slight presumption that all -phenomena occur in constant connexions. When uniformity has been -established in a thousand cases, more varied in their kinds, the -presumption gains strength. And when the established cases of uniformity -mount to myriads, including many of each variety, it becomes an ordinary -induction that uniformity exists everywhere. Just as from the numerous -observed cases in which heavenly bodies have been found to move in -harmony with the law of gravitation, it is inferred that all heavenly -bodies move in harmony with the law of gravitation; so, from the -innumerable observed cases in which phenomena are found to stand in -invariable connexions, it is inferred that in all cases phenomena stand -in invariable connexions. - -Silently and insensibly their experiences have been pressing men on -towards the conclusion thus drawn. Not out of a conscious regard for -these abstract reasons, but from a habit of thought which these abstract -reasons formulate and justify, all minds have been advancing towards a -belief in the constancy of surrounding coexistences and sequences. -Familiarity with special uniformities, has generated the abstract -conception of uniformity—the idea of _Law_; and this idea has been in -successive generations slowly gaining fixity and clearness. Especially -has it been thus among those whose knowledge of natural phenomena is the -most extensive—men of science. The Mathematician, the Physicist, the -Astronomer, the Chemist, severally acquainted with the vast -accumulations of uniformities established by their predecessors, and -themselves daily adding new ones as well as verifying the old, acquire a -far stronger faith in Law than is ordinarily possessed. With them this -faith, ceasing to be merely passive, becomes an active stimulus to -inquiry. Wherever there exist phenomena of which the dependence is not -yet ascertained, these most cultivated intellects, impelled by the -conviction that here too there is some invariable connexion, proceed to -observe, compare, and experiment; and when they discover the law to -which the phenomena conform, as they eventually do, their general belief -in the universality of law is further strengthened. So overwhelming is -the evidence, and such the effect of this discipline, that to the -advanced student of nature, the proposition that there are lawless -phenomena, has become not only incredible but almost inconceivable. - -Hence we may see how inevitably there must spread among mankind at -large, this habitual recognition of law which already distinguishes -modern thought from ancient thought. Not only is it that each conquest -of generalization over a region of fact hitherto ungeneralized, and each -merging of lower generalizations in a higher one, adds to the -distinctness of this recognition among those immediately concerned—not -only is it that the fulfilment of the predictions made possible by every -new step, and the further command so gained of nature’s forces, prove to -the uninitiated the validity of these generalizations and the doctrine -they illustrate; but it is that widening education is daily diffusing -among the mass of men, that knowledge of generalizations which has been -hitherto confined to the few. And as fast as this diffusion goes on, -must the belief of the scientific become the belief of the world at -large. The simple accumulation of instances, must inevitably establish -in the general mind, a conviction of the universality of law; even were -the influence of this accumulation to be aided by no other. - - * * * * * - -§ 40. But it will be aided by another. From the evidence above set -forth, it may be inferred that a secondary influence will by and by -enforce this primary one. That law is universal, will become an -irresistible conclusion when it is perceived that _the progress in the -discovery of laws itself conforms to law_; and when it is hence -understood why certain groups of phenomena have been reduced to law, -while other groups are still unreduced. When it is seen that the order -in which uniformities are recognized, must depend upon the frequency and -vividness with which they are repeated in conscious experience; when it -is seen that, as a matter of fact, the most common, important, -conspicuous, concrete and simple uniformities were the earliest -recognized, because they were experienced oftenest and most distinctly; -when it is further seen that from the beginning the advance has been to -the recognition of uniformities which, from one or other circumstance, -were less often experienced; it will by implication be seen that long -after the great mass of phenomena have been generalized, there must -remain phenomena which, from their rareness, or unobtrusiveness, or -seeming unimportance, or complexity, or abstractness, are still -ungeneralized. Thus will be furnished a solution to a difficulty -sometimes raised. When it is asked why the universality of law is not -already fully established, there will be the answer that the directions -in which it is not yet established are those in which its establishment -must necessarily be latest. That state of things which is inferable -beforehand, is just the state which we find to exist. If such -coexistences and sequences as those of Biology and Sociology are not yet -reduced to law, the presumption is not that they are irreducible to law, -but that their laws elude our present means of analysis. Having long ago -proved uniformity throughout all the lower classes of relations; and -having been step by step proving uniformity throughout classes of -relations successively higher and higher; if we have not at present -succeeded with the highest classes, it may be fairly concluded that our -powers are at fault, rather than that the uniformity does not exist. And -unless we make the absurd assumption that the process of generalization, -now going on with unexampled rapidity, has reached its limit, and will -suddenly cease, we must infer that ultimately mankind will discover a -constant order of manifestation even in the most involved, obscure, and -abstract phenomena. - - * * * * * - -§ 41. Not even yet, however, have we exhausted the evidence. The -foregoing arguments have to be merged in another, still more cogent, -which fuses all fragmentary proofs into one general proof. - -Thus far we have spoken of laws that are more or less special; and from -the still-continuing disclosure of special laws, each formulating some -new class of phenomena, have inferred that eventually all classes of -phenomena will be formulated. If, now, we find that there are laws of -far higher generality, to which those constituting the body of Science -are subordinate; the fact must greatly strengthen the proof that Law is -universal. If, underneath different groups of concrete phenomena, -Mechanical, Chemical, Thermal, Electric, &c., we discern certain -uniformities of action common to them all; we have a new and weighty -reason for believing that uniformity of action pervades the whole of -nature. And if we also see that these most general laws hold not only of -the inorganic but of the organic worlds—if we see that the phenomena of -Life, of Mind, of Society, whose special laws are yet unestablished, -nevertheless conform to these most general laws; the proof of the -universality of Law amounts to demonstration. - -That there are laws of this transcendant generality, has now to be -shown. To specify and illustrate them, will be the purpose of the -succeeding chapters. And while, in contemplating them, we shall perceive -how irresistible is the conclusion that the workings of the Unknowable -are distinguished from those of finite agents by their absolute -uniformity; we shall at the same time familiarize ourselves with those -primary facts through which all other facts are to be interpreted. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - THE LAW OF EVOLUTION.[8] - - -§ 42. The class of phenomena to be considered under the title of -Evolution, is in a great measure co-extensive with the class commonly -indicated by the word Progress. But the word Progress is here -inappropriate, for several reasons. To specify these reasons will -perhaps be the best way of showing what is to be understood by -Evolution. - -In the first place, the current conception of Progress is shifting and -indefinite. Sometimes it comprehends little more than simple growth—as -of a nation in the number of its members and the extent of territory -over which it has spread. At other times it has reference to quantity of -material products—as when the advance of agriculture and manufactures is -the topic. Now the superior quality of these products is contemplated; -and then 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, is commented upon, we have in -view certain abstract results of human thought and action. In the -second place, besides being more or less vague, the ordinary idea of -Progress is in great measure erroneous. It takes in not so much the -reality 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 -consisting in the greater number of facts known and laws understood; -whereas the 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 articles required for satisfying men’s wants—in the increasing -security of person and property—in widening freedom of action; whereas, -rightly understood, social progress consists in those changes of -structure in the social organism which have entailed these consequences. -The interpretation is a teleological one. The phenomena are contemplated -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 heighten human happiness. In the third place, in -consequence of its teleological implications, the term Progress is -rendered scarcely applicable to a wide range of phenomena which are -intrinsically of the same nature as those included under it. The -metamorphoses of an insect are only by analogy admitted within the scope -of the word, as popularly accepted; though, considered in themselves, -they have as much right there as the changes which constitute -civilization. Having no apparent bearing on human interests, an -increasing complication in the arrangement of ocean-currents, would not -ordinarily be regarded as progress; though really of the same character -as phenomena which are so regarded. - -Hence the need for another word. Our purpose here is to analyze the -various class of changes usually considered as Progress, together with -others like them which are not so considered; and to see what is their -intrinsic peculiarity—what is their essential nature apart from their -bearings on our welfare. And that we may avoid the confusion of thought -likely to result from pre-established associations, it will be best to -substitute for the term Progress, the term Evolution. Our question is -then—what is Evolution? - - * * * * * - -§ 43. In respect to that evolution which individual organisms display, -this question has been answered. Pursuing an idea which Harvey set -afloat, Wolff, Goethe, and Von Baer, have established the truth that the -series of changes gone through during the development of a seed into a -tree, or an ovum 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 is the appearance of a -difference between two parts of this substance; or, as the phenomenon is -called in physiological language, a differentiation. Each of these -differentiated divisions presently begins itself to exhibit some -contrast of parts; and by and by these secondary differentiations become -as definite as the original one. This process is continuously -repeated—is simultaneously going on in all parts of the growing embryo; -and by endless such differentiations there is finally produced that -complex combination of tissues and organs, constituting the adult animal -or plant. This is the history of all organisms whatever. It is settled -beyond dispute that organic evolution consists in a change from the -homogeneous to the heterogeneous. - -Now I propose in the first place to show, that this law of organic -evolution is the law of all evolution. Whether it be in the development -of the Earth, in the development of Life upon its surface, in the -development of Society, of Government, of Manufactures, of Commerce, of -Language, Literature, Science, Art, this same advance from the simple to -the complex, through successive differentiations, holds uniformly. From -the earliest traceable cosmical changes down to the latest results of -civilization, we shall find that the transformation of the homogeneous -into the heterogeneous, is that in which Evolution essentially consists. - - * * * * * - -§ 44. With the view of showing that _if_ the Nebular Hypothesis 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 -consolidation resulted in a differentiation between the occupied space -which the nebulous mass still filled, and the unoccupied space which it -previously filled. There simultaneously resulted a contrast in density -and a contrast in temperature, between the interior and the exterior of -this mass. And at the same time there arose throughout it, rotatory -movements, whose velocities varied according to their distances from its -centre. These differentiations 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 the immense contrasts between -the sun and the planets, in bulk and in weight; as well as the -subordinate contrasts between one planet and another, and between the -planets and their satellites. 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 secondary 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 primaries 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 receive 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 -gravities, and their physical constitutions; we see what a high degree -of heterogeneity the solar system exhibits, when compared with the -almost complete homogeneity of the nebulous mass out of which it is -supposed to have originated. - - * * * * * - -§ 45. 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 homogeneous in consistence, and, because of the circulation that -takes place in heated fluids, must have been comparatively homogeneous -in temperature; and it must have been surrounded by an atmosphere -consisting partly of the elements of air and water, and partly of those -various other elements which assume a gaseous form at high temperatures. -That slow cooling 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 differentiation. A still further -cooling, a consequent thickening of this crust, and an accompanying -deposition of all solidifiable elements contained in the atmosphere, -must finally have been followed by the condensation of the water -previously existing as vapour. A second marked differentiation 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 distinction of parts. - -To these illustrations of growing heterogeneity, 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 becoming more heterogeneous through the multiplication of -the strata which form its crust; further, that it has been becoming 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 dislocations and irregularities. Yet -again, 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 considerable 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 became more pronounced; until there finally resulted the -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, tending as -they have done to the present irregular distribution of land and sea, -have entailed various modifications of climate beyond those dependent on -latitude; while a yet further 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 others 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, mineralogists nor meteorologists have -yet enumerated, and the molten globe out of which it was evolved, the -contrast in heterogeneity is sufficiently striking. - - * * * * * - -§ 46. When from the Earth itself we turn 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 which has existed was -similarly developed, is an inference that 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 _ensemble_ of -its manifestations,—whether modern plants and animals are of more -heterogeneous 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 evidence 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 inaccessible to, or -untravelled by, the geologist; the greater part of the remainder having -been scarcely more than glanced at; and even the most familiar portions, -as England, having been so imperfectly explored, that a new series of -strata has been added within these few years,—it is manifestly -impossible for us to say with any certainty what creatures have, and -what have not, existed at any particular period. Considering the -perishable nature of many of the lower organic forms, 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 where only fish were thought to -exist,—of mammals where it was believed there were no creatures higher -than reptiles; renders it daily more manifest how small is the value of -negative evidence. On the other hand, the worthlessness of the -assumption that we have discovered the earliest, or anything like the -earliest, organic remains, is becoming equally clear. That the oldest -known aqueous formations 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 -_Palæozoic_, as applied to the earliest known fossiliferous strata, -involves a _petitio principii_; 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. - -All inferences drawn from such scattered facts as we find, must thus be -extremely questionable. If, looking at the general aspect of evidence, a -progressionist argues that the earliest known vertebrate remains are -those of Fishes, which are the most homogeneous of the vertebrata; that -Reptiles, which are more heterogeneous, are later; and that later still, -and more heterogeneous still, are Mammals and Birds; it may be replied -that the Palæozoic deposits, not being estuary deposits, are not likely -to contain the remains of terrestrial vertebrata, which may nevertheless -have existed at that era. The same answer may be made to the argument -that the vertebrate fauna of the Palæozoic period, consisting so far as -we know, entirely of Fishes, was less heterogeneous than the modern -vertebrate fauna, which includes Reptiles, Birds and Mammals, of -multitudinous genera; or the uniformitarian may contend with great show -of truth, that this appearance of higher and more varied forms in later -geologic eras, was due to progressive immigration—that a continent -slowly upheaved from the ocean at a point remote from pre-existing -continents, would necessarily be peopled from them in a succession like -that which our strata display. At the same time the -counter-arguments may be proved equally inconclusive. When, to show that -there cannot have been a continuous evolution of the more homogeneous -organic forms into the more heterogeneous ones, the uniformitarian -points to the breaks that occur in the succession of these forms; there -is the sufficient answer that current geological changes show us why -such breaks must occur, and why, by subsidences and elevations of large -area, there must be produced such marked breaks as those which divide -the three great geologic epochs. Or again, if the opponent of the -development hypothesis cites the facts set forth by Professor Huxley in -his lecture on “Persistent Types”—if he points out that “of some two -hundred known orders of plants, not one is exclusively fossil,” while -“among animals, there is not a single totally extinct class; and of the -orders, at the outside not more than seven per cent. are unrepresented -in the existing creation”—if he urges that among these some have -continued from the Silurian epoch to our own day with scarcely any -change—and if he infers that there is evidently a much greater average -resemblance between the living forms of the past and those of the -present, than consists with this hypothesis; there is still a -satisfactory reply, on which in fact Prof. Huxley insists; namely, that -we have evidence of a “pre-geologic era” of unknown duration. And -indeed, when it is remembered, that the enormous subsidences of the -Silurian period show the Earth’s crust to have been approximately as -thick then as it is now—when it is concluded that the time taken to form -so thick a crust, must have been immense as compared with the time which -has since elapsed—when it is assumed, as it must be, that during this -comparatively immense time the geologic and biologic changes went on at -their usual rates; it becomes manifest, not only that the -palæontological records which we find, do not negative the theory of -evolution, but that they are such as might rationally be looked for. - -Moreover, it must not be forgotten that though the evidence suffices -neither for proof nor disproof, yet some of its most conspicuous facts -support the belief, that the more heterogeneous organisms and groups of -organisms, have been evolved from the less heterogeneous ones. The -average community of type between the fossils of adjacent strata, and -still more the community that is found between the latest tertiary -fossils and creatures now existing, is one of these facts. The discovery -in some modern deposits of such forms as the Palæotherium and -Anaplotherium, which, if we may rely on Prof. Owen, had a type of -structure intermediate between some of the types now existing, is -another of these facts. And the comparatively recent appearance of Man, -is a third fact of this kind, which possesses still greater -significance. Hence we may say, that though our knowledge of past life -upon the Earth, is too scanty to justify us in asserting an evolution of -the simple into the complex, either in individual forms or in the -aggregate of forms; yet the knowledge we have, not only consists with -the belief that there has been such an evolution, but rather supports it -than otherwise. - - * * * * * - -§ 47. Whether an advance from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous is or -is not displayed in the biological history 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 period in which the -Earth has been peopled, the human organism has grown more heterogeneous -among the civilized divisions of the species; and that the species, as a -whole, has been made more heterogeneous by 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. Though 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 European, the greater length and massiveness of the legs has -become very marked—the fore and hind limbs are relatively more -heterogeneous. Again, the greater ratio which the cranial bones bear to -the facial bones, illustrates the same truth. Among the vertebrata in -general, evolution is marked by an increasing heterogeneity in the -vertebral column, and more especially in the segments constituting 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 jaws, &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 heterogeneous 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 elucidation 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 -flatness of the alæ 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 displayed during -the previous evolution of the embryo, which every physiologist will -admit; it follows that the parallel developmental process by which the -like traits of the barbarous races have been turned into those of the -civilized races, has also been a continuation of the change from the -homogeneous to the heterogeneous. The truth of the second -position—that Mankind, as a whole, have become more heterogeneous—is so -obvious as scarcely to need illustration. Every work on Ethnology, by -its divisions 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 philological 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 descriptions of -observers, we are likely soon to have another such example in Australia. - - * * * * * - -§ 48. On passing from Humanity under its individual form, to Humanity as -socially embodied, we find the general law still more variously -exemplified. The change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, 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 -accompanies 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 -between 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 school-boys. At first, however, it is indefinite, uncertain; is -shared by others of scarcely inferior power; 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 -considered, does not differ from others of his tribe. Gradually, as the -tribe progresses, the contrast between the governing 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 records 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 predecessors: 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 civil -regulation, and civil law to possess more or less of religious 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 diverging 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 finally come, -some of them, to be used between man and man. All forms of complimentary -address were at first the expressions of submission from prisoners to -their conqueror, or from subjects to their ruler, either human or -divine—expressions that were afterwards used to propitiate subordinate -authorities, and slowly descended into ordinary intercourse. 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 similarly saluted; and by degrees some of the salutations have -become the due of all.[9] Thus, no sooner does the originally -homogeneous social mass differentiate into the governed and the -governing parts, than this last exhibits an incipient differentiation -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 rides 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 embodiment of its own. - Each of these kinds of government is itself subject to successive -differentiations. In the course of ages, there arises, as among -ourselves, a highly complex political organization of monarch, -ministers, lords and commons, with their subordinate administrative -departments, courts of justice, revenue offices, &c., supplemented in -the provinces by municipal governments, county governments, parish or -union governments—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 all which must be added the -ever-multiplying independent 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 minor transactions -between man and man which are not regulated by civil and religious law. -Moreover, it is to be observed that this ever-increasing heterogeneity -in the governmental appliances of each nation, has been accompanied by -an increasing heterogeneity in the governmental appliances 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 ceremonial usages. - -Simultaneously there has been going on a second differentiation 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 governing part has undergone the complex development above -detailed, the governed part has undergone an equally complex -development; which has resulted in that minute division of labour -characterizing advanced nations. It is needless to trace out -this progress from its first stages, up through the caste divisions of -the East and the incorporated guilds of Europe, to the elaborate -producing and distributing organization existing among ourselves. -Political economists have long since indicated the evolution which, -beginning with a tribe whose members severally perform the same -actions, each for himself ends with a civilized community 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 who, united under a master, take separate parts in the -manufacture 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 has been made in the division of labour among -the different classes of workers, there is still little or no division -of labour among the widely separated parts of the community: the -nation continues comparatively 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 different districts -begin to assume different functions, and to become mutually dependent. -The calico-manufacture locates itself in this county, the -woollen-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 grows -more or less distinguished from the rest by the leading occupation -carried on in it. Nay, more, this subdivision of functions shows -itself not only among the different 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 whole human -race; growing ever more heterogeneous in respect of the separate -functions 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 commodity. - - * * * * * - -§ 49. Not only is the law thus clearly exemplified in the evolution of -the social organism, but it is exemplified 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 ever consisted solely of exclamations, and so was -strictly homogeneous in respect of its parts of speech, we have no -evidence. But that language can be traced down to a form in which nouns -and verbs are its only elements, is an established fact. In the gradual -multiplication of parts of speech out of these primary ones—in the -differentiation of verbs into active and passive, of nouns into abstract -and concrete—in the rise of distinctions of mood, tense, person, of -number and case—in the formation of auxiliary verbs, of adjectives, -adverbs, pronouns, prepositions, articles—in the divergence of those -orders, genera, species, and varieties of parts of speech by which -civilized races express minute modifications of meaning—we see a change -from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous. And it may be remarked, in -passing, that it is more especially in virtue of having carried this -subdivision of functions to a greater extent and completeness, that the -English language is superior to all others. Another aspect under -which we may trace the development 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 indiscriminately 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 parents of other names still further modified. And -by the aid of those systematic modes which presently arise, of making -derivatives and forming compound terms expressing still smaller -distinctions, there is finally developed a tribe of words so -heterogeneous in sound and meaning, that to the uninitiated it seems -incredible they should have had a common origin. Meanwhile, from other -roots there are being evolved other such tribes, until there results a -language of some sixty thousand or 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 -multiplication of languages. Whether, as Max Müller and Bunsen 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 simultaneously led to a -differentiation of their speech: a truth which we see further -illustrated in each nation by the peculiarities of dialect found in -separate districts. Thus the progress 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 Sculpture; and at first all three are appendages of -Architecture, and have a direct connexion with the primary form of all -Government—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 personages and events upon the walls of -caves, which are probably regarded as sacred places, let us pass 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, originally identical); and as such they -were governmental appliances 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 triumphs of the -god-king, the submission of his subjects, 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 representation, there naturally grew up -the but slightly-modified practice of picture-writing—a practice which -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 simplified; 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 partially differentiated into the _kuriological_ or -imitative, and the _tropical_ or symbolic: which were, however, used -together in the same record. In Egypt, written language underwent a -further differentiation; whence resulted the _hieratic_ and the -_epistolographic_ 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 occasionally used in aid of their -ideographic ones, were the germs out of which alphabetic writing grew. -Once having become separate from hieroglyphics, alphabetic writing -itself underwent numerous differentiations—multiplied alphabets were -produced: between most of which, however, more or less connexion can -still be traced. And in each civilized nation there has now grown up, -for the representation 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. - - * * * * * - -§ 50. While written language was passing through its earlier stages of -development, the mural decoration which formed its root was being -differentiated into Painting and Sculpture. 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 -object 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 part of the building. But while in Assyria the production of a -statue proper, seems to have been little, 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 independent statues bear of -their derivation from bas-relief: seeing that nearly all of them not -only display that union of the limbs with the body which is the -characteristic of bas-relief, but have the back of the statue united -from head to foot with a block which stands in place of the original -wall. Greece repeated the leading stages of this progress. As in -Egypt and Assyria, these twin arts were at first united with each other -and with their parent, Architecture; 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 civilization, does the -differentiation of sculpture from painting appear to have become -complete. In Christian art we may clearly trace a parallel -re-genesis. All early paintings and sculptures throughout Europe, were -religious in subject—represented Christs, crucifixions, virgins, holy -families, apostles, saints. They formed integral parts of church -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 connexion with each -other, where they continue in closest connexion with their parent. Even -when Christian sculpture was pretty clearly differentiated 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 times have -painting and sculpture become entirely secular arts. Only within these -few centuries has painting been divided into historical, landscape, -marine, architectural, genre, animal, still-life, &c., and sculpture -grown heterogeneous 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 sculpture, have a common root in -the politico-religious decorations 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 -News_ 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 light falls, and the adjacent monument, there is -consanguinity. The effigies on our coins, the signs over shops, the -figures that fill every ledger, the coat of arms outside the -carriage-panel, and the placards inside the omnibus, are, in common with -dolls, blue-books and paper-hangings, lineally descended from the rude -sculpture-paintings in which the Egyptians represented the triumphs and -worship of their god-kings. Perhaps 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; but -it is further shown in the structure of each work. A modern picture or -statue is of far more heterogeneous nature than an ancient one. An -Egyptian sculpture-fresco represents all its figures as on one -plane—that 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, -employs an endless variety of intermediate tints, each of heterogeneous -composition, and differing from the rest not only in quality but in -intensity. Moreover, we see in these earliest 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, -attendants, 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 equidistant. When water is imitated, each wave is a counterpart of -the rest; and the fish, almost always of one kind, are evenly -distributed over the surface. The beards of the 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 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 represented in exactly the same -manner. Without tracing out analogous facts in early Christian -art, in which, though less striking, they are still visible, the advance -in heterogeneity will be sufficiently manifest on remembering that in -the pictures of our own day the composition is endlessly varied; the -attitudes, faces, expressions, 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, fingers outspread and parallel, -eyes looking straight forward, and the two sides perfectly symmetrical -in every particular, 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. - - * * * * * - -§ 51. In the co-ordinate origin and gradual differentiation of Poetry, -Music, and Dancing, we have another series of illustrations. Rhythm in -speech, rhythm in sound, and rhythm in motion, were in the beginning, -parts of the same thing; and have only in process of time become -separate things. Among 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 striking of rude -instruments: there are measured movements, measured words, and measured -tones; and the whole ceremony, usually having reference to war or -sacrifice, is of governmental character. In the early records of the -historic races we similarly find these three forms of metrical action -united in religious festivals. In the Hebrew writings we read that the -triumphal ode composed by Moses on the defeat of the Egyptians, was sung -to an accompaniment of dancing and timbrels. The Israelites 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 -Lupercalian 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 religion, 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. -Meanwhile 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 poet was accompanied by the dance of the chorus, it ultimately -grew into independence. Later still, when the poem had been -differentiated 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 multiplied, we may presume that -music came to have an existence apart from words. And both of them were -beginning 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 versified by themselves to music of their -own composition: thus uniting the now separate offices of poet, -composer, vocalist, and instrumentalist. But, without further -illustration, the common origin and gradual differentiation of Dancing, -Poetry, and Music will be sufficiently manifest. - -The advance from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous is displayed not -only in the separation of these arts from each other and from religion, -but also in the multiplied differentiations which each of them -afterwards undergoes. Not to dwell upon the numberless kinds of dancing -that have, in course of time, come into use; and not to occupy space in -detailing the progress of poetry, as seen in the development 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 barbarous -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 -tetrachord. In course of some centuries lyres of seven and eight strings -were employed. And, by the expiration of a thousand 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. -Simultaneously there came into use the different modes—Dorian, Ionian, -Phrygian, Æolian, and Lydian—answering 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 vocal music -being completely 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 Burney 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 comparatively monotonous. And -further, it may be observed that the chant thus resulting, being like -recitative, was much less clearly differentiated from ordinary speech -than is our modern song. Nevertheless, considering the extended range of -notes in use, the variety of modes, the occasional variations of time -consequent on changes of metre, and the multiplication of instruments, -we see that music had, towards the close of Greek civilization, attained -to considerable heterogeneity: not indeed as compared with 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 development, that music in parts -was evolved; and then it came into existence through a very unobtrusive -differentiation. Difficult as it may be to conceive, _à priori_, how the -advance from melody to harmony could take place without a sudden leap, -it is none the less true that it did so. The circumstance which prepared -the way for it, was the employment of two choirs singing alternately the -same air. Afterwards it became the practice (very possibly first -suggested by a mistake) for the second choir to commence before the -first had ceased; thus producing a fugue. With the simple airs then in -use, a partially harmonious fugue might not improbably thus result; and -a very partially harmonious fugue satisfied the ears of that age, as we -know from still preserved examples. The idea having once been given, the -composing of airs productive of fugal harmony would 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 multiplication of keys, from the use of accidentals, -from varieties of time, from modulations 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, instrumental, and mixed; and their -subdivisions into music for different voices and different -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 -symphony. 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 company -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 _timbre_ of the voice, and the many other -modifications of expression. While between the old monotonous -dance-chant and a grand opera of our own day, with its endless -orchestral complexities and vocal combinations, the contrast in -heterogeneity is so extreme that it seems scarcely credible that the one -should have been the ancestor of the other. - - * * * * * - -§ 52. 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 -constituted 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, historical, the epic, dramatic, and lyric elements -are similarly commingled; down to its present heterogeneous development, -in which its divisions and subdivisions are so numerous and varied as to -defy complete classification. Or we might track 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; passing -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 like with Architecture, with the Drama, with Dress. But -doubtless the reader is already weary of illustrations; and my promise -has been amply fulfilled. I believe it has been shown beyond question, -that that which the German physiologists have found to be the law of -organic development, is the law of all development. The advance 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 -inductively establish; it is seen in the geologic and climatic evolution -of the Earth, and of every single organism on its surface; it is seen in -the evolution of Humanity, whether contemplated in the civilized -individual, or in the aggregation of races; it is seen in the evolution -of Society, in respect alike of its political, its religious, and its -economical 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 Evolution essentially consists, is the transformation of the -homogeneous into the heterogeneous. - ------ - -Footnote 8: - - The substance of this chapter is nearly identical with the first half - of an essay on “Progress: its Law and Cause,” which was originally - published in the _Westminster Review_ for April 1857: only a few - unimportant additions and alterations have been made. The succeeding - chapter, however, in which the subject is continued, is, with the - exception of a fragment embodied in it, wholly new. - -Footnote 9: - - For detailed proof of these assertions see essay on _Manners and - Fashion_. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - THE LAW OF EVOLUTION, CONTINUED. - - -§ 53. But now, does this generalization express the whole truth? Does it -include all the phenomena of Evolution? and does it exclude all other -phenomena? A careful consideration of the facts, will show that it does -neither. - -That there are changes from the less heterogeneous to the more -heterogeneous, which do not come within what we call Evolution, is -proved in every case of local disease. A portion of the body in which -there arises a cancer, or other morbid growth, unquestionably displays a -new differentiation. Whether this morbid growth be, or be not, more -heterogeneous than the tissues in which it is seated, is not the -question. The question is, whether the structure of the organism as a -whole, is, or is not, rendered more heterogeneous by the addition of a -part unlike every pre-existing part, both in form and composition. And -to this question there can be none but an affirmative answer. - Again, it might with apparent truth be contended, that the earlier -stages of decomposition in a dead body, similarly involve an increase of -heterogeneity. Supposing the chemical changes to commence in some parts -of the body earlier than in other parts, as they commonly do; and to -affect different tissues in different, ways, as they must; it seems to -be a necessary admission that the entire body, made up of undecomposed -parts and parts decomposed in different ways and degrees, has become -more heterogeneous than it was. Though greater homogeneity will be the -eventual result, the immediate result is the opposite. And yet this -immediate result is certainly not evolution. But perhaps of all -illustrations the least debatable are those furnished by social -disorders and disasters. When in any nation there occurs a rebellion, -which, while leaving some provinces undisturbed, developes itself here -in secret societies, there in public demonstrations, and elsewhere in -actual appeal to arms, leading probably to conflict and bloodshed; it -must be admitted that the society, regarded as a whole, has so been -rendered more heterogeneous. Or when a dearth causes commercial panic -with its entailed bankruptcies, closed factories, discharged operatives, -political agitations, food riots, incendiarisms; it is manifest that as, -throughout the rest of society, there still exists the ordinary -organization displaying the usual phenomena, these new phenomena must be -regarded as adding to the complexity previously existing. Nevertheless, -it is clear that such changes so far from constituting a further stage -of evolution, are steps towards dissolution. - -There is good reason to think then, that the definition arrived at in -the last chapter, is an imperfect one. We may suspect, not that the -process of evolution is different from the process there described; but -that the description did not contain all that it should. The changes -above instanced as coming within the formula as it now stands, are so -obviously different from the rest, that the inclusion of them implies -some oversight—some distinction hitherto overlooked. Such further -distinction we shall find really exists. - - * * * * * - -§ 54. At the same time that all evolution is a change from the -homogeneous to the heterogeneous, it is also a change from the -indefinite to the definite. As well as an advance from simplicity to -complexity, there is an advance from confusion to order—from -undetermined arrangement to determined arrangement. In the process of -development, no matter what sphere it is displayed in, there is not only -a gradual multiplication of unlike parts; but there is a gradual -increase in the distinctness with which these parts are marked off from -each other. And so is that increase of heterogeneity which characterizes -Evolution, distinguished from that increase of heterogeneity which does -not. For proof of this, it needs only to reconsider the instances -given above. The structural changes constituting a disease, have no such -definiteness, either in locality, extent, or outline, as the structural -changes constituting development. Though certain morbid growths arise -much more commonly in some parts of the body than in others (as warts on -the hands, cancer on the breasts, tubercle in the lungs), yet they are -not confined to these parts; nor, when found on them, are they anything -like so precise in their relative positions as are the normal parts -around them. In size, again, they are extremely variable—they bear no -such constant proportion to the body as organs do. Their forms, too, are -far less specific than organic forms. And they are extremely irregular -or confused in their internal structures. That is to say, they are in -all respects comparatively indefinite. The like peculiarity may be -traced in decomposition. That state of total indefiniteness to which a -dead body is finally reduced, is a state towards which the putrefactive -changes have tended from their commencement. Each step in the -destruction of the organic compounds, is accompanied by a blurring of -the minute structure—diminishes its distinctness. From the portions that -have undergone most decomposition, there is a gradual transition to the -less decomposed portions. And step by step the lines of organization, -once so precise, disappear. Similarly with social changes of an -abnormal kind. A political outbreak rising finally to a rebellion, tends -from the very first to obliterate the specializations, governmental and -industrial, which previously existed. The disaffection which originates -such an outbreak, itself implies a loosening of those ties by which the -citizens are bound up into distinct classes and sub-classes. Agitation, -growing into revolutionary meetings, shows us a decided tendency towards -the fusion of ranks that are usually separated. Acts of open -insubordination exhibit a breaking through of those definite limits to -individual conduct which were previously observed; and a disappearance -of the lines previously existing between those in authority and those -beneath them. At the same time, by the arrest of trade, artizans and -others lose their occupations; and in so ceasing to be functionally -distinguished, become fused into a mass from which the demarcations in -great part vanish. And when at last there comes positive insurrection, -all magisterial and official powers, all class distinctions, and all -industrial differences, at once cease: organized society lapses into an -unorganized aggregation of social units. How the like holds true of such -social disasters as are entailed by famine, needs not be pointed out. On -calling to mind that in cases of this kind the changes are from order -towards disorder, it will at once be seen that like the foregoing they -are changes from definite arrangements to indefinite arrangements. - -Thus then is that increase of heterogeneity which constitutes Evolution, -distinguished from that increase of heterogeneity which does not do so. -Though in disease and death, individual or social, the earliest -modifications may be construed as additions to the heterogeneity -previously existing; yet they cannot be construed as additions to the -definiteness previously existing. They begin from the very outset to -destroy this definiteness; and so, gradually produce a heterogeneity -that is indeterminate instead of determinate. Just in the same way that -a city, already multiform in its variously arranged structures of -various architecture, may be made more multiform by an earthquake, which -leaves part of it standing and overthrows other parts in different ways -and degrees, and yet is at the same time reduced from definite -arrangement to indefinite arrangement; so may organized bodies be made -for a time more multiform by changes which are nevertheless -disorganizing changes. And in the one case as in the other, it is the -absence of definiteness which distinguishes the multiformity of -regression from the multiformity of progression. - -If the advance from the indefinite to the definite is an essential -characteristic of Evolution, we shall of course find it everywhere -displayed; as in the last Chapter we found the advance from the -homogeneous to the heterogeneous. With a view of showing that it is so, -let us now briefly reconsider the same several classes of facts. - - * * * * * - -§ 55. Beginning as before with a hypothetical illustration, we have to -note that each further stage in the evolution of the Solar System, -supposing it to have originated from diffused matter, was an advance -towards more definite forms, and times, and forces. At first irregular -in shape and with indistinct margins, the attenuated substance, as it -concentrated and acquired a rotatory motion, must have assumed the shape -of an oblate spheroid; which, with every increase of density, became -more specific in general outline, and had its surface more sharply -marked off from the surrounding void. At the same time, the constituent -portions of nebulous matter, instead of independently moving towards -their common centre of gravity from all points, and tending to revolve -round it in various planes, as they would at first do, must have had -these planes more and more merged into a single plane; and this plane -must have gained greater precision as the concentration progressed. To -which add that in the gradual establishment of a common and determinate -angular velocity, instead of the various and conflicting angular -velocities of different parts, we have a further change of like nature. - According to the hypothesis, change from indistinct -characteristics to distinct ones, was repeated in the evolution of each -planet and satellite; and may in them be traced to a much greater -extent. A gaseous spheroid is less definitely marked off from the space -around it than a fluid spheroid, since it is subject to larger and more -rapid undulations of surface, and to much greater distortions of general -form; and similarly a fluid spheroid, covered as it must be with waves -of various magnitudes, is less definite than a solid spheroid. Nor is it -only in greater fixity of surface that a planet in its last stage, is -distinguished from a planet in its earlier stages. Its general form, -too, is more precise. The sphere, to which in the end it very closely -approximates, is a perfectly specific figure; while the spheroid, under -which figure it previously existed, being infinitely variable in -oblateness, is an imperfectly specific figure. And further, a planet -having an axis inclined to the plane of its orbit, must, while its form -is very oblate, have its plane of rotation greatly disturbed by the -attraction of external bodies; whereas its approach to a spherical form, -involving a less extreme precessional motion, implies less marked -variations in the direction of its axis. Nor is it only in respect -of space-relations that the Solar System in general and in detail has -become more precise. The like is true of time-relations. During the -process of concentration the various portions of the nebulous mass must -not only differ more or less from each other in their angular -velocities, but each of them must gradually change the period in which -it moves round the general axis. In every detached ring however, and in -the resulting planet, this progressive alteration ceases: there results -a determinate period of revolution. And similarly the time of axial -rotation, which, during the formation of each planet, is continually -diminishing, becomes at last practically fixed: as in the case of the -Earth, whose day is not a second less than it was 2000 years ago. - It is scarcely needful to point out that the force-relations have -simultaneously become more and more settled. The exact calculations of -physical astronomy, show us how definite these force-relations now are; -while the great indefiniteness which once characterized them, is implied -in the extreme difficulty, if not impossibility, of subjecting the -nebular hypothesis to mathematical treatment. - -From that originally molten state of the Earth inferable from -established geological data—a state in harmony with the nebular -hypothesis but inexplicable on any other—the transition to its existing -state has been through stages in which the characters became more -determinate. Besides being, as above pointed out, comparatively unstable -in surface and contour, a fluid spheroid is less definite than a solid -spheroid in having no fixed distribution of parts. Currents of molten -matter, though kept to certain general circuits by the conditions of -equilibrium, cannot in the absence of solid boundaries be precise or -permanent in direction: all parts must be in motion with respect to -other parts. But a solidification of the surface, even though but -partial, is manifestly a step towards the establishment of definite -relations of position. In a thin crust however, frequently ruptured as -it must be by disturbing forces, and moved by every tidal undulation, -such fixity of relative position can be but temporary. Only as the crust -slowly increases in thickness, can there arise distinct and settled -geographical relations. Observe too that when, on a crust that has -cooled to the requisite degree, there begins to precipitate the water -floating above as vapour, the water which is precipitated cannot -maintain any definiteness either of state or place. Falling on a surface -not thick enough to preserve anything beyond slight variations of level, -it must form small shallow deposits over areas sufficiently cool to -permit condensation; which areas must not only pass insensibly into -others that are too hot for this, but must themselves from time to time -be so raised in temperature as to drive off the water lying on them. -With progressive refrigeration, however,—with an increasing thickness of -crust, a consequent formation of larger elevations and depressions, and -the condensation of more atmospheric water, there comes an arrangement -of parts that is comparatively fixed in both time and space; and the -definiteness of state and position increases, until there results such a -distribution of continents and oceans as we now see—a distribution that -is not only topographically precise, but also in its cliff-marked -coast-lines presents a more definite division of land from water than -could have existed during the period when islands of low elevation had -shelving beaches up which the tide ebbed and flowed to great distances. - Respecting the characteristics technically classed as geological, -we may draw parallel inferences. While the Earth’s crust was thin, -mountain-chains were impossibilities: there could not have been long and -well-defined axes of elevation, with distinct water-sheds and areas of -drainage. Moreover, from small islands admitting of but small rivers, -and tidal streams both feeble and narrow, there would result no -clearly-marked sedimentary strata. Confused and varying masses of -detritus, such as those now found at the mouths of brooks, must have -been the prevailing formations. And these could give place to distinct -strata, only as there arose continents and oceans, with their great -rivers, long coast-lines, and wide-spreading marine currents. How -there must simultaneously have resulted more definite meteorological -characters, need not be pointed out in detail. That differences of -climates and seasons must have grown relatively decided as the heat of -the Sun became distinguishable from the proper heat of the Earth; that -the establishment through this cause of comparatively constant -atmospheric currents, must have similarly produced more specific -conditions in each locality; and that these effects must have been aided -by increasing permanence in the distribution of land and sea and of -ocean currents; are conclusions which are sufficiently obvious. - -Let us turn now to the evidence furnished by organic bodies. In place of -deductive illustrations like the foregoing, we shall here find numerous -illustrations which, as being inductively established, are less open to -criticism. The process of mammalian development, for example, will -supply us with numerous proofs ready-described by embryologists. - The first change which the ovum of a mammal undergoes, after -continued segmentation has reduced its yelk to a mulberry-like mass, is -the appearance of a greater definiteness in the peripheral cells of this -mass: each of which acquires a distinct enveloping membrane. These -peripheral cells, vaguely distinguished from the internal ones both by -their greater completeness and by their minuter subdivision, coalesce to -form the blastoderm or germinal membrane. One portion of the blastoderm -presently becomes contrasted with the rest, through the accumulation of -cells still more subdivided, which, together, form an opaque roundish -spot. This _area germinativa_, as it is called, is not sharply -delineated, but shades off gradually into the surrounding parts of the -blastoderm; and the _area pellucida_, subsequently formed in the midst -of this germinal area, is similarly without any precise margin. The -“primitive trace,” which makes its appearance in the centre of the _area -pellucida_, and is the rudiment of that vertebrate axis which is to be -the fundamental characteristic of the mature animal, is shown by its -name to be at first indefinite—a mere trace. Beginning as a shallow -groove, this becomes slowly more pronounced: its sides grow higher, -their summits overlap, and at last unite; and so the indefinite groove -passes into a definite tube, forming the vertebral canal. In this -vertebral canal the leading divisions of the brain are at first -discernible only as slight bulgings; while the vertebræ commence as -indistinct modifications of the tissue bounding the canal. -Simultaneously, the outer portion of the blastoderm has been undergoing -separation from the inner portion: there has been a division into the -serous and mucous layers—a division at the outset indistinct, and -traceable only about the germinal area, but which insensibly spreads -throughout nearly the whole germinal membrane, and becomes definite. -From the mucous layer, the development of the alimentary canal proceeds -as that of the vertebral canal does from the serous layer. Originally a -simple channel along the under surface of the embryonic mass, the -intestine is rendered step by step more distinct by the bending down, on -each side, of ridges which finally join to form a tube—the permanent -absorbing surface is by degrees clearly cut off from that temporary -absorbing surface of which it was at first a part like all the rest. And -in an analogous manner the entire embryo, which at first lies outspread -upon the surface of the yelk-sack, gradually rises up from it, and, by -the infolding of its ventral surface, becomes a separate mass, connected -with the yelk-sack only by a narrow duct. These changes through -which the general structure of the embryo is marked out with -slowly-increasing precision, are paralleled in the evolution of each -organ. The heart is at first a mere aggregation of cells, of which the -inner liquify to form the cavity, while the outer are transformed into -the walls; and when thus sketched out, the heart is indefinite not only -as being unlined by limiting membrane, but also as being but vaguely -distinguishable from the great blood-vessels: of which it is little more -than a dilatation. By and by the receiving portion of the cavity becomes -distinct from the propelling portion. Afterwards there begins to be -formed across the ventricle, a septum, which, however, is some time -before it completely shuts off the two halves from each other; while the -later-formed septum of the auricle remains incomplete during the whole -of fœtal life. Again, the liver commences as a multiplication of certain -cells in the wall of the intestine. The thickening produced by this -multiplication “increases so as to form a projection upon the exterior -of the canal;” and at the same time that the organ grows and becomes -distinct from the intestine, the channels which permeate it are -transformed into ducts having clearly-marked walls. Similarly, by the -increase of certain cells of the external coat of the alimentary canal -at its upper portion, are produced buds from which the lungs are -developed; and these, in their general outlines and detailed structure, -acquire distinctness step by step. Changes of this order continue -long after birth; and, in the human being, are some of them not -completed till middle life. During youth, most of the articular surfaces -of the bones remain rough and fissured—the calcareous deposit ending -irregularly in the surrounding cartilage. But between puberty and the -age of thirty, the articular surfaces are finished off by the addition -of smooth, hard, sharply-cut “epiphyses.” Thus we may say that during -Evolution, an increase of definiteness continues long after there ceases -to be any appreciable increase of heterogeneity. And, indeed, there is -reason to think that those structural modifications which take place -after maturity, ending in old age and death, are modifications of this -nature; since they result in a growing rigidity of structure, a -consequent restriction of movement and of functional pliability, a -gradual narrowing of the limits within which the vital processes go on, -ending at length in an organic adjustment too precise—too narrow in its -margin of possible variation to permit the requisite adaptation to -external changes of condition. - -To demonstrate that the Earth’s Flora and Fauna, regarded either as -wholes or in their separate species, have progressed in definiteness, is -of course no more possible than it was to demonstrate that they have -progressed in heterogeneity: lack of facts being an obstacle to the one -conclusion as to the other. If, however, we allow ourselves to reason -from the hypothesis, now daily rendered more probable, that every -species of organic form up to the most complex, has arisen out of the -simplest through the accumulation of modifications upon modifications, -just as every individual organic form arises; we shall see that in such -case there must have been a progress from the indeterminate to the -determinate, both in the particular forms and in the groups of forms. - We may set out with the significant fact that many of the lowest -living organisms (which are analogous in structure to the germs of all -higher ones) are so indefinite in character that it is difficult, if not -impossible, to decide whether they are plants or animals. Respecting -sundry of them there are unsettled disputes between zoologists and -botanists; and it has even been proposed to group them into a separate -kingdom, forming a common basis to the animal and vegetal kingdoms. Note -next that among the _Protozoa_, extreme indefiniteness of shape is very -general. In the shell-less Rhizopods and their allies, not only is the -form so irregular as to admit of no description, but it is neither alike -in any two individuals nor in the same individual at successive moments. -By the aggregation of such creatures, are produced, among other -indefinite bodies, the sponges—bodies that are indefinite in size, in -contour, in internal arrangement, and in the absence of an external -limiting membrane. As further showing the relatively indeterminate -character of the simplest organisms, it may be mentioned that their -structures vary very greatly with surrounding conditions: so much so -that, among the _Protozoa_ and _Protophyta_, many forms which were once -classed as distinct species, and even as distinct genera, are found to -be merely varieties of one species. If now we call to mind how precise -in their attributes are the highest organisms—how sharply cut their -outlines, how invariable their proportions, and how comparatively -constant their structures under changed conditions, we cannot deny that -greater definiteness is one of their characteristics; and that if they -have been evolved out of lower organisms, an increase of definiteness -has been an accompaniment of their evolution. That in course of -time, species have become more sharply marked off from other species, -genera from genera, and orders from orders, is a conclusion not -admitting of a more positive establishment than the foregoing; and must, -indeed, stand or fall with it. If, however, species and genera and -orders have resulted from the process of “natural selection,” then, as -Mr. Darwin shows, there must have been a tendency to divergence, causing -the contrasts between groups to become more and more pronounced. By the -disappearance of intermediate forms, less fitted for special spheres of -existence than the extreme forms they connected, the differences between -the extreme forms must be rendered more decided; and so, from indistinct -and unstable varieties, must slowly be produced distinct and stable -species. Of which inference it may be remarked, not only that it follows -from a process to which the organic creation is of necessity ever -subject, but also that it is in harmony with what we know respecting -races of men and races of domestic animals. - -Evidence that in the course of psychial development, there is a change -from the vague to the distinct, may be seen in every nursery. The -confusion of the infant’s perceptions is shown by its inability to -distinguish persons. The dimness of its ideas of direction and distance, -may be inferred from the ill-guided movements of its hands, and from its -endeavours to grasp objects far out of reach. Only by degrees does the -sense of equilibrium, needful for safe standing and moving, gain the -requisite precision. Through the insensible steps that end in -comprehensible speech, we may trace an increase in the accuracy with -which sounds are discriminated and in the nicety with which they are -imitated. And similarly during education, the change is towards the -establishment of internal relations more perfectly corresponding to -external ones—to exactness in calculations, to a better representation -of objects drawn, to a more correct spelling, to a completer conformity -to the rules of speech, to clearer ideas respecting the affairs of life. - How in the further progress to maturity the law still holds, needs -not here be pointed out; more especially as it will presently be shown -in treating of the evolution of intelligence during the advance of -civilization. The only further fact calling for remark, is, that this -increase of mental definiteness is, in some ways, manifested even during -the advance from maturity to old age. The habits of life grow more and -more fixed; the character becomes less capable of change; the quantity -of knowledge previously acquired ceases to have its limits alterable by -additions; and the opinions upon every point admit of no modification. - -Still more manifestly do the successive phases through which societies -pass, display the progress from indeterminate arrangement to determinate -arrangement. A wandering tribe of savages, as being fixed neither in its -locality nor in the relative positions of its parts, is far less -definite than a nation, covering a territory clearly marked out, and -formed of individuals grouped together in towns and villages. In such a -tribe the social relations are similarly confused and unsettled. -Political authority is neither well established nor precise. -Distinctions of rank are neither clearly marked nor impassable. -“Medicine-men” and “rain-makers” form a class by no means as distinct -from the rest of the community as eventually becomes the priesthood they -foreshadow. And save in the different occupations of men and women, -there are no complete industrial divisions. Only in tribes of -considerable size, which have enslaved other tribes, is the economical -differentiation decided. Any one of these primitive societies -however that developes, becomes step by step more specific. Increasing -in size, consequently ceasing to be so nomadic, and restricted in its -range by neighbouring tribes, it acquires, after prolonged border -warfare, a more settled territorial boundary. The distinction between -the royal race and the people, grows so extreme as to amount in the -popular apprehension to a difference of nature. The warrior-class -attains a perfect separation from classes devoted to the cultivation of -the soil or other occupations regarded as servile. And there arises a -priesthood that is defined in its rank, its functions, its privileges. -This sharpness of definition, growing both greater and more variously -exemplified as societies advance to maturity, is extremest in those that -have reached their full development or are declining. Of ancient Egypt -we read that its social divisions were strongly-marked and its customs -rigid. Recent investigations make it more than ever clear, that among -the Assyrians and surrounding peoples, not only were the laws -unalterable, but even the minor habits, down to those of domestic -routine, possessed a sacredness which insured their permanence. In India -at the present day, the unchangeable distinctions of caste, not less -than the constancy in modes of dress, industrial processes, and -religious observances, show us how fixed are the arrangements where the -antiquity is great. Nor does China with its long-settled political -organization, its elaborate and precise conventions, and its -unprogressive literature, fail to exemplify the same truth. The -successive phases of our own and neighbouring societies, furnish facts -somewhat different in kind but similar in meaning. After our leading -class-divisions had become tolerably well-established, it was long -before they acquired their full precision. Originally, monarchical -authority was more baronial, and baronial authority more monarchical, -than they afterwards became. Between modern priests and the priests of -old times, who while officially teachers of religion were also warriors, -judges, architects, there is a marked difference in definiteness of -function. And among the people engaged in productive occupations, the -like contrast would be found to hold: the industrial office has become -more distinct from the military; and its various divisions from each -other. A history of our constitution, reminding us how, after prolonged -struggles, the powers of King, Lords, and Commons, have been gradually -settled, would clearly exhibit analogous changes. Countless facts -bearing the like construction would meet us, were we to trace the -development of legislation: in the successive stages of which, we should -find statutes made more precise in their provisions—more specific in -their applications to particular cases. Even at the present time we see -that each new law, beginning as a vague proposition, is, in the course -of enactment, elaborated into specific clauses; and further that only -after its interpretation has been established by judges’ decisions in -courts of justice, does it reach its final definiteness. From the -history of minor institutions like evidence may be gathered. Religious, -charitable, literary, and all other societies, beginning with ends and -methods roughly sketched out and easily modifiable, show us how, by the -accumulation of rules and precedents, the purposes become more distinct -and the modes of action more restricted; until at last death often -results from a fixity which admits of no adaptation to new conditions. -Should it be objected that among civilized nations there are examples of -decreasing definiteness, (instance the breaking down of limits between -ranks,) the reply is, that such apparent exceptions are the -accompaniments of a social metamorphosis—a change from the military or -predatory type of social structure, to the industrial or mercantile -type, during which the old lines of organization are disappearing and -the new ones becoming more marked. - -That all organized results of social action, pass in the course of -civilization through parallel phases, is demonstrable. Being, as they -are, objective products of subjective processes, they must display -corresponding changes; and that they do this, the cases of Language, of -Science, of Art, clearly prove. - -If we strike out from our sentences everything but nouns and verbs, we -shall perceive how extremely vague is the expression of ideas in -undeveloped tongues. When we note how each inflection of a verb or -addition by which the case of a noun is marked, serves to limit the -conditions of action or of existence, we see that these constituents of -speech enable men more precisely to communicate their thoughts. That the -application of an adjective to a noun or an adverb to a verb, narrows -the class of things or changes indicated, implies that these additional -words serve further to define the meaning. And similarly with other -parts of speech. The like effect results from the multiplication -of words of each order. When the names for objects, and acts, and -qualities, are but few, the range of each is proportionately wide, and -its meaning therefore unspecific. The similes and metaphors so -abundantly used by aboriginal races, are simply vehicles for indirectly -and imperfectly conveying ideas, which lack of words disables them from -conveying directly and perfectly. In contrasting these figurative -expressions, interpretable in various senses, with the expressions which -we should use in place of them, the increase of exactness which wealth -of language gives, is rendered very obvious. Or to take a case from -ordinary life, if we compare the speech of the peasant, who, out of his -limited vocabulary, can describe the contents of the bottle he carries, -only as “doctor’s-stuff” which he has got for his “sick” wife, with the -speech of the physician, who tells those educated like himself the -particular composition of the medicine, and the particular disorder for -which he has prescribed it; we have vividly brought home to us, the -precision which language gains by the multiplication of terms. - Again, in the course of its evolution, each tongue acquires a -further accuracy through processes which fix the meaning of each word. -Intellectual intercourse tends gradually to diminish laxity of -expression. By and by dictionaries give definitions. And eventually, -among the most cultivated, indefiniteness is not tolerated, either in -the terms used or in their grammatical combinations. Once more, -languages considered as wholes, become gradually more distinct from each -other, and from their common parent: as witness in early times the -divergence from the same root of two languages so unlike as Greek and -Latin, and in later times the development of three Latin dialects into -Italian, French, and Spanish. - -In his “History of the Inductive Sciences,” Dr. Whewell says that the -Greeks failed in physical philosophy because their “ideas were not -distinct, and appropriate to the facts.” I do not quote this remark for -its luminousness; since it would be equally proper to ascribe the -indistinctness and inappropriateness of their ideas to the imperfection -of their physical philosophy; but I quote it because it serves as good -evidence of the indefiniteness of primitive science. The same work and -its fellow on “The Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences,” supply other -evidences equally good, because equally independent of any such -hypothesis as is here to be established. Respecting mathematics we have -the fact that geometrical theorems grew out of empirical methods; and -that these theorems, at first isolated, did not acquire the clearness -which complete demonstration gives, until they were arranged by Euclid -into a series of dependent propositions. At a later period the same -general truth was exemplified in the progress from the “method of -exhaustions” and the “method of indivisibles” to the “method of limits;” -which is the central idea of the infinitesimal calculus. In early -mechanics, too, may be traced a dim perception that action and re-action -are equal and opposite; though for ages after, this truth remained -unformulated. And similarly, the property of inertia, though not -distinctly comprehended until Kepler lived, was vaguely recognized long -previously. “The conception of statical force,” “was never presented in -a distinct form till the works of Archimedes appeared;” and “the -conception of accelerating force was confused, in the mind of Kepler and -his contemporaries, and did not become clear enough for purposes of -sound scientific reasoning before the succeeding century.” To which -specific assertions may be added the general remark, that “terms which -originally, and before the laws of motion were fully known, were used in -a very vague and fluctuating sense, were afterwards limited and rendered -precise.” When we turn from abstract scientific conceptions to the -concrete previsions of science, of which astronomy furnishes us with -numerous examples, the like contrast is visible. The times at which -celestial phenomena will occur, have been predicted with ever-increasing -accuracy: errors once amounting to days, have been reduced down to -seconds. The correspondence between the real and supposed forms of -orbits, has been growing gradually more precise. Originally thought -circular, then epicyclical, then elliptical, orbits are now ascertained -to be curves which always deviate more or less from perfect ellipses, -and which are ever undergoing change. But the general advance of -Science in definiteness, is best shown by the contrast between its -qualitative stage, and its quantitative stage. At first, the facts -ascertained were, that between such and such phenomena some connexion -existed—that the appearances _a_ and _b_ always occurred together or in -succession; but it was neither known what was the nature of the relation -between _a_ and _b_, nor how much of _a_ accompanied so much of _b_. The -development of Science has in part been the reduction of these vague -connexions to distinct ones. Most relations have been determined as -belonging to the classes mechanical, chemical, thermal, electric, -magnetic, &c.; and we have learnt to infer the amounts of the -antecedents and consequents from each other with an exactness that -becomes ever greater. Were there space to state them, illustrations of -this truth might be cited from all departments of physics; but it must -suffice here to instance the general progress of chemistry. Besides the -conspicuous fact that we have positively ascertained the constituent -elements of an immense number of compounds which our ancestors could not -analyze, and of a far greater number which they never even saw, there is -the still more conspicuous fact that the combining equivalents of these -elements are accurately calculated. The beginnings of a like advance -from qualitative to quantitative prevision, may be traced even in some -of the higher sciences. Physiology shows it in the weighing and -measuring of organic products, and of the materials consumed. By -Pathology it is displayed in the use of the statistical method of -determining the sources of diseases, and the effects of treatment. In -Zoology and Botany, the numerical comparisons of Floras and Faunas, -leading to specific conclusions respecting their sources and -distributions, illustrate it. And in Sociology, questionable as are the -conclusions usually drawn from the classified sum-totals of the census, -from Board-of-Trade tables, and from criminal returns, it must be -admitted that these imply a progress towards more accurate conceptions -of social phenomena. That an essential characteristic of advancing -Science is increase in definiteness, appears indeed almost a truism, -when we remember that Science may be described as definite knowledge, in -contradistinction to that indefinite knowledge possessed by the -uncultured. And if, as we cannot question, Science has, in the slow -course of ages, been evolved out of this indefinite knowledge of the -uncultured; then, the gradual acquirement of that great definiteness -which now distinguishes it, must have been a leading trait in its -evolution. - -The Arts, industrial and æsthetic, furnish illustrations perhaps still -more striking. Flint implements of the kind recently found in certain of -the later geologic deposits—implements so rude that some have held them -to be of natural rather than of artificial origin—show the extreme want -of precision in men’s first handyworks. Though a great advance on these -is seen in the tools and weapons of existing savage tribes, yet an -inexactness in forms and fittings, more than anything else distinguishes -such tools and weapons from those of civilized races. In a less degree, -the productions of semi-barbarous nations are characterized by like -defects. A Chinese junk with all its contained furniture and appliances, -nowhere presents a perfectly straight line, a uniform curve, or a true -surface. Nor do the utensils and machines of our ancestors fail to -exhibit a similar inferiority to our own. An antique chair, an old -fireplace, a lock of the last century, or almost any article of -household use that has been preserved for a few generations, will prove -by contrast how greatly the industrial products of our time excel those -of the past in their accuracy. Since planing machines have been -invented, it has become possible to produce absolutely straight lines, -and surfaces so truly level as to be air-tight when applied to each -other. While in the dividing-engine of Troughton, in the micrometer of -Whitworth, and in microscopes that show fifty thousand divisions to the -inch, we have an exactness as far exceeding that reached in the works of -our great-grandfathers, as theirs exceeded that of the aboriginal -celt-makers. In the Fine Arts there has been a parallel process. -From the rudely carved and painted idols of savages, through the early -sculptures characterized by limbs having no muscular detail, -wooden-looking drapery, and faces devoid of individuality, up to the -later statues of the Greeks or some of those now produced, the increased -accuracy of representation is conspicuous. Compare the mural paintings -of the Egyptians with the paintings of medieval Europe, or these with -modern paintings, and the more precise rendering of the appearances of -objects is manifest. So too is it with the delineations of fiction and -the drama. In the marvellous tales current among Eastern nations, in the -romantic legends of feudal Europe, as well as in the mystery-plays and -those immediately succeeding them, we see great want of correspondence -to the realities of life; not only in the predominance of supernatural -events and extremely improbable coincidences, but also in the -vaguely-indicated personages, who are nothing more than embodiments of -virtue and vice in general, or at best of particular virtues and vices. -Through transitions that need not be specified, there has been a -progressive diminution, in both fiction and the drama, of whatever is -unnatural—whatever does not answer to real life. And now, novels and -plays are applauded in proportion to the fidelity with which they -exhibit individual characters with their motives and consequent actions; -improbabilities, like the impossibilities which preceded them, are -disallowed; and there is even an incipient abandonment of those -elaborate plots which the realities of life rarely if ever furnish. - -Were it needful, it would be easy to accumulate evidences of various -other kinds. The progress from myths and legends, extreme in their -misrepresentations, to a history that has slowly become, and is still -becoming, more accurate; the establishment of settled systematic methods -of doing things, instead of the indeterminate ways at first pursued; and -the great increase in the number of points on which conflicting opinion -has settled down into exact knowledge; might severally be used further -to exemplify the general truth enunciated. The basis of induction is, -however, already sufficiently wide. Proof that all Evolution is from the -indefinite to the definite, we find to be not less abundant than proof -that all Evolution is from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous. The one -kind of change is co-extensive with the other—is equally with it -exhibited throughout Nature. - - * * * * * - -§ 56. To form a complete conception of Evolution, we have to contemplate -it under yet another aspect. This advance from the indefinite to the -definite, is obviously not primary but secondary—is an incidental result -attendant on the finishing of certain changes. The transformation of a -whole that was originally uniform, into a combination of multiform -parts, implies a progressive separation. While this is going on there -must be indistinctness. Only as each separated division draws into its -general mass those diffused peripheral portions which are at first -imperfectly disunited from the peripheral portions of neighbouring -divisions, can it acquire anything like a precise outline. And it cannot -become perfectly definite until its units are aggregated into a compact -whole. That is to say, the acquirement of definiteness is simply a -concomitant of complete union of the elements constituting each -component division. Thus, Evolution is characterized not only by a -continuous multiplication of parts, but also by a growing oneness in -each part. And while an advance in heterogeneity results from -progressive differentiation, an advance in definiteness results from -progressive integration. The two changes are simultaneous; or are rather -opposite aspects of the same change. This change, however, cannot be -rightly comprehended without looking at both its sides. Let us then once -more consider Evolution under its several manifestations; for the -purpose of noting how it is throughout a process of integration. - -The illustrations furnished by the Solar System, supposing it to have -had a nebular origin, are so obvious as scarcely to need indicating. -That as a whole, it underwent a gradual concentration while assuming its -present distribution of parts; and that there subsequently took place a -like concentration of the matter forming each planet and satellite, is -the leading feature of the hypothesis. The process of integration is -here seen in its simplest and most decided form. - -Geologic evolution, if we trace it up from that molten state of the -Earth’s substance which we are obliged to postulate, supplies us with -more varied facts of like meaning. The advance from a thin crust, at -first everywhere fissured and moveable, to a crust so solid and thick as -to be but now and then very partially dislocated by disturbing forces, -exemplifies the unifying process; as does likewise the advance from a -surface covered with small patches of land and water, to one divided -into continents and oceans—an advance also resulting from the Earth’s -gradual solidification. Moreover, the collection of detritus into strata -of great extent, and the union of such strata into extensive “systems,” -becomes possible only as surfaces of land and water become wide, and -subsidences great, in both area and depth; whence it follows that -integrations of this order must have grown more pronounced as the -Earth’s crust thickened. Different and simpler instances of the -process through which mixed materials are separated, and the kindred -units aggregated into masses, are exhibited in the detailed structure of -the Earth. The phenomena of crystallization may be cited _en masse_, as -showing how the unifications of similar elements take place wherever the -conditions permit. Not only do we see this where there is little or no -hindrance to the approach of the particles, as in the cases of crystals -formed from solutions, or by sublimation; but it is also seen where -there are great obstacles to their approach. The flints and the nodules -of iron pyrites that are found in chalk, as well as the silicious -concretions which occasionally occur in limestone, can be interpreted -only as aggregations of atoms of silex or sulphuret of iron, originally -diffused almost uniformly through the deposit, but gradually collected -round certain centres, notwithstanding the solid or semi-solid state of -the surrounding matter. Iron-stone as it ordinarily occurs, presents a -similar phenomenon to be similarly explained; and what is called bog -iron-ore supplies the conditions and the result in still more obvious -correlation. - -During the evolution of an organism, there occurs, as every physiologist -knows, not only separation of parts, but coalescence of parts. In the -mammalian embryo, the heart, at first a long pulsating blood-vessel, by -and by twists upon itself and becomes integrated. The layer of -bile-cells constituting the rudimentary liver, do not simply become -different from the wall of the intestine in which they at first lie; but -they simultaneously diverge from it and consolidate into an organ. The -anterior segments of the cerebro-spinal axis, which are at first -continuous with the rest, and distinguished only by their larger size, -undergo a gradual union; and at the same time the resulting head -consolidates into a mass clearly marked off from the rest of the -vertebral column. The like process, variously exemplified in other -organs, is meanwhile exhibited by the body as a whole; which becomes -integrated, somewhat in the same way that the contents of an outspread -handkerchief become integrated when its edges are drawn in and fastened -to make a bundle. Analogous changes go on long after birth, and continue -even up to old age. In the human being that gradual solidification of -the bony framework, which, during childhood, is seen in the coalescence -of portions of the same bone ossified from different centres, is -afterwards seen in the coalescence of bones that were originally -distinct. The appendages of the vertebræ unite with the vertebral -centres to which they belong—a change not completed until towards -thirty. At the same time the epiphyses, formed separately from the main -bodies of their respective bones, have their cartilaginous connexions -turned into osseous ones—are fused to the masses beneath them. The -component vertebræ of the sacrum, which remain separate till about the -sixteenth year, then begin to unite; and in ten or a dozen years more -their union is complete. Still later occurs the coalescence of the -coccygeal vertebræ; and there are some other bony unions which are not -completed until advanced age. To which add that the increase of density -and toughness, going on throughout the tissues in general during life, -may be regarded as the formation of a more highly integrated substance. - The species of change thus illustrated under its several aspects -in the unfolding of the human body, may be traced in all animals. That -mode of it which consists in the union of homogeneous parts originally -separate, has been described by Milne-Edwards and others, as exhibited -in various of the invertebrata; though it does not seem to have been -included by them as an essential peculiarity in the process of organic -development. We shall, however, be led strongly to suspect that -progressive integration should form part of the definition of this -process, when we find it displayed not only in tracing up the stages -passed through by every embryo, but also in ascending from the lower -living creatures to the higher. And here, as in the evolution of -individual organisms, it goes on both longitudinally and transversely: -under which different forms we may indeed most conveniently consider it. - Of _longitudinal integration_, the sub-kingdom _Annulosa_ supplies -abundant examples. Its lower members, such as worms and myriapods, are -mostly characterized by the great number of segments composing them: -reaching in some cases to several hundreds. But in the higher -divisions—crustaceans, insects, and spiders—we find this number reduced -down to twenty-two, thirteen, or even fewer; while, accompanying the -reduction, there is a shortening or integration of the whole body, -reaching its extreme in the crab and the spider. The significance of -these contrasts, as bearing upon the general doctrine of Evolution, will -be seen when it is pointed out that they are parallel to those which -arise during the development of individual _Annulosa_. In the lobster, -the head and thorax form one compact box, made by the union of a number -of segments which in the embryo were separable. Similarly, the butterfly -shows us segments so much more closely united than they were in the -caterpillar, as to be, some of them, no longer distinguishable from each -other. The _Vertebrata_ again, throughout their successively higher -classes, furnish like instances of longitudinal union. In most fishes, -and in reptiles that have no limbs, the only segments of the spinal -column that coalesce, are those forming the skull. In most mammals and -in birds, a variable number of vertebræ become fused together to form -the sacrum; and in the higher quadrumana and man, the caudal vertebræ -also lose their separate individualities in a single _os coccygis_. - That which we may distinguish as _transverse integration_, is well -illustrated among the _Annulosa_ in the development of the nervous -system. Leaving out those most degraded forms which do not present -distinct ganglia, it is to be observed that the lower annulose animals, -in common with the larvæ of the higher, are severally characterized by a -double chain of ganglia running from end to end of the body; while in -the more perfectly formed annulose animals, this double chain becomes -more or less completely united into a single chain. Mr. Newport has -described the course of this concentration as exhibited in insects; and -by Rathke it has been traced in crustaceans. During the early stages of -the _Astacus fluviatilis_, or common cray-fish, there is a pair of -separate ganglia to each ring. Of the fourteen pairs belonging to the -head and thorax, the three pairs in advance of the mouth consolidate -into one mass to form the brain, or cephalic ganglion. Meanwhile, out of -the remainder, the first six pairs severally unite in the median line, -while the rest remain more or less separate. Of these six double ganglia -thus formed, the anterior four coalesce into one mass; the remaining two -coalesce into another mass; and then these two masses coalesce into one. -Here we see longitudinal and transverse integration going on -simultaneously; and in the highest crustaceans they are both carried -still further. The _Vertebrata_ clearly exhibit transverse integration -in the development of the generative system. The lowest of the -mammalia—the _Monotremata_—in common with birds, to which they are in -many respects allied, have oviducts which towards their lower -extremities are dilated into cavities, severally performing in an -imperfect way the function of a uterus. “In the _Marsupialia_ there is a -closer approximation of the two lateral sets of organs on the median -line; for the oviducts converge towards one another and meet (without -coalescing) on the median line; so that their uterine dilatations are in -contact with each other, forming a true ‘double uterus....’ As we ascend -the series of ‘placental’ mammals, we find the lateral coalescence -becoming more and more complete.... In many of the _Rodentia_ the uterus -still remains completely divided into two lateral halves; whilst in -others these coalesce at their lower portions, forming a rudiment of the -true ‘body’ of the uterus in the human subject. This part increases at -the expense of the lateral ‘cornua’ in the higher herbivora and -carnivora; but even in the lower quadrumana the uterus is somewhat cleft -at its summit.”[10] - -In the social organism integrative changes are not less clearly and -abundantly exemplified. Uncivilized societies display them when -wandering families, such as the bushmen show us, unite into tribes of -considerable numbers. Among these we see a further progress of like -nature everywhere manifested in the subjugation of weaker tribes by -stronger ones; and in the subordination of their respective chiefs to -the conquering chief. The partial combinations thus resulting, which -among aboriginal races are being continually formed and continually -broken up, become, among the superior races, both more complete and more -permanent. If we trace the metamorphoses through which our own society, -or any adjacent one, has passed, we see this unification from time to -time repeated on a larger scale and with increasing stability. The -aggregation of juniors and the children of juniors under elders and the -children of elders; the consequent establishment of groups of vassals -bound to their respective nobles; the subordination afterwards -established of groups of inferior nobles to dukes or earls; and the -still later establishment of the kingly power over dukes or earls; are -so many instances of increasing consolidation. This process through -which petty tenures are combined into feuds, feuds into provinces, -provinces into kingdoms, and finally contiguous kingdoms into a single -one, slowly completes itself by destroying the original lines of -demarcation. And it may be further remarked of the European nations as a -whole, that in the tendency to form alliances more or less lasting, in -the restraining influences exercised by the several governments over -each other, in the system that is gradually establishing itself of -settling international disputes by congresses, as well as in the -breaking down of commercial barriers and the increasing facilities of -communication, we may trace the incipient stage of a European -confederation—a still larger integration than any now established. - But it is not only in these external unions of groups with groups, -and of the compound groups with each other, that the general law is -exemplified. It is exemplified also in unions that take place -internally, as the groups become more highly organized. These, of which -the most conspicuous are commercial in their origin and function, are -well illustrated in our own society. We have integrations consequent on -the simple growth of adjacent parts performing like functions: as, for -instance, the junction of Manchester with its calico-weaving suburbs. We -have other integrations that arise when, out of several places producing -a particular commodity, one monopolizes more and more of the business, -and leaves the rest to dwindle: as witness the growth of the Yorkshire -cloth-districts at the expense of those in the west of England; or the -absorption by Staffordshire of the pottery-manufacture, and the -consequent decay of the establishments that once flourished at -Worcester, Derby, and elsewhere. And we have those yet other -integrations produced by the actual approximation of the -similarly-occupied parts: whence result such facts as the concentration -of publishers in Paternoster Row; of lawyers in the Temple and -neighbourhood; of corn-merchants about Mark Lane; of civil engineers in -Great George Street; of bankers in the centre of the city. Industrial -combinations that consist, not in the approximation or fusion of parts, -but in the establishment of common centres of connexion, are exhibited -in the Bank clearing-house and the Railway clearing-house. While of yet -another genus are those unions which bring into relation the more or -less dispersed citizens who are occupied in like ways: as traders are -brought by the Exchange and the Stock-Exchange; and as are professional -men by institutes, like those of Civil Engineers, Architects, &c. - -Here, as before, it is manifest that a law of Evolution which holds of -organisms, must hold too of all objective results of their activity; and -that hence Language, and Science, and Art, must not only in the course -of their development display increasing heterogeneity and definiteness, -but also increasing integration. We shall find this conclusion to be in -harmony with the facts. - -Among uncivilized races, the many-syllabled terms used for not uncommon -objects, as well as the descriptive character of proper names, show us -that the words used for the less familiar things are formed by -compounding the words used for the more familiar things. This process of -composition is sometimes found in its incipient stage—a stage in which -the component words are temporarily united to signify some unnamed -object, and do not (from lack of frequent use) permanently cohere. But -in the majority of inferior languages, the process of “agglutination,” -as it is called, has gone far enough to produce considerable stability -in the compound words: there is a manifest integration. How small is the -degree of this integration, however, when compared with that reached in -well-developed languages is shown both by the great length of the -compound words used for things and acts of constant occurrence, and by -the separableness of their elements. Certain North-American tongues very -well illustrate this. In a Ricaree vocabulary extending to fifty names -of common objects, which in English are nearly all expressed by single -syllables, there is not one monosyllabic word; and in the nearly-allied -vocabulary of the Pawnees, the names for these same common objects are -monosyllabic in but two instances. Things so familiar to these hunting -tribes as _dog_ and _bow_, are, in the Pawnee language, _ashakish_ and -_teeragish_; the _hand_ and the _eyes_ are respectively _iksheeree_ and -_keereekoo_; for _day_ the term is _shakoorooeeshairet_, and for _devil_ -it is _tsaheekshkakooraiwah_; while the numerals are composed of from -two syllables up to five, and in Ricaree up to seven. That the great -length of these familiar words implies a low degree of development, and -that in the formation of higher languages out of lower there is a -progressive integration, which reduces the polysyllables to dissyllables -and monosyllables, is an inference fully confirmed by the history of our -own language. Anglo-Saxon _steorra_ has been in course of time -consolidated into English _star_, _mona_ into _moon_, and _nama_ into -_name_. The transition through the intermediate semi-Saxon is clearly -traceable. _Sunu_ became in semi-Saxon _sune_, and in English _son_: the -final _e_ of _sune_ being an evanescent form of the original _u_. The -change from the Anglo-Saxon plural, formed by the distinct syllable -_as_, to our plural formed by the appended consonant _s_, shows us the -same thing: _smithas_ in becoming _smiths_, and _endas_ in becoming -_ends_, illustrate progressive coalescence. So too does the -disappearance of the terminal _an_ in the infinitive mood of verbs; as -shown in the transition from the Anglo-Saxon _cuman_ to the semi-Saxon -_cumme_, and to the English _come_. Moreover the process has been slowly -going on, even since what we distinguish as English was formed. In -Elizabeth’s time, verbs were still very frequently pluralized by the -addition of _en_—we _tell_ was we _tellen_; and in some rural districts -this form of speech may even now be heard. In like manner the terminal -_ed_ of the past tense, has united with the word it modifies. _Burn-ed_ -has in pronunciation become _burnt_; and even in writing the terminal -_t_ has in some cases taken the place of the _ed_. Only where antique -forms in general are adhered to, as in the church-service, is the -distinctness of this inflection still maintained. Further, we see that -the compound vowels have been in many cases fused into single vowels. -That in _bread_ the _e_ and _a_ were originally both sounded, is proved -by the fact that they are still so sounded in parts where old habits -linger. We, however, have contracted the pronunciation into _bred_; and -we have made like changes in many other common words. Lastly, let it be -noted that where the frequency of repetition is greatest, the process is -carried furthest; as instance the contraction of _lord_ (originally -_laford_) into _lud_ in the mouths of Barristers; and still better the -coalescence of _God be with you_ into _Good bye_. Besides -exhibiting in this way the integrative process, Language equally -exhibits it throughout all grammatical development. The lowest kinds of -human speech, having merely nouns and verbs without inflections to them, -manifestly permit no such close union of the elements of a proposition -as results when the relations are either marked by inflections or by -words specially used for purposes of connexion. Such speech is -necessarily what we significantly call “incoherent.” To a considerable -extent, incoherence is seen in the Chinese language. “If, instead of -saying _I go_ to _London_, _figs come_ from _Turkey_, _the sun shines_ -through _the air_, we said, _I go_ end _London_, _figs come_ origin -_Turkey_, _the sun shines_ passage _air_, we should discourse of the -manner of the Chinese.” From this “aptotic” form, there is clear -evidence of a transition by coalescence to a form in which the -connexions of words are expressed by the addition to them of certain -inflectional words. “In Languages like the Chinese,” remarks Dr Latham, -“the separate words most in use to express relation may become adjuncts -or annexes.” To this he adds the fact that “the numerous inflexional -languages fall into two classes. In one, the inflexions have no -appearance of having been separate words. In the other, their origin as -separate words is demonstrable.” From which the inference drawn is, that -the “aptotic” languages, by the more and more constant use of adjuncts, -gave rise to the “agglutinate” languages, or those in which the original -separateness of the inflexional parts can be traced; and that out of -these, by further use, arose the “amalgamate” languages, or these in -which the original separateness of the inflexional parts can no longer -be traced. Strongly corroborative of this inference is the -unquestionable fact, that by such a process there have grown out of the -amalgamate languages, the “anaptotic” languages; of which our own is the -most perfect example—languages in which, by further consolidation, -inflexions have almost disappeared, while, to express the verbal -relations, certain new kinds of words have been developed. When we see -the Anglo-Saxon inflexions gradually lost by contraction during the -development of English, and, though to a less degree, the Latin -inflexions dwindling away during the development of French, we cannot -deny that grammatical structure is modified by integration; and seeing -how clearly the earlier stages of grammatical structure are explained by -it, we can scarcely doubt that it has been going on from the first. - And now mark that in proportion to the degree of the integration -above described, is the extent to which integration of another order is -shown. Aptotic languages are, as already pointed out, necessarily -incoherent—the elements of a proposition cannot be tied into a definite -and complete whole. But as fast as coalescence produces inflected words, -it becomes possible to unite them into sentences of which the parts are -so mutually dependent that no considerable change can be made without -destroying the meaning. Yet a further stage in this process may be -noted. After the development of those grammatical forms which make -definite statements possible, we do not at first find them used to -express anything beyond statements of a simple kind. A single subject -with a single predicate, accompanied by but few qualifying terms, are -usually all. If we compare, for instance, the Hebrew scriptures with -writings of modern times, a marked difference of aggregation among the -groups of words, is visible. In the number of subordinate propositions -which accompany the principal one; in the various complements to -subjects and predicates; and in the numerous qualifying clauses—all of -them united into one complex whole—many sentences in modern composition -exhibit a degree of integration not to be found in ancient ones. - -The history of Science presents facts of the same meaning at every step. -Indeed the integration of groups of like entities and like relations, -may be said to constitute the most conspicuous part of scientific -progress. A glance at the classificatory sciences, shows us not only -that the confused aggregations which the vulgar make of natural objects, -are differentiated into groups that are respectively more homogeneous, -but also that these groups are gradually rendered complete and compact. -While, instead of considering all marine creatures as fish, shell-fish, -and jelly-fish, Zoology establishes divisions and sub-divisions under -the heads _Vertebrata_, _Annulosa_, _Mollusca_, &c.—while in place of -the wide and vague assemblage popularly described as “creeping things,” -it makes the specific classes _Annelida_, _Myriopoda_, _Insecta_, -_Arachnida_; it at the same time gives to these an increasing -consolidation. The several orders and genera of which each consists, are -arranged according to their affinities and bound together under common -definitions; at the same time that, by extended observation and rigorous -criticism, the previously unknown and undetermined forms are integrated -with their respective congeners. Nor is the same process less -clearly manifested in those sciences which have for their -subject-matter, not classified objects, but classified relations. Under -one of its chief aspects, the advance of Science is the advance of -generalization; and generalization is the uniting into groups all like -co-existencies and sequences among phenomena. Not only, however, does -the colligation of a number of concrete relations into a generalization -of the lowest order, exemplify the principle enunciated; but it is again -and again exemplified in the colligation of these lowest generalizations -into higher ones, and these into still higher ones. Year by year are -established certain connexions among orders of phenomena that seem -wholly unallied; and these connexions, multiplying and strengthening, -gradually bring the seemingly unallied orders under a common bond. When, -for example, Humboldt quotes the saying of the Swiss—“it is going to -rain because we hear the murmur of the torrents nearer,”—when he remarks -the relation between this and an observation of his own, that the -cataracts of the Orinoco are heard at a greater distance by night than -by day—when he notes the essential parallelism existing between these -facts and the fact that the unusual visibility of remote objects is also -an indication of coming rain—and when he points out that the common -cause of these variations is the smaller hindrance offered to the -passage of both light and sound, by media which are comparatively -homogeneous, either in temperature or hygrometric state; he helps in -bringing under one generalization the phenomena of light and those of -sound. Experiment having shown that these conform to like laws of -reflection and refraction, the conclusion that they are both produced by -undulations gains probability: there is an incipient integration of two -great orders of phenomena, between which no connexion was suspected in -times past. A still more decided integration has been of late taking -place between the once independent sub-sciences of Electricity, -Magnetism, and Light. And indeed it must be obvious to those who are -familiar with the present state of Science, that there will eventually -take place a far wider integration, by which all orders of phenomena -will be combined as differently conditioned forms of one ultimate fact. - -Nor do the industrial and æsthetic Arts fail to supply us with equally -conclusive evidence. The progress from rude, small, and simple tools, to -perfect, complex, and large machines, illustrates not only a progress in -heterogeneity and in definiteness, but also in integration. Among what -are classed as the mechanical powers, the advance from the lever to the -wheel-and-axle is an advance from a simple agent to an agent made up of -several simple ones combined together. On comparing the wheel-and-axle, -or any of the machines used in early times with those used now, we find -an essential difference to be, that in each of our machines several of -the primitive machines are united into one. A modern apparatus for -spinning or weaving, for making stockings or lace, contains not simply a -lever, an inclined plane, a screw, a wheel-and-axle, united together; -but several of each integrated into one complex whole. Again, in early -ages, when horse-power and man-power were alone employed, the motive -agent was not bound up with the tool moved; but the two have now become -in many cases fused together: the fire-box and boiler of a locomotive -are combined with the machinery which the steam works. Nor is this the -most extreme case. A still more extensive integration is exhibited in -every large factory. Here we find a large number of complicated -machines, all connected by driving shafts with the same steam-engine—all -united with it into one vast apparatus. Contrast the mural -decorations of the Egyptians and Assyrians with modern historical -paintings, and there becomes manifest a great advance in unity of -composition—in the subordination of the parts to the whole. One of these -ancient frescoes is in truth made up of a number of pictures that have -little mutual dependence. The several figures of which each group -consists, show very imperfectly by their attitudes, and not at all by -their expressions, the relations in which they stand to each other; the -respective groups might be separated with but little loss of meaning; -and the centre of chief interest, which should link all parts together, -is often inconspicuous. The same trait may be noted in the tapestries of -medieval days. Representing perhaps a hunting scene, one of these -exhibits men, horses, dogs, beasts, birds, trees, and flowers, -miscellaneously dispersed: the living objects being variously occupied, -and mostly with no apparent consciousness of each other’s proximity. But -in the paintings since produced, faulty as many of them are in this -respect, there is always a more or less manifest co-ordination of -parts—an arrangement of attitudes, expressions, lights, and colours, -such as to combine the picture into an organic whole; and the success -with which unity of effect is educed from variety of components, is a -chief test of merit. In music, progressive integration is -displayed in still more numerous ways. The simple cadence embracing but -a few notes, which in the chants of savages is monotonously repeated, -becomes among civilized races, a long series of different musical -phrases combined into one whole; and so complete is the integration, -that the melody cannot be broken off in the middle, nor shorn of its -final note, without giving us a painful sense of incompleteness. When to -the air, a bass, a tenor, and an alto are added; and when to the harmony -of different voice-parts there is added an accompaniment; we see -exemplified integrations of another order, which grow gradually more -elaborate. And the process is carried a stage higher when these complex -solos, concerted pieces, choruses, and orchestral effects, are combined -into the vast ensemble of a musical drama; of which, be it remembered, -the artistic perfection largely consists in the subordination of the -particular effects to the total effect. Once more the Arts of -literary delineation, narrative and dramatic, furnish us with parallel -illustrations. The tales of primitive times, like those with which the -story-tellers of the East still daily amuse their listeners, are made up -of successive occurrences that are not only in themselves unnatural, but -have no natural connexion: they are but so many separate adventures put -together without necessary sequence. But in a good modern work of -imagination, the events are the proper products of the characters -working under given conditions; and cannot at will be changed in their -order or kind, without injuring or destroying the general effect. And -further, the characters themselves, which in early fictions play their -respective parts without showing us how their minds are modified by each -other or by the events, are now presented to us as held together by -complex moral relations, and as acting and re-acting upon each other’s -natures. - -Evolution, then, is in all cases a change from a more diffused or -incoherent form, to a more consolidated or coherent form. This proves to -be a characteristic displayed equally in those earliest changes which -the Universe as a whole is supposed to have undergone, and in those -latest changes which we trace in society and the products of social -life. Nor is it only that in the development of a planet, of an -organism, of a society, of a science, of an art, the process of -integration is seen in a more complete aggregation of each whole and of -its constituent parts; but it is also shown in an increasing mutual -dependence of the parts. Dimly foreshadowed as this mutual dependence is -among inorganic phenomena, both celestial and terrestrial, it becomes -distinct among organic phenomena. From the lowest living forms upwards, -the degree of development is marked by the degree in which the several -parts constitute a mutually-dependent whole. The advance from those -creatures which live on in each part when cut in pieces, up to those -creatures which cannot lose any considerable part without death, nor any -inconsiderable part without great constitutional disturbance, is clearly -an advance to creatures which are not only more integrated in respect of -their solidification, but are also more integrated as consisting of -organs that live for and by each other. The like contrast between -undeveloped and developed societies, need not be shown in detail: the -ever-increasing co-ordination of parts, is conspicuous to all. And it -must suffice just to indicate that the same thing holds true of social -products: as, for instance, of Science; which has become highly -integrated not only in the sense that each division is made up of -mutually-dependent propositions, but also in the sense that the several -divisions are mutually-dependent—cannot carry on their respective -investigations without aid from each other. - -It seems proper to remark that the generalization here variously -illustrated, is akin to one enunciated by Schelling, that Life is the -tendency to individuation. Struck by the fact that an aggregative -process is traceable throughout nature, from the growth of a crystal up -to the development of a man; and by the fact that the wholes resulting -from this process, completer in organic than in inorganic bodies, are -completest where the vital manifestations are the highest; Schelling -concluded that this characteristic was the essential one. According to -him, the formation of individual bodies is not incident to Life, but is -that in which Life fundamentally consists. This position is, for -several reasons, untenable. In the first place, it requires the -conception of Life to be extended so as to embrace inorganic phenomena; -since in crystallization, and even in the formation of amorphous masses -of matter, this tendency to individuation is displayed. Schelling, fully -perceiving this, did indeed accept the implication; and held that -inorganic bodies had life lower only in degree than that of organic -bodies—their degree of life being measured by their degree of -individuation. This bold assumption, which Schelling evidently made to -save his definition, is inadmissible. Rational philosophy cannot ignore -those broad distinctions which the general sense of mankind has -established. If it transcends them, it must at the same time show what -is their origin; how far only they are valid; and why they disappear -from a higher point of view. Note next that the more complete -individuality which Schelling pointed out as characterizing bodies -having the greatest amount of life, is only _one_ of their structural -traits. The greater degree of heterogeneity which they exhibit, is, as -we have seen, a much more conspicuous peculiarity; and though it might -possibly be contended that greater heterogeneity is remotely implied by -greater individuality, it must be admitted that in defining Life as the -tendency to individuation, no hint is given that the bodies which live -most are the most heterogeneous bodies. Moreover it is to be -remarked that this definition of Schelling, refers much more to the -structures of living bodies than to the processes which constitute Life. -Not Life, but the invariable accompaniment of Life, is that which his -formula alone expresses. The formation of a completer organic whole, a -more fully individuated body, is truly a necessary concomitant of a -higher life; and the development of a higher life must therefore be -accompanied by a tendency to greater individuation. But to represent -this tendency as Life itself, is to mistake an incidental result for an -original cause. Life, properly so called, consists of multiform changes -united together in various ways; and is not expressed either by an -anatomical description of the organism which manifests it, or by a -history of the modifications through which such organism has reached its -present structure. Yet it is only in such description and such history -that the tendency to individuation is seen. Lastly, this -definition which Schelling gave of Life is untenable, not only because -it refers rather to the organism than to the actions going on in it; but -also because it wholly ignores that connexion between the organism and -the external world, on which Life depends. All organic processes, -physical and psychial, having for their object the maintenance of -certain relations with environing agencies and objects; it is impossible -that there should be a true definition of Life, in which the environment -is not named. Nevertheless, Schelling’s conception was not a -baseless one. Though not a truth, it was yet the adumbration of a truth. -In defining Life as the tendency to individuation, he had in view that -formation of a more compact, complete, and mutually-dependent whole, -which, as we have seen, is one characteristic of Evolution in general. -His error was, firstly, in regarding it as a characteristic of Life, -instead of a characteristic of living bodies, displayed, though in a -less degree, by other bodies; and, secondly, in regarding it as the sole -characteristic of such bodies. It remains only to add, that for -expressing this aspect of the process of Evolution, the word integration -is for several reasons preferable to the word individuation. Integration -is the true antithesis of differentiation; it has not that tacit -reference to living bodies which the word individuation cannot be wholly -freed from; it expresses the aggregative tendency not only as displayed -in the formation of more complete wholes, but also as displayed in the -consolidation of the several parts of which such wholes are made up; and -it has not the remotest teleological implication. In short, it simply -formulates in the most abstract manner, a wide induction untainted by -any hypothesis. - - * * * * * - -§ 57. Thus we find that to complete the definition arrived at in the -last chapter, much has to be added. What was there alleged is true; but -it is not the whole truth. Evolution is unquestionably a change from a -homogeneous state to a heterogeneous state; but, as we have seen, there -are some advances in heterogeneity which cannot be included in the idea -of Evolution. This undue width of the definition, implies the omission -of some further peculiarity by which Evolution is distinguished; and -this peculiarity we find to be that the more highly developed things -become, the more definite they become. Advance from the indefinite to -the definite, is as constantly and variously displayed as advance from -the homogeneous to the heterogeneous. And we are thus obliged to regard -it as an essential characteristic of Evolution. Further analysis, -however, shows us that this increase of definiteness is not an -independent process; but is rather the necessary concomitant of another -process. A very little consideration of the facts proves that a change -from the indefinite to the definite, can arise only through a completer -consolidation of the respective parts, and of the whole which they -constitute. And so we find that while Evolution is a transformation of -the homogeneous into the heterogeneous, and of the indefinite into the -definite, it is also a transformation of the incoherent into the -coherent. Along with the differentiation shown in increasing contrasts -of parts with each other, there goes on an integration, by which the -parts are rendered distinct units, as well as closely united components -of one whole. These clauses here added to the definition, are -essential ones; not only as being needful to distinguish Evolution from -that which is not Evolution, but likewise as being needful to express -all which the idea of Evolution includes. Progressive integration with -the growing definiteness necessarily resulting from it, is of -co-ordinate importance with the progressive differentiation before dwelt -upon—nay, from one point of view, may be held of greater importance. For -organization, in which what we call Evolution is most clearly and -variously displayed, consists even more in the union of many parts into -one whole, than in the formation of many parts. The Evolution which we -see throughout inorganic nature, is lower than that which organic nature -exhibits to us, for the especial reason that the mutual dependence of -parts is extremely indefinite, even when traceable at all. In an -amorphous mass of matter, you may act mechanically or chemically upon -one part without appreciably affecting the other parts. Though their -electrical or thermal states may be for the moment altered, their -original states are soon resumed. Even in the highest inorganic -aggregation—a crystal—the apex may be broken off and leave the rest -intact: the only clear evidence of mutual dependence of parts, being, -the ability of the crystal to regenerate its apex if replaced in the -solution from which it was formed. But the constituent parts of organic -bodies can severally maintain their existing states, only while -remaining in connexion. Even in the lowest living forms, mutilation -cannot be carried beyond a certain point without decomposition ensuing. -As we advance through the higher up to the highest forms, we see a -gradual narrowing of the limits within which the mutilation does not -cause destruction: a progressive increase of mutual dependence or -integration which is, at the same time, the condition to greater -functional perfection. In societies this truth is equally manifest. That -the component units slowly segregate into groups of different ranks and -occupations, is a fact scarcely more conspicuous than is the fact that -these groups are necessary to each other’s existence. And we cannot -contemplate the still-progressing division of labour, without seeing -that the interdependence becomes ever greater as the evolution becomes -higher. It remains only to point out definitely, what has been -already implied, that these several forms of change which have been -successively described as making up the process of Evolution, are not in -reality separate forms of change, but different aspects of the same -change. Intrinsically the transformation is one and indivisible. The -establishment of differences that become gradually more decided, is -evidently but the beginning of an action which cannot be pushed to its -extreme without producing definite divisions between the parts, and -reducing each part to a separate mass. But with our limited faculties, -it is not possible to take in the entire process at one view; nor have -we any single terms by which the process can be described. Hence we are -obliged to contemplate each of its aspects separately, and to find a -separate expression for its characteristic. - -Having done this, we are now in a position to frame a true idea of -Evolution. Combining these partial definitions we get a complete -definition, which may be most conveniently expressed thus—_Evolution is -a change from an indefinite, incoherent homogeneity, to a definite, -coherent heterogeneity; through continuous differentiations and -integrations._ - -It may perhaps be remarked that the last of these clauses is -superfluous; since the differentiation and integration are implied in -the first clause. This is true: the transition which the first clause -specifies, is impossible save through the process specified in the -second. Nevertheless, a mere statement of the two extreme stages with -which Evolution begins and ends, omitting all reference to changes -connecting them, leaves the mind with but an incomplete idea. The idea -becomes much more concrete when these changes are described. Hence, -though not logically necessary, the second clause of the definition is -practically desirable. - -Before closing the chapter, a few words must be added respecting certain -other modes of describing Evolution. Organic bodies, from the changes of -which the idea of Evolution has arisen, and to the changes of which -alone it is usually applied, are often said to progress from simplicity -to complexity. The transformation of the simple into the complex, and of -the homogeneous into the heterogeneous, are used as equivalent phrases; -or, if any difference is recognized between them, it is to the advantage -of the first, which is held to be the more specific. After what has been -said, however, it must be obvious that Evolution cannot be thus -adequately formulated. No hint is given of that increased definiteness -which we have found to be a concomitant of development. Nor is there -anything implying the greater mutual dependence of parts. Nevertheless, -the brevity of the expression gives it a value for ordinary purposes; -and I shall probably hereafter frequently use it, both in those cases -where more precise language is not demanded, and in those cases where it -indicates the particular aspect of Evolution referred to. Another -description frequently given of Evolution, is, that it is a change from -the general to the special. The more or less spherical germ from which -every organism, animal and vegetal, proceeds, is comparatively general: -alike in the sense that in appearance and chemical nature it is very -similar to all other germs; and also in the sense that its form is less -markedly distinguished from the average forms of objects at large, than -is that of the mature organism—a contrast which equally holds of -internal structure. But this progress from the more general to the more -special, is rather a derivative than an original characteristic. An -increase of speciality being really an increase in the number of -attributes—an addition of traits not possessed by bodies that are in -other respects similar—is a necessary result of multiplying -differentiations. In other words, general and special are subjective or -ideal distinctions involved in our conceptions of classes, rather than -objective or real distinctions presented in the bodies classified. -Nevertheless, this abstract formula is not without its use. It expresses -a fact of much significance; and one which we shall have constantly to -refer to when dealing with the relations between organic bodies and -their surrounding conditions. - -The law of Evolution however, be it expressed in full as above, or in -these shorter but less specific phrases, is essentially that which has -been exhibited in detail throughout the foregoing pages. So far as we -can ascertain, this law is universal. It is illustrated with endless -repetition, and in countless ways, wherever the facts are abundant; and -where the facts do not suffice for induction, deduction goes far to -supply its place. Among all orders of phenomena that lie within the -sphere of observation, we see ever going on the process of change above -defined; and many significant indications warrant us in believing, that -the same process of change went on throughout that remote past which -lies beyond the sphere of observation. If we must form any conclusion -respecting the general course of things, past, present, and future, the -one which the evidence as far as it goes justifies, and the only one for -which there is any justification, is, that the change from an -indeterminate uniformity to a determinate multiformity which we -everywhere see going on, has been going on from the first, and will -continue to go on. - ------ - -Footnote 10: - - Carpenter’s Prin. of Comp. Phys., p. 617. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - THE CAUSES OF EVOLUTION. - - -§ 58. Is this law ultimate or derivative? Must we rest satisfied with -the conclusion that throughout all classes of concrete phenomena such is -the mode of evolution? Or is it possible for us to ascertain _why_ such -is the mode of evolution? May we seek for some all-pervading principle -which underlies this all-pervading process? Can we by a further step -reduce our empirical generalization to a rational generalization? - -Manifestly this community of result implies community of causation. It -may be that of such causation no account can be given, further than that -the Unknowable is manifested to us after this manner. Or, it may be, -that the mode of manifestation is reducible to simpler ones, from which -these many complex consequences follow. Analogy suggests the latter -inference. At present, the conclusion that every kind of Evolution is -from a state of indefinite incoherent homogeneity to a state of definite -coherent heterogeneity, stands in the same position as did the once -ultimate conclusion that every kind of organized body undergoes, when -dead, a more or less rapid decay. And as, for the various kinds of -decomposition through which animal and vegetal products pass, we have -now discovered a rationale in the chemical affinities of their -constituent elements; so, possibly, this universal transformation of the -simple into the complex may be affiliated upon certain simple primordial -principles. - -Such cause or causes of Evolution, may be sought for without in the -least assuming that the ultimate mystery can be fathomed. Fully -conscious that an absolute solution is for ever beyond us, we may still -look for a relative solution—may try to reduce the problem to its lowest -terms. Just as it was possible to interpret Kepler’s laws as necessary -consequences of the law of gravitation, and then to admit that -gravitation transcends analysis; so it may be possible to interpret the -law of Evolution as the necessary consequence of some deeper law, beyond -which we may nevertheless be unable to go. - - * * * * * - -§ 59. The probability of common causation, 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 causation, and -in what direction we ought to look for it. We can with certainty predict -that be it simple or compound, the cause has a high degree of -generality; seeing that it is common to such infinitely varied -phenomena: in proportion to the universality of its application must be -the abstractness of its character. Whatever be the agency and the -conditions under which it acts, we need not expect to see in them an -obvious explanation of this or that species of Evolution, because they -equally underlie species of Evolution of quite a different order. -Determining Evolution of every kind—astronomic, geologic, organic, -ethnologic, social, economic, artistic, &c.—they must be concerned with -something common to all these; and to see what these possess in common, -will therefore be the best method of guiding ourselves towards the -desired solution. - -The only obvious respect in which all kinds of Evolution are alike, is, -that they are modes of _change_. Every phenomenon to which we apply the -term, presents us with a succession of states; and when such succession -ceases, we no longer predicate Evolution. Equally in those past forms of -it which are more or less hypothetical, and in those forms of it which -we see going on around, this is the common characteristic. Note -next, that the kind of change which constitutes Evolution, is broadly -distinguished from change of an equally general kind, in this, that it -is change of internal relations instead of change of external relations. -All things in motion through space are the subjects of change; but while -in this which we call mechanical motion, the relative position as -measured from surrounding objects is continually altered, there is not -implied any alteration in the positions of the parts of the moving body -in respect to each other. Conversely, a body exhibiting what we call -Evolution, while it either may or may not display new relations of -position to the things around it, _must_ display new relations of -position among the parts of which it is made up. Thus we narrow the -field of inquiry by recognizing the change in which Evolution consists, -as _a change in the arrangement of parts_: of course using the word -parts in its most extended sense, as signifying both ultimate units and -masses of such units. Further, we have to remember that this -change in the arrangement of parts which constitutes Evolution, is a -certain order of such change. As we saw in the last chapter, there is a -change in the arrangement of parts which is not Evolution but -Dissolution—a destructive change as opposed to a constructive change—a -change by which the definite is gradually rendered indefinite, the -coherent slowly becomes incoherent, and the heterogeneous eventually -lapses into comparative homogeneity. Thus then we reduce that -which we have to investigate to its most abstract shape. Our task is to -find the cause or causes of a certain order of change that takes place -in the arrangement of parts. - - * * * * * - -§ 60. Evidently the problem, as thus expressed, brings us face to face -with the ultimate elements of phenomena in general. It is impossible to -account for a certain change in the arrangement of the parts of any -mass, without involving—first, the _matter_ which makes up the parts -thus re-arranged; next, the _motion_ exhibited during the -re-arrangement; and then, the _force_ producing this motion. The problem -is a dynamical one; and there can be no truly scientific solution of it, -save one given in terms of Matter, Motion, and Force—terms in which all -other dynamical problems are expressed and solved. - -The proposal thus to study the question from a purely physical point of -view, will most likely, notwithstanding what has been said in the first -part of this work, raise in some minds either alarm or prejudice. -Having, throughout life, constantly heard the charge of materialism made -against those who ascribed the more involved phenomena to agencies like -those seen in the simplest phenomena, most persons have acquired a -repugnance to such methods of interpretation; and when it is proposed to -apply them universally, even though it is premised that the solution -they give can be but relative, more or less of the habitual feeling will -probably arise. Such an attitude of mind, however, is significant, not -so much of a reverence for the Unknown Cause, as of an irreverence for -those omnipresent forms in which the Unknown Cause is manifested to us. -Men who have not risen above that vulgar conception which unites with -Matter the contemptuous epithets “gross” and “brute,” may naturally -enough feel dismay at the proposal to reduce the phenomena of Life, of -Mind, and of Society, to a level with those which they think so -degraded. But whoever remembers that the forms of existence which the -uncultivated speak of with so much scorn, are not only shown by the man -of science to be the more marvellous in their attributes the more they -are investigated, but are also proved to be in their ultimate nature -absolutely incomprehensible—as absolutely incomprehensible as sensation, -or the conscious something which perceives it—whoever fully realizes -this truth, I say, will see that the course proposed does not imply a -degradation of the so-called higher, but an elevation of the so-called -lower. Perceiving, as he will, that the Materialist and Spiritualist -controversy is a mere war of words, in which the disputants are equally -absurd—each thinking he understands that which it is impossible for any -man to understand—he will perceive how utterly groundless is the fear -referred to. Being fully convinced that whatever nomenclature is used, -the ultimate mystery must remain the same, he will be as ready to -formulate all phenomena in terms of Matter, Motion, and Force, as in any -other terms; and will rather indeed anticipate, that only in a doctrine -which recognizes the Unknown Cause as co-extensive with all orders of -phenomena, can there be a consistent Religion, or a consistent Science. - -On the other hand, the conclusion that Evolution, considered under its -most abstract form, is a certain change in the arrangement of parts; and -that the causes of this change can be expressed only in terms of Matter, -Motion, and Force; may in critical minds raise the question—What are -Matter, Motion, and Force? Referring back in thought to the reasonings -contained in the chapter on “Ultimate Scientific Ideas;” and remembering -how it was there shown that absolute knowledge of Matter, Motion, and -Force, is impossible; some readers will perhaps conclude that any such -interpretation as the one above proposed, must be visionary. It may be -asked—How can a comprehensible account of Evolution be given in terms -that are themselves incomprehensible? - -Before proceeding, this question must be met. There can be no sound -philosophy without clearly defined terms; and as, on the meanings of the -terms to be here used, doubts have probably been cast by the reasonings -contained in the chapter referred to, such doubts must be removed. If, -as was shown, our ideas of things do not correspond with things in -themselves, it becomes necessary to inquire in what way they are to be -accepted. If they are not absolutely true, then what is the exact -meaning of the assertion that they are relatively true? To this question -let us now address ourselves. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - SPACE, TIME, MATTER, MOTION, AND FORCE. - - -§ 61. That sceptical state of mind which the criticisms of Philosophy -usually produce, is, in great measure, caused by the misinterpretation -of words. A sense of universal illusion ordinarily follows the reading -of metaphysics; and is strong in proportion as the argument has appeared -conclusive. This sense of universal illusion would probably never have -arisen, had the terms used been always rightly construed. Unfortunately, -these terms have by association acquired meanings that are quite -different from those given to them in philosophical discussions; and the -ordinary meanings being unavoidably suggested, there results more or -less of that dreamlike idealism which is so incongruous with our -instinctive convictions. The word _phenomenon_ and its equivalent word -_appearance_, are in great part to blame for this. In ordinary speech, -these are uniformly employed in reference to visual perceptions. Habit, -almost, if not quite, disables us from thinking of _appearance_ except -as something seen; and though _phenomenon_ has a more generalized -meaning, yet we cannot rid it of associations with _appearance_, which -is its verbal equivalent. When, therefore, Philosophy proves that our -knowledge of the external world can be but phenomenal—when it concludes -that the things of which we are conscious are appearances; it inevitably -arouses in us the notion of an illusiveness like that to which our -visual perceptions are so liable in comparison with our tactual -perceptions. Good pictures show us that the aspects of things may be -very nearly simulated by colours on canvass. The looking-glass still -more distinctly proves how deceptive is sight when unverified by touch. -And the frequent cases in which we misinterpret the impressions made on -our eyes, and think we see something which we do not see, further shake -our faith in vision. So that the implication of uncertainty has infected -the very word _appearance_. Hence, Philosophy, by giving it an extended -meaning, leads us to think of all our senses as deceiving us in the same -way that the eyes do; and so makes us feel ourselves floating in a world -of phantasms. Had _phenomenon_ and _appearance_ no such misleading -associations, little, if any, of this mental confusion would result. Or -did we in place of them use the term _effect_, which is equally -applicable to all impressions produced on consciousness through any of -the senses, and which carries with it in thought the necessary -correlative _cause_, with which it is equally real, we should be in -little danger of falling into the insanities of idealism. - -Such danger as there might still remain, would disappear on making a -further verbal correction. At present, the confusion resulting from the -above misinterpretation, is made greater by an antithetical -misinterpretation. We increase the seeming unreality of that phenomenal -existence which we can alone know, by contrasting it with a noumenal -existence which we imagine would, if we could know it, be more truly -real to us. But we delude ourselves with a verbal fiction. What is -the meaning of the word _real_? This is the question which underlies -every metaphysical inquiry; and the neglect of it is the remaining cause -of the chronic antagonisms of metaphysicians. In the interpretation put -on the word _real_, the discussions of philosophy retain one element of -the vulgar conception of things, while they reject all its other -elements; and create confusion by the inconsistency. The peasant, on -contemplating an object, does not regard that which he contemplates as -something in himself, but believes the thing of which he is conscious to -be the external object—imagines that his consciousness extends to the -very place where the object lies: to him the appearance and the reality -are one and the same thing. The metaphysician, however, is convinced -that consciousness cannot embrace the reality, but only the appearance -of it; and so he transfers the appearance into consciousness and leaves -the reality outside. This reality left outside of consciousness, he -continues to think of much in the same way as the ignorant man thinks of -the appearance. Though the reality is asserted to be out of -consciousness, yet the _realness_ ascribed to it is constantly spoken of -as though it were a knowledge possessed apart from consciousness. It -seems to be forgotten that the conception of reality can be nothing more -than some mode of consciousness; and that the question to be considered -is—What is the relation between this mode and other modes? - -By reality we mean _persistence_ in consciousness: a persistence that is -either unconditional, as our consciousness of space, or that is -conditional, as our consciousness of a body while grasping it. The real, -as we conceive it, is distinguished solely by the test of persistence; -for by this test we separate it from what we call the unreal. Between a -person standing before us, and the idea of such a person, we -discriminate by our ability to expel the idea from consciousness, and -our inability, while looking at him, to expel the person from -consciousness. And when in doubt as to the validity or illusiveness of -some impression made upon us in the dusk, we settle the matter by -observing whether the impression persists on closer observation; and we -predicate reality if the persistence is complete. How truly -persistence is what we mean by reality, is shown in the fact that when, -after criticism has proved that the real as we are conscious of it is -not the objectively real, the indefinite notion which we form of the -objectively real, is of something which persists absolutely, under all -changes of mode, form, or appearance. And the fact that we cannot form -even an indefinite notion of the absolutely real, except as the -absolutely persistent, clearly implies that persistence is our ultimate -test of the real as present to consciousness. - -Reality then, as we think it, being nothing more than persistence in -consciousness, the result must be the same to us whether that which we -perceive be the Unconditioned itself, or an effect invariably wrought on -us by the Unconditioned. If some mode of the Unconditioned uniformly -produces some mode of consciousness—if the mode of consciousness so -produced, is as persistent as would be such mode of the Unconditioned -were it immediately known; it follows that the reality will be to our -consciousness as complete in the one case as in the other. Were the -Unconditioned itself present in thought, it could but be persistent; and -if instead of it, there is present its persistent effect, the resulting -consciousness of reality must be exactly the same. - -Hence there may be drawn these conclusions:—First, that we have an -indefinite consciousness of an absolute reality transcending relations, -which is produced by the absolute persistence in us of something which -survives all changes of relation. Second, that we have a definite -consciousness of relative reality, which unceasingly persists in us -under one or other of its forms, and under each form so long as the -conditions of presentation are fulfilled; and that the relative reality, -being thus continuously persistent in us, is as real to us as would be -the absolute reality could it be immediately known. Third, that thought -being possible only under relation, the relative reality can be -conceived as such only in connexion with an absolute reality; and the -connexion between the two being absolutely persistent in our -consciousness, is real in the same sense as the terms it unites are -real. - -Thus then we may resume, with entire confidence, those realistic -conceptions which philosophy at first sight seems to dissipate. Though -reality under the forms of our consciousness, is but a conditioned -effect of the absolute reality, yet this conditioned effect standing in -indissoluble relation with its unconditioned cause, and being equally -persistent with it so long as the conditions persist, is, to the -consciousness supplying those conditions, equally real. The persistent -impressions being the persistent results of a persistent cause, are for -practical purposes the same to us as the cause itself; and may be -habitually dealt with as its equivalents. Somewhat in the same way that -our visual perceptions, though merely symbols found to be the -equivalents of tactual perceptions, are yet so identified with those -tactual perceptions that we actually appear to see the solidity and -hardness which we do but infer, and thus conceive as objects what are -only the signs of objects; so, on a higher stage, do we deal with these -relative realities as though they were absolutes instead of effects of -the absolute. And we may legitimately continue so to deal with them as -long as the conclusions to which they help us are understood as relative -realities and not absolute ones. - -This general conclusion it now remains to interpret specifically, in its -application to each of our ultimate scientific ideas. - - * * * * * - -§ 62.[11] We think in relations. This is truly the form of all thought; -and if there are any other forms, they must be derived from this. We -have seen (Chap. iii. Part I.) that the several ultimate modes of being -cannot be known or conceived as they exist in themselves; that is, out -of _relation_ to our consciousness. We have seen, by analyzing the -product of thought, (§ 23,) that it always consists of _relations_; and -cannot include anything beyond the most general of these. On analyzing -the process of thought, we found that cognition of the Absolute was -impossible, because it presented neither _relation_, nor its -elements—difference and likeness. Further, we found that not only -Intelligence but Life itself, consists in the establishment of internal -_relations_ in correspondence with external relations. And lastly, it -was shown that though by the relativity of our thought we are eternally -debarred from knowing or conceiving Absolute Being; yet that this very -_relativity_ of our thought, necessitates that vague consciousness of -Absolute Being which no mental effort can suppress. That _relation_ is -the universal form of thought, is thus a truth which all kinds of -demonstration unite in proving. - -By the transcendentalists, certain other phenomena of consciousness are -regarded as forms of thought. Presuming that relation would be admitted -by them to be a universal mental form, they would class with it two -others as also universal. Were their hypothesis otherwise tenable -however, it must still be rejected if such alleged further forms are -interpretable as generated by the primary form. If we think in -relations, and if relations have certain universal forms, it is manifest -that such universal forms of relations will become universal forms of -our consciousness. And if these further universal forms are thus -explicable, it is superfluous, and therefore unphilosophical, to assign -them an independent origin. Now relations are of two -orders—relations of sequence, and relations of co-existence; of which -the one is original and the other derivative. The relation of sequence -is given in every change of consciousness. The relation of co-existence, -which cannot be originally given in a consciousness of which the states -are serial, becomes distinguished only when it is found that certain -relations of sequence have their terms presented in consciousness in -either order with equal facility; while the others are presented only in -one order. Relations of which the terms are not reversible, become -recognized as sequences proper; while relations of which the terms occur -indifferently in both directions, become recognized as co-existences. -Endless experiences, which from moment to moment present both orders of -these relations, render the distinction between them perfectly definite; -and at the same time generate an abstract conception of each. The -abstract of all sequences is Time. The abstract of all co-existences is -Space. From the fact that in thought, Time is inseparable from sequence, -and Space from co-existence, we do not here infer that Time and Space -are original conditions of consciousness under which sequences and -co-existences are known; but we infer that our conceptions of Time and -Space are generated, as other abstracts are generated from other -concretes: the only difference being, that the organization of -experiences has, in these cases, been going on throughout the entire -evolution of intelligence. - -This synthesis is confirmed by analysis. Our consciousness of Space is a -consciousness of co-existent positions. Any limited portion of space can -be conceived only by representing its limits as co-existing in certain -relative positions; and each of its imagined boundaries, be it line or -plane, can be thought of in no other way than as made up of co-existent -positions in close proximity. And since a position is not an -entity—since the congeries of positions which constitute any conceived -portion of space, and mark its bounds, are not sensible existences; it -follows that the co-existent positions which make up our consciousness -of Space, are not co-existences in the full sense of the word (which -implies realities as their terms), but are the blank forms of -co-existences, left behind when the realities are absent; that is, are -the abstracts of co-existences. The experiences out of which, -during the evolution of intelligence, this abstract of all co-existences -has been generated, are experiences of individual positions as -ascertained by touch; and each of such experiences involves the -resistance of an object touched, and the muscular tension which measures -this resistance. By countless unlike muscular adjustments, involving -unlike muscular tensions, different resisting positions are disclosed; -and these, as they can be experienced in one order as readily as -another, we regard as co-existing. But since, under other circumstances, -the same muscular adjustments do not produce contact with resisting -positions, there result the same states of consciousness, minus the -resistances—blank forms of co-existence from which the co-existent -objects before experienced are absent. And from a building up of these, -too elaborate to be here detailed, results that abstract of all -relations of co-existence which we call Space. It remains only to -point out, as a thing which we must not forget, that the experiences -from which the consciousness of Space arises, are experiences of -_force_. A certain correlation of the muscular forces we ourselves -exercise, is the index of each position as originally disclosed to us; -and the resistance which makes us aware of something existing in that -position, is an equivalent of the pressure we consciously exert. Thus, -experiences of forces variously correlated, are those from which our -consciousness of Space is abstracted. - -That which we know as Space being thus shown, alike by its genesis and -definition, to be purely relative, what are we to say of that which -causes it? Is there an absolute Space which relative Space in some sort -represents? Is Space in itself a form or condition of absolute -existence, producing in our minds a corresponding form or condition of -relative existence? These are unanswerable questions. Our conception of -Space is produced by some mode of the Unknowable; and the complete -unchangeableness of our conception of it simply implies a complete -uniformity in the effects wrought by this mode of the Unknowable upon -us. But therefore to call it a necessary mode of the Unknowable, is -illegitimate. All we can assert is, that Space is a relative reality; -that our consciousness of this unchanging relative reality implies an -absolute reality equally unchanging in so far as we are concerned; and -that the relative reality may be unhesitatingly accepted in thought as a -valid basis for our reasonings; which, when rightly carried on, will -bring us to truths that have a like relative reality—the only truths -which concern us or can possibly be known to us. - -Concerning Time, relative and absolute, a parallel argument leads to -parallel conclusions. These are too obvious to need specifying in -detail. - - * * * * * - -§ 63. Our conception of Matter, reduced to its simplest shape, is that -of co-existent positions that offer resistance; as contrasted with our -conception of Space, in which the co-existent positions offer no -resistance. We think of Body as bounded by surfaces that resist; and as -made up throughout of parts that resist. Mentally abstract the -co-existent resistances, and the consciousness of Body disappears; -leaving behind it the consciousness of Space. And since the group of -co-existing resistent positions constituting a portion of matter, is -uniformly capable of giving us impressions of resistance in combination -with various muscular adjustments, according as we touch its near, its -remote, its right, or its left side; it results that as different -muscular adjustments habitually indicate different co-existences, we are -obliged to conceive every portion of matter as containing more than one -resistent position—that is, as occupying Space. Hence the necessity we -are under of representing to ourselves the ultimate elements of Matter -as being at once extended and resistent: this being the universal form -of our sensible experiences of Matter, becomes the form which our -conception of it cannot transcend, however minute the fragments which -imaginary subdivisions produce. Of these two inseparable elements, -the resistance is primary, and the extension secondary. Occupied -extension, or Body, being distinguished in consciousness from unoccupied -extension, or Space, by its resistance, this attribute must clearly have -precedence in the genesis of the idea. Such a conclusion is, indeed, an -obvious corollary from that at which we arrived in the foregoing -section. If, as was there contended, our consciousness of Space is a -product of accumulated experiences, partly our own but chiefly -ancestral—if, as was pointed out, the experiences from which our -consciousness of Space is abstracted, can be received only through -impressions of resistance made upon the organism; the necessary -inference is, that experiences of resistance being those from which the -conception of Space is generated, the resistance-attribute of Matter -must be regarded as primordial and the space-attribute as derivative. - Whence it becomes manifest that our experience of _force_, is that -out of which the idea of Matter is built. Matter as opposing our -muscular energies, being immediately present to consciousness in terms -of force; and its occupancy of Space being known by an abstract of -experiences originally given in terms of force; it follows that forces, -standing in certain correlations, form the whole content of our idea of -Matter. - -Such being our cognition of the relative reality, what are we to say of -the absolute reality? We can only say that it is some mode of the -Unknowable, related to the Matter we know, as cause to effect. The -relativity of our cognition of Matter is shown alike by the above -analysis, and by the contradictions which are evolved when we deal with -the cognition as an absolute one (§ 16). But, as we have lately seen, -though known to us only under relation, Matter is as real in the true -sense of that word, as it would be could we know it out of relation; and -further, the relative reality which we know as Matter, is necessarily -represented to the mind as standing in a persistent or real relation to -the absolute reality. We may therefore deliver ourselves over -without hesitation, to those terms of thought which experience has -organized in us. We need not in our physical, chemical, or other -researches, refrain from dealing with Matter as made up of extended and -resistent atoms; for this conception, necessarily resulting from our -experiences of Matter, is not less legitimate, than the conception of -aggregate masses as extended and resistent. The atomic hypothesis, as -well as the kindred hypothesis of an all-pervading ether consisting of -molecules, is simply a necessary development of those universal forms -which the actions of the Unknowable have wrought in us. The conclusions -logically worked out by the aid of these hypotheses, are sure to be in -harmony with all others which these same forms involve, and will have a -relative truth that is equally complete. - - * * * * * - -§ 64. The conception of Motion as presented or represented in the -developed consciousness, involves the conceptions of Space, of Time, and -of Matter. A something that moves; a series of positions occupied in -succession; and a group of co-existent positions united in thought with -the successive ones—these are the constituents of the idea. And since, -as we have seen, these are severally elaborated from experiences of -_force_ as given in certain correlations, it follows that from a further -synthesis of such experiences, the idea of Motion is also elaborated. A -certain other element in the idea, which is in truth its fundamental -element, (namely, the necessity which the moving body is under to go on -changing its position), results immediately from the earliest -experiences of force. Movements of different parts of the organism in -relation to each other, are the first presented in consciousness. These, -produced by the action of the muscles, necessitate reactions upon -consciousness in the shape of sensations of muscular tension. -Consequently, each stretching-out or drawing-in of a limb, is originally -known as a series of muscular tensions, varying in intensity as the -position of the limb changes. And this rudimentary consciousness of -Motion, consisting of serial impressions of force, becomes inseparably -united with the consciousness of Space and Time as fast as these are -abstracted from further impressions of force. Or rather, out of this -primitive conception of Motion, the adult conception of it is developed -simultaneously with the development of the conceptions of Space and -Time: all three being evolved from the more multiplied and varied -impressions of muscular tension and objective resistance. Motion, as we -know it, is thus traceable, in common with the other ultimate scientific -ideas, to experiences of force. - -That this relative reality answers to some absolute reality, it is -needful only for form’s sake to assert. What has been said above, -respecting the Unknown Cause which produces in us the effects called -Matter, Space, and Time, will apply, on simply changing the terms, to -Motion. - - * * * * * - -§ 65. We come down then finally to Force, as the ultimate of ultimates. -Though Space, Time, Matter, and Motion, are apparently all necessary -data of intelligence, yet a psychological analysis (here indicated only -in rude outline) shows us that these are either built up of, or -abstracted from, experiences of Force. Matter and Motion, as we know -them, are differently conditioned manifestations of Force. Space and -Time, as we know them, are disclosed along with these different -manifestations of Force as the conditions under which they are -presented. Matter and Motion are concretes built up from the _contents_ -of various mental relations; while Space and Time are abstracts of the -_forms_ of these various relations. Deeper down than these, however, are -the primordial experiences of Force, which, as occurring in -consciousness in different combinations, supply at once the materials -whence the forms of relations are generalized, and the related objects -built up. A single impression of force is manifestly receivable by a -sentient being devoid of mental forms: grant but sensibility, with no -established power of thought, and a force producing some nervous change, -will still be presentable at the supposed seat of sensation. Though no -single impression of force so received, could itself produce -consciousness (which implies relations between different states), yet a -multiplication of such impressions, differing in kind and degree, would -give the materials for the establishment of relations, that is, of -thought. And if such relations differed in their forms as well as in -their contents, the impressions of such forms would be organized -simultaneously with the impressions they contained. Thus all other modes -of consciousness are derivable from experiences of Force; but -experiences of Force are not derivable from anything else. Indeed, it -needs but to remember that consciousness consists of changes, to see -that the ultimate datum of consciousness must be that of which change is -the manifestation; and that thus the force by which we ourselves produce -changes, and which serves to symbolize the cause of changes in general, -is the final disclosure of analysis. - -It is a truism to say that the nature of this undecomposable element of -our knowledge is inscrutable. If, to use an algebraic illustration, we -represent Matter, Motion, and Force, by the symbols _x_, _y_, and _z_; -then, we may ascertain the values of _x_ and _y_ in terms of _z_; but -the value of _z_ can never be found: _z_ is the unknown quantity which -must for ever remain unknown; for the obvious reason that there is -nothing in which its value can be expressed. It is within the possible -reach of our intelligence to go on simplifying the equations of all -phenomena, until the complex symbols which formulate them are reduced to -certain functions of this ultimate symbol; but when we have done this, -we have reached that limit which eternally divides science from -nescience. - -That this undecomposable mode of consciousness into which all other -modes may be decomposed, cannot be itself the Power manifested to us -through phenomena, has been already proved (§ 18). We saw that to assume -an identity of nature between the cause of changes as it absolutely -exists, and that cause of change of which we are conscious in our own -muscular efforts, betrays us into alternative impossibilities of -thought. Force, as we know it, can be regarded only as a certain -conditioned effect of the Unconditioned Cause—as the relative reality -indicating to us an Absolute Reality by which it is immediately -produced. And here, indeed, we see even more clearly than before, how -inevitable is that transfigured realism to which sceptical criticism -finally brings us round. Getting rid of all complications, and -contemplating pure Force, we are irresistibly compelled by the -relativity of our thought, to vaguely conceive some unknown force as the -correlative of the known force. Conditioned effect and unconditioned -cause, are here presented in their primordial relation as two sides of -the same change; of which we are obliged to regard the conditioned and -the unconditioned sides as equally real: the only difference being that -the reality of the one is made relative by the imposition of the forms -and limits of our consciousness, while the reality of the other, in the -absence of those forms and limits, remains absolute. - -Thus much respecting the nature of our ultimate scientific ideas. Before -proceeding to our general inquiry concerning the causes of Evolution, we -have still to consider certain ultimate scientific truths. - ------ - -Footnote 11: - - For the psychological conclusions briefly set forth in this and the - three sections following it, the justification will be found in the - writer’s _Principles of Psychology_. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF MATTER. - - -§ 66. Not because the truth is unfamiliar, is it needful here to say -something concerning the indestructibility of Matter; but partly because -the symmetry of our argument demands the enunciation of this truth, and -partly because the evidence on which it is accepted requires -examination. Could it be shown, or could it with any rationality be even -supposed, that Matter, either in its aggregates or in its units, ever -became non-existent, there would be an end to the inquiry on which we -are now setting out. Evolution, considered as a re-arrangement of parts, -could not be scientifically explained, if, during its course, any of the -parts might arise out of nothing or might lapse into nothing. The -question would no longer be one comprehending only the forces and -motions by which the re-arrangement is effected; but would involve an -incalculable element, and would hence be insoluble. Clearly, therefore, -the indestructibility of Matter is an indispensable axiom. - -So far from being admitted as a self-evident truth, this would, in -primitive times, have been rejected as a self-evident error. There was -once universally current, a notion that things could vanish into -absolute nothing, or arise out of absolute nothing. If we analyze early -superstitions, or that faith in magic which was general in later times -and even still survives among the uncultured, we find one of its -postulates to be, that by some potent spell Matter can be called out of -nonentity, and can be made non-existent. If men did not believe this in -the strict sense of the word (which would imply that the process of -creation or annihilation was clearly represented in consciousness), they -still believed that they believed it; and how nearly, in their confused -thoughts, the one was equivalent to the other, is shown by their -conduct. Nor, indeed, have dark ages and inferior minds alone betrayed -this belief. The current theology, in its teachings respecting the -beginning and end of the world, is clearly pervaded by it; and it may be -even questioned whether Shakespeare, in his poetical anticipation of a -time when all things should disappear and “leave not a wrack behind,” -was not under its influence. The gradual accumulation of -experiences however, and still more the organization of experiences, has -tended slowly to reverse this conviction; until now, the doctrine that -Matter is indestructible has become a common-place. Whatever may be true -of it absolutely, we have learnt that relatively to our consciousness, -Matter never either comes into existence or ceases to exist. Cases which -once gave an apparent support to the illusion that something could come -out of nothing, a wider knowledge has one by one cancelled. The comet -that is all at once discovered in the heavens and nightly waxes larger, -is proved not to be a newly-created body, but a body that was until -lately beyond the range of vision. The cloud which in the course of a -few minutes forms in the sky, consists not of substance that has just -begun to be, but of substance that previously existed in a more diffused -and transparent form. And similarly with a crystal or precipitate in -relation to the fluid depositing it. Conversely, the seeming -annihilations of Matter turn out, on closer observation, to be only -changes of state. It is found that the evaporated water, though it has -become invisible, may be brought by condensation to its original shape. -The discharged fowling-piece gives evidence that though the gunpowder -has disappeared, there have appeared in place of it certain gases, -which, in assuming a larger volume, have caused the explosion. - Not, however, until the rise of quantitative chemistry, could the -conclusion suggested by such experiences be reduced to a certainty. -When, having ascertained not only the combinations into which various -substances enter, but also the proportions in which they combine, -chemists were enabled to account for the matter that had made its -appearance or become invisible, the proof was rendered complete. When, -in place of the candle that had slowly burnt away, it was shown that -certain calculable quantities of carbonic acid and water had -resulted—when it was demonstrated that the joint weight of the carbonic -acid and water thus produced, was equal to the weight of the candle plus -that of the oxygen uniting with its constituents during combustion; it -was put beyond doubt that the carbon and hydrogen forming the candle, -were still in existence, and had simply changed their state. And of the -general conclusion thus exemplified, the exact analyses daily made, in -which the same portion of matter is pursued through numerous -transformations and finally separated, furnish never-ceasing -confirmations. - -Such has become the effect of this specific evidence, joined to that -general evidence which the continued existence of familiar objects -unceasingly gives us; that the indestructibility of Matter is now -recognized by many as a truth of which the negation is inconceivable. -Habitual experiences being no longer met by any counter-experiences, as -they once seemed to be; but these apparent counter-experiences -furnishing new proof that Matter exists permanently, even where the -senses fail to detect it; it has grown into an axiom of science, that -whatever metamorphoses Matter undergoes, its quantity is fixed. The -chemist, the physicist, and the physiologist, not only one and all take -this for granted, but would severally profess themselves unable to -realize any supposition to the contrary. - - * * * * * - -§ 67. This last fact naturally raises the question, whether we have any -higher warrant for this fundamental belief, than the warrant of -conscious induction. The indestructibility of Matter is proved -experimentally to be an absolute uniformity within the range of our -experience. But absolute uniformities of experience, generate absolute -uniformities of thought. Does it not follow, then, that this ultimate -truth must be a cognition involved in our mental organization? An -affirmative answer we shall find unavoidable. - -What is termed the ultimate incompressibility of Matter, is an admitted -law of thought. Though it is possible to imagine a piece of matter to be -compressed without limit, yet however small the bulk to which we -conceive it reduced, it is impossible to conceive it reduced into -nothing. While we can represent to ourselves the parts of the matter as -indefinitely approximated, and the space occupied as indefinitely -decreased, we cannot represent to ourselves the quantity of matter as -made less. To do this would imply an imagined disappearance of some of -the constituent parts—would imply that some of the constituent parts -were in thought compressed into nothing; which is no more possible than -the compression of the whole into nothing. Whence it is an obvious -corollary, that the total quantity of matter in the Universe, cannot -really be conceived as diminished, any more than it can be conceived as -increased. Our inability to conceive Matter becoming non-existent, -is immediately consequent on the very nature of thought. Thought -consists in the establishment of relations. There can be no relation -established, and therefore no thought framed, when one of the related -terms is absent from consciousness. Hence it is impossible to think of -something becoming nothing, for the same reason that it is impossible to -think of nothing becoming something—the reason, namely, that nothing -cannot become an object of consciousness. The annihilation of Matter is -unthinkable for the same reason that the creation of Matter is -unthinkable; and its indestructibility thus becomes an _à priori_ -cognition of the highest order—not one that results from a long -continued registry of experiences gradually organized into an -irreversible mode of thought; but one that is given in the form of all -experiences whatever. - -Doubtless it will be considered strange that a truth only in modern -times accepted as unquestionable, and then only by men of science, -should be classed as an _à priori_ truth; not only of equal certainty -with those commonly so classed, but of even higher certainty. To set -down as a proposition which cannot be thought, one which mankind once -universally professed to think, and which the great majority profess to -think even now, seems absurd. The explanation is, that in this, as in -countless other cases, men have supposed themselves to think what they -did not think. As was shown at the outset, the greater part of our -conceptions are symbolic. Many of these symbolic conceptions, though -rarely developed into real ones, admit of being so developed; and, being -directly or indirectly proved to correspond with actualities, are valid. -But along with these there pass current others which cannot be -developed—cannot by any direct or indirect process be realized in -thought; much less proved to correspond with actualities. Not being -habitually tested, however, the legitimate and illegitimate symbolic -conceptions are confounded together; and supposing themselves to have -literally thought, that which they have thought only symbolically, men -say they believe propositions of which the terms cannot even be put -together in consciousness. Hence the ready acceptance given to sundry -hypotheses respecting the origin of the Universe, which yet are -absolutely unthinkable. And as before we found the commonly asserted -doctrine that Matter was created out of nothing, to have been never -really conceived at all, but to have been conceived only symbolically; -so here we find the annihilation of Matter to have been conceived only -symbolically, and the symbolic conception mistaken for a real one. - Possibly it will be objected that the words _thought_, and -_belief_, and _conception_, are here employed in new senses; and that it -is a misuse of language to say that men did not really think that which -has nevertheless so profoundly influenced their conduct. It must be -confessed that there is an inconvenience in so restricting the meanings -of these words. There is no remedy however. Definite conclusions can be -reached, only by the use of well-defined terms. Questions touching the -validity of any portion of our knowledge, cannot be profitably discussed -unless the words _knowing_, and _thinking_, have specific -interpretations. We must not include under them whatever confused -processes of consciousness the popular speech applies them to; but only -the distinct processes of consciousness. And if this obliges us to -reject a large part of human thinking as not thinking at all, but merely -pseudo-thinking, there is no help for it. - -Returning to the general question, we find the results to be:—that we -have positive experience of the continued existence of Matter; that the -form of our thought renders it impossible for us to have experience of -Matter passing into non-existence, since such experience would involve -cognition of a relation having one of its terms not representable in -consciousness; that hence the indestructibility of Matter is in -strictness an _à priori_ truth; that nevertheless, certain illusive -experiences, suggesting the notion of its annihilation, have produced in -undisciplined minds not only the supposition that Matter could be -conceived to become non-existent, but the notion that it did so; but -that careful observation, showing the supposed annihilations to have -never taken place, has confirmed, _à posteriori_, the _à priori_ -cognition which Psychology shows to result from a uniformity of -experience that can never be met by counter-experience. - - * * * * * - -§ 68. The fact, however, which it most concerns us here to observe, is, -the nature of the perceptions by which the permanence of Matter is -perpetually illustrated to us, and from which Science draws the -inference that Matter is indestructible. These perceptions, under all -their forms, amount simply to this—that the _force_ which a given -quantity of matter exercises, remains always the same. This is the proof -on which common sense and exact science alike rely. When, for -example, somebody known to have existed a few years since is said to -exist still, by one who yesterday saw him, his assertion amounts to -this—that an object which in past time wrought on his consciousness a -certain group of changes, still exists because a like group of changes -has been again wrought on his consciousness: the continuance of the -power thus to impress him, he holds to prove the continuance of the -object. Should some auditor allege a mistake in identity, the witness is -admitted to give conclusive proof when he says that he not only saw, but -shook hands with this person, and remarked while grasping his hand, that -absence of the index finger which was his known peculiarity: the -implication being, that an object which through a special combination of -forces, produces special tactual impressions, is concluded still to -exist while it continues still to do this. Even more clearly do we see -that force is our ultimate measure of Matter, in those cases where the -shape of the matter has been changed. A piece of gold given to an -artizan to be worked into an ornament, and which when brought back -appears to be less, is placed in the scales; and if it balances a much -smaller weight than it did in its rough state, we infer that much has -been lost either in manipulation or by direct abstraction. Here the -obvious postulate is, that the quantity of Matter is finally -determinable by the quantity of gravitative force it manifests. - And this is the kind of evidence on which Science bases its -experimentally-established induction that Matter is indestructible. -Whenever a piece of substance lately visible and tangible, has been -reduced to an invisible, intangible shape, but is proved by the weight -of the gas into which it has been transformed to be still existing; the -assumption is, that though otherwise insensible to us, the amount of -matter is the same, if it still tends towards the Earth with the same -force. Similarly, every case in which the weight of an element present -in combination, is inferred from the known weight of another element -which it neutralizes, is a case in which the quantity of matter is -expressed in terms of the quantity of chemical force it exerts; and in -which this specific chemical force is assumed to be the necessary -correlative of a specific gravitative force. - -Thus then by the indestructibility of Matter, we really mean the -indestructibility of the _force_ with which Matter affects us. As we -become conscious of Matter only through that resistance which it opposes -to our muscular energy, so do we become conscious of the permanence of -Matter only through the permanence of this resistance; as either -immediately or mediately proved to us. And this truth is made manifest -not only by analysis of the _à posteriori_ cognition, but equally so by -analysis of the _à priori_ one. For that which we cannot conceive to be -diminished by the continued compression of Matter, is not its occupancy -of space, but its ability to resist. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - THE CONTINUITY OF MOTION. - - -§ 69. Another general truth of the same order with the foregoing, must -here be specified—one which, though not so generally recognized, has yet -long been familiar among men of science. The continuity of Motion, like -the indestructibility of Matter, is clearly an axiom underlying the very -possibility of a rational theory of Evolution. That kind of change in -the arrangement of parts, which we have found to constitute Evolution, -could not be deductively explained were it possible for Motion either to -appear or disappear. If those motions through which the parts pass into -a new arrangement, might either proceed from nothing or lapse into -nothing, there would be an end to scientific interpretation of them. -Each constituent change might as well as not be supposed to begin and -end of itself. - -The axiomatic character of the truth that Motion is continuous, is -recognized only after the discipline of exact science has given -precision to the conceptions. Aboriginal men, our uneducated population, -and even most of the so-called educated, think in an extremely -indefinite manner. From careless observations, they pass by careless -reasoning, to conclusions of which they do not contemplate the -implications—conclusions which they never develope for the purpose of -seeing whether they are consistent. Accepting without criticism the -dicta of unaided perception, to the effect that surrounding bodies when -put in motion soon return to rest, the great majority tacitly assume -that the motion is actually lost. They do not consider whether the -phenomenon can be otherwise interpreted; or whether the interpretation -they put on it can be mentally realized. They are content with a -colligation of mere appearances. But the establishment of certain -facts having quite an opposite implication, led to inquiries which have -gradually proved such appearances to be illusive. The discovery that the -planets revolve round the Sun with undiminishing speed, raised the -suspicion that a moving body, when not interfered with, will go on for -ever without change of velocity; and suggested the question whether -bodies which lose their motion, do not at the same time communicate as -much motion to other bodies. It was a familiar fact that a stone would -glide further over a smooth surface, such as ice, presenting no small -objects to which it could part with its motion by collision, than over a -surface strewn with such small objects; and that a projectile would -travel a far greater distance through a rare medium like air, than -through a dense medium like water. Thus the primitive notion that moving -bodies had an inherent tendency gradually to lose their motion and -finally stop—a notion of which the Greeks did not get rid, but which -lasted till the time of Galileo—began to give way. It was further shaken -by such experiments as those of Hooke, which proved that the spinning of -a top continued long in proportion as it was prevented from -communicating movement to surrounding matter—experiments which, when -repeated with the aid of modern appliances, have shown that _in vacuo_ -such rotation, retarded only by the friction of the axis, will continue -for nearly an hour. Thus have been gradually dispersed, the obstacles to -the reception of the first law of motion;—the law, namely, that when not -influenced by external forces, a moving body will go on in a straight -line with a uniform velocity. And this law is in our day being merged in -the more general one, that Motion, like Matter, is indestructible; and -that whatever is lost by any one portion of matter is transferred to -other portions—a conclusion which, however much at variance it seems -with cases of sudden arrest from collision with an immovable object, is -yet reconciled with such cases by the discovery that the motion -apparently lost continues under new forms, though forms not directly -perceptible. - - * * * * * - -§ 70. And here it may be remarked of Motion, as it was before of Matter, -that its indestructibility is not only to be inductively inferred, but -that it is a necessity of thought: its destructibility never having been -truly conceived at all, but having always been, as it is now, a mere -verbal proposition that cannot be realized in consciousness—a -pseud-idea. Whether that absolute reality which produces in us the -consciousness we call Motion, be or be not an eternal mode of the -Unknowable, it is impossible for us to say; but that the relative -reality which we call Motion never can come into existence, or cease to -exist, is a truth involved in the very nature of our consciousness. To -think of Motion as either being created or annihilated—to think of -nothing becoming something, or something becoming nothing—is to -establish in consciousness a relation between two terms of which one is -absent from consciousness, which is impossible. The very nature of -intelligence, negatives the supposition that Motion can be conceived -(much less known) to either commence or cease. - - * * * * * - -§ 71. It remains to be pointed out that the continuity of Motion, as -well as the indestructibility of Matter, is really known to us in terms -of _force_. That a certain manifestation of force remains for ever -undiminished, is the ultimate content of the thought; whether reached _à -posteriori_ or _à priori_. - -From terrestrial physics let us take the case of sound propagated to a -great distance. Whenever we are directly conscious of the causation of -sound (namely, when we produce it ourselves), its invariable antecedent -is force. The immediate sequence of this force we know to be -motion—first, of our own organs, and then of the body which we set -vibrating. The vibrations so generated we can discern both through the -fingers and through the ears; and that the sensations received by the -ears are the equivalents of mechanical force communicated to the air, -and by it impressed on surrounding objects, we have clear proof when -objects are fractured: as windows by the report of a cannon; or a glass -vessel by a powerful voice. On what, then, rests the reasoning when, as -occasionally happens under favourable circumstances, men on board a -vessel a hundred miles from shore, hear the ringing of church-bells on -placing their ears in the focus of the main sail; and when it is -inferred that atmospheric undulations have traversed this immense -distance? Manifestly, the assertion that the motion of the clapper, -transformed into the vibrations of the bell, and communicated to the -surrounding air, has propagated itself thus far on all sides, -diminishing in intensity as the mass of air moved became greater, is -based solely upon a certain change produced in consciousness through the -ears. The listeners are not conscious of motion; they are conscious of -an impression produced on them—an impression which implies a force as -its necessary correlative. With force they begin, and with force they -end: the intermediate motion being simply inferred. Again, where, -as in celestial physics, the continuity of motion is quantitatively -proved, the proof is not direct but inferential; and forces furnish the -data for the inference. A particular planet can be identified only by -its constant power to affect our visual organs in a special way—to -impress upon the retina a group of forces standing in a particular -correlation. Further, such planet has not been _seen_ to move by the -astronomical observer; but its motion is _inferred_ from a comparison of -its present position with the position it before occupied. If rigorously -examined, this comparison proves to be a comparison between the -different impressions produced on him by the different adjustments of -the observing instruments. Going a step further back, it turns out that -this difference is meaningless until shown to correspond with a certain -calculated position which the planet must occupy, supposing that no -motion has been lost. And if, finally, we examine the implied -calculation, we find that it makes allowances for those accelerations -and retardations which ellipticity of the orbit involves, as well as -those variations of velocity caused by adjacent planets—we find, that -is, that the motion is concluded to be indestructible not from the -uniform velocity of the planet, but from the constant quantity of motion -exhibited when allowance is made for the motion communicated to, or -received from, other celestial bodies. And when we ask how this -communicated motion is estimated, we discover that the estimate is based -upon certain laws of force; which laws, one and all, embody the -postulate that force cannot be destroyed. Without the axiom that action -and re-action are equal and opposite, astronomy could not make its exact -predictions; and we should lack the rigorous inductive proof they -furnish that motion can never be lost, but can only be transferred. - -Similarly with the _à priori_ conclusion that Motion is continuous. That -which defies suppression in thought, is really the force which the -motion indicates. The unceasing change of position, considered by -itself, may be mentally abolished without difficulty. We can readily -imagine retardation and stoppage to result from the action of external -bodies. But to imagine this, is not possible without an abstraction of -the force implied by the motion. We are obliged to conceive this force -as impressed in the shape of re-action on the bodies that cause the -arrest. And the motion that is communicated to them, we are compelled to -regard, not as directly communicated, but as a product of the -communicated force. We can mentally diminish the velocity or -space-element of motion, by diffusing the momentum or force-element over -a larger mass of matter; but the quantity of this force-element, which -we regard as the cause of the motion, is unchangeable in thought. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - THE PERSISTENCE OF FORCE.[12] - - -§ 72. Before taking a first step in the rational interpretation of -Evolution, it is needful to recognize, not only the facts that Matter is -indestructible and Motion continuous, but also the fact that Force -persists. An attempt to assign the _causes_ of Evolution, would -manifestly be absurd, if that agency to which the metamorphosis in -general and in detail is due, could either come into existence or cease -to exist. The succession of phenomena would in such case be altogether -arbitrary; and deductive science impossible. - -Here, indeed, the necessity is even more imperative than in the two -preceding cases. For the validity of the proofs given that Matter is -indestructible and Motion continuous, really depends upon the validity -of the proof that Force is persistent. An analysis of the reasoning -demonstrated that in both cases, the _à posteriori_ conclusion involves -the assumption that unchanged quantities of Matter and Motion are proved -by unchanged manifestations of Force; and in the _à priori_ cognition we -found this to be the essential constituent. Hence, that the quantity of -Force remains always the same, is the fundamental cognition in the -absence of which these derivative cognitions must disappear. - - * * * * * - -§ 73. But now on what grounds do we assert the persistence of Force? -Inductively we can allege no evidence except such as is presented to us -throughout the world of sensible phenomena. No force however, save that -of which we are conscious during our own muscular efforts, is -immediately known to us. All other force is mediately known through the -changes we attribute to it. Since, then, we cannot infer the persistence -of Force from our own sensation of it, which does not persist; we must -infer it, if it is inferred at all, from the continuity of Motion, and -the undiminished ability of Matter to produce certain effects. But to -reason thus is manifestly to reason in a circle. It is absurd to allege -the indestructibility of Matter, because we find experimentally that -under whatever changes of form a given mass of matter exhibits the same -gravitation, and then afterwards to argue that gravitation is constant -because a given mass of matter exhibits always the same quantity of it. -We cannot prove the continuity of Motion by assuming that Force is -persistent, and then prove the persistence of Force by assuming that -Motion is continuous. - -The data of both objective and subjective science being involved in this -question touching the nature of our cognition that Force is persistent, -it will be desirable here to examine it more closely. At the risk of -trying the reader’s patience, we must reconsider the reasoning through -which the indestructibility of Matter and the continuity of Motion are -established; that we may see how impossible it is to arrive by parallel -reasoning at the persistence of Force. In all three cases the -question is one of quantity:—does the Matter, or Motion, or Force, ever -diminish in quantity? Quantitative science implies measurement; and -measurement implies a unit of measure. The units of measure from which -all others of any exactness are derived, are units of linear extension. -From these, through the medium of the equal-armed lever or scales, we -derive our equal units of weight, or gravitative force. And it is by -means of these equal units of extension and equal units of weight, that -we make those quantitative comparisons by which the truths of exact -science are reached. Throughout the investigations leading the chemist -to the conclusion that of the carbon which has disappeared during -combustion, no portion has been lost, and that in any compound -afterwards formed by the resulting carbonic acid the whole of the -original carbon is present, what is his repeatedly assigned proof? That -afforded by the scales. In what terms is the verdict of the scales -given? In grains—in units of weight—in units of gravitative force. And -what is the total content of the verdict? That as many units of -gravitative force as the carbon exhibited at first, it exhibits still. -The quantity of matter is asserted to be the same, if the number of -units of force it counter-balances is the same. The validity of the -inference, then, depends entirely upon _the constancy of the units of -force_. If the force with which the portion of metal called a -grain-weight, tends towards the Earth, has varied, the inference that -Matter is indestructible is vicious. Everything turns on the truth of -the assumption that the gravitation of the weights is persistent; and of -this no proof is assigned, or can be assigned. In the reasonings -of the astronomer there is a like implication; from which we may draw -the like conclusion. No problem in celestial physics can be solved -without the assumption of some unit of force. This unit need not be, -like a pound or a ton, one of which we can take direct cognizance. It is -requisite only that the mutual attraction which some two of the bodies -concerned exercise at a given distance, should be taken as one; so that -the other attractions with which the problem deals, may be expressed in -terms of this one. Such unit being assumed, the momenta which the -respective masses will generate in each other in a given time, are -calculated; and compounding these with the momenta they already have, -their places at the end of that time are predicted. The prediction is -verified by observation. From this, either of two inferences may be -drawn. Assuming the masses to be fixed, the motion may be proved to be -undiminished; or assuming the motion to be undiminished, the masses may -be proved to be fixed. But the validity of one or other inference, -depends wholly on the truth of the assumption that the unit of force is -unchanged. Let it be supposed that the gravitation of the two bodies -towards each other at the given distance, has varied, and the -conclusions drawn are no longer true. Nor is it only in their -concrete data that the reasonings of terrestrial and celestial physics -assume the persistence of Force. They equally assume it in the abstract -principle with which they set out; and which they repeat in -justification of every step. The equality of action and reaction is -taken for granted from beginning to end of either argument; and to -assert that action and reaction are equal and opposite, is to assert -that Force is persistent. The allegation really amounts to this, that -there cannot be an isolated force beginning and ending in nothing; but -that any force manifested, implies an equal antecedent force from which -it is derived, and against which it is a reaction. Further, that the -force so originating cannot disappear without result; but must expend -itself in some other manifestation of force, which, in being produced, -becomes its reaction; and so on continually. Clearly then the -persistence of Force is an ultimate truth of which no inductive proof is -possible. - -We might indeed be certain, even in the absence of any such analysis as -the foregoing, that there must exist some principle which, as being the -basis of science, cannot be established by science. All reasoned-out -conclusions whatever, must rest on some postulate. As before shown (§ -23), we cannot go on merging derivative truths in those wider and wider -truths from which they are derived, without reaching at last a widest -truth which can be merged in no other, or derived from no other. And -whoever contemplates the relation in which it stands to the truths of -science in general, will see that this truth transcending demonstration -is the persistence of Force. - - * * * * * - -§ 74. But now what is the force of which we predicate persistence? It is -not the force we are immediately conscious of in our own muscular -efforts; for this does not persist. As soon as an outstretched limb is -relaxed, the sense of tension disappears. True, we assert that in the -stone thrown or in the weight lifted, is exhibited the effect of this -muscular tension; and that the force which has ceased to be present in -our consciousness, exists elsewhere. But it does not exist elsewhere -under any form cognizable by us. It was proved (§ 18), that though, on -raising an object from the ground, we are obliged to think of its -downward pull as equal and opposite to our upward pull; and though it is -impossible to represent these pulls as equal without representing them -as like in kind; yet, since their likeness in kind would imply in the -object a sensation of muscular tension, which cannot be ascribed to it, -we are compelled to admit that force as it exists out of our -consciousness, is not force as we know it. Hence the force of which we -assert persistence is that Absolute Force of which we are indefinitely -conscious as the necessary correlate of the force we know. Thus, -by the persistence of Force, we really mean the persistence of some -Power which transcends our knowledge and conception. The manifestations, -as occurring either in ourselves or outside of us, do not persist; but -that which persists is the Unknown Cause of these manifestations. In -other words, asserting the persistence of Force, is but another mode of -asserting an Unconditioned Reality, without beginning or end. - -Thus, quite unexpectedly, we come down once more to that ultimate truth -in which, as we saw, Religion and Science coalesce. On examining the -data underlying a rational theory of Evolution, we find them all at last -resolvable into that datum without which consciousness was shown to be -impossible—the continued existence of an Unknowable as the necessary -correlative of the Knowable. Once commenced, the analysis of the truths -taken for granted in scientific inquiries, inevitably brings us down to -this deepest truth, in which Common Sense and Philosophy are reconciled. - -The arguments and conclusion contained in this and the foregoing three -chapters, supply, indeed, the complement to the arguments and conclusion -set forth in the preceding part of this work. It was there first shown, -by an examination of our ultimate religious ideas, that knowledge of -Absolute Being is impossible; and the impossibility of knowing Absolute -Being, was also shown by an examination of our ultimate scientific -ideas. In a succeeding chapter a subjective analysis proved, that while, -by the very conditions of thought, we are prevented from knowing -anything beyond relative being; yet that by these very same conditions -of thought, an indefinite consciousness of Absolute Being is -necessitated. And here, by objective analysis, we similarly find that -the axiomatic truths of physical science, unavoidably postulate Absolute -Being as their common basis. - -Thus there is even a more profound agreement between Religion and -Science than was before shown. Not only are they wholly at one on the -negative proposition that the Non-relative cannot be known; but they are -wholly at one on the positive proposition that the Non-relative is an -actual existence. Both are obliged by the demonstrated untenability of -their supposed cognitions, to confess that the Ultimate Reality is -incognizable; and yet both are obliged to assert the existence of an -Ultimate Reality. Without this, Religion has no subject-matter; and -without this, Science, subjective and objective, lacks its indispensable -datum. We cannot construct a theory of internal phenomena without -postulating Absolute Being; and unless we postulate Absolute Being, or -being which persists, we cannot construct a theory of external -phenomena. - - * * * * * - -§ 75. A few words must be added respecting the nature of this -fundamental consciousness. Already it has been looked at from several -points of view; and here it seems needful finally to sum up the results. - -In Chapter IV. we saw that the Unknown Power of which neither beginning -nor end can be conceived, is present to us as that unshaped material of -consciousness which is shaped afresh in every thought. Our inability to -conceive its limitation, is thus simply the obverse of our inability to -put an end to the thinking subject while still continuing to think. - In the two foregoing chapters, we contemplated this fundamental -truth under another aspect. The indestructibility of Matter and the -continuity of Motion, we saw to be really corollaries from the -impossibility of establishing in thought a relation between something -and nothing. What we call the establishment of a relation in thought, is -the passage of the substance of consciousness, from one form into -another. To think of something becoming nothing, would involve that this -substance of consciousness having just existed under a given form, -should next assume no form; or should cease to be consciousness. And -thus our inability to conceive Matter and Motion destroyed, is our -inability to suppress consciousness itself. What, in these two -foregoing chapters, was proved true of Matter and Motion, is, _à -fortiori_, true of the Force out of which our conceptions of Matter and -Motion are built. Indeed, as we saw, that which is indestructible in -matter and motion, is the force they present. And, as we here see, the -truth that Force is indestructible, is the obverse of the truth that the -Unknown Cause of the changes going on in consciousness is -indestructible. So that the persistence of consciousness, constitutes at -once our immediate experience of the persistence of Force, and imposes -on us the necessity we are under of asserting its persistence. - - * * * * * - -§ 76. Thus, in all ways there is forced on us the fact, that here is an -ultimate truth given in our mental constitution. It is not only a datum -of science, but it is a datum which even the assertion of our nescience -involves. Whoever alleges that the inability to conceive a beginning or -end of the Universe, is a _negative_ result of our mental structure, -cannot deny that our consciousness of the Universe as persistent, is a -_positive_ result of our mental structure. And this persistence of the -Universe, is the persistence of that Unknown Cause, Power, or Force, -which is manifested to us through all phenomena. - -Such then is the foundation of any possible system of positive -knowledge. Deeper than demonstration—deeper even than definite -cognition—deep as the very nature of mind, is the postulate at which we -have arrived. Its authority transcends all other whatever; for not only -is it given in the constitution of our own consciousness, but it is -impossible to imagine a consciousness so constituted as not to give it. -Thought, involving simply the establishment of relations, may be readily -conceived to go on while yet these relations have not been organized -into the abstracts we call Space and Time; and so there is a conceivable -kind of consciousness which does not contain the truths, commonly called -_à priori_, involved in the organization of these forms of relations. -But thought cannot be conceived to go on without some element between -which its relations may be established; and so there is no conceivable -kind of consciousness which does not imply continued existence as its -datum. Consciousness without this or that particular _form_ is possible; -but consciousness without _contents_ is impossible. - -The sole truth which transcends experience by underlying it, is thus the -persistence of Force. This being the basis of experience, must be the -basis of any scientific organization of experiences. To this an ultimate -analysis brings us down; and on this a rational synthesis must build up. - ------ - -Footnote 12: - - Some two years ago, I expressed to my friend Professor Huxley, my - dissatisfaction with the current expression—“Conservation of Force;” - assigning as reasons, first, that the word “conservation” implies a - conserver and an act of conserving; and, second, that it does not - imply the existence of the force before that particular manifestation - of it with which we commence. In place of “conservation,” Professor - Huxley suggested _persistence_. This entirely meets the first of the - two objections; and though the second may be urged against it, no - other word less faulty in this respect can be found. In the absence of - a word specially coined for the purpose, it seems the best; and as - such I adopt it. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - THE CORRELATION AND EQUIVALENCE OF FORCES. - - -§ 77. When, to the unaided senses, Science began to add supplementary -senses in the shape of measuring instruments, men began to perceive -various phenomena which eyes and fingers could not distinguish. Of known -forms of force, minuter manifestations became appreciable; and forms of -force before unknown were rendered cognizable and measurable. Where -forces had apparently ended in nothing, and had been carelessly supposed -to have actually done so, instrumental observation proved that effects -had in every instance been produced: the forces reappearing in new -shapes. Hence there has at length arisen the inquiry whether the force -displayed in each surrounding change, does not in the act of expenditure -undergo metamorphosis into an equivalent amount of some other force or -forces. And to this inquiry experiment is giving an affirmative answer, -which becomes day by day more decisive. Grove, Helmholtz, and Meyer, are -more than any others to be credited with the clear enunciation of this -doctrine. Let us glance at the evidence on which it rests. - -Motion, wherever we can directly trace its genesis, we find to pre-exist -as some other mode of force. Our own voluntary acts have always certain -sensations of muscular tension as their antecedents. When, as in letting -fall a relaxed limb, we are conscious of a bodily movement requiring no -effort, the explanation is that the effort was exerted in raising the -limb to the position whence it fell. In this case, as in the case of an -inanimate body descending to the Earth, the force accumulated by the -downward motion is just equal to the force previously expended in the -act of elevation. Conversely, Motion that is arrested produces, -under different circumstances, heat, electricity, magnetism, light. From -the warming of the hands by rubbing them together, up to the ignition of -a railway-brake by intense friction—from the lighting of detonating -powder by percussion, up to the setting on fire a block of wood by a few -blows from a steam-hammer; we have abundant instances in which heat -arises as Motion ceases. It is uniformly found, that the heat generated -is great in proportion as the Motion lost is great; and that to diminish -the arrest of motion, by diminishing the friction, is to diminish the -quantity of heat evolved. The production of electricity by Motion is -illustrated equally in the boy’s experiment with rubbed sealing-wax, in -the common electrical machine, and in the apparatus for exciting -electricity by the escape of steam. Wherever there is friction between -heterogeneous bodies, electrical disturbance is one of the consequences. -Magnetism may result from Motion either immediately, as through -percussion on iron, or mediately as through electric currents previously -generated by Motion. And similarly, Motion may create light; either -directly, as in the minute incandescent fragments struck off by violent -collisions, or indirectly, as through the electric spark. “Lastly, -Motion may be again reproduced by the forces which have emanated from -Motion; thus, the divergence of the electrometer, the revolution of the -electrical wheel, the deflection of the magnetic needle, are, when -resulting from frictional electricity, palpable movements reproduced by -the intermediate modes of force, which have themselves been originated -by motion.” - -That mode of force which we distinguish as Heat, is now generally -regarded by physicists as molecular motion—not motion as displayed in -the changed relations of sensible masses to each other, but as occurring -among the units of which such sensible masses consist. If we cease to -think of Heat as that particular sensation given to us by bodies in -certain conditions, and consider the phenomena otherwise presented by -these bodies, we find that motion, either in them or in surrounding -bodies, or in both, is all that we have evidence of. With one or two -exceptions which are obstacles to every theory of Heat, heated bodies -expand; and expansion can be interpreted only as a movement of the units -of a mass in relation to each other. That so-called radiation through -which anything of higher temperature than things around it, communicates -Heat to them, is clearly a species of motion. Moreover, the evidence -afforded by the thermometer that Heat thus diffuses itself, is simply a -movement caused in the mercurial column. And that the molecular motion -which we call Heat, may be transformed into visible motion, familiar -proof is given by the steam-engine; in which “the piston and all its -concomitant masses of matter are moved by the molecular dilatation of -the vapour of water.” Where Heat is absorbed without apparent -result, modern inquiries show that decided though unobtrusive changes -are produced: as on glass, the molecular state of which is so far -changed by heat, that a polarized ray of light passing through it -becomes visible, which it does not do when the glass is cold; or as on -polished metallic surfaces, which are so far changed in structure by -thermal radiations from objects very close to them, as to retain -permanent impressions of such objects. The transformation of Heat into -electricity, occurs when dissimilar metals touching each other are -heated at the point of contact: electric currents being so induced. -Solid, incombustible matter introduced into heated gas, as lime into the -oxyhydrogen flame, becomes incandescent; and so exhibits the conversion -of Heat into light. The production of magnetism by Heat, if it cannot be -proved to take place directly, may be proved to take place indirectly -through the medium of electricity. And through the same medium may be -established the correlation of Heat and chemical affinity—a correlation -which is indeed implied by the marked influence that Heat exercises on -chemical composition and decomposition. - -The transformations of Electricity into other modes of force, are still -more clearly demonstrable. Produced by the motion of heterogeneous -bodies in contact, Electricity, through attractions and repulsions, will -immediately reproduce motion in neighbouring bodies. Now a current of -Electricity generates magnetism in a bar of soft iron; and now the -rotation of a permanent magnet generates currents of Electricity. Here -we have a battery in which from the play of chemical affinities an -electric current results; and there, in the adjacent cell, we have an -electric current effecting chemical decomposition. In the conducting -wire we witness the transformation of Electricity into heat; while in -electric sparks and in the voltaic arc we see light produced. Atomic -arrangement, too, is changed by Electricity: as instance the transfer of -matter from pole to pole of a battery; the fractures caused by the -disruptive discharge; the formation of crystals under the influence of -electric currents. And whether, conversely, Electricity be or be not -directly generated by re-arrangement of the atoms of matter, it is at -any rate indirectly so generated through the intermediation of -magnetism. - -How from Magnetism the other physical forces result, must be next -briefly noted—briefly, because in each successive case the illustrations -become in great part the obverse forms of those before given. That -Magnetism produces motion is the ordinary evidence we have of its -existence. In the magneto-electric machine we see a rotating magnet -evolving electricity. And the electricity so evolved may immediately -after exhibit itself as heat, light, or chemical affinity. Faraday’s -discovery of the effect of Magnetism on polarized light, as well as the -discovery that change of magnetic state is accompanied by heat, point to -further like connexions. Lastly, various experiments show that the -magnetization of a body alters its internal structure; and that -conversely, the alteration of its internal structure, as by mechanical -strain, alters its magnetic condition. - -Improbable as it seemed, it is now proved that from Light also may -proceed the like variety of agencies. The solar rays change the atomic -arrangements of particular crystals. Certain mixed gases, which do not -otherwise combine, combine in the sunshine. In some compounds Light -produces decomposition. Since the inquiries of photographers have drawn -attention to the subject, it has been shown that “a vast number of -substances, both elementary and compound, are notably affected by this -agent, even those apparently the most unalterable in character, such as -metals.” And when a daguerreotype plate is connected with a proper -apparatus “we get chemical action on the plate, electricity circulating -through the wires, magnetism in the coil, heat in the helix, and motion -in the needles.” - -The genesis of all other modes of force from Chemical Action, scarcely -needs pointing out. The ordinary accompaniment of chemical combination -is heat; and when the affinities are intense, light also is, under fit -conditions, produced. Chemical changes involving alteration of bulk, -cause motion, both in the combining elements and in adjacent masses of -matter: witness the propulsion of a bullet by the explosion of -gunpowder. In the galvanic battery we see electricity resulting from -chemical composition and decomposition. While through the medium of this -electricity, Chemical Action produces magnetism. - -These facts, the larger part of which are culled from Mr. Grove’s work -on “The Correlation of Physical Forces,” show us that each force is -transformable, directly or indirectly, into the others. In every change -Force undergoes metamorphosis; and from the new form or forms it -assumes, may subsequently result either the previous one or any of the -rest, in endless variety of order and combination. It is further -becoming manifest that the physical forces stand not simply in -qualitative correlations with each other, but also in quantitative -correlations. Besides proving that one mode of force may be transformed -into another mode, experiments illustrate the truth that from a definite -amount of one, definite amounts of others always arise. Ordinarily it is -indeed difficult to show this; since it mostly happens that the -transformation of any force is not into some one of the rest but into -several of them: the proportions being determined by the ever-varying -conditions. But in certain cases, positive results have been reached. -Mr. Joule has ascertained that the fall of 772 lbs. through one foot, -will raise the temperature of a pound of water one degree of Fahrenheit. -The investigations of Dulong, Petit and Neumann, have proved a relation -in amount between the affinities of combining bodies and the heat -evolved during their combination. Between chemical action and voltaic -electricity, a quantitative connexion has also been established: -Faraday’s experiments implying that a specific measure of electricity is -disengaged by a given measure of chemical action. The well-determined -relations between the quantities of heat generated and water turned into -steam, or still better the known expansion produced in steam by each -additional degree of heat, may be cited in further evidence. Whence it -is no longer doubted that among the several forms which force assumes, -the quantitative relations are fixed. The conclusion tacitly agreed on -by physicists, is, not only that the physical forces undergo -metamorphoses, but that a certain amount of each is the constant -equivalent of certain amounts of the others. - - * * * * * - -§ 78. Throughout Evolution under all its phases, this truth of course -invariably holds. Every successive change or group of changes forming -part of it, is of necessity limited by the conditions thus implied. The -forces which any step in Evolution exhibits, must be affiliable on the -like or unlike forces previously existing; while from the forces so -generated must thereafter be derived others more or less transformed. -And besides recognizing the forces at any time existing, as necessarily -linked with those preceding and succeeding them, we must also recognize -the amounts of these forces successively manifested as determinate,—as -necessarily producing such and such quantities of results, and as -necessarily limited to those quantities. - -Involved as are the phenomena of Evolution, it is not to be expected -that a _definite_ quantitative relation can in each case, or indeed in -any case, be shown between the forces expended in successive phases. We -have not adequate data for this; and probably shall never have them. The -antecedents of the simpler forms of Evolution, belong to a remote past -respecting which we can have nothing but inferential knowledge; while -the antecedents of the only kind of Evolution which is traceable from -beginning to end (namely, that of individual organisms) are too complex -to be dealt with by exact methods. Hence we cannot hope to establish -_equivalence_ among the successive manifestations of force which each -order of Evolution affords. The most we can hope is to establish a -qualitative correlation that is indefinitely quantitative—quantitative -in so far as involving something like a due proportion between causes -and effects. If this can be done, however, some progress will be made -towards the solution of our problem. Though it may be beyond our power -to show a measurable relation between the force or group of forces which -any phase of Evolution displays, and the force or group of forces -immediately succeeding it; yet if we can show that there always are -antecedent forces, and that the effects they produce always become the -antecedents of further ones—if while unable to calculate how much of -each change will be produced, we can prove that a change of that kind -was necessitated—if we can discern even the vaguest correspondence -between the amount of such change and the amount of the pre-existing -force; we shall advance a step towards interpreting the transformation -of the simple into the complex. - -With the view of attempting this, let us now reconsider the different -types of Evolution awhile since delineated: taking them in the same -order as before. - - * * * * * - -§ 79. On contemplating our Solar System the first fact which strikes us, -is, that all its members are in motion; and that their motion is of a -two-fold, or rather of a three-fold, kind. Each planet and satellite has -a movement of rotation and a movement of translation; besides the -movement through space which all have in common with their rotating -primary. Whence this unceasing change of place? - -The hypothesis of Evolution supplies us with an answer. Impossible as it -is to assign a reason for the pre-existence of matter in the diffused -form supposed; yet assuming its pre-existence in that form, we have in -the gravitation of its parts a cause of motion adequate to the results. -So far too as the evidence carries us, we can perceive some quantitative -relation between the motions produced, and the gravitative forces -expended in producing them. The planets formed from that matter which -has travelled the shortest distance towards the common centre of -gravity, have the smallest velocities: the uniform law being that in -advancing from the outermost to the innermost planets, the rate of -orbital motion progressively increases. It may indeed be remarked that -this is explicable on the teleological hypothesis; since it is a -condition to equilibrium. But without dwelling on the fact that this is -beside the question, it will suffice to point out that the like cannot -be said of the planetary rotations. No such final cause can be assigned -for the rapid axial movement of Jupiter and Saturn, or the slow axial -movement of Mercury. But if in pursuance of the doctrine of correlation -we look for the antecedents of these gyrations which all planets -exhibit, the theory of Evolution furnishes us with equivalent ones; and -ones which bear manifest quantitative relations to the motions -displayed. For the planets that turn on their axes with extreme -rapidity, are those having great masses and large orbits—those, that is, -of which the once diffused elements moved to their centres of gravity -through immense spaces, and so acquired high velocities. While, -conversely, there has resulted the smallest axial movement where the -orbit and the mass are both the smallest. - -“But what,” it may be asked, “has in such case become of all that motion -which brought about the aggregation of this diffused matter into solid -bodies?” The rotation of each body can be but a residuary result of -concentration—a result due to the imperfect balancing of gravitative -movements from opposite points towards the common centre. Such -gravitative movements from opposite points must in great measure destroy -each other. What then has become of these mutually-destroyed motions? -The answer which the doctrine of correlation suggests is—they must have -been radiated in the form of heat and light. And this answer the -evidence, so far as it goes, confirms. Apart from any speculation -respecting the genesis of the solar system, the inquiries of geologists -lead to the conclusion that the heat of the Earth’s still molten nucleus -is but a remnant of the heat which once made molten the entire Earth. -The mountainous surfaces of the Moon and of Venus (which alone are near -enough to be scrutinized), indicating, as they do, crusts that have, -like our own, been corrugated by contraction, imply that these bodies -too have undergone refrigeration—imply in each of them a primitive heat, -such as the hypothesis necessitates. Lastly, we have in the Sun a -still-continued production of this heat and light, which must result -from the arrest of diffused matter moving towards a common centre of -gravity. Here also, as before, a quantitative relation is -traceable. Among the bodies which make up the Solar System, those -containing comparatively small amounts of matter whose centripetal -motion has been destroyed, have already lost nearly all the produced -heat: a result which their relatively larger surfaces have facilitated. -But the Sun, a thousand times as great in mass as the largest planet, -and having therefore to give off an enormously greater quantity of heat -and light due to arrest of moving matter, is still radiating with great -intensity. - -Thus we see that when, in pursuance of the doctrine of correlation, we -ask whence come the forces which our Solar System displays, the -hypothesis of Evolution gives us a proximate explanation. If the Solar -System once existed in a state of indefinite, incoherent homogeneity, -and has progressed to its present state of definite, coherent -heterogeneity; then the Motion, Heat, and Light now exhibited by its -members, are interpretable as the correlatives of pre-existing forces; -and between them and their antecedents we may discern relations that are -not only qualitative, but also rudely quantitative. How matter came to -exist under the form assumed, is a mystery which we must regard as -ultimate. But grant such a previous form of existence, and the -hypothesis of Evolution interpreted by the laws of correlation, explains -for us the forces as we now see them. - - * * * * * - -§ 80. If we inquire the origin of those forces which have wrought the -surface of our planet into its present shape, we find them traceable to -the same primordial source as that just assigned. Assuming the solar -system to have been evolved, then geologic changes are either direct or -indirect results of the unexpended heat caused by nebular condensation. -These changes are commonly divided into igneous and aqueous:—heads under -which we may most conveniently consider them. - -All those periodic disturbances which we call earthquakes, all those -elevations and subsidences which they severally produce, all those -accumulated effects of many such elevations and subsidences exhibited in -ocean-basins, islands, continents, table-lands, mountain-chains, and all -those formations which are distinguished as volcanic, geologists now -regard as modifications of the Earth’s crust produced by the -still-molten matter occupying its interior. However untenable may be the -details of M. Elie de Beaumont’s theory, there is good reason to accept -the general proposition that the disruptions and variations of level -which take place at intervals on the terrestrial surface, are due to the -progressive collapse of the Earth’s solid envelope upon its cooling and -contracting nucleus. Even supposing that volcanic eruptions, extrusions -of igneous rock, and upheaved mountain-chains, could be otherwise -satisfactorily accounted for, which they cannot; it would be impossible -otherwise to account for those wide-spread elevations and depressions -whence continents and oceans result. The conclusion to be drawn is, -then, that the forces displayed in these so-called igneous changes, are -derived positively or negatively from the unexpended heat of the Earth’s -interior. Such phenomena as the fusion or agglutination of sedimentary -deposits, the warming of springs, the sublimation of metals into the -fissures where we find them as ores, may be regarded as positive results -of this residuary heat; while fractures of strata and alterations of -level are its negative results, since they ensue on its escape. The -original cause of all these effects is still, however, as it has been -from the first, the gravitating movement of the Earth’s matter towards -the Earth’s centre; seeing that to this is due both the internal heat -itself and the collapse which takes place as it is radiated into space. - -When we inquire under what forms previously existed the force which -works out the geological changes classed as aqueous, the answer is less -obvious. The effects of rain, of rivers, of winds, of waves, of marine -currents, do not manifestly proceed from one general source. Analysis, -nevertheless, proves to us that they have a common genesis. If we -ask,—Whence comes the power of the river-current, bearing sediment down -to the sea? the reply is,—The gravitation of water throughout the tract -which this river drains. If we ask,—How came the water to be dispersed -over this tract? the reply is,—It fell in the shape of rain. If we -ask,—How came the rain to be in that position whence it fell? the reply -is,—The vapour from which it was condensed was drifted there by the -winds. If we ask,—How came this vapour to be at that elevation? the -reply is,—It was raised by evaporation. And if we ask,—What force thus -raised it? the reply is,—The sun’s heat. Just that amount of gravitative -force which the sun’s heat overcame in raising the atoms of water, is -given out again in the fall of those atoms to the same level. Hence the -denudations effected by rain and rivers, during the descent of this -condensed vapour to the level of the sea, are indirectly due to the -sun’s heat. Similarly with the winds that transport the vapours hither -and thither. Consequent as atmospheric currents are on differences of -temperature (either general, as between the equatorial and polar -regions, or special as between tracts of the Earth’s surface of unlike -physical characters) all such currents are due to that source from which -the varying quantities of heat proceed. And if the winds thus originate, -so too do the waves raised by them on the sea’s surface. Whence it -follows that whatever changes waves produce—the wearing away of shores, -the breaking down of rocks into shingle, sand, and mud—are also -traceable to the solar rays as their primary cause. The same may be said -of ocean-currents. Generated as the larger ones are by the excess of -heat which the ocean in tropical climates continually acquires from the -Sun; and generated as the smaller ones are by minor local differences in -the quantities of solar heat absorbed; it follows that the distribution -of sediment and other geological processes which these marine currents -effect, are affiliable upon the force which the sun radiates. The only -aqueous agency otherwise originating is that of the tides—an agency -which, equally with the others, is traceable to unexpended astronomical -motion. But making allowance for the changes which this works, we reach -the conclusion that the slow wearing down of continents and gradual -filling up of seas, by rain, rivers, winds, waves, and ocean-streams, -are the indirect effects of solar heat. - -Thus the implication forced on us by the doctrine of correlation, that -the forces which have moulded and re-moulded the Earth’s crust must have -pre-existed under some other shape, is quite in conformity with the -theory of Evolution; since this pre-supposes certain forces that are -both adequate to the results, and cannot be expended without producing -the results. We see that while the geological changes classed as -igneous, result from the still-progressing motion of the Earth’s -substance to its centre of gravity; the antagonistic changes classed as -aqueous, result from the still-progressing motion of the Sun’s substance -towards its centre of gravity—a motion which, transformed into heat and -radiated to us, is here re-transformed, directly into motions of the -gaseous and liquid matters on the Earth’s surface, and indirectly into -motions of the solid matters. - - * * * * * - -§ 81. That the forces exhibited in vital actions, vegetal and animal, -are similarly derived, is so obvious a deduction from the facts of -organic chemistry, that it will meet with ready acceptance from readers -acquainted with these facts. Let us note first the physiological -generalizations; and then the generalizations which they necessitate. - -Plant-life is all directly or indirectly dependant on the heat and light -of the sun—directly dependant in the immense majority of plants, and -indirectly dependant in plants which, as the fungi, flourish in the -dark: since these, growing as they do at the expense of decaying organic -matter, mediately draw their forces from the same original source. Each -plant owes the carbon and hydrogen of which it mainly consists, to the -carbonic acid and water contained in the surrounding air and earth. The -carbonic acid and water must, however, be decomposed before their carbon -and hydrogen can be assimilated. To overcome the powerful affinities -which hold their elements together, requires the expenditure of force; -and this force is supplied by the Sun. In what manner the decomposition -is effected we do not know. But we know that when, under fit conditions, -plants are exposed to the Sun’s rays, they give off oxygen and -accumulate carbon and hydrogen. In darkness this process ceases. It -ceases too when the quantities of light and heat received are greatly -reduced, as in winter. Conversely, it is active when the light and heat -are great, as in summer. And the like relation is seen in the fact that -while plant-life is luxuriant in the tropics, it diminishes in temperate -regions, and disappears as we approach the poles. Thus the irresistible -inference is, that the forces by which plants abstract the materials of -their tissues from surrounding inorganic compounds—the forces by which -they grow and carry on their functions, are forces that previously -existed as solar radiations. - -That animal life is immediately or mediately dependant on vegetal life -is a familiar truth; and that, in the main, the processes of animal life -are opposite to those of vegetal life is a truth long current among men -of science. Chemically considered, vegetal life is chiefly a process of -de-oxidation, and animal life chiefly a process of oxidation: chiefly, -we must say, because in so far as plants are expenders of force for the -purposes of organization, they are oxidizers (as is shown by the -exhalation of carbonic acid during the night); and animals, in some of -their minor processes, are probably de-oxidizers. But with this -qualification, the general truth is that while the plant, decomposing -carbonic acid and water and liberating oxygen, builds up the detained -carbon and hydrogen (along with a little nitrogen and small quantities -of other elements elsewhere obtained) into branches, leaves, and seeds; -the animal, consuming these branches, leaves, and seeds, and absorbing -oxygen, recomposes carbonic acid and water, together with certain -nitrogenous compounds in minor amounts. And while the decomposition -effected by the plant, is at the expense of certain forces emanating -from the sun, which are employed in overcoming the affinities of carbon -and hydrogen for the oxygen united with them; the recomposition effected -by the animal, is at the profit of these forces, which are liberated -during the combination of such elements. Thus the movements, internal -and external, of the animal, are re-appearances in new forms of a power -absorbed by the plant under the shape of light and heat. Just as, in the -manner above explained, the solar forces expended in raising vapour from -the sea’s surface, are given out again in the fall of rain and rivers to -the same level, and in the accompanying transfer of solid matters; so, -the solar forces that in the plant raised certain chemical elements to a -condition of unstable equilibrium, are given out again in the actions of -the animal during the fall of these elements to a condition of stable -equilibrium. - -Besides thus tracing a qualitative correlation between these two great -orders of organic activity, as well as between both of them and -inorganic agencies, we may rudely trace a quantitative correlation. -Where vegetal life is abundant, we usually find abundant animal life; -and as we advance from torrid to temperate and frigid climates, the two -decrease together. Speaking generally, the animals of each class reach a -larger size in regions where vegetation is abundant, than in those where -it is sparse. And further, there is a tolerably apparent connexion -between the quantity of energy which each species of animal expends, and -the quantity of force which the nutriment it absorbs gives out during -oxidation. - -Certain phenomena of development in both plants and animals, illustrate -still more directly the ultimate truth enunciated. Pursuing the -suggestion made by Mr. Grove, in the first edition of his work on the -“Correlation of the Physical Forces,” that a connexion probably exists -between the forces classed as vital and those classed as physical, Dr. -Carpenter has pointed out that such a connexion is clearly exhibited -during incubation. The transformation of the unorganized contents of an -egg into the organized chick, is altogether a question of heat: withhold -heat and the process does not commence; supply heat and it goes on while -the temperature is maintained, but ceases when the egg is allowed to -cool. The developmental changes can be completed only by keeping the -temperature with tolerable constancy at a definite height for a definite -time; that is—only by supplying a definite quantity of heat. In the -metamorphoses of insects we may discern parallel facts. Experiments show -not only that the hatching of their eggs is determined by temperature, -but also that the evolution of the pupa into the imago is similarly -determined; and may be immensely accelerated or retarded according as -heat is artificially supplied or withheld. It will suffice just to add -that the germination of plants presents like relations of cause and -effect—relations so similar that detail is superfluous. - -Thus then the various changes exhibited to us by the organic creation, -whether considered as a whole, or in its two great divisions, or in its -individual members, conform, so far as we can ascertain, to the law of -correlation. Where, as in the transformation of an egg into a chick, we -can investigate the phenomena apart from all complications, we find that -the re-arrangement of parts which constitutes evolution, involves -expenditure of a pre-existing force. Where it is not, as in the egg or -the chrysalis, merely the change of a fixed quantity of matter into a -new shape, but where, as in the growing plant or animal, we have an -incorporation of matter existing outside, there is still a pre-existing -external force at the cost of which this incorporation is effected. And -where, as in the higher division of organisms, there remain over and -above the forces expended in organization, certain surplus forces -expended in movement, these too are indirectly derived from this same -pre-existing external force. - - * * * * * - -§ 82. Even after all that has been said in the foregoing part of this -work, many will be alarmed by the assertion, that the forces which we -distinguish as mental, come within the same generalization. Yet there is -no alternative but to make this assertion: the facts which justify, or -rather which necessitate it, being abundant and conspicuous. They fall -into the following groups. - -All impressions from moment to moment made on our organs of sense, stand -in direct correlation with physical forces existing externally. The -modes of consciousness called pressure, motion, sound, light, heat, are -effects produced in us by agencies which, as otherwise expended, crush -or fracture pieces of matter, generate vibrations in surrounding -objects, cause chemical combinations, and reduce substances from a solid -to a liquid form. Hence if we regard the changes of relative position, -of aggregation, or of chemical state, thus arising, as being transformed -manifestations of the agencies from which they arise; so must we regard -the sensations which such agencies produce in us, as new forms of the -forces producing them. Any hesitation to admit that, between the -physical forces and the sensations there exists a correlation like that -between the physical forces themselves, must disappear on remembering -how the one correlation, like the other, is not qualitative only but -quantitative. Masses of matter which, by scales or dynamometer, are -shown to differ greatly in weight, differ as greatly in the feelings of -pressure they produce on our bodies. In arresting moving objects, the -strains we are conscious of are proportionate to the momenta of such -objects as otherwise measured. Under like conditions the impressions of -sounds given to us by vibrating strings, bells, or columns of air, are -found to vary in strength with the amount of force applied. Fluids or -solids proved to be markedly contrasted in temperature by the different -degrees of expansion they produce in the mercurial column, produce in us -correspondingly different degrees of the sensation of heat. And -similarly unlike intensities in our impressions of light, answer to -unlike effects as measured by photometers. - -Besides the correlation and equivalence between external physical -forces, and the mental forces generated by them in us under the form of -sensations, there is a correlation and equivalence between sensations -and those physical forces which, in the shape of bodily actions, result -from them. The feelings we distinguish as light, heat, sound, odour, -taste, pressure, &.c, do not die away without immediate results; but are -invariably followed by other manifestations of force. In addition to the -excitements of secreting organs, that are in some cases traceable, there -arises a contraction of the involuntary muscles, or of the voluntary -muscles, or of both. Sensations increase the action of the -heart—slightly when they are slight; markedly when they are marked; and -recent physiological inquiries imply not only that contraction of the -heart is excited by every sensation, but also that the muscular fibres -throughout the whole, vascular system, are at the same time more or less -contracted. The respiratory muscles, too, are stimulated into greater -activity by sensations. The rate of breathing is visibly and audibly -augmented both by pleasurable and painful impressions on the nerves, -when these reach any intensity. It has even of late been shown that -inspiration becomes more frequent on transition from darkness into -sunshine,—a result probably due to the increased amount of direct and -indirect nervous stimulation involved. When the quantity of sensation is -great, it generates contractions of the voluntary muscles, as well as of -the involuntary ones. Unusual excitement of the nerves of touch, as by -tickling, is followed by almost incontrollable movements of the limbs. -Violent pains cause violent struggles. The start that succeeds a loud -sound, the wry face produced by the taste of anything extremely -disagreeable, the jerk with which the hand or foot is snatched out of -water that is very hot, are instances of the transformation of feeling: -into motion; and in these cases, as in all others, it is manifest that -the quantity of bodily action is proportionate to the quantity of -sensation. Even where from pride there is a suppression of the screams -and groans expressive of great pain (also indirect results of muscular -contraction), we may still see in the clenching of the hands, the -knitting of the brows, and the setting of the teeth, that the bodily -actions developed are as great, though less obtrusive in their results. - If we take emotions instead of sensations, we find the correlation -and equivalence equally manifest. Not only are the modes of -consciousness directly produced in us by physical forces, -re-transformable into physical forces under the form of muscular motions -and the changes they initiate; but the like is true of those modes of -consciousness which are not directly produced in us by the physical -forces. Emotions of moderate intensity, like sensations of moderate -intensity, generate little beyond excitement of the heart and vascular -system, joined sometimes with increased action of glandular organs. But -as the emotions rise in strength, the muscles of the face, body, and -limbs, begin to move. Of examples may be mentioned the frowns, dilated -nostrils, and stampings of anger; the contracted brows, and wrung hands, -of grief; the smiles and leaps of joy; and the frantic struggles of -terror or despair. Passing over certain apparent, but only apparent, -exceptions, we see that whatever be the kind of emotion, there is a -manifest relation between its amount, and the amount of muscular action -induced: alike from the erect carriage and elastic step of exhilaration, -up to the dancings of immense delight, and from the fidgetiness of -impatience up to the almost convulsive movements accompanying great -mental agony. To these several orders of evidence must be joined -the further one, that between our feelings and those voluntary motions -into which they are transformed, there comes the sensation of muscular -tension, standing in manifest correlation with both—a correlation that -is distinctly quantitative: the sense of strain varying, other things -equal, directly as the quantity of momentum generated. - -“But how,” it may be asked, “can we interpret by the law of correlation -the genesis of those thoughts and feelings which, instead of following -external stimuli, arise spontaneously? Between the indignation caused by -an insult, and the loud sounds or violent acts that follow, the alleged -connexion may hold; but whence come the crowd of ideas and the mass of -feelings that expend themselves in these demonstrations? They are -clearly not equivalents of the sensations produced by the words on the -ears; for the same words otherwise arranged, would not have caused them. -The thing said bears to the mental action it excites, much the same -relation that the pulling of a trigger bears to the subsequent -explosion—does not produce the power, but merely liberates it. Whence -then arises this immense amount of nervous energy which a whisper or a -glance may call forth?” The reply is, that the immediate -correlates of these and other such modes of consciousness, are not to be -found in the agencies acting on us externally, but in certain internal -agencies. The forces called vital, which we have seen to be correlates -of the forces called physical, are the immediate sources of these -thoughts and feelings; and are expended in producing them. The proofs of -this are various. Here are some of them. It is a conspicuous fact -that mental action is contingent on the presence of a certain nervous -apparatus; and that, greatly obscured as it is by numerous and involved -conditions, a general relation may be traced between the size of this -apparatus and the quantity of mental action as measured by its results. -Further, this apparatus has a particular chemical constitution on which -its activity depends; and there is one element in it between the amount -of which and the amount of function performed, there is an ascertained -connexion: the proportion of phosphorus present in the brain being the -smallest in infancy, old age and idiotcy, and the greatest during the -prime of life. Note next, that the evolution of thought and -emotion varies, other things equal, with the supply of blood to the -brain. On the one hand, a cessation of the cerebral circulation, from -arrest of the heart’s action, immediately entails unconsciousness. On -the other hand, excess of cerebral circulation (unless it is such as to -cause undue pressure) results in an excitement rising finally to -delirium. Not the quantity only, but also the condition of the -blood passing through the nervous system, influences the mental -manifestations. The arterial currents must be duly aerated, to produce -the normal amount of cerebration. At the one extreme, we find that if -the blood is not allowed to exchange its carbonic acid for oxygen, there -results asphyxia, with its accompanying stoppage of ideas and feelings. -While at the other extreme, we find that by the inspiration of nitrous -oxide, there is produced an excessive, and indeed irrepressible, nervous -activity. Besides the connexion between the development of the -mental forces and the presence of sufficient oxygen in the cerebral -arteries, there is a kindred connexion between the development of the -mental forces and the presence in the cerebral arteries of certain other -elements. There must be supplied special materials for the nutrition of -the nervous centres, as well as for their oxidation. And how what we may -call the quantity of consciousness, is, other things equal, determined -by the constituents of the blood, is unmistakably seen in the exaltation -that follows when certain chemical compounds, as alcohol and the -vegeto-alkalies, are added to it. The gentle exhilaration which tea and -coffee create, is familiar to all; and though the gorgeous imaginations -and intense feelings of happiness produced by opium and hashish, have -been experienced by few, (in this country at least,) the testimony of -those who have experienced them is sufficiently conclusive. Yet -another proof that the genesis of the mental energies is immediately -dependent on chemical change, is afforded by the fact, that the effete -products separated from the blood by the kidneys, vary in character with -the amount of cerebral action. Excessive activity of mind is habitually -accompanied by the excretion of an unusual quantity of the alkaline -phosphates. Conditions of abnormal nervous excitement bring on analogous -effects. And the “peculiar odour of the insane,” implying as it does -morbid products in the perspiration, shows a connexion between insanity -and a special composition of the circulating fluids—a composition which, -whether regarded as cause or consequence, equally implies correlation of -the mental and the physical forces. Lastly we have to note that -this correlation too, is, so far as we can trace it, quantitative. -Provided the conditions to nervous action are not infringed on, and the -concomitants are the same, there is a tolerably constant ratio between -the amounts of the antecedents and consequents. Within the implied -limits, nervous stimulants and anæsthetics produce effects on the -thoughts and feelings, proportionate to the quantities administered. And -conversely, where the thoughts and feelings form the initial term of the -relation, the degree of reaction on the bodily energies is great, in -proportion as they are great: reaching in extreme cases a total -prostration of physique. - -Various classes of facts thus unite to prove that the law of -metamorphosis, which holds among the physical forces, holds equally -between them and the mental forces. Those modes of the Unknowable which -we call motion, heat, light, chemical affinity, &c., are alike -transformable into each other, and into those modes of the Unknowable -which we distinguish as sensation, emotion, thought: these, in their -turns, being directly or indirectly re-transformable into the original -shapes. That no idea or feeling arises, save as a result of some -physical force expended in producing it, is fast becoming a common place -of science; and whoever duly weighs the evidence will see, that nothing -but an overwhelming bias in favour of a pre-conceived theory, can -explain its non-acceptance. How this metamorphosis takes place—how -a force existing as motion, heat, or light, can become a mode of -consciousness—how it is possible for aerial vibrations to generate the -sensation we call sound, or for the forces liberated by chemical changes -in the brain to give rise to emotion—these are mysteries which it is -impossible to fathom. But they are not profounder mysteries than the -transformations of the physical forces into each other. They are not -more completely beyond our comprehension than the natures of Mind and -Matter. They have simply the same insolubility as all other ultimate -questions. We can learn nothing more than that here is one of the -uniformities in the order of phenomena. - - * * * * * - -§ 83. Of course if the law of correlation and equivalence holds of the -forces we class as vital and mental, it must hold also of those which we -class as social. Whatever takes place in a society is due to organic or -inorganic agencies, or to a combination of the two—results either from -the undirected physical forces around, from these physical forces as -directed by men, or from the forces of the men themselves. No change can -occur in its organization, its modes of activity, or the effects it -produces on the face of the Earth, but what proceeds, mediately or -immediately, from these. Let us consider first the correlation between -the phenomena which societies display, and the vital phenomena. - -Social power and life varies, other things equal, with the population. -Though different races, differing widely in their fitness for -combination, show us that the forces manifested in a society are not -necessarily proportionate to the number of people; yet we see that under -given conditions, the forces manifested are confined within the limits -which the number of people imposes. A small society, no matter how -superior the character of its members, cannot exhibit the same quantity -of social action as a large one. The production and distribution of -commodities must be on a comparatively small scale. A multitudinous -press, a prolific literature, or a massive political agitation, is not -possible. And there can be but a small total of results in the shape of -art-products and scientific discoveries. The correlation of the -social with the physical forces through the intermediation of the vital -ones, is, however, most clearly shown in the different amounts of -activity displayed by the same society according as its members are -supplied with different amounts of force from the external world. In the -effects of good and bad harvests, we yearly see this relation -illustrated. A greatly deficient yield of wheat is soon followed by a -diminution of business. Factories are worked half-time, or close -entirely; railway traffic falls; retailers find their sales much -lessened; house-building is almost suspended; and if the scarcity rises -to famine, a thinning of the population still more diminishes the -industrial vivacity. Conversely, an unusually abundant harvest, -occurring under conditions not otherwise unfavourable, both excites the -old producing and distributing agencies and sets up new ones. The -surplus social energy finds vent in speculative enterprises. Capital -seeking investment carries out inventions that have been lying -unutilized. Labour is expended in opening new channels of communication. -There is increased encouragement to those who furnish the luxuries of -life and minister to the æsthetic faculties. There are more marriages, -and a greater rate of increase in population. Thus the social organism -grows larger, more complex, and more active. When, as happens with -most civilized nations, the whole of the materials for subsistence are -not drawn from the area inhabited, but are partly imported, the people -are still supported by certain harvests elsewhere grown at the expense -of certain physical forces. Our own cotton-spinners and weavers supply -the most conspicuous instance of a section in one nation living, in -great part, on imported commodities, purchased by the labour they expend -on other imported commodities. But though the social activities of -Lancashire are due chiefly to materials not drawn from our own soil, -they are none the less evolved from physical forces elsewhere stored up -in fit forms and then brought here. - -If we ask whence come these physical forces from which, through the -intermediation of the vital forces, the social forces arise, the reply -is of course as heretofore—the solar radiations. Based as the life of a -society is on animal and vegetal products; and dependent as these animal -and vegetal products are on the light and heat of the sun; it follows -that the changes going on in societies are effects of forces having a -common origin with those which produce all the other orders of changes -that have been analyzed. Not only is the force expended by the horse -harnessed to the plough, and by the labourer guiding it, derived from -the same reservoir as is the force of the falling cataract and the -roaring hurricane; but to this same reservoir are eventually traceable -those subtler and more complex manifestations of force which humanity, -as socially embodied, evolves. The assertion is a startling one, and by -many will be thought ludicrous; but it is an unavoidable deduction which -cannot here be passed over. - -Of the physical forces that are directly transformed into social ones, -the like is to be said. Currents of air and water, which before the use -of steam were the only agencies brought in aid of muscular effort for -the performance of industrial processes, are, as we have seen, generated -by the heat of the sun. And the inanimate power that now, to so vast an -extent, supplements human labour, is similarly derived. The late George -Stephenson was one of the first to recognize the fact that the force -impelling his locomotive, originally emanated from the sun. Step by step -we go back—from the motion of the piston to the evaporation of the -water; thence to the heat evolved during the oxidation of coal; thence -to the assimilation of carbon by the plants of whose imbedded remains -coal consists; thence to the carbonic acid from which their carbon was -obtained; and thence to the rays of light that de-oxidized this carbonic -acid. Solar forces millions of years ago expended on the Earth’s -vegetation, and since locked up beneath its surface, now smelt the -metals required for our machines, turn the lathes by which the machines -are shaped, work them when put together, and distribute the fabrics they -produce. And in so far as economy of labour makes possible the support -of a larger population; gives a surplus of human power that would else -be absorbed in manual occupations; and so facilitates the development of -higher kinds of activity; it is clear that these social forces which are -directly correlated with physical forces anciently derived from the sun, -are only less important than those whose correlates are the vital forces -recently derived from it. - - * * * * * - -§ 84. Regarded as an induction, the doctrine set forth in this chapter -will most likely be met by a demurrer. Many who admit that among -physical phenomena at least, the correlation of forces is now -established, will probably say that inquiry has not yet gone far enough -to enable us to predicate equivalence. And in respect of the forces -classed as vital, mental, and social, the evidence assigned, however -little to be explained away, they will consider by no means conclusive -even of correlation, much less of equivalence. - -To those who think thus, it must now however be pointed out, that the -universal truth above illustrated under its various aspects, is a -necessary corollary from the persistence of force. Setting out with the -proposition that force can neither come into existence, nor cease to -exist, the several foregoing general conclusions inevitably follow. Each -manifestation of force can be interpreted only as the effect of some -antecedent force: no matter whether it be an inorganic action, an animal -movement, a thought, or a feeling. Either this must be conceded, or else -it must be asserted that our successive states of consciousness are -self-created. Either mental energies, as well as bodily ones, are -quantitatively correlated to certain energies expended in their -production, and to certain other energies which they initiate; or else -nothing must become something and something must become nothing. The -alternatives are, to deny the persistence of force, or to admit that -every physical and psychial change is generated by certain antecedent -forces, and that from given amounts of such forces neither more nor less -of such physical and psychial changes can result. And since the -persistence of force, being a datum of consciousness, cannot be denied, -its unavoidable corollary must be accepted. This corollary cannot -indeed be made more certain by accumulating illustrations. The truth as -arrived at deductively, cannot be inductively confirmed. For every one -of such facts as those above detailed, is established only through the -indirect assumption of that persistence of force, from which it really -follows as a direct consequence. The most exact proof of correlation and -equivalence which it is possible to reach by experimental inquiry, is -that based on measurement of the forces expended and the forces -produced. But, as was shown in the last chapter, any such process of -measurement implies the use of some unit of force which is assumed to -remain constant; and for this assumption there can be no warrant but -that it is a corollary from the persistence of force. How then can any -reasoning based on this corollary, prove the equally direct corollary -that when a given quantity of force ceases to exist under one form, an -equal quantity must come into existence under some other form or forms? -Clearly the _à priori_ truth expressed in this last corollary, cannot be -more firmly established by any _à posteriori_ proofs which the first -corollary helps us to. - -“What then,” it may be asked, “is the use of these investigations by -which the correlation and equivalence of forces is sought to be -established as an inductive truth? Surely it will not be alleged that -they are useless. Yet if this correlation cannot be made more certain by -them than it is already, does not their uselessness necessarily follow?” -No. They are of value as disclosing the many particular implications -which the general truth does not specify. They are of value as teaching -us how much of one mode of force is the equivalent of so much of another -mode. They are of value as determining under what conditions each -metamorphosis occurs. And they are of value as leading us to inquire in -what shape the remnant of force has escaped, when the apparent results -are not equivalent to the cause. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - THE DIRECTION OF MOTION. - - -§ 85. The Absolute Cause of changes, inclusive of those constituting -Evolution, is not less incomprehensible in respect of the unity or -duality of its action, than in all other respects. We cannot decide -between the alternative suppositions, that phenomena are due to the -variously-conditioned workings of a single force, and that they are due -to the conflict of two forces. Whether, as some contend, everything is -explicable on the hypothesis of universal pressure, whence what we call -tension results differentially from inequalities of pressure in opposite -directions; or whether, as might be with equal propriety contended, -things are to be explained on the hypothesis of universal tension, from -which pressure is a differential result; or whether, as most physicists -hold, pressure and tension everywhere co-exist; are questions which it -is impossible to settle. Each of these three suppositions makes the -facts comprehensible, only by postulating an inconceivability. To assume -a universal pressure, confessedly requires us to assume an infinite -plenum—an unlimited space full of something which is everywhere pressed -by something beyond; and this assumption cannot be mentally realized. -That universal tension is the immediate agency to which phenomena are -due, is an idea open to a parallel and equally fatal objection. And -however verbally intelligible may be the proposition that pressure and -tension everywhere co-exist, yet we cannot truly represent to ourselves -one ultimate unit of matter as drawing another while resisting it. - -Nevertheless, this last belief is one which we are compelled to -entertain. Matter cannot be conceived except as manifesting forces of -attraction and repulsion. Body is distinguished in our consciousness -from Space, by its opposition to our muscular energies; and this -opposition we feel under the two-fold form of a cohesion that hinders -our efforts to rend, and a resistance that hinders our efforts to -compress. Without resistance there can be merely empty extension. -Without cohesion there can be no resistance. Probably this conception of -antagonistic forces, is originally derived from the antagonism of our -flexor and extensor muscles. But be this as it may, we are obliged to -think of all objects as made up of parts that attract and repel each -other; since this is the form of our experience of all objects. - -By a higher abstraction results the conception of attractive and -repulsive forces pervading space. We cannot dissociate force from -occupied extension, or occupied extension from force; because we have -never an immediate consciousness of either in the absence of the other. -Nevertheless, we have abundant proof that force is exercised through -what appears to our senses a vacuity. Mentally to represent this -exercise, we are hence obliged to fill the apparent vacuity with a -species of matter—an etherial medium. The constitution we assign to this -etherial medium, however, like the constitution we assign to solid -substance, is necessarily an abstract of the impressions received from -tangible bodies. The opposition to pressure which a tangible body offers -to us, is not shown in one direction only, but in all directions; and so -likewise is its tenacity. Suppose countless lines radiating from its -centre on every side, and it resists along each of these lines and -coheres along each of these lines. Hence the constitution of those -ultimate units through the instrumentality of which phenomena are -interpreted. Be they atoms of ponderable matter or molecules of ether, -the properties we conceive them to possess are nothing else than these -perceptible properties idealized. Centres of force attracting and -repelling each other in all directions, are simply insensible portions -of matter having the endowments common to sensible portions of -matter—endowments of which we cannot by any mental effort divest them. -In brief, they are the invariable elements of the conception of matter, -abstracted from its variable elements—size, form, quality, &c. And so to -interpret manifestations of force which cannot be tactually experienced, -we use the terms of thought supplied by our tactual experiences; and -this for the sufficient reason that we must use these or none. - -After all that has been before shown, and after the hint given above, it -needs scarcely be said that these universally co-existent forces of -attraction and repulsion, must not be taken as realities, but as our -symbols of the reality. They are the forms under which the workings of -the Unknowable are cognizable by us—modes of the Unconditioned as -presented under the conditions of our consciousness. But while knowing -that the ideas thus generated in us are not absolutely true, we may -unreservedly surrender ourselves to them as relatively true; and may -proceed to evolve a series of deductions having a like relative truth. - - * * * * * - -§ 86. From universally co-existent forces of attraction and repulsion, -there result certain laws of direction of all movement. Where attractive -forces alone are concerned, or rather are alone appreciable, movement -takes place in the direction of their resultant; which may, in a sense, -be called the line of greatest traction. Where repulsive forces alone -are concerned, or rather are alone appreciable, movement takes place -along their resultant; which is usually known as the line of least -resistance. And where both attractive and repulsive forces are -concerned, or are appreciable, movement takes place along the resultant -of all the tractions and resistances. Strictly speaking, this last is -the sole law; since, by the hypothesis, both forces are everywhere in -action. But very frequently the one kind of force is so immensely in -excess that the effect of the other kind may be left out of -consideration. Practically we may say that a body falling to the Earth, -follows the line of greatest traction; since, though the resistance of -the air must, if the body be irregular, cause some divergence from this -line, (quite perceptible with feathers and leaves,) yet ordinarily the -divergence is so slight that we may omit it. In the same manner, though -the course taken by the steam from an exploding boiler, differs somewhat -from that which it would take were gravitation out of the question; yet, -as gravitation affects its course infinitesimally, we are justified in -asserting that the escaping steam follows the line of least resistance. -Motion then, we may say, always follows the line of greatest traction, -or the line of least resistance, or the resultant of the two: bearing in -mind that though the last is alone strictly true, the others are in many -cases sufficiently near the truth for practical purposes. - -Movement set up in any direction is itself a cause of further movement -in that direction, since it is the embodiment of a surplus force in that -direction. This holds equally with the transit of matter through space, -the transit of matter through matter, and the transit through matter of -any kind of vibration. In the case of matter moving through space, this -principle is expressed in the law of inertia—a law on which the -calculations of physical astronomy are wholly based. In the case of -matter moving through matter, we trace the same truth under the familiar -experience that any breach made by one solid through another, or any -channel formed by a fluid through a solid, becomes a route along which, -other things equal, subsequent movements of like nature take place. And -in the case of motion passing through matter under the form of an -impulse communicated from part to part, the facts of magnetization go to -show that the establishment of undulations along certain lines, -determines their continuance along those lines. - -It further follows from the conditions, that the direction of movement -can rarely if ever be perfectly straight. For matter in motion to pursue -continuously the exact line in which it sets out, the forces of -attraction and repulsion must be symmetrically disposed around its path; -and the chances against this are infinitely great. The impossibility of -making an absolutely true edge to a bar of metal—the fact that all which -can be done by the best mechanical appliances, is to reduce the -irregularities of such an edge to amounts that cannot be perceived -without magnifiers—sufficiently exemplifies how, in consequence of the -unsymmetrical distribution of forces around the line of movement, the -movement is rendered more or less indirect. It may be well to add -that in proportion as the forces at work are numerous and varied, the -curve a moving body describes is necessarily complex: witness the -contrast between the flight of an arrow and the gyrations of a stick -tossed about by breakers. - -We have now to trace these laws of direction of movement throughout the -process of Evolution, under its various forms. We have to note how every -change in the arrangement of parts, takes place along the line of -greatest traction, of least resistance, or of their resultant; how the -setting up of motion along a certain line, becomes a cause of its -continuance along that line; how, nevertheless, change of relations to -external forces, always renders this line indirect; and how the degree -of its indirectness increases with every addition to the number of -influences at work. - - * * * * * - -§ 87. If we assume the first stage in nebular condensation to be the -precipitation into flocculi of denser matter previously diffused through -a rarer medium, (a supposition both physically justified, and in harmony -with certain astronomical observations,) we shall find that nebular -motion is interpretable in pursuance of the above general laws. Each -portion of such vapour-like matter must begin to move towards the common -centre of gravity. The tractive forces which would of themselves carry -it in a straight line to the centre of gravity, are opposed by the -resistant forces of the medium through which it is drawn. The direction -of movement must be the resultant of these—a resultant which, in -consequence of the unsymmetrical form of the flocculus, must be a curve -directed, not to the centre of gravity, but towards one side of it. And -it may be readily shown that in an aggregation of such flocculi, -severally thus moving, there must, by composition of forces, eventually -result a rotation of the whole nebula in one direction. - -Merely noting this hypothetical illustration for the purpose of showing -how the law applies to the case of nebular evolution, supposing it to -have taken place, let us pass to the phenomena of the Solar System as -now exhibited. Here the general principles above set forth are every -instant exemplified. Each planet and satellite has a momentum which -would, if acting alone, carry it forward in the direction it is at any -instant pursuing. This momentum hence acts as a resistance to motion in -any other direction. Each planet and satellite, however, is drawn by a -force which, if unopposed, would take it in a straight line towards its -primary. And the resultant of these two forces is that curve which it -describes—a curve manifestly consequent on the unsymmetrical -distribution of the forces around its path. This path, when more closely -examined, supplies us with further illustrations. For it is not an exact -circle or ellipse; which it would be were the tangential and centripetal -forces the only ones concerned. Adjacent members of the Solar System, -ever varying in their relative positions, cause what we call -perturbations; that is, slight divergences in various directions from -that circle or ellipse which the two chief forces would produce. These -perturbations severally show us in minor degrees, how the line of -movement is the resultant of all the forces engaged; and how this line -becomes more complicated in proportion as the forces are multiplied. - If instead of the motions of the planets and satellites as wholes, -we consider the motions of their parts, we meet with comparatively -complex illustrations. Every portion of the Earth’s substance in its -daily rotation, describes a curve which is in the main a resultant of -that resistance which checks its nearer approach to the centre of -gravity, that momentum which would carry it off at a tangent, and those -forces of gravitation and cohesion which keep it from being so carried -off. If this axial motion be compounded with the orbital motion, the -course of each part is seen to be a much more involved one. And we find -it to have a still greater complication on taking into account that -lunar attraction which mainly produces the tides and the precession of -the equinoxes. - - * * * * * - -§ 88. We come next to terrestrial changes: present ones as observed, and -past ones as inferred by geologists. Let us set out with the -hourly-occurring alterations in the Earth’s atmosphere; descend to the -slower alterations in progress on its surface; and then to the still -slower ones going on beneath. - -Masses of air, absorbing heat from surfaces warmed by the sun, expand, -and so lessen the weight of the atmospheric columns of which they are -parts. Hence they offer to adjacent atmospheric columns, diminished -lateral resistance; and these, moving in the directions of the -diminished resistance, displace the expanded air; while this, pursuing -an upward course, displays a motion along that line in which there is -least pressure. When again, by the ascent of such heated masses from -extended areas like the torrid zone, there is produced at the upper -surface of the atmosphere, a protuberance beyond the limits of -equilibrium—when the air forming this protuberance begins to overflow -laterally towards the poles; it does so because, while the tractive -force of the Earth is nearly the same, the lateral resistance is greatly -diminished. And throughout the course of each current thus generated, as -well as throughout the course of each counter-current flowing: into the -vacuum that is left, the direction is always the resultant of the -Earth’s tractive force and the resistance offered by the surrounding -masses of air: modified only by conflict with other currents similarly -determined, and by collision with prominences on the Earth’s crust. - The movements of water, in both its gaseous and liquid states, -furnish further examples. In conformity with the mechanical theory of -heat, it may be shown that evaporation is the escape of particles of -water in the direction of least resistance; and that as the resistance -(which is due to the pressure of the water diffused in a gaseous state) -diminishes, the evaporation increases. Conversely, that rushing together -of particles called condensation, which takes place when any portion of -atmospheric vapour has its temperature much lowered, may be interpreted -as a diminution of the mutual pressure among the condensing particles, -while the pressure of surrounding particles remains the same; and so is -a motion taking place in the direction of lessened resistance. In the -course followed by the resulting rain-drops, we have one of the simplest -instances of the joint effect of the two antagonist forces. The Earth’s -attraction, and the resistance of atmospheric currents ever varying in -direction and intensity, give as their resultants, lines which incline -to the horizon in countless different degrees and undergo perpetual -variations. More clearly still is the law exemplified by these same -rain-drops when they reach the ground. In the course they take while -trickling over its surface, in every rill, in every larger stream, and -in every river, we see them descending as straight as the antagonism of -surrounding objects permits. From moment to moment, the motion of water -towards the Earth’s centre is opposed by the solid matter around and -under it; and from moment to moment its route is the resultant of the -lines of greatest traction and least resistance. So far from a cascade -furnishing, as it seems to do, an exception, it furnishes but another -illustration. For though all solid obstacles to a vertical fall of the -water are removed, yet the water’s horizontal momentum is an obstacle; -and the parabola in which the stream leaps from the projecting ledge, is -generated by the combined gravitation and momentum. It may be well -just to draw attention to the degree of complexity here produced in the -line of movement by the variety of forces at work. In atmospheric -currents, and still more clearly in water-courses (to which might be -added ocean-streams), the route followed is too complex to be defined, -save as a curve of three dimensions with an ever varying equation. - -The Earth’s solid crust undergoes changes that supply another group of -illustrations. The denudation of lands and the depositing of the removed -sediment in new strata at the bottoms of seas and lakes, is a process -throughout which motion is obviously determined in the same way as is -that of the water effecting the transport. Again, though we have no -direct inductive proof that the forces classed as igneous, expend -themselves along lines of least resistance; yet what little we know of -them is in harmony with the belief that they do so. Earthquakes -continually revisit the same localities, and special tracts undergo for -long periods together successive elevations or subsidences,—facts which -imply that already-fractured portions of the Earth’s crust are those -most prone to yield under the pressure caused by further contractions. -The distribution of volcanoes along certain lines, as well as the -frequent recurrence of eruptions from the same vents, are facts of like -meaning. - - * * * * * - -§ 89. That organic growth takes place in the direction of least -resistance, is a proposition that has been set forth and illustrated by -Mr. James Hinton, in the _Medico-Chirurgical Review_ for October, 1858. -After detailing a few of the early observations which led him to this -generalization, he formulates it thus:— - -“Organic form is the result of motion.” - -“Motion takes the direction of least resistance.” - -“Therefore organic form is the result of motion in the direction of -least resistance.” - -After an elucidation and defence of this position, Mr. Hinton proceeds -to interpret, in conformity with it, sundry phenomena of development. -Speaking of plants he says:— - -“The formation of the root furnishes a beautiful illustration of the law -of least resistance, for it grows by insinuating itself, cell by cell, -through the interstices of the soil; it is by such minute additions that -it increases, winding and twisting whithersoever the obstacles it meets -in its path determine, and growing there most, where the nutritive -materials are added to it most abundantly. As we look on the roots of a -mighty tree, it appears to us as if they had forced themselves with -giant violence into the solid earth. But it is not so; they were led on -gently, cell added to cell, softly as the dews descended, and the -loosened earth made way. Once formed, indeed, they expand with an -enormous power, but the spongy condition of the growing radicles utterly -forbids the supposition that they are forced into the earth. Is it not -probable, indeed, that the enlargement of the roots already formed may -crack the surrounding soil, and help to make the interstices into which -the new rootlets grow?” * * * - -“Throughout almost the whole of organic nature the spiral form is more -or less distinctly marked. Now, motion under resistance takes a spiral -direction, as may be seen by the motion of a body rising or falling -through water. A bubble rising rapidly in water describes a spiral -closely resembling a corkscrew, and a body of moderate specific gravity -dropped into water may be seen to fall in a curved direction, the spiral -tendency of which may be distinctly observed. * * * In this prevailing -spiral form of organic bodies, therefore, it appears to me, that there -is presented a strong _prima facie_ case for the view I have maintained. -* * * The spiral form of the branches of many trees is very apparent, -and the universally spiral arrangement of the leaves around the stem of -plants needs only to be referred to. * * * The heart commences as a -spiral turn, and in its perfect form a manifest spiral may be traced -through the left ventricle, right ventricle, right auricle, left auricle -and appendix. And what is the spiral turn in which the heart commences -but a necessary result of the lengthening, under a limit, of the -cellular mass of which it then consists?” * * * - -“Every one must have noticed the peculiar curling up of the young leaves -of the common fern. The appearance is as if the leaf were rolled up, but -in truth this form is merely a phenomenon of growth. The curvature -results from the increase of the leaf, it is only another form of the -wrinkling up, or turning at right angles by extension under limit.” - -“The rolling up or imbrication of the petals in many flower-buds is a -similar thing; at an early period the small petals may be seen lying -side by side, afterwards growing within the capsule, they become folded -round one another.” * * * - -“If a flower-bud be opened at a sufficiently early period, the stamens -will be found as if moulded in the cavity between the pistil and the -corolla, which cavity the antlers exactly fill; the stalks lengthen at -an after period. I have noticed also in a few instances, that in those -flowers in which the petals are imbricated, or twisted together, the -pistil is tapering as growing up between the petals; in some flowers -which have the petals so arranged in the bud as to form a dome (as the -hawthorn; e. g.), the pistil is flattened at the apex, and in the bud -occupies a space precisely limited by the stamens below, and the -enclosing petals above and at the sides. I have not, however, satisfied -myself that this holds good in all cases.” - -Without endorsing all Mr. Hinton’s illustrations, to some of which -exception might be taken, his conclusion may be accepted as a large -instalment of the truth. It is, however, to be remarked, that in the -case of organic growth, as in all other cases, the line of movement is -in strictness the resultant of tractive and resistant forces; and that -the tractive forces here form so considerable an element that the -formula is scarcely complete without them. The shapes of plants are -manifestly modified by gravitation: the direction of each branch is not -what it would have been were the tractive force of the Earth absent; and -every flower and leaf is somewhat altered in the course of development -by the weight of its parts. Though in animals such effects are less -conspicuous, yet the instances in which flexible organs have their -directions in great measure determined by gravity, justify the assertion -that throughout the whole organism the forms of parts must be affected -by this force. - -The organic movements which constitute growth, are not, however, the -only organic movements to be interpreted. There are also those which -constitute function. And throughout these the same general principles -are discernible. That the vessels along which blood, lymph, bile, and -all the secretions, find their ways, are channels of least resistance, -is a fact almost too conspicuous to be named as an illustration. Less -conspicuous, however, is the truth, that the currents setting along -these vessels are affected by the tractive force of the Earth: witness -varicose veins; witness the relief to an inflamed part obtained by -raising it; witness the congestion of head and face produced by -stooping. And in the fact that dropsy in the legs gets greater by day -and decreases at night, while, conversely, that œdematous fullness under -the eyes common in debility, grows worse during the hours of reclining -and decreases after getting up, shows us how the transudation of fluid -through the walls of the capillaries, varies according as change of -position changes the effect of gravity in different parts of the body. - -It may be well in passing just to note the bearing of the principle on -the development of species. From a dynamic point of view, “natural -selection” is the evolution of Life along lines of least resistance. The -multiplication of any kind of plant or animal in localities that are -favourable to it, is a growth where the antagonistic forces are less -than elsewhere. And the preservation of varieties that succeed better -than their allies in coping with surrounding conditions, is the -continuance of vital movement in those directions where the obstacles to -it are most eluded. - - * * * * * - -§ 90. Throughout the phenomena of mind the law enunciated is not so -readily established. In a large part of them, as those of thought and -emotion, there is no perceptible movement. Even in sensation and -volition, which show us in one part of the body an effect produced by a -force applied to another part, the intermediate movement is inferential -rather than visible. Such indeed are the difficulties that it is not -possible here to do more than briefly indicate the proofs which might be -given did space permit. - -Supposing the various forces throughout an organism to be previously in -equilibrium, then any part which becomes the seat of a further force, -added or liberated, must be one from which the force, being resisted by -smaller forces around, will initiate motion towards some other part of -the organism. If elsewhere in the organism there is a point at which -force is being expended, and which so is becoming minus a force which it -before had, instead of plus a force which it before had not, and thus is -made a point at which the re-action against surrounding forces is -diminished; then, manifestly, a motion taking place between the first -and the last of these points is a motion along the line of least -resistance. Now a sensation implies a force added to, or evolved in, -that part of the organism which is its seat; while a mechanical movement -implies an expenditure or loss of force in that part of the organism -which is its seat. Hence if, as we find to be the fact, motion is -habitually propagated from those parts of an organism to which the -external world adds forces in the shape of nervous impressions, to those -parts of an organism which react on the external world through muscular -contractions, it is simply a fulfilment of the law above enunciated. - From this general conclusion we may pass to a more special one. -When there is anything in the circumstances of an animal’s life, -involving that a sensation in one particular place is habitually -followed by a contraction in another particular place—when there is thus -a frequently-repeated motion through the organism between these places; -what must be the result as respects the line along which the motions -take place? Restoration of equilibrium between the points at which the -forces have been increased and decreased, must take place through some -channel. If this channel is affected by the discharge—if the obstructive -action of the tissues traversed, involves any reaction upon them, -deducting from their obstructive power; then a subsequent motion between -these two points will meet with less resistance along this channel than -the previous motion met with; and will consequently take this channel -still more decidedly. If so, every repetition will still further -diminish the resistance offered by this route; and hence will gradually -be formed between the two a permanent line of communication, differing -greatly from the surrounding tissue in respect of the ease with which -force traverses it. We see, therefore, that if between a particular -impression and a particular motion associated with it, there is -established a connexion producing what is called reflex action, the law -that motion follows the line of least resistance, and that, if the -conditions remain constant, resistance in any direction is diminished by -motion occurring in that direction, supplies an explanation. - Without further details it will be manifest that a like -interpretation may be given to the succession of all other nervous -changes. If in the surrounding world there are objects, attributes, or -actions, that usually occur together, the effects severally produced by -them in the organism will become so connected by those repetitions which -we call experience, that they also will occur together. In proportion to -the frequency with which any external connexion of phenomena is -experienced, will be the strength of the answering internal connexion of -nervous states. Thus there will arise all degrees of cohesion among -nervous states, as there are all degrees of commonness among the -surrounding co-existences and sequences that generate them: whence must -result a general correspondence between associated ideas and associated -actions in the environment.[13] - -The relation between emotions and actions may be similarly construed. As -a first illustration let us observe what happens with emotions that are -undirected by volitions. These, like feelings in general, expend -themselves in generating organic changes, and chiefly in muscular -contractions. As was pointed out in the last chapter, there result -movements of the involuntary and voluntary muscles, that are great in -proportion as the emotions are strong. It remains here to be pointed -out, however, that the order in which these muscles are affected is -explicable only on the principle above set forth. Thus, a pleasurable or -painful state of mind of but slight intensity, does little more than -increase the pulsations of the heart. Why? For the reason that the -relation between nervous excitement and vascular contraction, being -common to every genus and species of feeling, is the one of most -frequent repetition; that hence the nervous connexion is, in the way -above shown, the one which offers the least resistance to a discharge; -and is therefore the one along which a feeble force produces motion. A -sentiment or passion that is somewhat stronger, affects not only the -heart but the muscles of the face, and especially those around the -mouth. Here the like explanation applies; since these muscles, being -both comparatively small, and, for purposes of speech, perpetually used, -offer less resistance than other voluntary muscles to the nerve-motor -force. By a further increase of emotion the respiratory and vocal -muscles become perceptibly excited. Finally, under strong passion, the -muscles in general of the trunk and limbs are violently contracted. -Without saying that the facts can be thus interpreted in all their -details (a task requiring data impossible to obtain) it may be safely -said that the order of excitation is from muscles that are small and -frequently acted on, to those which are larger and less frequently acted -on. The single instance of laughter, which is an undirected discharge of -feeling that affects first the muscles round the mouth, then those of -the vocal and respiratory apparatus, then those of the limbs, and then -those of the spine;[14] suffices to show that when no special route is -opened for it, a force evolved in the nervous centres produces motion -along channels which offer the least resistance, and if it is too great -to escape by these, produces motion along channels offering successively -greater resistance. - -Probably it will be thought impossible to extend this reasoning so as to -include volitions. Yet we are not without evidence that the transition -from special desires to special muscular acts, conforms to the same -principle. It may be shown that the mental antecedents of a voluntary -movement, are antecedents which temporarily make the line along which -this movement takes place, the line of least resistance. For a volition, -suggested as it necessarily is by some previous thought connected with -it by associations that determine the transition, is itself a -representation of the movements that are willed, and of their sequences. -But to represent in consciousness certain of our own movements, is -partially to arouse the sensations accompanying such movements, -inclusive of those of muscular tension—is partially to excite the -appropriate motor-nerves and all the other nerves implicated. That is to -say, the volition is itself an incipient discharge along a line which -previous experiences have rendered a line of least resistance. And the -passing of volition into action is simply a completion of the discharge. - -One corollary from this must be noted before proceeding; namely, that -the particular set of muscular movements by which any object of desire -is reached, are movements implying the smallest total of forces to be -overcome. As each feeling generates motion along the line of least -resistance, it is tolerably clear that a group of feelings, constituting -a more or less complex desire, will generate motion along a series of -lines of least resistance. That is to say, the desired end will be -achieved with the smallest expenditure of effort. Should it be objected -that through want of knowledge or want of skill, a man often pursues the -more laborious of two courses, and so overcomes a larger total of -opposing forces than was necessary; the reply is, that relatively to his -mental state the course he takes is that which presents the fewest -difficulties. Though there is another which in the abstract is easier, -yet his ignorance of it, or inability to adopt it, is, physically -considered, the existence of an insuperable obstacle to the discharge of -his energies in that direction. Experience obtained by himself, or -communicated by others, has not established in him such channels of -nervous communication as are required to make this better course the -course of least resistance to him. - - * * * * * - -§ 91. As in individual animals, inclusive of man, motion follows lines -of least resistance, it is to be inferred that among aggregations of -men, the like will hold good. The changes in a society, being due to the -joint actions of its members, the courses of such changes will be -determined as are those of all other changes wrought by composition of -forces. - -Thus when we contemplate a society as an organism, and observe the -direction of its growth, we find this direction to be that in which the -average of opposing forces is the least. Its units have energies to be -expended in self-maintenance and reproduction. These energies are met by -various environing energies that are antagonistic to them—those of -geological origin, those of climate, of wild animals, of other human -races with whom they are at enmity or in competition. And the tracts the -society spreads over, are those in which there is the smallest total -antagonism. Or, reducing the matter to its ultimate terms, we may say -that these social units have jointly and severally to preserve -themselves and their offspring from those inorganic and organic forces -which are ever tending to destroy them (either indirectly by oxidation -and by undue abstraction of heat, or directly by bodily mutilation); -that these forces are either counteracted by others which are available -in the shape of food, clothing, habitations, and appliances of defence, -or are, as far as may be, eluded; and that population spreads in -whichever directions there is the readiest escape from these forces, or -the least exertion in obtaining the materials for resisting them, or -both. For these reasons it happens that fertile valleys where -water and vegetal produce abound, are early peopled. Sea-shores, too, -supplying a large amount of easily-gathered food, are lines along which -mankind have commonly spread. The general fact that, so far as we can -judge from the traces left by them, large societies first appeared in -those tropical regions where the fruits of the earth are obtainable with -comparatively little exertion, and where the cost of maintaining bodily -heat is but slight, is a fact of like meaning. And to these instances -may be added the allied one daily furnished by emigration; which we see -going on towards countries presenting the fewest obstacles to the -self-preservation of individuals, and therefore to national growth. - Similarly with that resistance to the movements of a society which -neighbouring societies offer. Each of the tribes or nations inhabiting -any region, increases in numbers until it outgrows its means of -subsistence. In each there is thus a force ever pressing outwards on to -adjacent areas—a force antagonized by like forces in the tribes or -nations occupying those areas. And the ever-recurring wars that -result—the conquests of weaker tribes or nations, and the over-running -of their territories by the victors, are instances of social movements -taking place in the directions of least resistance. Nor do the conquered -peoples, when they escape extermination or enslavement, fail to show us -movements that are similarly determined. For migrating as they do to -less fertile regions—taking refuge in deserts or among mountains—moving -in a direction where the resistance to social growth is comparatively -great; they still do this only under an excess of pressure in all other -directions: the physical obstacles to self-preservation they encounter, -being really less than the obstacles offered by the enemies from whom -they fly. - -Internal social movements may also be thus interpreted. Localities -naturally fitted for producing particular commodities—that is, -localities in which such commodities are got at the least cost of -force—that is, localities in which the desires for these commodities -meet with the least resistance; become localities especially devoted to -the obtainment of these commodities. Where soil and climate render wheat -a profitable crop, or a crop from which the greatest amount of -life-sustaining power is gained by a given quantity of effort, the -growth of wheat becomes the dominant industry. Where wheat cannot be -economically produced, oats, or rye, or maize, or rice, or potatoes, is -the agricultural staple. Along sea-shores men support themselves with -least effort by catching fish; and hence choose fishing as an -occupation. And in places that are rich in coal or metallic ores, the -population, finding that labour devoted to the raising of these -materials brings a larger return of food and clothing than when -otherwise directed, becomes a population of miners. This last -instance introduces us to the phenomena of exchange; which equally -illustrate the general law. For the practice of barter begins as soon as -it facilitates the fulfilment of men’s desires, by diminishing the -exertion needed to reach the objects of those desires. When instead of -growing his own corn, weaving his own cloth, sewing his own shoes, each -man began to confine himself to farming, or weaving, or shoemaking; it -was because each found it more laborious to make everything he wanted, -than to make a great quantity of one thing and barter the surplus for -the rest: by exchange, each procured the necessaries of life without -encountering so much resistance. Moreover, in deciding what commodity to -produce, each citizen was, as he is at the present day, guided in the -same manner. For besides those local conditions which determine whole -sections of a society towards the industries easiest for them, there are -also individual conditions and individual aptitudes which to each -citizen render certain occupations preferable; and in choosing those -forms of activity which their special circumstances and faculties -dictate, these social units are severally moving towards the objects of -their desires in the directions which present to them the fewest -obstacles. The process of transfer which commerce pre-supposes, -supplies another series of examples. So long as the forces to be -overcome in procuring any necessary of life in the district where it is -consumed, are less than the forces to be overcome in procuring it from -an adjacent district, exchange does not take place. But when the -adjacent district produces it with an economy that is not out-balanced -by cost of transit—when the distance is so small and the route so easy -that the labour of conveyance plus the labour of production is less than -the labour of production in the consuming district, transfer commences. -Movement in the direction of least resistance is also seen in the -establishment of the channels along which intercourse takes place. At -the outset, when goods are carried on the backs of men and horses, the -paths chosen are those which combine shortness with levelness and -freedom from obstacles—those which are achieved with the smallest -exertion. And in the subsequent formation of each highway, the course -taken is that which deviates horizontally from a straight line so far -only as is needful to avoid vertical deviations entailing greater labour -in draught. The smallest total of obstructive forces determines the -route, even in seemingly exceptional cases; as where a detour is made to -avoid the opposition of a landowner. All subsequent improvements, ending -in macadamized roads, canals, and railways, which reduce the antagonism -of friction and gravity to a minimum, exemplify the same truth. After -there comes to be a choice of roads between one point and another, we -still see that the road chosen is that along which the cost of transit -is the least: cost being the measure of resistance. Even where, time -being a consideration, the more expensive route is followed, it is so -because the loss of time involves loss of force. When, division of -labour having been carried to a considerable extent and means of -communication made easy, there arises a marked localization of -industries, the relative growths of the populations devoted to them may -be interpreted on the same principle. The influx of people to each -industrial centre, as well as the rate of multiplication of those -already inhabiting it, is determined by the payment for labour; that -is—by the quantity of commodities which a given amount of effort will -obtain. To say that artisans flock to places where, in consequence of -facilities for production, an extra proportion of produce can be given -in the shape of wages; is to say that they flock to places where there -are the smallest obstacles to the support of themselves and families. -Hence, the rapid increase of number which occurs in such places, is -really a social growth at points where the opposing forces are the -least. - -Nor is the law less clearly to be traced in those functional changes -daily going on. The flow of capital into businesses yielding the largest -returns; the buying in the cheapest market and selling in the dearest; -the introduction of more economical modes of manufacture; the -development of better agencies for distribution; and all those -variations in the currents of trade that are noted in our newspapers and -telegrams from hour to hour; exhibit movement taking place in directions -where it is met by the smallest total of opposing forces. For if we -analyze each of these changes—if instead of interest on capital we read -surplus of products which remains after maintenance of labourers; if we -so interpret large interest or large surplus to imply labour expended -with the greatest results; and if labour expended with the greatest -results means muscular action so directed as to evade obstacles as far -as possible; we see that all these commercial phenomena are complicated -motions set up along lines of least resistance. - -Objections of two opposite kinds will perhaps be made to these -sociological applications of the law. By some it may be said that the -term force as here used, is used metaphorically—that to speak of men as -_impelled_ in certain directions by certain desires, is a figure of -speech and not the statement of a physical fact. The reply is, that the -foregoing illustrations are to be interpreted literally, and that the -processes described _are_ physical ones. The pressure of hunger is an -actual force—a sensation implying some state of nervous tension; and the -muscular action which the sensation prompts is really a discharge of it -in the shape of bodily motion—a discharge which, on analyzing the mental -acts involved, will be found to follow lines of least resistance. Hence -the motions of a society whose members are impelled by this or any other -desire, are actually, and not metaphorically, to be understood in the -manner shown. An opposite objection may possibly be, that the -several illustrations given are elaborated truisms; and that the law of -direction of motion being once recognized, the fact that social -movements, in common with all others, must conform to it, follows -inevitably. To this it may be rejoined, that a mere abstract assertion -that social movements must do this, would carry no conviction to the -majority; and that it is needful to show _how_ they do it. For social -evolution to be interpreted after the method proposed, it is requisite -that such generalisations as those of political economy shall be reduced -to equivalent propositions expressed in terms of force and motion. - -Social movements of these various orders severally conform to the two -derivative principles named at the outset. In the first place we may -observe how, once set up in given directions, such movements, like all -others, tend to continue in these directions. A commercial mania or -panic, a current of commodities, a social custom, a political agitation, -or a popular delusion, maintains its course for a long time after its -original source has ceased; and requires antagonistic forces to arrest -it. In the second place it is to be noted that in proportion to the -complexity of social forces is the tortuousness of social movements. The -involved series of muscular contractions gone through by the artizan, -that he may get the wherewithal to buy a loaf lying at the baker’s next -door, show us how extreme becomes the indirectness of motion when the -agencies at work become very numerous—a truth still better illustrated -by the more public social actions; as those which end in bringing a -successful man of business, towards the close of his life, into -parliament. - - * * * * * - -§ 92. And now of the general truth set forth in this chapter, as of that -dealt with in the last, let us ask—what is our ultimate evidence? Must -we accept it simply as an empirical generalization? or is it to be -established as a corollary from a still deeper truth? The reader will -anticipate the answer. We shall find it deducible from that datum of -consciousness which underlies all science. - -Suppose several tractive forces, variously directed, to be acting on a -given body. By what is known among mathematicians as the composition of -forces, there may be found for any two of these, a single force of such -amount and direction as to produce on the body an exactly equal effect. -If in the direction of each of them there be drawn a straight line, and -if the lengths of these two straight lines be made proportionate to the -amounts of the forces; and if from the end of each line there be drawn a -line parallel to the other, so as to complete a parallelogram; then the -diagonal of this parallelogram represents the amount and direction of a -force that is equivalent to the two. Such a resultant force, as it is -called, may be found for any pair of forces throughout the group. -Similarly, for any pair of such resultants a single resultant may be -found. And by repeating this course, all of them may be reduced to two. -If these two are equal and opposite—that is, if there is no line of -greatest traction, motion does not take place. If they are opposite but -not equal, motion takes place in the direction of the greater. And if -they are neither equal nor opposite, motion takes place in the direction -of their resultant. For in either of these cases there is an -unantagonized force in one direction. And this residuary force that is -not neutralized by an opposing one, must move the body in the direction -in which it is acting. To assert the contrary is to assert that a force -can be expended without effect—without generating an equivalent force; -and by so implying that force can cease to exist, this involves a denial -of the persistence of force. It needs scarcely be added that if in -place of tractions we take resistances, the argument equally holds; and -that it holds also where both tractions and resistances are concerned. -Thus the law that motion follows the line of greatest traction, or the -line of least resistance, or the resultant of the two, is a necessary -deduction from that primordial truth which transcends proof. - -Reduce the proposition to its simplest form, and it becomes still more -obviously consequent on the persistence of force. Suppose two weights -suspended over a pulley or from the ends of an equal-armed lever; or -better still—suppose two men pulling against each other. In such cases -we say that the heavier weight will descend, and that the stronger man -will draw the weaker towards him. But now, if we are asked how we know -which is the heavier weight or the stronger man; we can only reply that -it is the one producing motion in the direction of its pull. Our only -evidence of excess of force is the movement it produces. But if of two -opposing tractions we can know one as greater than the other only by the -motion it generates in its own direction, then the assertion that motion -occurs in the direction of greatest traction is a truism. When, going a -step further back, we seek a warrant for the assumption that of the two -conflicting forces, that is the greater which produces motion in its own -direction, we find no other than the consciousness that such part of the -greater force as is unneutralized by the lesser, must produce its -effect—the consciousness that this residuary force cannot disappear, but -must manifest itself in some equivalent change—the consciousness that -force is persistent. Here too, as before, it may be remarked that -no amount of varied illustrations, like those of which this chapter -mainly consists, can give greater certainty to the conclusion thus -immediately drawn from the ultimate datum of consciousness. For in all -cases, as in the simple ones just given, we can identify the greatest -force only by the resulting motion. It is impossible for us ever to get -evidence of the occurrence of motion in any other direction than that of -the greatest force; since our measure of relative greatness among forces -is their relative power of generating motion. And clearly, while the -comparative greatness of forces is thus determined, no multiplication of -instances can add certainty to a law of direction of movement which -follows immediately from the persistence of force. - -From this same primordial truth, too, may be deduced the principle that -motion once set up along any line, becomes itself a cause of subsequent -motion along that line. The mechanical axiom that, if left to itself, -matter moving in any direction will continue in that direction with -undiminished velocity, is but an indirect assertion of the persistence -of force; since it is an assertion that the force manifested in the -transfer of a body along a certain length of a certain line in a certain -time, cannot disappear without producing some equal manifestation—a -manifestation which, in the absence of conflicting forces, must be a -further transfer in the same direction at the same velocity. In -the case of matter traversing matter the like inference is necessitated. -Here indeed the actions are much more complicated. A liquid that follows -a certain channel through or over a solid, as water along the Earth’s -surface, loses part of its motion in the shape of heat, through friction -and collision with the matters forming its bed. A further amount of its -motion may be absorbed in overcoming forces which it liberates; as when -it loosens a mass which falls into, and blocks up, its channel. But -after these deductions by transformation into other modes of force, any -further deduction from the motion of the water is at the expense of a -reaction on the channel, which by so much diminishes its obstructive -power: such reaction being shown in the motion acquired by the detached -portions which are carried away. The cutting out of river-courses is a -perpetual illustration of this truth. Still more involved is the -case of motion passing through matter by impulse from part to part; as a -nervous discharge through animal tissue. Some chemical change may be -wrought along the route traversed, which may render it less fit than -before for conveying a current. Or the motion may itself be in part -metamorphosed into some obstructive form of force; as in metals, the -conducting power of which is, for the time, decreased by the heat which -the passage of electricity itself generates. The real question is, -however, what structural modification, if any, is produced throughout -the matter traversed, apart from _incidental_ disturbing forces—apart -from everything but the _necessary_ resistance of the matter: that, -namely, which results from the inertia of its units. If we confine our -attention to that part of the motion which, escaping transformation, -continues its course, then it is a corollary from the persistence of -force that as much of this remaining motion as is taken up in changing -the positions of the units, must leave these by so much less able to -obstruct subsequent motion in the same direction. - -Thus in all the changes heretofore and at present displayed by the Solar -System; in all those that have gone on and are still going on in the -Earth’s crust; in all processes of organic development and function; in -all mental actions and the effects they work on the body; and in all -modifications of structure and activity in societies; the implied -movements are of necessity determined in the manner above set forth. -Every alteration in the arrangement of parts, constituting Evolution -under each of its phases, must conform to this universal principle. -Wherever we see motion, its direction must be that of the greatest -force. And wherever we see the greatest force to be acting in a given -direction, in that direction motion must ensue. - ------ - -Footnote 13: - - This paragraph is a re-statement, somewhat amplified, of an idea set - forth in the _Medico-Chirurgical Review_ for January, 1859 (pp. 189 - and 190); and contains the germ of the intended fifth part of the - _Principles of Psychology_, which was withheld for the reasons given - in the preface to that work. - -Footnote 14: - - For details see a paper on “The Physiology of Laughter,” published in - _Macmillan’s Magazine_ for March 1860. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - THE RHYTHM OF MOTION. - - -§ 93. When the pennant of a vessel lying becalmed first shows the coming -breeze, it does so by gentle undulations that travel from its fixed to -its free end. Presently the sails begin to flap; and their blows against -the mast increase in rapidity as the breeze rises. Even when, being -fully bellied out, they are in great part steadied by the strain of the -yards and cordage, their free edges tremble with each stronger gust. And -should there come a gale, the jar that is felt on laying hold of the -shrouds shows that the rigging vibrates; while the rush and whistle of -the wind prove that in it, also, rapid undulations are generated. Ashore -the conflict between the current of air and the things it meets results -in a like rhythmical action. The leaves all shiver in the blast; each -branch oscillates; and every exposed tree sways to and fro. The blades -of grass and dried bents in the meadows, and still better the stalks in -the neighbouring corn-fields, exhibit the same rising and falling -movement. Nor do the more stable objects fail to do the like, though in -a less manifest fashion; as witness the shudder that may be felt -throughout a house during the paroxysms of a violent storm. - Streams of water produce in opposing objects the same general -effects as do streams of air. Submerged weeds growing in the middle of a -brook, undulate from end to end. Branches brought down by the last -flood, and left entangled at the bottom where the current is rapid, are -thrown into a state of up and down movement that is slow or quick in -proportion as they are large or small; and where, as in great rivers -like the Mississippi, whole trees are thus held, the name “sawyers,” by -which they are locally known, sufficiently describes the rhythm produced -in them. Note again the effect of the antagonism between the current and -its channel. In shallow places, where the action of the bottom on the -water flowing over it is visible, we see a ripple produced—a series of -undulations. And if we study the action and re-action going on between -the moving fluid and its banks, we still find the principle illustrated, -though in a different way. For in every rivulet, as in the mapped-out -course of every great river, the bends of the stream from side to side -throughout its tortuous course constitute a lateral undulation—an -undulation so inevitable that even an artificially straightened channel -is eventually changed into a serpentine one. Analogous phenomena may be -observed where the water is stationary and the solid matter moving. A -stick drawn laterally through the water with much force, proves by the -throb which it communicates to the hand that it is in a state of -vibration. Even where the moving body is massive, it only requires that -great force should be applied to get a sensible effect of like kind: -instance the screw of a screw-steamer, which instead of a smooth -rotation falls into a rapid rhythm that sends a tremor through the whole -vessel. The sound which results when a bow is drawn over a -violin-string, shows us vibrations produced by the movement of a solid -over a solid. In lathes and planing machines, the attempt to take off a -thick shaving causes a violent jar of the whole apparatus, and the -production of a series of waves on the iron or wood that is cut. Every -boy in scraping his slate-pencil finds it scarcely possible to help -making a ridged surface. If you roll a ball along the ground or over the -ice, there is always more or less up and down movement—a movement that -is visible while the velocity is considerable, but becomes too small and -rapid to be seen by the unaided eye as the velocity diminishes. However -smooth the rails, and however perfectly built the carriages, a -railway-train inevitably gets into oscillations, both lateral and -vertical. Even where moving matter is suddenly arrested by collision, -the law is still illustrated; for both the body striking and the body -struck are made to tremble; and trembling is rhythmical movement. Little -as we habitually observe it, it is yet certain that the impulses our -actions impress from moment to moment on surrounding objects, are -propagated through them in vibrations. It needs but to look through a -telescope of high power, to be convinced that each pulsation of the -heart gives a jar to the whole room. If we pass to motions of -another order—those namely which take place in the etherial medium—we -still find the same thing. Every fresh discovery confirms the hypothesis -that light consists of undulations. The rays of heat, too, are now found -to have a like fundamental nature; their undulations differing from -those of light only in their comparative length. Nor do the movements of -electricity fail to furnish us with an illustration; though one of a -different order. The northern aurora may often be observed to pulsate -with waves of greater brightness; and the electric discharge through a -vacuum shows us by its stratified appearance that the current is not -uniform, but comes in gushes of greater and lesser intensity. - Should it be said that at any rate there are some motions, as -those of projectiles, which are not rhythmical, the reply is, that the -exception is apparent only; and that these motions would be rhythmical -if they were not interrupted. It is common to assert that the trajectory -of a cannon ball is a parabola; and it is true that (omitting -atmospheric resistance) the curve described differs so slightly from a -parabola that it may practically be regarded as one. But, strictly -speaking, it is a portion of an extremely eccentric ellipse, having the -Earth’s centre of gravity for its remoter focus; and but for its arrest -by the substance of the Earth, the cannon ball would travel round that -focus and return to the point whence it started; again to repeat this -slow rhythm. Indeed, while seeming at first sight to do the reverse, the -discharge of a cannon furnishes one of the best illustrations of the -principle enunciated. The explosion produces violent undulations in the -surrounding air. The whizz of the shot, as it flies towards its mark, is -due to another series of atmospheric undulations. And the movement to -and from the Earth’s centre, which the cannon ball is beginning to -perform, being checked by solid matter, is transformed into a rhythm of -another order; namely, the vibration which the blow sends through -neighbouring bodies.[15] - -Rhythm is very generally not simple but compound. There are usually at -work various forces, causing undulations differing in rapidity; and -hence it continually happens that besides the primary rhythms there are -secondary rhythms, produced by the periodic coincidence and antagonism -of the primary ones. Double, triple, and even quadruple rhythms, are -thus generated. One of the simplest instances is afforded by what in -acoustics are known as “beats:” recurring intervals of sound and silence -which are perceived when two notes of nearly the same pitch are struck -together; and which are due to the alternate correspondence and -antagonism of the atmospheric waves. In like manner the various -phenomena due to what is called interference of light, severally result -from the periodic agreement and disagreement of etherial -undulations—undulations which, by alternately intensifying and -neutralizing each other, produce intervals of increased and diminished -light. On the sea-shore may be noted sundry instances of compound -rhythm. We have that of the tides, in which the daily rise and fall -undergoes a fortnightly increase and decrease, due to the alternate -coincidence and antagonism of the solar and lunar attractions. We have -again that which is perpetually furnished by the surface of the sea: -every large wave bearing smaller ones on its sides, and these still -smaller ones; with the result that each flake of foam, along with the -portion of water bearing it, undergoes minor ascents and descents of -several orders while it is being raised and lowered by the greater -billows. A quite different and very interesting example of compound -rhythm, occurs in the little rills which, at low tide, run over the sand -out of the shingle banks above. Where the channel of one of these is -narrow, and the stream runs strongly, the sand at the bottom is raised -into a series of ridges corresponding to the ripple of the water. On -watching for a short time, it will be seen that these ridges are being -raised higher and the ripple growing stronger; until at length, the -action becoming violent, the whole series of ridges is suddenly swept -away, the stream runs smoothly, and the process commences afresh. -Instances of still more complex rhythms might be added; but they will -come more appropriately in connexion with the several forms of -Evolution, hereafter to be dealt with. - -From the ensemble of the facts as above set forth, it will be seen that -rhythm results wherever there is a conflict of forces not in -equilibrium. If the antagonist forces at any point are balanced, there -is rest; and in the absence of motion there can of course be no rhythm. -But if instead of a balance there is an excess of force in one -direction—if, as necessarily follows, motion is set up in that -direction; then for that motion to continue uniformly in that direction, -it is requisite that the moving matter should, notwithstanding its -unceasing change of place, present unchanging relations to the sources -of force by which its motion is produced and opposed. This however is -impossible. Every further transfer through space must alter the ratio -between the forces concerned—must increase or decrease the predominance -of one force over the other—must prevent uniformity of movement. And if -the movement cannot be uniform, then, in the absence of acceleration or -retardation continued through infinite time and space, (results which -cannot be conceived) the only alternative is rhythm. - -A secondary conclusion must not be omitted. In the last chapter we saw -that motion is never absolutely rectilinear; and here it remains to be -added that, as a consequence, rhythm is necessarily incomplete. A truly -rectilinear rhythm can arise only when the opposing forces are in -exactly the same line; and the probabilities against this are infinitely -great. To generate a perfectly circular rhythm, the two forces concerned -must be exactly at right angles to each other, and must have exactly a -certain ratio; and against this the probabilities are likewise -infinitely great. All other proportions and directions of the two forces -will produce an ellipse of greater or less eccentricity. And when, as -indeed always happens, above two forces are engaged, the curve described -must be more complex; and cannot exactly repeat itself. So that in fact -throughout nature, this action and re-action of forces never brings -about a complete return to a previous state. Where the movement is very -involved, and especially where it is that of some aggregate whose units -are partially independent, anything like a regular curve is no longer -traceable; we see nothing more than a general oscillation. And on the -completion of any periodic movement, the degree in which the state -arrived at differs from the state departed from, is usually marked in -proportion as the influences at work are numerous. - - * * * * * - -§ 94. That spiral arrangement so general among the more diffused -nebulæ—an arrangement which must be assumed by matter moving towards a -centre of gravity through a resisting medium—shows us the progressive -establishment of revolution, and therefore of rhythm; in those remote -spaces which the nebulæ occupy. Double stars, moving round common -centres of gravity in periods some of which are now ascertained, exhibit -settled rhythmical actions in distant parts of our sidereal system. And -another fact which, though of a different order, has a like general -significance, is furnished by variable stars—stars which alternately -brighten and fade. - -The periodicities of the planets, satellites, and comets, are so -familiar that it would be inexcusable to name them, were it not needful -here to point out that they are so many grand illustrations of this -general law of movement. But besides the revolutions of these bodies in -their orbits (all more or less excentric) and their rotations on their -axes, the Solar System presents us with various rhythms of a less -manifest and more complex kind. In each planet and satellite there is -the revolution of the nodes—a slow change in the position of the -orbit-plane, which after completing itself commences afresh. There is -the gradual alteration in the length of the axis major of the orbit; and -also of its excentricity: both of which are rhythmical alike in the -sense that they alternate between maxima and minima, and in the sense -that the progress from one extreme to the other is not uniform, but is -made with fluctuating velocity. Then, too, there is the revolution of -the line of apsides, which in course of time moves round the heavens—not -regularly, but through complex oscillations. And further we have -variations in the directions of the planetary axes—that known as -nutation, and that larger gyration which, in the case of the Earth, -causes the precession of the equinoxes. These rhythms, already -more or less compound, are compounded with each other. Such an instance -as the secular acceleration and retardation of the moon, consequent on -the varying excentricity of the Earth’s orbit, is one of the simplest. -Another, having more important consequences, results from the changing -direction of the axes of rotation in planets whose orbits are decidedly -excentric. Every planet, during a certain long period, presents more of -its northern than of its southern hemisphere to the sun at the time of -its nearest approach to him; and then again, during a like period, -presents more of its southern hemisphere than of its northern—a -recurring coincidence which, though causing in some planets no sensible -alterations of climate, involves in the case of the Earth an epoch of -21,000 years, during which each hemisphere goes through a cycle of -temperate seasons, and seasons that are extreme in their heat and cold. -Nor is this all. There is even a variation of this variation. For the -summers and winters of the whole Earth become more or less strongly -contrasted, as the excentricity of its orbit increases and decreases. -Hence during increase of the excentricity, the epochs of moderately -contrasted seasons and epochs of strongly contrasted seasons, through -which alternately each hemisphere passes, must grow more and more -different in the degrees of their contrasts; and contrariwise during -decrease of the excentricity. So that in the quantity of light and heat -which any portion of the Earth receives from the sun, there goes on a -quadruple rhythm: that of day and night; that of summer and winter; that -due to the changing position of the axis at perihelion and aphelion, -taking 21,000 years to complete; and that involved by the variation of -the orbit’s excentricity, gone through in millions of years. - - * * * * * - -§ 95. Those terrestrial processes whose dependence on the solar heat is -direct, of course exhibit a rhythm that corresponds to the periodically -changing amount of heat which each part of the Earth receives. The -simplest, though the least obtrusive, instance is supplied by the -magnetic variations. In these there is a diurnal increase and decrease, -an annual increase and decrease, and a decennial increase and decrease; -the latter answering to a period during which the solar spots become -alternately abundant and scarce: besides which known variations there -are probably others corresponding with the astronomical cycles just -described. More obvious examples are furnished by the movements of the -ocean and the atmosphere. Marine currents from the equator to the poles -above, and from the poles to the equator beneath, show us an unceasing -backward and forward motion throughout this vast mass of water—a motion -varying in amount according to the seasons, and compounded with smaller -like motions of local origin. The similarly-caused general currents in -the air, have similar annual variations similarly modified. Irregular as -they are in detail, we still see in the monsoons and other tropical -atmospheric disturbances, or even in our own equinoctial gales and -spring east winds, a periodicity sufficiently decided. Again, we -have an alternation of times during which evaporation predominates with -times during which condensation predominates: shown in the tropics by -strongly marked rainy seasons and seasons of drought, and in the -temperate zones by corresponding changes of which the periodicity, -though less definite, is still traceable. The diffusion and -precipitation of water, besides the slow alternations answering to -different parts of the year, furnish us with examples of rhythm of a -more rapid kind. During wet weather, lasting, let us say, over some -weeks, the tendency to condense, though greater than the tendency to -evaporate, does not show itself in continuous rain; but the period is -made up of rainy days and days that are wholly or partially fair. Nor is -it in this rude alternation only that the law is manifested. During any -day throughout this wet weather a minor rhythm is traceable; and -especially so when the tendencies to evaporate and to condense are -nearly balanced. Among mountains this minor rhythm and its causes may be -studied to great advantage. Moist winds, which do not precipitate their -contained water in passing over the comparatively warm lowlands, lose so -much heat when they reach the cold mountain peaks, that condensation -rapidly takes place. Water, however, in passing from the gaseous to the -fluid state, gives out a considerable amount of heat; and hence the -resulting clouds are warmer than the air that precipitates them, and -much warmer than the high rocky surfaces round which they fold -themselves. Hence in the course of the storm, these high rocky surfaces -are raised in temperature, partly by radiation from the enwrapping -cloud, partly by contact of the falling rain-drops. Giving off more heat -than before, they no longer lower so greatly the temperature of the air -passing over them; and so cease to precipitate its contained water. The -clouds break; the sky begins to clear; and a gleam of sunshine promises -that the day is going to be fine. But the small supply of heat which the -cold mountain’s sides have received, is soon lost: especially when the -dispersion of the clouds permits free radiation into space. Very soon, -therefore, these elevated surfaces, becoming as cold as at first, (or -perhaps even colder in virtue of the evaporation set up,) begin again to -condense the vapour in the air above; and there comes another storm, -followed by the same effects as before. In lowland regions this action -and reaction is usually less conspicuous, because the contrast of -temperatures is less marked. Even here, however, it may be traced; and -that not only on showery days, but on days of continuous rain; for in -these we do not see uniformity: always there are fits of harder and -gentler rain that are probably caused as above explained. - -Of course these meteorologic rhythms involve something corresponding to -them in the changes wrought by wind and water on the Earth’s surface. -Variations in the quantities of sediment brought down by rivers that -rise and fall with the seasons, must cause variations in the resulting -strata—alternations of colour or quality in the successive laminæ. Beds -formed from the detritus of shores worn down and carried away by the -waves, must similarly show periodic differences answering to the -periodic winds of the locality. In so far as frost influences the rate -of denudation, its recurrence is a factor in the rhythm of sedimentary -deposits. And the geological changes produced by glaciers and icebergs -must similarly have their alternating periods of greater and less -intensity. - -There is evidence also that modifications in the Earth’s crust due to -igneous action have a certain periodicity. Volcanic eruptions are not -continuous but intermittent, and as far as the data enable us to judge, -have a certain average rate of recurrence; which rate of recurrence is -complicated by rising into epochs of greater activity and falling into -epochs of comparative quiescence. So too is it with earthquakes and the -elevations or depressions caused by them. At the mouth of the -Mississippi, the alternation of strata gives decisive proof of -successive sinkings of the surface, that have taken place at tolerably -equal intervals. Everywhere, in the extensive groups of conformable -strata that imply small subsidences recurring with a certain average -frequency, we see a rhythm in the action and reaction between the -Earth’s crust and its molten contents—a rhythm compounded with those -slower ones shown in the termination of groups of strata, and the -commencement of other groups not conformable to them. There is -even reason for suspecting a geological periodicity that is immensely -slower and far wider in its effects; namely, an alternation of those -vast upheavals and submergencies by which continents are produced where -there were oceans, and oceans where there were continents. For -supposing, as we may fairly do, that the Earth’s crust is throughout of -tolerably equal thickness, it is manifest that such portions of it as -become most depressed below the average level, must have their inner -surfaces most exposed to the currents of molten matter circulating -within, and will therefore undergo a larger amount of what may be called -igneous denudation; while, conversely, the withdrawal of the inner -surfaces from these currents where the Earth’s crust is most elevated, -will cause a thickening more or less compensating the aqueous denudation -going on externally. Hence those depressed areas over which the deepest -oceans lie, being gradually thinned beneath and not covered by much -sedimentary deposit above, will become areas of least resistance, and -will then begin to yield to the upward pressure of the Earth’s contents; -whence will result, throughout such areas, long-continued elevations, -ceasing only when the reverse state of things has been brought about. -Whether this speculation be well or ill founded, does not however affect -the general conclusion. Apart from it we have sufficient evidence that -geologic processes are rhythmical. - - * * * * * - -§ 96. Perhaps nowhere are the illustrations of rhythm so numerous and so -manifest as among the phenomena of life. Plants do not, indeed, usually -show us any decided periodicities, save those determined by day and -night and by the seasons. But in animals we have a great variety of -movements in which the alternation of opposite extremes goes on with all -degrees of rapidity. The swallowing of food is effected by a wave of -constriction passing along the œsophagus; its digestion is accompanied -by a muscular action of the stomach that is also undulatory; and the -peristaltic motion of the intestines is of like nature. The blood -obtained from this food is propelled not in a uniform current but in -pulses; and it is aerated by lungs that alternately contract and expand. -All locomotion results from oscillating movements: even where it is -apparently continuous, as in many minute forms, the microscope proves -the vibration of cilia to be the agency by which the creature is moved -smoothly forwards. - -Primary rhythms of the organic actions are compounded with secondary -ones of longer duration. These various modes of activity have their -recurring periods of increase and decrease. We see this in the periodic -need for food, and in the periodic need for repose. Each meal induces a -more rapid rhythmic action of the digestive organs; the pulsation of the -heart is accelerated; and the inspirations become more frequent. During -sleep, on the contrary, these several movements slacken. So that in the -course of the twenty-four hours, those small undulations of which the -different kinds of organic action are constituted, undergo one long wave -of increase and decrease, complicated with several minor waves. - Experiments have shown that there are still slower rises and falls -of functional activity. Waste and assimilation are not balanced by every -meal, but one or other maintains for some time a slight excess; so that -a person in ordinary health is found to undergo an increase and decrease -of weight during recurring intervals of tolerable equality. Besides -these regular periods there are still longer and comparatively irregular -ones; namely, those alternations of greater and less vigour, which even -healthy people experience. So inevitable are these oscillations that -even men in training cannot be kept stationary at their highest power, -but when they have reached it begin to retrograde. Further -evidence of rhythm in the vital movements is furnished by invalids. -Sundry disorders are named from the intermittent character of their -symptoms. Even where the periodicity is not very marked, it is mostly -traceable. Patients rarely if ever get uniformly worse; and -convalescents have usually their days of partial relapse or of less -decided advance. - -Aggregates of living creatures illustrate the general truth in other -ways. If each species of organism be regarded as a whole, it displays -two kinds of rhythm. Life as it exists in all the members of such -species, is an extremely complex kind of movement, more or less distinct -from the kinds of movement which constitutes life in other species. In -each individual of the species, this extremely complex kind of movement -begins, rises to its climax, declines, and ceases in death. And every -successive generation thus exhibits a wave of that peculiar activity -characterizing the species as a whole. The other form of rhythm is -to be traced in that variation of number which each tribe of animals and -plants is ever undergoing. Throughout the unceasing conflict between the -tendency of a species to increase and the antagonistic tendencies, there -is never an equilibrium: one always predominates. In the case even of a -cultivated plant or domesticated animal, where artificial means are used -to maintain the supply at a uniform level, we still see that -oscillations of abundance and scarcity cannot be avoided. And among the -creatures uncared for by man, such oscillations are usually more marked. -After a race of organisms has been greatly thinned by enemies or lack of -food, its surviving members become more favourably circumstanced than -usual. During the decline in their numbers their food has grown -relatively more abundant; while their enemies have diminished from want -of prey. The conditions thus remain for some time favourable to their -increase; and they multiply rapidly. By and by their food is rendered -relatively scarce, at the same time that their enemies have become more -numerous; and the destroying influences being thus in excess, their -number begins to diminish again. Yet one more rhythm, extremely -slow in its action, may be traced in the phenomena of Life, contemplated -under their most general aspect. The researches of palæontologists show, -that there have been going on, during the vast period of which our -sedimentary rocks bear record, successive changes of organic forms. -Species have appeared, become abundant, and then disappeared. Genera, at -first constituted of but few species, have for a time gone on growing -more multiform; and then have begun to decline in the number of their -subdivisions; leaving at last but one or two representatives, or none at -all. During longer epochs whole orders have thus arisen, culminated, and -dwindled away. And even those wider divisions containing many orders -have similarly undergone a gradual rise, a high tide, and a -long-continued ebb. The stalked _Crinoidea_, for example, which, during -the carboniferous epoch, became abundant, have almost disappeared: only -a single species being extant. Once a large family of molluscs, the -_Brachiopoda_ have now become rare. The shelled Cephalopods, at one time -dominant among the inhabitants of the ocean, both in number of forms and -of individuals, are in our day nearly extinct. And after an “age of -reptiles,” there has come an age in which reptiles have been in great -measure supplanted by mammals. Whether these vast rises and falls of -different kinds of life ever undergo anything approaching to -repetitions, (which they may possibly do in correspondence with those -vast cycles of elevation and subsidence that produce continents and -oceans,) it is sufficiently clear that Life on the Earth has not -progressed uniformly, but in immense undulations. - - * * * * * - -§ 97. It is not manifest that the changes of consciousness are in any -sense rhythmical. Yet here, too, analysis proves both that the mental -state existing at any moment is not uniform, but is decomposable into -rapid oscillations; and also that mental states pass through longer -intervals of increasing and decreasing intensity. - -Though while attending to any single sensation, or any group of related -sensations constituting the consciousness of an object, we seem to -remain for the time in a persistent and homogeneous condition of mind, a -careful self-examination shows that this apparently unbroken mental -state is in truth traversed by a number of minor states, in which -various other sensations and perceptions are rapidly presented and -disappear. From the admitted fact that thinking consists in the -establishment of relations, it is a necessary corollary that the -maintenance of consciousness in any one state to the entire exclusion of -other states, would be a cessation of thought, that is, of -consciousness. So that any seemingly continuous feeling, say of -pressure, really consists of portions of that feeling perpetually -recurring after the momentary intrusion of other feelings and -ideas—quick thoughts concerning the place where it is felt, the external -object producing it, its consequences, and other things suggested by -association. Thus there is going on an extremely rapid departure from, -and return to, that particular mental state which we regard as -persistent. Besides the evidence of rhythm in consciousness which direct -analysis thus affords, we may gather further evidence from the -correlation between feeling and movement. Sensations and emotions expend -themselves in producing muscular contractions. If a sensation or emotion -were strictly continuous, there would be a continuous discharge along -those motor nerves acted upon. But so far as experiments with artificial -stimuli enable us to judge, a continuous discharge along the nerve -leading to a muscle, does not contract it: a broken discharge is -required—a rapid succession of shocks. Hence muscular contraction -pre-supposes that rhythmic state of consciousness which direct -observation discloses. A much more conspicuous rhythm, having -longer waves, is seen during the outflow of emotion into dancing, -poetry, and music. The current of mental energy that shows itself in -these modes of bodily action, is not continuous, but falls into a -succession of pulses. The measure of a dance is produced by the -alternation of strong muscular contractions with weaker ones; and, save -in measures of the simplest order such as are found among barbarians and -children, this alternation is compounded with longer rises and falls in -the degree of muscular excitement. Poetry is a form of speech which -results when the emphasis is regularly recurrent; that is, when the -muscular effort of pronunciation has definite periods of greater and -less intensity—periods that are complicated with others of like nature -answering to the successive verses. Music, in still more various ways, -exemplifies the law. There are the recurring bars, in each of which -there is a primary and a secondary beat. There is the alternate increase -and decrease of muscular strain, implied by the ascents and descents to -the higher and lower notes—ascents and descents composed of smaller -waves, breaking the rises and falls of the larger ones, in a mode -peculiar to each melody. And then we have, further, the alternation of -_piano_ and _forte_ passages. That these several kinds of rhythm, -characterizing æsthetic expression, are not, in the common sense of the -word, artificial, but are intenser forms of an undulatory movement -habitually generated by feeling in its bodily discharge, is shown by the -fact that they are all traceable in ordinary speech; which in every -sentence has its primary and secondary emphases, and its cadence -containing a chief rise and fall complicated with subordinate rises and -falls; and which is accompanied by a more or less oscillatory action of -the limbs when the emotion is great. Still longer undulations may -be observed by every one, in himself and in others, on occasions of -extreme pleasure or extreme pain. Note, in the first place, that pain -having its origin in bodily disorder, is nearly always perceptibly -rhythmical. During hours in which it never actually ceases, it has its -variations of intensity—fits or paroxysms; and then after these hours of -suffering there usually come hours of comparative ease. Moral pain has -the like smaller and larger waves. One possessed by intense grief does -not utter continuous moans, or shed tears with an equable rapidity; but -these signs of passion come in recurring bursts. Then after a time -during which such stronger and weaker waves of emotion alternate, there -comes a calm—a time of comparative deadness; to which again succeeds -another interval, when dull sorrow rises afresh into acute anguish, with -its series of paroxysms. Similarly in great delight, especially as -manifested by children who have its display less under control, there -are visible variations in the intensity of feeling shown—fits of -laughter and dancing about, separated by pauses in which smiles, and -other slight manifestations of pleasure, suffice to discharge the -lessened excitement. Nor are there wanting evidences of mental -undulations greater in length than any of these—undulations which take -weeks, or months, or years, to complete themselves. We continually hear -of moods which recur at intervals. Very many persons have their epochs -of vivacity and depression. There are periods of industry following -periods of idleness; and times at which particular subjects or tastes -are cultivated with zeal, alternating with times at which they are -neglected. Respecting which slow oscillations, the only qualification to -be made is, that being affected by numerous influences, they are -comparatively irregular. - - * * * * * - -§ 98. In nomadic societies the changes of place, determined as they -usually are by exhaustion or failure of the supply of food, are -periodic; and in many cases show a recurrence answering to the seasons. -Each tribe that has become in some degree fixed in its locality, goes on -increasing, till under the pressures of unsatisfied desires, there -results migration of some part of it to a new region—a process repeated -at intervals. From such excesses of population, and such successive -waves of migration, come conflicts with other tribes; which are also -increasing and tending to diffuse themselves. This antagonism, like all -others, results not in an uniform motion, but in an intermittent one. -War, exhaustion, recoil—peace, prosperity, and renewed aggression:—see -here the alternation more or less discernible in the military activities -of both savage and civilized nations. And irregular as is this rhythm, -it is not more so than the different sizes of the societies, and the -extremely involved causes of variation in their strengths, would lead us -to anticipate. - -Passing from external to internal changes, we meet with this backward -and forward movement under many forms. In the currents of commerce it is -especially conspicuous. Exchange during early times is almost wholly -carried on at fairs, held at long intervals in the chief centres of -population. The flux and reflux of people and commodities which each of -these exhibits, becomes more frequent as national development leads to -greater social activity. The more rapid rhythm of weekly markets begins -to supersede the slow rhythm of fairs. And eventually the process of -exchange becomes at certain places so active, as to bring about daily -meetings of buyers and sellers—a daily wave of accumulation and -distribution of cotton, or corn, or capital. If from exchange we -turn to production and consumption, we see undulations, much longer -indeed in their periods, but almost equally obvious. Supply and demand -are never completely adapted to each other; but each of them from time -to time in excess, leads presently to an excess of the other. Farmers -who have one season produced wheat very abundantly, are disgusted with -the consequent low price; and next season, sowing a much smaller -quantity, bring to market a deficient crop; whence follows a converse -effect. Consumption undergoes parallel undulations that need not be -specified. The balancing of supplies between different districts, too, -entails analogous oscillations. A place at which some necessary of life -is scarce, becomes a place to which currents of it are set up from other -places where it is relatively abundant; and these currents from all -sides lead to a wave of accumulation where they meet—a glut: whence -follows a recoil—a partial return of the currents. But the -undulatory character of these actions is perhaps best seen in the rises -and falls of prices. These, given in numerical measures which may be -tabulated and reduced to diagrams, show us in the clearest manner how -commercial movements are compounded of oscillations of various -magnitudes. The price of consols or the price of wheat, as thus -represented, is seen to undergo vast ascents and descents whose highest -and lowest points are reached only in the course of years. These largest -waves of variation are broken by others extending over periods of -perhaps many months. On these again come others having a week or two’s -duration. And were the changes marked in greater detail, we should have -the smaller undulations that take place each day, and the still smaller -ones which brokers telegraph from hour to hour. The whole outline would -show a complication like that of a vast ocean-swell, on whose surface -there rise large billows, which themselves bear waves of moderate size, -covered by wavelets, that are roughened by a minute ripple. Similar -diagrammatic representations of births, marriages, and deaths, of -disease, of crime, of pauperism, exhibit involved conflicts of -rhythmical motions throughout society under these several aspects. - -There are like characteristics in social changes of a more complex kind. -Both in England and among continental nations, the action and reaction -of political progress have come to be generally recognized. Religion, -besides its occasional revivals of smaller magnitude, has its long -periods of exaltation and depression—generations of belief and -self-mortification, following generations of indifference and laxity. -There are poetical epochs, and epochs in which the sense of the -beautiful seems almost dormant. Philosophy, after having been awhile -predominant, lapses for a long season into neglect; and then again -slowly revives. Each science has its eras of deductive reasoning, and -its eras when attention is chiefly directed to collecting and -colligating facts. And how in such minor but more obtrusive phenomena as -those of fashion, there are ever going on oscillations from one extreme -to the other, is a trite observation. - -As may be foreseen, social rhythms well illustrate the irregularity that -results from combination of many causes. Where the variations are those -of one simple element in national life, as the supply of a particular -commodity, we do indeed witness a return, after many involved movements, -to a previous condition—the price may become what it was before: -implying a like relative abundance. But where the action is one into -which many factors enter, there is never a recurrence of exactly the -same state. A political reaction never brings round just the old form of -things. The rationalism of the present day differs widely from the -rationalism of the last century. And though fashion from time to time -revives extinct types of dress, these always re-appear with decided -modifications. - - * * * * * - -§ 99. The universality of this principle suggests a question like that -raised in foregoing cases. Rhythm being manifested in all forms of -movement, we have reason to suspect that it is determined by some -primordial condition to action in general. The tacit implication is that -it is deducible from the persistence of force. This we shall find to be -the fact. - -When the prong of a tuning-fork is pulled on one side by the finger, a -certain extra tension is produced among its cohering particles; which -resist any force that draws them out of their state of equilibrium. As -much force as the finger exerts in pulling the prong aside, so much -opposing force is brought into play among the cohering particles. Hence, -when the prong is liberated, it is urged back by a force equal to that -used in deflecting it. When, therefore, the prong reaches its original -position, the force impressed on it during its recoil, has generated in -it a corresponding amount of momentum—an amount of momentum nearly -equivalent, that is, to the force originally impressed (nearly, we must -say, because a certain portion has gone in communicating motion to the -air, and a certain other portion has been transformed into heat). This -momentum carries the prong beyond the position of rest, nearly as far as -it was originally drawn in the reverse direction; until at length, being -gradually used up in producing an opposing tension among the particles, -it is all lost. The opposing tension into which the expended momentum -has been transformed, then generates a second recoil; and so on -continually—the vibration eventually ceasing only because at each -movement a certain amount of force goes in creating atmospheric and -etherial undulations. Now it needs but to contemplate this repeated -action and reaction, to see that it is, like every action and reaction, -a consequence of the persistence of force. The force exerted by the -finger in bending the prong cannot disappear. Under what form then does -it exist? It exists under the form of that cohesive tension which it has -generated among the particles. This cohesive tension cannot cease -without an equivalent result. What is its equivalent result? The -momentum generated in the prong while being carried back to its position -of rest. This momentum too—what becomes of it? It must either continue -as momentum, or produce some correlative force of equal amount. It -cannot continue as momentum, since change of place is resisted by the -cohesion of the parts; and thus it gradually disappears by being -transformed into tension among these parts. This is re-transformed into -the equivalent momentum; and so on continuously. If instead of -motion that is directly antagonized by the cohesion of matter, we -consider motion through space, the same truth presents itself under -another form. Though here no opposing force seems at work, and therefore -no cause of rhythm is apparent, yet its own accumulated momentum must -eventually carry the moving body beyond the body attracting it; and so -must become a force at variance with that which generated it. From this -conflict, rhythm necessarily results as in the foregoing case. The force -embodied as momentum in a given direction, cannot be destroyed; and if -it eventually disappears, it re-appears in the reaction on the retarding -body; which begins afresh to draw the now arrested mass back from its -aphelion. The only conditions under which there could be absence of -rhythm—the only conditions, that is, under which there could be a -continuous motion through space in the same straight line for ever, -would be the existence of an infinity void of everything but the moving -body. And neither of these conditions can be represented in thought. -Infinity is inconceivable; and so also is a motion which never had a -commencement in some pre-existing source of power. Thus, then, -rhythm is a necessary characteristic of all motion. Given the -coexistence everywhere of antagonist forces—a postulate which, as we -have seen, is necessitated by the form of our experience—and rhythm is -an inevitable corollary from the persistence of force. - -Hence, throughout that re-arrangement of parts which constitutes -Evolution, we must nowhere expect to see the change from one position of -things to another, effected by continuous movement in the same -direction. Be it in that kind of Evolution which the inorganic creation -presents, or in that presented by the organic creation, we shall -everywhere find a periodicity of action and reaction—a backward and -forward motion, of which progress is a differential result. - ------ - -Footnote 15: - - After having for some years supposed myself alone in the belief that - all motion is rhythmical, I discovered that my friend Professor - Tyndall also held this doctrine. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - THE CONDITIONS ESSENTIAL TO EVOLUTION. - - -§ 100. One more preliminary is needful before proceeding. We have still -to study the conditions under which alone, Evolution can take place. - -The process to be interpreted is, as already said, a certain change in -the arrangement of parts. That increase of heterogeneity commonly -displayed throughout Evolution, is not an increase in the number of -kinds of ultimate or undecomposable units which an aggregate contains; -but it is a change in the distribution of such units. If it be assumed -that what we call chemical elements, are absolutely simple (which is, -however, an hypothesis having no better warrant than the opposite one); -then it must be admitted that in respect to the number of kinds of -matter contained in it, the Earth is not more heterogeneous at present -than it was at first—that in this respect, it would be as heterogeneous -were all its undecomposable parts uniformly mixed, as it is now, when -they are arranged and combined in countless different ways. But the -increase of heterogeneity with which we have to deal, and of which alone -our senses can take cognizance, is that produced by the passage from -unity of distribution to variety of distribution. Given an aggregate -consisting of several orders of primitive units that are unchangeable; -then, these units may be so uniformly dispersed among each other, that -any portion of the mass shall be like any other portion in its sensible -properties; or they may be so segregated, simply and in endless -combinations, that the various portions of the mass shall not be like -each other in their sensible properties. A transformation of one of -these arrangements into the other, is that which constitutes Evolution. -We have to analyze the process through which structural uniformity -becomes structural multiformity—to ascertain how the originally equal -relations of position among the mixed units, pass into relations of -position that are more and more unequal, and more and more numerous in -their kinds of inequality; and how this takes place throughout all the -ascending grades of compound units, until we come even to those of which -societies are made up. - -Change in the relations of position among the component units, simple or -complex, being the phenomenon we have to interpret; we must first -inquire what are the circumstances which prevent its occurrence, and -what are the circumstances which facilitate it. - - * * * * * - -§ 101. The constituents of an aggregate cannot be re-arranged, unless -they are moveable: manifestly, they must not be so firmly bound together -that the incident force fails to alter their positions. No bodies are, -indeed, possessed of this absolute rigidity; since an incident force in -being propagated through a body, always produces temporary alterations -in the relative positions of its units, if not permanent alterations. It -is true also, that even permanent re-arrangements of the units may be -thus wrought throughout the interiors of comparatively dense masses, -without any outward sign: as happens with certain crystals, which, on -exposure to sunlight, undergo molecular changes so great as to alter -their planes of cleavage. Nevertheless, since total immobility of the -parts must totally negative their re-arrangement; and since that -comparative immobility which we see in very coherent matter, is a great -obstacle to re-arrangement; it is self-evident that Evolution can be -exhibited in any considerable degree, only where there is comparative -mobility of parts. On the other hand, those definite distributive -changes which constitute Evolution, cannot be extensively or variously -displayed, where the mobility of the parts is extreme. In liquids, the -cohesion of the units is so slight that there is no permanency in their -relations of position to each other. Such re-arrangement as any incident -force generates, is immediately destroyed again by the momentum of the -constituents moved; and so, nothing but that temporary heterogeneity -seen in circulating currents, can be produced. The like still more -obviously holds of gases. Thus, while the theoretical limits -between which Evolution is possible, are absolute immobility of parts -and absolute mobility of parts; we may say that practically, Evolution -cannot go on to any considerable extent where the mobility is very great -or very little. A few examples will facilitate the realization of this -truth. - -The highest degrees of Evolution are found in semi-solid bodies, or -bodies that come midway between the two extremes specified. Even -semi-solid bodies of the inorganic class, exhibit the segregation of -mixed units with comparative readiness: witness the fact to which -attention was first drawn by Mr. Babbage, that when the pasty mixture of -ground flints and kaolin, prepared for the manufacture of porcelain, is -kept some time, it becomes gritty and unfit for use, in consequence of -the particles of silica separating themselves from the rest, and uniting -together in grains; or witness the fact known to every housewife, that -in long-kept currant-jelly the sugar takes the shape of imbedded -crystals. While throughout the immense majority of the semi-solid -bodies, namely, the organic bodies, the proclivity to a re-arrangement -of parts is so comparatively great, as to be usually taken for a -distinctive characteristic of them. Among organic bodies -themselves, we may trace contrasts having a like significance. It is an -accepted generalization that, other things equal, the rate of Evolution -is greatest where the plasticity is most marked. In that portion of an -egg which displays the formative processes during the early stages of -incubation, the changes of arrangement are more rapid than those which -an equal portion of the body of a hatched chick undergoes. As may be -inferred from their respective powers to acquire habits and aptitudes, -the structural modifiability of a child is greater than that of an adult -man; and the structural modifiability of an adult man is greater than -that of an old man: contrasts which are accompanied by corresponding -contrasts in the densities of the tissues; since the ratio of water to -solid matter diminishes with advancing age. The most decisive -proof, however, is furnished by those marked retardations or arrests of -organic change, that take place when the tissues suffer a great loss of -water. Certain of the lower animals, as the _Rotifera_, may be rendered -apparently lifeless by desiccation, and will yet revive when wetted: as -their substance passes from the fluid-solid to the solid state, it -ceases to be the seat of those changes which constitute functional -activity and cause structural advance; and such changes recommence as -their substance passes from the solid to the fluid-solid state. -Analogous instances occur among much higher animals. When the African -rivers which it inhabits are dried up, the _Lepidosiren_ remains torpid -in the hardened mud, until the return of the rainy season brings water. -Humboldt states that during the summer drought, the alligators of the -Pampas lie buried in a state of suspended animation beneath the parched -surface, and struggle up out of the earth as soon as it becomes humid. -Now though we have no proof that these partial arrests of vital -activity, are consequent on the reduction of the fluid-solid tissues to -a more solid form; yet their occurrence along with a cessation in the -supply of water, is reason for suspecting that this is the case. And -similarly, though in the more numerous instances where loss of water -leads to complete arrest of vital activity, we are unable to say that -the immediate cause is a stoppage of molecular changes that results from -a diminution of molecular mobility; yet it seems not improbable that -this is the rationale of death by thirst. - -Probably few will expect to find this same condition to Evolution, -illustrated in aggregates so widely different in kind as societies. Yet -even here it may be shown that no considerable degree of Evolution is -exhibited, where there is either great mobility of the parts, or great -immobility of them. In such tribes as those inhabiting Australia, we see -extremely little cohesion among the units: there is neither that partial -fixity of relative positions which results from the commencement of -agriculture, nor that partial fixity of relative positions implied by -the establishment of social grades. And along with this want of -cohesion, we find an absence of permanent differentiations. Conversely, -in societies of the oriental type, where accumulated traditions, laws, -and usages, and long-fixed class-arrangements, exercise great -restraining power over individual actions, we find Evolution almost -stopped. Through the medium of institutions and opinions, the forces -brought to bear on each unit by the rest, are so great as to prevent the -units from sensibly yielding to forces tending to re-arrange them. The -condition most favourable to increase of social heterogeneity, is a -medium coherence among the parts—a moderate facility of change in the -relations of citizens, joined with a moderate resistance to such -change—a considerable freedom of individual actions, qualified by a -considerable restraint over individual actions—a certain attachment to -pre-established arrangements, and a certain readiness to be impelled by -new influences into new arrangements—a compromise between fixity and -unfixity such as that which we, perhaps as much as any nation, exhibit. - - * * * * * - -§ 102. Another condition to Evolution, of the same order as the last -though of a different genus, must be noted. We have found that permanent -re-arrangement among the units of an aggregate, can take place only when -they have neither extreme immobility nor extreme mobility. The mobility -and immobility thus far considered (at least in all aggregates except -social ones) are those due to mechanical cohesion. There is, however, -what we must call chemical cohesion, which also influences the mobility -of the units, and consequently the re-arrangement of them. Manifestly, -if two or more kinds of units contained in any aggregate, are united by -powerful affinities, an incident force, failing to destroy their -cohesions, will not cause such various re-arrangements as it would, -could it produce new chemical combinations as well as new mechanical -adjustments. On the other hand, chemical affinities that are easily -overcome, must be favourable to multiplied re-arrangements of the units. - -This condition, as well as the preceding one, is fulfilled in the -highest degree, by those aggregates which most variously display the -transformation of the uniform into the multiform. Organic bodies are on -the average distinguished from inorganic bodies, by the readiness with -which the compounds they consist of undergo decomposition, and -recomposition: the chemical cohesions of their components are so -comparatively small, that small incident forces suffice to overcome them -and cause transpositions of the components. Further, between the two -great divisions of organisms, we find a contrast in the degree of -Evolution co-existing with a contrast in the degree of chemical -modifiability. As a class, the nitrogenous compounds are peculiarly -unstable; and, speaking generally, these are present in much larger -quantities in animal tissues than they are in vegetal tissues; while, -speaking generally, animals are much more heterogeneous than plants. - -Under this head it may be well also to point out that, other things -equal, the structural variety which is possible in any aggregate, must -bear a relation to the number of kinds of units contained in the -aggregate. A body made up of units of one order, cannot admit of so many -different re-arrangements, as one made up of units of two orders. And -each additional order of units must increase, in a geometrical -proportion, the number of re-arrangements that may be made. - - * * * * * - -§ 103. Yet one more condition to be specified, is the state of agitation -in which the constituents of an aggregate are kept. A familiar -expedience will introduce us to this condition. When a vessel has been -filled to the brim with loose fragments, shaking the vessel causes them -to settle down into less space, so that more may be put in. And when -among these fragments, there are some of much greater specific gravity -than the rest, these will, in the course of a prolonged shaking, find -their way to the bottom. What now is the meaning of these two results, -when expressed in general terms? We have a group of units acted on by an -incident force—the attraction of the Earth. So long as these units are -not agitated, this incident force produces no changes in their relative -positions; agitate them, and immediately their loose arrangement passes -into a more compact arrangement. Again, so long as they are not -agitated, the incident force cannot separate the heavier units from the -lighter; agitate them, and immediately the heavier units begin to -segregate. By these illustrations, a rude idea will be conveyed of the -effect which vibration has in facilitating those re-arrangements which -constitute Evolution. What here happens with visible units subject to -visible oscillations, happens also with invisible units subject to -invisible oscillations. - -One or two cases in which these oscillations are of mechanical origin, -may first be noted. When a bar of steel is suspended in the magnetic -meridian, and repeatedly so struck as to send vibrations through it, it -becomes magnetized: the magnetic force of the Earth, which does not -permanently affect it while undisturbed, alters its internal state when -a mechanical agitation is propagated among its particles; and the -alteration is believed by physicists, to be a molecular re-arrangement. -It may be fairly objected that this re-arrangement is hypothetical; and -did the fact stand alone, it would be of little worth. It gains -significance, however, when joined with the fact that in the same -substance, long-continued mechanical vibrations are followed by -molecular re-arrangements that are abundantly visible. A piece of iron -which, when it leaves the workshop, is fibrous in structure, will become -crystalline if exposed to a perpetual jar. Though the polar forces -mutually exercised by the atoms, fail to change their disorderly -arrangement into an orderly arrangement while the atoms are relatively -quiescent, these forces produce this change when the atoms are kept in a -state of intestine disturbance. - -But the effects which visible oscillations and oscillations sensible to -touch, have in facilitating the re-arrangement of parts by an incident -force, are insignificant compared with the effects which insensible -oscillations have in aiding such change of structure. It is a doctrine -now generally accepted among men of science, that the particles of -tangible matter, as well as the particles of ether, undulate. As -interpreted in conformity with this doctrine, the heat of a body is -simply its state of molecular motion. A mass which feels cold, is one -having but slight molecular motion, and conveying but slight molecular -motion to the surrounding medium or to the hand touching it. A mass hot -enough to radiate a sensible warmth, is one of which the more violently -agitated molecules, communicate increased undulations to the surrounding -ethereal medium; while the burn inflicted by it on the skin, is the -expression of increased undulations of the organic molecules. Such -further heat as produces softening and a consequent distortion of the -mass, is an agitation so much augmented that the units can no longer -completely maintain their relative positions. Fusion is an agitation so -extreme, that the relative positions of the units are changeable with -ease. When, finally, at a still higher temperature, the liquid is -transformed into a gas, the explanation is, that the oscillations are so -violent as to overbalance that force which held the units in close -contiguity—so violent as to keep the units at those relatively great -distances apart to which they are now thrown. Since the -establishment of the correlation between heat and motion first gave -probability to this hypothesis, it has been receiving various -confirmations—especially by recent remarkable discoveries respecting the -absorption of heat by gases. Prof. Tyndall has proved that the quantity -of heat which any gas takes up from rays of heat passing through it, has -a distinct relation to the complexity of the atoms composing the gas. -The simple gases abstract but little; the gases composed of binary atoms -abstract, say in round numbers, a hundred times as much; while the gases -composed of atoms severally containing three, four, or more simple ones, -abstract something like a thousand times as much. These differences -Prof. Tyndall regards as due to the different abilities of the different -atoms to take up, in the increase of their own undulations, those -undulations of the ethereal medium which constitute heat—an -interpretation in perfect accordance with the late results of -spectrum-analysis; which go to show that the various elementary atoms, -when in an aeriform state, intercept those luminiferous vibrations of -the ether which are in unison or harmony with their own. And since it -holds of solid as of gaseous matters, that those consisting of simple -units transmit heat far more readily than those consisting of complex -units; we get confirmation of the inference otherwise reached, that the -units of matter in whatever state of aggregation they exist, oscillate, -and that variations of temperature are variations in the amounts of -their oscillations. - -Proceeding on this hypothesis, which it would be out of place here to -defend at greater length, we have now to note how the re-arrangement of -parts is facilitated by these insensible vibrations, as we have seen it -to be by sensible vibrations. One or two cases of physical -re-arrangement may first be noted. When some molten glass is -dropped into water, and when its outside is thus, by sudden -solidification, prevented from partaking in that contraction which the -subsequent cooling of the inside tends to produce; the units are left in -such a state of tension, that the mass flies into fragments if a small -portion of it be broken off. But now, if this mass be kept for a day or -two at a considerable heat, though a heat not sufficient to alter its -form or produce any sensible diminution of hardness, this extreme -brittleness disappears: the component particles being thrown into -greater agitation, the tensile forces are enabled to re-arrange them -into a state of equilibrium. An illustration of another order is -furnished by the subsidence of fine precipitates. These sink down very -slowly from solutions that are cold; while warm solutions deposit them -with comparative rapidity. That is to say, an increase of molecular -vibration throughout the mass, allows the suspended particles to -separate more readily from the particles of fluid. The effect of -heat on chemical re-arrangement is so familiar, that examples are -scarcely needed. Be the substances concerned gaseous, liquid, or solid, -it equally holds that their chemical unions and disunions are aided by a -rise of temperature. Affinities which do not suffice to effect the -re-arrangement of mixed units that are in a state of feeble agitation, -suffice to effect it when the agitation is raised to a certain point. -And so long as this molecular motion is not great enough to prevent -those chemical cohesions which the affinities tend to produce, increase -of it gives increased facility of chemical re-arrangement. - -This condition, in common with the preceding ones, is fulfilled most -completely in those aggregates which exhibit the phenomena of Evolution -in the highest degree; namely, the organic aggregates. And throughout -the various orders and states of these, we find minor contrasts showing -the relation between amount of molecular vibration and activity of the -metamorphic changes. Such contrasts may be arranged in the several -following groups. Speaking generally, the phenomena of Evolution -are manifested in a much lower degree throughout the vegetal kingdom -than throughout the animal kingdom; and speaking generally, the heat of -plants is less than that of animals. Among plants themselves, the -organic changes vary in rate as the temperature varies. Though light is -the agent which effects those molecular changes causing vegetal growth, -yet we see that in the absence of heat, such changes are not effected: -in winter there is enough light, but the heat being insufficient, -plant-life is suspended. That this is the sole cause of the suspension, -is proved by the fact that at the same season, plants contained in -hot-houses, where they receive even a smaller amount of light, go on -producing leaves and flowers. A comparison of the several -divisions of the animal kingdom with each other, shows among them -parallel relations. Regarded as a whole, vertebrate animals are higher -in temperature than invertebrate ones; and they are as a whole higher in -organic activity and development. Between subdivisions of the vertebrata -themselves, like differences in the state of molecular vibration, -accompany like differences in the degree of evolution. The least -heterogeneous of the vertebrata are the fishes; and in most cases, the -heat of fishes is nearly the same as that of the water in which they -swim: only some of them being decidedly warmer. Though we habitually -speak of reptiles as cold-blooded; and though they have not much more -power than fishes of maintaining a temperature above that of their -medium; yet since their medium (which is, in the majority of cases, the -air of warm climates) is on the average warmer than the medium inhabited -by fishes, the temperature of the class of reptiles is higher than that -of the class of fishes; and we see in them a correspondingly higher -complexity. The much more active molecular agitation in mammals and -birds, is associated with a considerably greater multiformity of -structure and a very much greater vivacity. And though birds, which are -hotter blooded than mammals, do not show us a greater multiformity; yet, -judging from their apparently greater locomotive powers, we may infer -more rapid functional changes, which, equally with structural changes, -imply molecular re-arrangement. The most instructive contrasts, -however, are those presented by the same organic aggregates at different -temperatures. Thus we see that ova undergoing development, must be kept -more or less warm—that in the absence of a certain molecular vibration, -the re-arrangement of parts does not go on. We see, again, that in -hybernating animals, loss of heat carried to a particular point, results -in extreme retardation of the organic changes. Yet further, we see that -in animals which do not hybernate, as in man, prolonged exposure to -extreme cold, produces an irresistible tendency to sleep (which implies -a lowering of the functional activity); and then, if the abstraction of -heat continues, this sleep ends in death, or arrest of functional -activity. Lastly, we see that when the temperature is lowered till the -contained water solidifies, there is a stoppage not only of those -molecular re-arrangements which constitute life and development, but -also of those molecular re-arrangements which constitute decomposition. - -Evidently then, both sensible and insensible agitations among the -components of an aggregate, facilitate any re-distributions to which -there may be a tendency. When that rhythmic change in the relative -positions of the units which constitutes vibration, is considerable, the -relative positions of the units more readily undergo permanent changes -through the action of incident forces. - - * * * * * - -§ 104. These special conditions to Evolution, are clearly but different -forms of one general condition. The abstract proposition, that a -permanent re-arrangement of units is possible only when they have -neither absolute immobility nor absolute mobility with respect to each -other, we saw to be practically equivalent to the proposition, that -extreme cohesion and extreme want of cohesion among the units are -unfavourable to Evolution. Be this cohesion or want of cohesion that -which physically characterizes the matter as we ordinarily know it; be -it that cohesion or want of cohesion distinguished as chemical; or be it -that cohesion or want of cohesion consequent on the degree of molecular -vibration; matters not, in so far as the general conclusion is -concerned. Inductively as well as deductively, we find that the genesis -of such permanent changes in the relative positions of parts, as can be -effected without destroying the continuity of the aggregate, implies a -medium stability in the relative positions of the parts: be this -stability physical, chemical, or that which varies with the state of -agitation. And as might be anticipated _à priori_, it is proved _à -posteriori_, that this re-arrangement of parts goes on most actively in -those aggregates whose units are moderately influenced by all these -forces which affect their mobility. - -Here also may properly be added the remark, that to effect these changes -in the relative positions of parts, the incident forces must range -within certain limits. It is wholly a question of the ratio between -those agencies which hold the units in their positions, and those -agencies which tend to change their positions. Having given intensities -in the powers that oppose re-arrangement, there need proportionate -intensities in the powers that work re-arrangement. As there must be -neither too great nor too little cohesion; so there must be neither too -little nor too great amounts of the influences antagonistic to cohesion. -While a slight mechanical strain produces no lasting alterations in the -relative positions of parts, an excessive mechanical strain causes -disruption—causes so great an alteration in the relative positions of -parts as to destroy their union in one aggregate. While a very feeble -chemical affinity brought to bear on the associated units, fails to work -any re-arrangement of them; a chemical affinity that is extremely -intense, destroys their structural continuity, and reduces such complex -re-arrangements as have been made, to comparatively simple ones. And -while in the absence of adequate thermal undulations, the units have not -freedom enough to obey the re-arranging influences impressed on them, -the incidence of violent thermal undulations gives them such extreme -freedom that they break their connexions, and the aggregate lapses into -a liquid or gaseous form. - -On the one hand, therefore, the statical forces which uphold the state -of aggregation must not be so great as wholly to prevent those changes -of relative position among the units which the dynamical forces tend to -produce; and, on the other hand, the dynamical forces must not be so -great as wholly to overcome the statical forces, and destroy the state -of aggregation. The excess of the dynamical forces must be sufficient to -produce Evolution, but not sufficient to produce Dissolution. - - * * * * * - -§ 105. And now we are naturally introduced to a consideration which, -though it does not come quite within the limits of this chapter as -expressed in its title, may yet be more conveniently dealt with here -than elsewhere. Hitherto we have studied the metamorphosis of things, -only as exhibited in the changed distribution of matter. It remains to -look at it as exhibited in the changed distribution of motion. The -definition of Evolution in its material aspect, has to be supplemented -by a definition of Evolution in its dynamical aspect. - -On inquiring the source of the sensible motions seen in every kind of -Evolution, we find them all traceable to insensible motions; either of -that tangible matter which we perceive as constituting the objects -around us, or of that intangible matter which we infer as occupying -space. A brief reconsideration of the facts will make this obvious. - The formation of celestial bodies, supposing it caused by the -union of dispersed units, must, from the beginning, have involved a -diminished motion of these units with respect to each other; and such -motion as each resulting body acquired, must previously have existed in -the motions of its units. If concrete matter has arisen by the -aggregation of diffused matter, then concrete motion has arisen by the -aggregation of diffused motion. That which now exists as the movement of -masses, implies the cessation of an equivalent molecular movement. - Those transpositions of matter which constitute geological -changes, are clearly referable to the same source. As before shown, the -denudation of lands and deposit of new strata, are effected by water in -the course of its descent from the clouds to the sea, or during the -arrest of those undulations produced on it by winds; and, as before -shown, the elevation of water to the height whence it fell, is due to -solar heat, as is also the genesis of those aerial currents which drift -it about when evaporated and agitate its surface when condensed. That is -to say, the molecular motion of the etherial medium, is transformed into -the motion of gases, thence into the motion of liquids, and thence into -the motion of solids—stages in each of which, successively, a certain -amount of molecular motion is lost and an equivalent motion of masses -produced. If we seek the origin of vital movements, we soon reach -a like conclusion. The actinic rays issuing from the Sun, enable the -plant to reduce special elements existing in gaseous combination around -it, to a solid form,—enable the plant, that is, to grow and carry on its -functional changes. And since growth, equally with circulation of sap, -is a mode of sensible motion, while those rays which have been expended -in generating it consist of insensible motions, we have here, too, a -transformation of the kind alleged. Animals, derived as their forces -are, directly or indirectly, from plants, carry this transformation a -step further. The automatic movements of the viscera, together with the -voluntary movements of the limbs and body at large, arise at the expense -of certain molecular movements throughout the nervous and muscular -tissues; and these originally arose at the expense of certain other -molecular movements propagated by the Sun to the Earth; so that both the -structural and functional motions which organic Evolution displays, are -motions of aggregates generated by the arrested motions of units. - Even with the aggregates of these aggregates the same rule holds. -For among associated men, the progress is ever towards a merging of -individual actions in the actions of corporate bodies. An undeveloped -society is composed of members between whom there is little concert: -they fulfil their several wants without mutual aid; and only on -occasions of aggression or defence, act together—occasions on which -their combination, small as it is in extent, frequently fails because it -is so imperfect. In the course of civilization, however, co-operation -becomes step by step more decided. As tribes grow into nations, there -result larger aggregates, each of which has a joint political life—a -common policy and movement with respect to other aggregates. Legislative -and administrative progress, involves an increase in the number of -restraining agents brought into united and simultaneous action. In -military organization, we see an advance from small undisciplined hordes -of armed men, to vast bodies of regular troops, so drilled that the -movements of the units are entirely subordinated to the movements of the -masses. Nor does industrial development fail to show parallel changes. -Beginning with independent workers, and passing step by step to the -employment of several assistants by one master, there has ever been, and -still is, a progress towards the co-operation of greater masses of -labourers in the same establishment, and towards the union of -capitalists into more numerous and larger companies: in both which kinds -of combined action, equivalent amounts of individual action disappear. - Under all its forms, then, Evolution, considered dynamically, is a -decrease in the relative movements of parts, and an increase in the -relative movements of wholes—using the words parts and wholes in their -widest senses. From the infinitesimal motions of those infinitesimal -units composing the etherial medium, to the larger though still -insensible motions of the larger though still insensible units composing -gaseous, fluid, and solid matter, and thence to the visible motions of -visible aggregates, the advance is from molecular motion to the motion -of masses. - -But now what of the converse process? If the foregoing proposition is -true, then a change from the motion of masses to molecular motion, is -the opposite to Evolution—is Dissolution. Is this so? Of inorganic -dissolution we have but little experience; or at least, our experience -of it is on too small a scale to exhibit it as the antithesis of -Evolution. We know, indeed, that when solids are dissolved in liquids, -their dissolution implies increased movements of their units, at the -expense of diminished movements among the units of their solvents; and -we know that when a liquid evaporates, its dissipation or dissolution -similarly implies greater relative movements of the units, and decrease -of such combined movement as they before had. But since these small -aggregates of inorganic matter, do not exhibit the phenomena of -Evolution, save in the form of simple integration; so they do not -exhibit the phenomena of dissolution, save in the form of simple -disintegration. Of organic dissolution, however, our experience -suffices to show that it is a decrease of combined motion, and an -increase in the motion of uncombined parts. The gradual cessation of -functions, vegetal or animal, is a cessation of the sensible movements -of fluids and solids. In animals, the impulsions of the body from place -to place, first cease; presently the limbs cannot be stirred; later -still the respiratory actions stop; finally the heart becomes -stationary, and, with it, the circulating fluids. That is, the -transformation of molecular motion into the motion of masses, comes to -an end. What next takes place? We cannot say that sensible movements are -transformed into insensible movements; for sensible movements no longer -exist. Nevertheless, the process of decay involves an increase of -insensible movements; since this is far greater in the gases generated -by decomposition, than it is in the fluid-solid matters generating them. -Indeed, it might be contended that as, during Dissolution, there is a -change from the vibration of large compound atoms to the vibration of -small and comparatively simple ones, the process is strictly -antithetical to that of Evolution. In conformity with the now current -conception lately explained, each of the highly complex chemical units -composing an organic body, possesses a rhythmic movement—a movement in -which its many component units jointly partake. When decomposition -breaks up these highly complex atoms, and their constituents assume a -gaseous form, there is both an increase of molecular motion implied by -the diffusion, and a further increase implied by the resolving of such -motions as the aggregate atoms possessed, into motions of their -constituent atoms. So that in organic dissolution we have, first, an end -put to that transformation of the motion of units into the motion of -aggregates, which constitutes Evolution, dynamically considered; and we -have also, though in a subtler sense, a transformation of the motion of -aggregates into the motion of units. The formula equally applies -to the dissolution of a society. When social ties, be they governmental -or industrial, are destroyed, the combined actions of citizens lapse -into uncombined actions. Those general forces which restrained -individual doings, having disappeared, the only remaining restraints are -those separately exercised by individuals on each other. There are no -longer any of the joint operations by which men satisfy their wants; -and, in so far as they can, they satisfy their wants by separate -operations. That is to say, the movement of parts replaces the movement -of wholes. - -Under its dynamical aspect then, Evolution, so far as we can trace it, -is a change from molecular motion to the motion of masses; while -Dissolution, so far as we can trace it, is a change from the motion of -masses to molecular motion. - - * * * * * - -§ 106. To these abstract definitions may be added concrete ones. Besides -an integration of motions corresponding to the integration of masses, -Evolution involves an increase in the multiformity of the motions, -corresponding to the increase in the multiformity of the masses. If, -contemplating it as materially displayed, we find Evolution to consist -in the change from an indefinite, homogeneous distribution of parts to a -definite, heterogeneous distribution of parts; then, contemplating -Evolution as dynamically displayed, it consists in a change from -indefinite, homogeneous motions to definite, heterogeneous motions. - -This change takes place under the form of an increased variety of -rhythms. We have already seen that all motion is rhythmical, from the -infinitesimal vibrations of infinitesimal molecules, up to those vast -oscillations between perihelion and aphelion performed by vast celestial -bodies. And as the contrast between these extreme cases suggests, a -multiplication of rhythms must accompany a multiplication in the degrees -and modes of aggregation, and in the relations of the aggregated masses -to incident forces. The degree or mode of aggregation will not, indeed, -affect the rate or extent of rhythm where the incident force increases -as the aggregate increases, which is the case with gravitation: here the -only cause of variation in rhythm, is difference of relation to the -incident forces; as we see in a pendulum, which, though unaffected in -its movements by a change in the weight of the bob, alters its rate of -oscillation when taken to the equator. But in all cases where the -incident forces do not vary as the masses, every new order of -aggregation initiates a new order of rhythm: witness the conclusion -drawn from the recent researches into radiant heat and light, that the -atoms of different gases have different rates of undulation. So that -increased multiformity in the arrangement of matter, has necessarily -generated increased multiformity of rhythm; both through increased -variety in the sizes and forms of aggregates, and through increased -variety in their relations to the forces which move them. The -advancing heterogeneity of motion, thus entailed by advancing -heterogeneity in the distribution of matter, does not, however, end -here. Besides multiplication in the kinds of rhythm, there is a -progressing complexity in their combinations. As there arise wholes -composed of heterogeneous parts, each of which has its own rhythm, there -must arise compound rhythms proportionately heterogeneous. We before saw -that this is visible even in the cyclical perturbations of the Solar -System—simple as are its structure and movements. And when we -contemplate highly-developed organic bodies, we find the complication of -rhythms so great, that it defies definite analysis, and from moment to -moment works out in resultants that are incalculable. - -This conception of Evolution forms a needful complement to that on which -we have hitherto chiefly dwelt. To comprehend the phenomena in their -entirety, we have to contemplate both the increasing multiformity of -parts, and the increasing multiformity of the actions simultaneously -assumed by these parts. At the same time that there are differentiations -and integrations of the matter, there are differentiations and -integrations of its motion. And this increasingly heterogeneous -distribution of motion, constitutes Evolution _functionally_ considered; -as distinguished from that increasingly heterogeneous distribution of -matter, which constitutes Evolution _structurally_ considered. While of -course, Dissolution exhibits the transition to a reverse distribution, -both structurally and functionally. - - * * * * * - -§ 107. One other preliminary must be set down. When specifically -interpreting Evolution, we shall have to consider under their concrete -forms, the various resolutions of force that follow its conflict with -matter. Here it will be well to contemplate such resolutions under their -most general or abstract forms. - -Any incident force is primarily resolvable or divisible into its -_effective_ and _non-effective_ portions. In mechanical impact, the -entire momentum of a striking body is never communicated to the body -struck: even under those most favourable conditions in which the -striking body loses all its sensible motion, there still remains with it -a portion of the original momentum, under the shape of that insensible -motion produced among its particles by the collision. Of the light or -heat falling on any mass, a part, more or less considerable, is -reflected; and only the remaining part works molecular changes in the -mass. Next it is to be noted that the effective force, is itself -divisible into the _temporarily effective_ and the _permanently -effective_. The units of an aggregate acted on, may undergo those -rhythmical changes of relative position which constitute increased -vibration, as well as other changes of relative position which are not -from instant to instant neutralized by opposite ones. Of these, the -first, disappearing in the shape of radiating undulations, leave the -molecular arrangement as it originally was; while the second conduce to -that re-arrangement constituting Evolution. Yet a further -distinction has to be made. The permanently effective force works out -changes of relative position of two kinds—the _insensible_ and the -_sensible_. The insensible transpositions among the units are those -constituting what we call chemical composition and decomposition; and it -is these which we recognize as the qualitative differences that arise in -an aggregate. The sensible transpositions are such as result when -certain of the units, instead of being put into different relations with -their immediate neighbours, are carried away from them and united -together elsewhere. - -Concerning these divisions and sub-divisions of any force affecting an -aggregate, the fact which it chiefly concerns us to observe, is, that -they are complementary to each other. Of the whole incident force, the -effective must be that which remains after deducting the non-effective. -The two parts of the effective force must vary inversely as each other: -where much of it is temporarily effective, little of it can be -permanently effective; and _vice versâ_. Lastly, the permanently -effective force, being expended in working both the insensible -re-arrangements which constitute chemical modification, and the sensible -re-arrangements which result in structure, must generate of either kind -an amount that is great or small in proportion as it has generated a -small or great amount of the other. - - * * * * * - -§ 108. And now of the propositions grouped together in this chapter, it -may be well to remark that, in common with foregoing propositions, they -have for their warrant the fundamental truth with which our synthesis -set out. - -That when a given force falls on any aggregate, the permanently -effective part of it will produce an amount of re-arrangement that is -inversely proportional to the cohesion existing among the parts of the -aggregate, is demonstrable _à priori_. Whether the cohesion be -mechanical or chemical, or whether it be temporarily modified by a -changed degree of molecular vibration, matters not to the general -conclusion. In all these cases it follows from the persistence of force, -that in proportion as the units offer great resistance to alteration in -their relative positions, must the amount of motion which a given force -impresses on them be small. The proposition is in fact an identical one; -since the cohesion of units is known to be great or small, only by the -smallness or greatness of the re-arrangement which a given incident -force produces. - -The continuity of motion we found to be a corollary from the persistence -of force; and from the continuity of motion, it follows that molecular -motion and the motion of masses can be respectively increased only at -each other’s expense. Hence, if in the course of Evolution there arises -a motion of masses that did not before exist, there must have ceased an -equivalent molecular motion; and if in the course of Dissolution there -arises a molecular motion that did not before exist, an equivalent -motion of masses must have disappeared. - -Equally necessary is the conclusion that the several results of the -force expended on any aggregate, must be complementary to each other. It -is not less obviously a corollary from the persistence of force, that of -the whole incident force the effective is the part which remains after -deducting the non-effective; than it is, that of the effective force, -whatever does not work permanent results, works temporary results, and -that such amount of the permanently effective force as is not absorbed -in producing insensible re-arrangements, will produce sensible -re-arrangements. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - THE INSTABILITY OF THE HOMOGENEOUS.[16] - - -§ 109. Thus far our steps towards the interpretation of Evolution have -been preparatory. We have dealt with the factors of the process, rather -than the process itself. After the ultimate truth that, Matter, Motion, -and Force, as cognizable by human intelligence, can neither come into -existence nor cease to exist, we have considered certain other ultimate -truths concerning the modes in which Force and Motion are manifested -during the changes they produce in Matter. Now we have to study the -changes themselves. We have here to analyze that re-arrangement in the -parts of Matter, which occurs under the influence of Force, that is -unchangeable in quantity though changeable in form, through the medium -of Motion taking place rhythmically along lines of least resistance. The -proposition which comes first in logical order, is, that some -re-arrangement must result; and this proposition may be best dealt with -under the more specific shape, that the condition of homogeneity is a -condition of unstable equilibrium. - -First, as to the meaning of the terms; respecting which some readers may -need explanation. The phrase _unstable equilibrium_ is one used in -mechanics to express a balance of forces of such kind, that the -interference of any further force, however minute, will destroy the -arrangement previously subsisting; and bring about a totally different -arrangement. Thus, a stick poised on its lower end is in unstable -equilibrium: however exactly it may be placed in a perpendicular -position, as soon as it is left to itself it begins, at first -imperceptibly, to lean on one side, and with increasing rapidity falls -into another attitude. Conversely, a stick suspended from its upper end -is in stable equilibrium: however much disturbed, it will return to the -same position. The proposition is, then, that the state of homogeneity, -like the state of the stick poised on its lower end, is one that cannot -be maintained. Let us take a few illustrations. - -Of mechanical ones the most familiar is that of the scales. If they be -accurately made, and not clogged by dirt or rust, it is impossible to -keep a pair of scales perfectly balanced: eventually one scale will -descend and the other ascend—they will assume a heterogeneous relation. -Again, if we sprinkle over the surface of a fluid a number of -equal-sized particles, having an attraction for each other, they will, -no matter how uniformly distributed, by and by concentrate irregularly -into one or more groups. Were it possible to bring a mass of water into -a state of perfect homogeneity—a state of complete quiescence, and -exactly equal density throughout—yet the radiation of heat from -neighbouring bodies, by affecting differently its different parts, would -inevitably produce inequalities of density and consequent currents; and -would so render it to that extent heterogeneous. Take a piece of red-hot -matter, and however evenly heated it may at first be, it will quickly -cease to be so: the exterior, cooling faster than the interior, will -become different in temperature from it. And the lapse into -heterogeneity of temperature, so obvious in this extreme case, takes -place more or less in all cases. The action of chemical forces -supplies other illustrations. Expose a fragment of metal to air or -water, and in course of time it will be coated with a film of oxide, -carbonate, or other compound: that is—its outer parts will become unlike -its inner parts. Usually the heterogeneity produced by the action of -chemical forces on the surfaces of masses, is not striking; because the -changed portions are soon washed away, or otherwise removed. But if this -is prevented, comparatively complex structures result. Quarries of -trap-rock contain some striking examples. Not unfrequently a piece of -trap may be found reduced, by the action of the weather, to a number of -loosely-adherent coats, like those of an onion. Where the block has been -quite undisturbed, we may trace the whole series of these, from the -angular, irregular outer one, through successively included ones in -which the shape becomes gradually rounded, ending finally in a spherical -nucleus. On comparing the original mass of stone with this group of -concentric coats, each of which differs from the rest in form, and -probably in the state of decomposition at which it has arrived, we get a -marked illustration of the multiformity to which, in lapse of time, a -uniform body may be brought by external chemical action. The -instability of the homogeneous is equally seen in the changes set up -throughout the interior of a mass, when it consists of units that are -not rigidly bound together. The atoms of a precipitate never remain -separate, and equably distributed through the fluid in which they make -their appearance. They aggregate either into crystalline grains, each -containing an immense number of atoms, or they aggregate into flocculi, -each containing a yet larger number; and where the mass of fluid is -great, and the process prolonged, these flocculi do not continue -equidistant, but break up into groups. That is to say, there is a -destruction of the balance at first subsisting among the diffused -particles, and also of the balance at first subsisting among the groups -into which these particles unite. Certain solutions of -non-crystalline substances in highly volatile liquids, exhibit in the -course of half an hour a whole series of changes that are set up in the -alleged way. If for example a little shell-lac-varnish (made by -dissolving shell-lac in coal-naphtha until it is of the consistence of -cream) be poured on a piece of paper, the surface of the varnish will -shortly become marked by polygonal divisions, which, first appearing -round the edge of the mass, spread towards its centre. Under a lense -these irregular polygons of five or more sides, are seen to be severally -bounded by dark lines, on each side of which there are light-coloured -borders. By the addition of matter to their inner edges, the borders -slowly broaden, and thus encroach on the areas of the polygons; until at -length there remains nothing but a dark spot in the centre of each. At -the same time the boundaries of the polygons become curved; and they end -by appearing like spherical sacs pressed together; strangely simulating -(but only simulating) a group of nucleated cells. Here a rapid loss of -homogeneity is exhibited in three ways:—First, in the formation of the -film, which is the seat of these changes; second, in the formation of -the polygonal sections into which this film divides; and third, in the -contrast that arises between the polygonal sections round the edge, -where they are small and early formed, and those in the centre which are -larger and formed later. - -The instability thus variously illustrated is obviously consequent on -the fact, that the several parts of any homogeneous aggregation are -necessarily exposed to different forces—forces that differ either in -kind or amount; and being exposed to different forces they are of -necessity differently modified. The relations of outside and inside, and -of comparative nearness to neighbouring sources of influence, imply the -reception of influences that are unlike in quantity or quality, or both; -and it follows that unlike changes will be produced in the parts thus -dissimilarly acted upon. - -For like reasons it is manifest that the process must repeat itself in -each of the subordinate groups of units that are differentiated by the -modifying forces. Each of these subordinate groups, like the original -group, must gradually, in obedience to the influences acting upon it, -lose its balance of parts—must pass from a uniform into a multiform -state. And so on continuously. Whence indeed it is clear that not -only must the homogeneous lapse into the non-homogeneous, but that the -more homogeneous must tend ever to become less homogeneous. If any given -whole, instead of being absolutely uniform throughout, consist of parts -distinguishable from each other—if each of these parts, while somewhat -unlike other parts, is uniform within itself; then, each of them being -in unstable equilibrium, it follows that while the changes set up within -it must render it multiform, they must at the same time render the whole -more multiform than before. The general principle, now to be followed -out in its applications, is thus somewhat more comprehensive than the -title of the chapter implies. No demurrer to the conclusions drawn, can -be based on the ground that perfect homogeneity nowhere exists; since, -whether that state with which we commence be or be not one of perfect -homogeneity, the process must equally be towards a relative -heterogeneity. - - * * * * * - -§ 110. The stars are distributed with a three-fold irregularity. There -is first the marked contrast between the plane of the milky way and -other parts of the heavens, in respect of the quantities of stars within -given visual areas. There are secondary contrasts of like kind in the -milky way itself, which has its thick and thin places; as well as -throughout the celestial spaces in general, which are much more closely -strewn in some regions than in others. And there is a third order of -contrasts produced by the aggregation of stars into small clusters. -Besides this heterogeneity of distribution of the stars in general, -considered without distinction of kinds, a further such heterogeneity is -disclosed when they are classified by their differences of colour, which -doubtless answer to differences of physical constitution. While the -yellow stars are found in all parts of the heavens, the red and blue -stars are not so: there are wide regions in which both red and blue -stars are rare; there are regions in which the blue occur in -considerable numbers, and there are other regions in which the red are -comparatively abundant. Yet one more irregularity of like significance -is presented by the nebulæ,—aggregations of matter which, whatever be -their nature, most certainly belong to our sidereal system. For the -nebulæ are not dispersed with anything like uniformity; but are abundant -around the poles of the galactic circle and rare in the neighbourhood of -its plane. No one will expect that anything like a definite -interpretation of this structure can be given on the hypothesis of -Evolution, or any other hypothesis. The most that can be looked for is -some reason for thinking that irregularities, not improbably of these -kinds, would occur in the course of Evolution, supposing it to have -taken place. Any one called on to assign such reason might argue, that -if the matter of which stars and all other celestial bodies consist, be -assumed to have originally existed in a diffused form throughout a space -far more vast even than that which our sidereal system now occupies, the -instability of the homogeneous would negative its continuance in that -state. In default of an absolute balance among the forces with which the -dispersed particles acted on each other (which could not exist in any -aggregation having limits) he might show that motion and consequent -changes of distribution would necessarily result. The next step in the -argument would be that in matter of such extreme tenuity and feeble -cohesion there would be motion towards local centres of gravity, as well -as towards the general centre of gravity; just as, to use a humble -illustration, the particles of a precipitate aggregate into flocculi at -the same time that they sink towards the earth. He might urge that in -the one case as in the other, these smallest and earliest local -aggregations must gradually divide into groups, each concentrating to -its own centre of gravity,—a process which must repeat itself on a -larger and larger scale. In conformity with the law that motion once set -up in any direction becomes itself a cause of subsequent motion in that -direction, he might further infer that the heterogeneities thus set up -would tend ever to become more pronounced. Established mechanical -principles would justify him in the conclusion that the motions of these -irregular masses of slightly aggregated nebular matter towards their -common centre of gravity must be severally rendered curvelinear, by the -resistance of the medium from which they were precipitated; and that in -consequence of the irregularities of distribution already set up, such -conflicting curvelinear motions must, by composition of forces, end in a -rotation of the incipient sidereal system. He might without difficulty -show that the resulting centrifugal force must so far modify the process -of general aggregation, as to prevent anything like uniform distribution -of the stars eventually formed—that there must arise a contrast such as -we see between the galactic circle and the rest of the heavens. He might -draw the further not unwarrantable inference, that differences in the -process of local concentration would probably result from the unlikeness -between the physical conditions existing around the general axis of -rotation and those existing elsewhere. To which he might add, that after -the formation of distinct stars, the ever-increasing irregularities of -distribution due to continuance of the same causes would produce that -patchiness which distinguishes the heavens in both its larger and -smaller areas. We need not here however commit ourselves to such -far-reaching speculations. For the purposes of the general argument it -is needful only to show, that any finite mass of diffused matter, even -though vast enough to form our whole sidereal system, could not be in -stable equilibrium; that in default of absolute sphericity, absolute -uniformity of composition, and absolute symmetry of relation to all -forces external to it; its concentration must go on with an -ever-increasing irregularity; and that thus the present aspect of the -heavens is not, so far as we can judge, incongruous with the hypothesis -of a general evolution consequent on the instability of the homogeneous. - -Descending to that more limited form of the nebular hypothesis which -regards the solar system as having resulted by gradual concentration; -and assuming this concentration to have advanced so far as to produce a -rotating spheroid of nebulous matter; let us consider what further -consequence the instability of the homogeneous necessitates. Having -become oblate in figure, unlike in the densities of its centre and -surface, unlike in their temperatures, and unlike in the velocities with -which its parts move round their common axis, such a mass can no longer -be called homogeneous; and therefore any further changes exhibited by it -as a whole, can illustrate the general law, only as being changes from a -more homogeneous to a less homogeneous state. Changes of this kind are -to be found in the transformations of such of its parts as are still -homogeneous within themselves. If we accept the conclusion of Laplace, -that the equatorial portion of this rotating and contracting spheroid -will at successive stages acquire a centrifugal force great enough to -prevent any nearer approach to the centre round which it rotates, and -will so be left behind by the inner parts of the spheroid in its -still-continued contraction; we shall find, in the fate of the detached -ring, a fresh exemplification of the principle we are following out. -Consisting of gaseous matter, such a ring, even if absolutely uniform at -the time of its detachment, cannot continue so. To maintain its -equilibrium there must be an almost perfect uniformity in the action of -all external forces upon it (almost, we must say, because the cohesion, -even of extremely attenuated matter, might suffice to neutralize very -minute disturbances); and against this the probabilities are immense. In -the absence of equality among the forces, internal and external, acting -on such a ring, there must be a point or points at which the cohesion of -its parts is less than elsewhere—a point or points at which rupture will -therefore take place. Laplace assumed that the ring would rupture at one -place only; and would then collapse on itself. But this is a more than -questionable assumption—such at least I know to be the opinion of an -authority second to none among those now living. So vast a ring, -consisting of matter having such feeble cohesion, must break up into -many parts. Nevertheless, it is still inferrable from the instability of -the homogeneous, that the ultimate result which Laplace predicted would -take place. For even supposing the masses of nebulous matter into which -such a ring separated, were so equal in their sizes and distances as to -attract each other with exactly equal forces (which is infinitely -improbable); yet the unequal action of external disturbing forces would -inevitably destroy their equilibrium—there would be one or more points -at which adjacent masses would begin to part company. Separation once -commenced, would with ever-accelerating speed lead to a grouping of the -masses. And obviously a like result would eventually take place with the -groups thus formed; until they at length aggregated into a single mass. - -Leaving the region of speculative astronomy, let us consider the Solar -System as it at present exists. And here it will be well, in the first -place, to note a fact which may be thought at variance with the -foregoing argument—namely, the still-continued existence of Saturn’s -rings; and especially of the internal nebulous ring lately discovered. -To the objection that the outer rings maintain their equilibrium, the -reply is that the comparatively great cohesion of liquid or solid -substance would suffice to prevent any slight tendency to rupture from -taking effect. And that a nebulous ring here still preserves its -continuity, does not really negative the foregoing conclusion; since it -happens under the quite exceptional influence of those symmetrically -disposed forces which the external rings exercise on it. Here -indeed it deserves to be noted, that though at first sight the Saturnian -system appears at variance with the doctrine that a state of homogeneity -is one of unstable equilibrium, it does in reality furnish a curious -confirmation of this doctrine. For Saturn is not quite concentric with -his rings; and it has been proved mathematically that were he and his -rings concentrically situated, they could not remain so: the homogeneous -relation being unstable, would gravitate into a heterogeneous one. And -this fact serves to remind us of the allied one presented throughout the -whole Solar System. All orbits, whether of planets or satellites, are -more or less excentric—none of them are perfect circles; and were they -perfect circles they would soon become ellipses. Mutual perturbations -would inevitably generate excentricities. That is to say, the -homogeneous relations would lapse into heterogeneous ones. - - * * * * * - -§ 111. Already so many references have been made to the gradual -formation of a crust over the originally incandescent Earth, that it may -be thought superfluous again to name it. It has not, however, been -before considered in connexion with the general principle under -discussion. Here then it must be noted as a necessary consequence of the -instability of the homogeneous. In this cooling down and solidification -of the Earth’s surface, we have one of the simplest, as well as one of -the most important, instances, of that change from a uniform to a -multiform state which occurs in any mass through exposure of its -different parts to different conditions. To the differentiation of -the Earth’s exterior from its interior thus brought about, we must add -one of the most conspicuous differentiations which the exterior itself -afterwards undergoes, as being similarly brought about. Were the -conditions to which the surface of the Earth is exposed, alike in all -directions, there would be no obvious reason why certain of its parts -should become permanently unlike the rest. But being unequally exposed -to the chief external centre of force—the Sun—its main divisions become -unequally modified: as the crust thickens and cools, there arises that -contrast, now so decided, between the polar and equatorial regions. - -Along with these most marked physical differentiations of the Earth, -which are manifestly consequent on the instability of the homogeneous, -there have been going on numerous chemical differentiations, admitting -of similar interpretation. Without raising the question whether, as some -think, the so-called simple substances are themselves compounded of -unknown elements (elements which we cannot separate by artificial heat, -but which existed separately when the heat of the Earth was greater than -any which we can produce),—without raising this question, it will -suffice the present purpose to show how, in place of that comparative -homogeneity of the Earth’s crust, chemically considered, which must have -existed when its temperature was high, there has arisen, during its -cooling, an increasing chemical heterogeneity: each element or compound, -being unable to maintain its homogeneity in presence of various -surrounding affinities, having fallen into heterogeneous combinations. -Let us contemplate this change somewhat in detail. There is every -reason to believe that at an extreme heat, the bodies we call elements -cannot combine. Even under such heat as can be generated artificially, -some very strong affinities yield; and the great majority of chemical -compounds are decomposed at much lower temperatures. Whence it seems not -improbable that, when the Earth was in its first state of incandescence, -there were no chemical combinations at all. But without drawing this -inference, let us set out with the unquestionable fact that the -compounds which can exist at the highest temperatures, and which must -therefore have been the first formed as the Earth cooled, are those of -the simplest constitutions. The protoxides—including under that head the -alkalies, earths, &c.—are, as a class, the most fixed compounds known: -the majority 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, -more decomposable by heat, 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 -base. Still less able to resist heat, 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 undergo partial -decomposition at much lower temperatures. After them come the -further-complicated supersalts and double salts, having a stability -again decreased; and so throughout. After making a few unimportant -qualifications demanded by peculiar affinities, I believe no chemist -will deny it to be a general law of these inorganic combinations that, -other things equal, the stability decreases as the complexity increases. -And then when we pass to the compounds that make up organic bodies, 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 different kinds. Fibrine, still -more intricate in constitution, contains in each atom, 298 atoms of -carbon, 49 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 moderate -temperatures; as that to which the outside of a joint of roast meat is -exposed. Possibly it will be objected that some inorganic compounds, as -phosphuretted hydrogen and chloride of nitrogen, are more decomposable -than most organic compounds. This is true. But the admission may be made -without damage to the argument. The proposition is not that _all_ simple -combinations are more fixed than _all_ complex ones. To establish our -inference it is necessary only to show that, as an _average fact_, the -simple combinations can exist at a higher temperature than the complex -ones. And this is wholly beyond question. Thus it is manifest that -the present chemical heterogeneity of the Earth’s surface has arisen by -degrees as the decrease of heat has permitted; and that it has shown -itself in three forms—first, in the multiplication of chemical -compounds; second, in the greater number of different elements contained -in the more modern of these compounds; and third, in the higher and more -varied multiples in which these more numerous elements combine. - -Without specifying them, it will suffice just to name the meteorologic -processes eventually set up in the Earth’s atmosphere, as further -illustrating the alleged law. They equally display that destruction of a -homogeneous state which results from unequal exposure to incident -forces. - - * * * * * - -§ 112. Take a mass of unorganized but organizable matter—either the body -of one of the lowest living forms, or the germ of one of the higher. -Consider its circumstances. Either it is immersed in water or air, or it -is contained within a parent organism. Wherever placed, however, its -outer and inner parts stand differently related to surrounding -agencies—nutriment, oxygen, and the various stimuli. But this is not -all. Whether it lies quiescent at the bottom of the water or on the leaf -of a plant; whether it moves through the water preserving some definite -attitude; or whether it is in the inside of an adult; it equally results -that certain parts of its surface are more exposed to surrounding -agencies than other parts—in some cases more exposed to light, heat, or -oxygen, and in others to the maternal tissues and their contents. Hence -must follow the destruction of its original equilibrium. This may take -place in one of two ways. Either the disturbing forces may be such as to -overbalance the affinities of the organic elements, in which case there -result those changes which are known as decomposition; or, as is -ordinarily the case, such changes are induced as do not destroy the -organic compounds, but only modify them: the parts most exposed to the -modifying forces being most modified. To elucidate this, suppose we take -a few cases. - -Note first what appear to be exceptions. Certain minute animal forms -present us either with no appreciable differentiations or with -differentiations so obscure as to be made out with great difficulty. In -the Rhizopods, the substance of the jelly-like body remains throughout -life unorganized, even to the extent of having no limiting membrane; as -is proved by the fact that the thread-like processes protruded by the -mass, coalesce on touching each other. Whether or not the nearly allied -_Amœba_, of which the less numerous and more bulky processes do not -coalesce, has, as lately alleged, something like a cell-wall and a -nucleus, it is clear that the distinction of parts is very slight; since -particles of food pass bodily into the inside through any part of the -periphery, and since when the creature is crushed to pieces, each piece -behaves as the whole did. Now these cases, in which there is either no -contrast of structure between exterior and interior or very little, -though seemingly opposed to the above inference, are really very -significant evidences of its truth. For what is the peculiarity of this -division of the _Protozoa_? Its members undergo perpetual and irregular -changes of form—they show no persistent relation of parts. What lately -formed a portion of the interior is now protruded, and, as a temporary -limb, is attached to some object it happens to touch. What is now a part -of the surface will presently be drawn, along with the atom of nutriment -sticking to it, into the centre of the mass. Either the relations of -inner and outer have no permanent existence, or they are very slightly -marked. But by the hypothesis, it is only because of their unlike -positions with respect to modifying forces, that the originally like -units of a living mass become unlike. We must therefore expect no -established differentiation of parts in creatures which exhibit no -established differences of position in their parts; and we must expect -extremely little differentiation of parts where the differences of -position are but little determined—which is just what we find. - This negative evidence is borne out by positive evidence. When we -turn from these proteiform specks of living jelly to organisms having an -unchanging distribution of substance, we find differences of tissue -corresponding to differences of relative position. In all the higher -_Protozoa_, as also in the _Protophyta_, we meet with a fundamental -differentiation into cell-membrane and cell-contents; answering to that -fundamental contrast of conditions implied by the terms outside and -inside. On passing from what are roughly classed as unicellular -organisms, to the lowest of those which consist of aggregated cells, we -equally observe the connection between structural differences and -differences of circumstance. Negatively, we see that in the sponge, -permeated throughout by currents of sea-water, the indefiniteness of -organization corresponds with the absence of definite unlikeness of -conditions: the peripheral and central portions are as little contrasted -in structure as in exposure to surrounding agencies. While positively, -we see that in a form like the _Thalassicolla_, which, though equally -humble, maintains its outer and inner parts in permanently unlike -circumstances, there is displayed a rude structure obviously -subordinated to the primary relations of centre and surface: in all its -many and important varieties, the parts exhibit a more or less -concentric arrangement. - -After this primary modification, by which the outer tissues are -differentiated from the inner, the next in order of constancy and -importance is that by which some part of the outer tissues is -differentiated from the rest; and this corresponds with the almost -universal fact that some part of the outer tissues is more exposed to -certain environing influences than the rest. Here, as before, the -apparent exceptions are extremely significant. Some of the lowest -vegetal organisms, as the _Hematococci_ and _Protococci_, evenly -imbedded in a mass of mucus, or dispersed through the Arctic snow, -display no differentiations of surface; the several parts of their -surfaces being subjected to no definite contrasts of conditions. -Ciliated spheres such as the _Volvox_ have no parts of their periphery -unlike other parts; and it is not to be expected that they should have; -since, as they revolve in all directions, they do not, in traversing the -water, permanently expose any part to special conditions. But when we -come to organisms that are either fixed, or while moving preserve -definite attitudes, we no longer find uniformity of surface. The most -general fact which can be asserted with respect to the structures of -plants and animals, is, that however much alike in shape and texture the -various parts of the exterior may at first be, they acquire unlikenesses -corresponding to the unlikenesses of their relations to surrounding -agencies. The ciliated germ of a Zoophyte, which, during its locomotive -stage, is distinguishable only into outer and inner tissues, no sooner -becomes fixed, than its upper end begins to assume a different structure -from its lower. The disc-shaped _gemmæ_ of the _Marchantia_, originally -alike on both surfaces, and falling at random with either side -uppermost, immediately begin to develop rootlets on the under side, and -_stomata_ on the upper side: a fact proving beyond question, that this -primary differentiation is determined by this fundamental contrast of -conditions. - -Of course in the germs of higher organisms, the metamorphoses -immediately due to the instability of the homogeneous, are soon masked -by those due to the assumption of the hereditary type. Such early -changes, however, as are common to all classes of organisms, and so -cannot be ascribed to heredity, entirely conform to the hypothesis. A -germ which has undergone no developmental modifications, consists of a -spheroidal group of homogeneous cells. Universally, the first step in -its evolution is the establishment of a difference between some of the -peripheral cells and the cells which form the interior—some of the -peripheral cells, after repeated spontaneous fissions, coalesce into a -membrane; and by continuance of the process this membrane spreads until -it speedily invests the entire mass, as in mammals, or, as in birds, -stops short of that for some time. Here we have two significant facts. -The first is, that the primary unlikeness arises between the exterior -and the interior. The second is, that the change which thus initiates -development, does not take place simultaneously over the whole exterior; -but commences at one place, and gradually involves the rest. Now these -facts are just those which might be inferred from the instability of the -homogeneous. The surface must, more than any other part, become unlike -the centre, because it is most dissimilarly conditioned; and all parts -of the surface cannot simultaneously exhibit this differentiation, -because they cannot be exposed to the incident forces with absolute -uniformity. One other general fact of like implication remains. -Whatever be the extent of this peripheral layer of cells, or blastoderm -as it is called, it presently divides into two layers—the serous and -mucous; or, as they have been otherwise called, the ectoderm and the -endoderm. The first of these is formed from that portion of the layer -which lies in contact with surrounding agents; and the second of them is -formed from that portion of the layer which lies in contact with the -contained mass of yelk. That is to say, after the primary -differentiation, more or less extensive, of surface from centre, the -resulting superficial portion undergoes a secondary differentiation into -inner and outer parts—a differentiation which is clearly of the same -order with the preceding, and answers to the next most marked contrast -of conditions. - -But, as already hinted, this principle, understood in the simple form -here presented, supplies no key to the detailed phenomena of organic -development. It fails entirely to explain generic and specific -peculiarities; and indeed leaves us equally in the dark respecting those -more important distinctions by which families and orders are marked out. -Why two ova, similarly exposed in the same pool, should become the one a -fish, and the other a reptile, it cannot tell us. That from two -different eggs placed under the same hen, should respectively come forth -a duckling and a chicken, is a fact not to be accounted for on the -hypothesis above developed. We have here no alternative but to fall back -upon the unexplained principle of hereditary transmission. The capacity -possessed by an unorganized germ of unfolding into a complex adult, -which repeats ancestral traits in the minutest details, and that even -when it has been placed in conditions unlike those of its ancestors, is -a capacity we cannot at present understand. That a microscopic portion -of seemingly structureless matter should embody an influence of such -kind, that the resulting man will in fifty years after become gouty or -insane, is a truth which would be incredible were it not daily -illustrated. Should it however turn out, as we shall hereafter -find reason for suspecting, that these complex differentiations which -adults exhibit, are themselves the slowly accumulated and transmitted -results of a process like that seen in the first changes of the germ; it -will follow that even those embryonic changes due to hereditary -influence, are remote consequences of the alleged law. Should it be -shown that the slight modifications wrought during life on each adult, -and bequeathed to offspring along with all like preceding modifications, -are themselves unlikenesses of parts that are produced by unlikenesses -of conditions; then it will follow that the modifications displayed in -the course of embryonic development, are partly direct consequences of -the instability of the homogeneous, and partly indirect consequences of -it. To give reasons for entertaining this hypothesis, however, is -not needful for the justification of the position here taken. It is -enough that the most conspicuous differentiations which incipient -organisms universally display, correspond to the most marked differences -of conditions to which their parts are subject. It is enough that the -habitual contrast between outside and inside, which we _know_ is -produced in inorganic masses by unlikeness of exposure to incident -forces, is strictly paralleled by the first contrast that makes its -appearance in all organic masses. - -It remains to point out that in the assemblage of organisms -constituting a species, the principle enunciated is equally traceable. -We have abundant materials for the induction that each species will -not remain uniform, but is ever becoming to some extent multiform; and -there is ground for the deduction that this lapse from homogeneity to -heterogeneity is caused by the subjection of its members to unlike -sets of circumstances. The fact that in every species, animal and -vegetal, the individuals are never quite alike; joined with the fact -that there is in every species a tendency to the production of -differences marked enough to constitute varieties; form a sufficiently -wide basis for the induction. While the deduction is confirmed by the -familiar experience that varieties are most numerous and decided -where, as among cultivated plants and domestic animals, the conditions -of life depart from the original ones, most widely and in the most -numerous ways. Whether we regard “natural selection” as wholly, or -only in part, the agency through which varieties are established, -matters not to the general conclusion. For as the survival of any -variety proves its constitution to be in harmony with a certain -aggregate of surrounding forces—as the multiplication of a variety and -the usurpation by it of an area previously occupied by some other part -of the species, implies different effects produced by such aggregate -of forces on the two, it is clear that this aggregate of forces is the -real cause of the differentiation—it is clear that if the variety -supplants the original species in some localities but not in others, -it does so because the aggregate of forces in the one locality is -unlike that in the other—it is clear that the lapse of the species -from a state of homogeneity to a state of heterogeneity arises from -the exposure of its different parts to different aggregates of forces. - - * * * * * - -§ 113. Among mental phenomena it is difficult to establish the alleged -law without an analysis too extensive for the occasion. To show -satisfactorily how states of consciousness, originally homogeneous, -become heterogeneous through differences in the changes wrought by -different forces, would require us carefully to trace out the -organization of early experiences. Were this done it would become -manifest that the development of intelligence, is, under one of its -chief aspects, a dividing into separate classes, the unlike things -previously confounded together in one class—a formation of sub-classes -and sub-sub-classes, until the once confused aggregate of objects known, -is resolved into an aggregate which unites extreme heterogeneity among -its multiplied groups, with complete homogeneity among the members of -each group. If, for example, we followed, through ascending grades of -creatures, the genesis of that vast structure of knowledge acquired by -sight, we should find that in the first stage, where eyes suffice for -nothing beyond the discrimination of light from darkness, the only -possible classifications of objects seen, must be those based on the -manner in which light is obstructed, and the degree in which it is -obstructed. We should find that by such undeveloped visual organs, the -shadows traversing the rudimentary retina would be merely distinguished -into those of the stationary objects which the creature passed during -its own movements, and those of the moving objects which came near the -creature while it was at rest; and that so the extremely general -classification of visible things into stationary and moving, would be -the earliest formed. We should find that whereas the simplest eyes are -not fitted to distinguish between an obstruction of light caused by a -small object close to, and an obstruction caused by a large object at -some distance, eyes a little more developed must be competent to such a -distinction; whence must result a vague differentiation of the class of -moving objects, into the nearer and the more remote. We should find that -such further improvements in vision as those which make possible a -better estimation of distances by adjustment of the optic axes, and -those which, through enlargement and subdivision of the retina, make -possible the discrimination of shapes, must have the effects of giving -greater definiteness to the classes already formed, and of sub-dividing -these into smaller classes, consisting of objects less unlike. And we -should find that each additional refinement of the perceptive organs, -must similarly lead to a multiplication of divisions and a sharpening of -the limits of each division. In every infant might be traced the -analogous transformation of a confused aggregate of impressions of -surrounding objects, not recognized as differing in their distances, -sizes, and shapes, into separate classes of objects unlike each other in -these and various other respects. And in the one case as in the other, -it might be shown that the change from this first indefinite, incoherent -and comparatively homogeneous consciousness, to a definite, coherent, -and heterogeneous one, is due to differences in the actions of incident -forces on the organism. These brief indications of what might be -shown, did space permit, must here suffice. Probably they will give -adequate clue to an argument by which each reader may satisfy himself -that the course of mental evolution offers no exception to the general -law. In further aid of such an argument, I will here add an illustration -that is comprehensible apart from the process of mental evolution as a -whole. - -It has been remarked (I am told by Coleridge, though I have been unable -to find the passage) that with the advance of language, words which were -originally alike in their meanings acquire unlike meanings—a change -which he expresses by the formidable word “desynonymization.” Among -indigenous words this loss of equivalence cannot be clearly shown; -because in them the divergencies of meaning began before the dawn of -literature. But among words that have been coined, or adopted from other -languages, since the writing of books commenced, it is demonstrable. In -the old divines, _miscreant_ is used in its etymological sense of -_unbeliever_; but in modern speech it has entirely lost this sense. -Similarly with _evil-doer_ and _malefactor_: exactly synonymous as these -are by derivation, they are no longer synonymous by usage: by a -_malefactor_ we now understand a convicted criminal, which is far from -being the acceptation of _evil-doer_. The verb _produce_, bears in -Euclid its primary meaning—to _prolong_, or _draw out_; but the now -largely developed meanings of _produce_ have little in common with the -meanings of _prolong_, or _draw out_. In the Church of England liturgy, -an odd effect results from the occurrence of _prevent_ in its original -sense—_to come before_, instead of its modern specialized sense—_to come -before with the effect of arresting_. But the most conclusive cases are -those in which the contrasted words consist of the same parts -differently combined; as in _go under_ and _undergo_. We _go under_ a -tree, and we _undergo_ a pain. But though, if analytically considered, -the meanings of these expressions would be the same were the words -transposed, habit has so far modified their meanings that we could not -without absurdity speak of _undergoing_ a tree and _going under_ a pain. - Countless such instances might be brought to show that between two -words which are originally of like force, an equilibrium cannot be -maintained. Unless they are daily used in exactly equal degrees, in -exactly similar relations (against which there are infinite -probabilities), there necessarily arises a habit of associating one -rather than the other with particular acts, or objects. Such a habit, -once commenced, becomes confirmed; and gradually their homogeneity of -meaning disappears. In each individual we may see the tendency which -inevitably leads to this result. A certain vocabulary and a certain set -of phrases, distinguish the speech of each person: each person -habitually uses certain words in places where other words are habitually -used by other persons; and there is a continual recurrence of favourite -expressions. This inability to maintain a balance in the use of verbal -symbols, which characterizes every man, characterizes, by consequence, -aggregates of men; and the desynonymization of words is the ultimate -effect. - -Should any difficulty be felt in understanding how these mental changes -exemplify a law of physical transformations that are wrought by physical -forces, it will disappear on contemplating acts of mind as nervous -functions. It will be seen that each loss of equilibrium above -instanced, is a loss of functional equality between some two elements of -the nervous system. And it will be seen that, as in other cases, this -loss of functional equality is due to differences in the incidence of -forces. - - * * * * * - -§ 114. Masses of men, in common with all other masses, show a like -proclivity similarly caused. Small combinations and large societies -equally manifest it; and in the one, as in the other, both governmental -and industrial differentiations are initiated by it. Let us glance at -the facts under these two heads. - -A business partnership, balanced as the authorities of its members may -theoretically be, practically becomes a union in which the authority of -one partner is tacitly recognized as greater than that of the other or -others. Though the shareholders have given equal powers to the directors -of their company, inequalities of power soon arise among them; and -usually the supremacy of some one director grows so marked, that his -decisions determine the course which the board takes. Nor in -associations for political, charitable, literary, or other purposes, do -we fail to find a like process of division into dominant and subordinate -parties; each having its leader, its members of less influence, and its -mass of uninfluential members. These minor instances in which -unorganized groups of men, standing in homogeneous relations, may be -watched gradually passing into organized groups of men standing in -heterogeneous relations, give us the key to social inequalities. -Barbarous and civilized communities are alike characterized by -separation into classes, as well as by separation of each class into -more important and less important units; and this structure is -manifestly the gradually-consolidated result of a process like that -daily exemplified in trading and other combinations. So long as men are -constituted to act on one another, either by physical force or by force -of character, the struggles for supremacy must finally be decided in -favour of some one; and the difference once commenced must tend to -become ever more marked. Its unstable equilibrium being destroyed, the -uniform must gravitate with increasing rapidity into the multiform. And -so supremacy and subordination must establish themselves, as we see they -do, throughout the whole structure of a society, from the great -class-divisions pervading its entire body, down to village cliques, and -even down to every posse of school-boys. Probably it will be -objected that such changes result, not from the homogeneity of the -original aggregations, but from their non-homogeneity—from certain -slight differences existing among their units at the outset. This is -doubtless the proximate cause. In strictness, such changes must be -regarded as transformations of the relatively homogeneous into the -relatively heterogeneous. But it is abundantly clear that an aggregation -of men, absolutely alike in their endowments, would eventually undergo a -similar transformation. For in the absence of perfect uniformity in the -lives severally led by them—in their occupations, physical conditions, -domestic relations, and trains of thought and feeling—there must arise -differences among them; and these must finally initiate social -differentiations. Even inequalities of health caused by accidents, must, -by entailing inequalities of physical and mental power, disturb the -exact balance of mutual influences among the units; and the balance once -disturbed, must inevitably be lost. Whence, indeed, besides seeing that -a body of men absolutely homogeneous in their governmental relations, -must, like all other homogeneous bodies, become heterogeneous, we also -see that it must do this from the same ultimate cause—unequal exposure -of its parts to incident forces. - -The first industrial divisions of societies are much more obviously due -to unlikenesses of external circumstances. Such divisions are absent -until such unlikenesses are established. Nomadic tribes do not -permanently expose any groups of their members to special local -conditions; nor does a stationary tribe, when occupying only a small -area, maintain from generation to generation marked contrasts in the -local conditions of its members; and in such tribes there are no decided -economical differentiations. But a community which, growing populous, -has overspread a large tract, and has become so far settled that its -members live and die in their respective districts, keeps its several -sections in different physical circumstances; and then they no longer -remain alike in their occupations. Those who live dispersed continue to -hunt or cultivate the earth; those who spread to the sea-shore fall into -maritime occupations; while the inhabitants of some spot chosen, perhaps -for its centrality, as one of periodical assemblage, become traders, and -a town springs up. Each of these classes undergoes a modification of -character consequent on its function, and better fitting it to its -function. Later in the process of social evolution these local -adaptations are greatly multiplied. A result of differences in soil and -climate, is that the rural inhabitants in different parts of the kingdom -have their occupations partially specialized; and become respectively -distinguished as chiefly producing cattle, or sheep, or wheat, or oats, -or hops, or cyder. People living where coal-fields are discovered are -transformed into colliers; Cornishmen take to mining because Cornwall is -metalliferous; and the iron-manufacture is the dominant industry where -ironstone is plentiful. Liverpool has assumed the office of importing -cotton, in consequence of its proximity to the district where cotton -goods are made; and for analogous reasons, Hull has become the chief -port at which foreign wools are brought in. Even in the establishment of -breweries, of dye-works, of slate-quarries, of brickyards, we may see -the same truth. So that both in general and in detail, the -specializations of the social organism which characterize separate -districts, primarily depend on local circumstances. Those divisions of -labour which under another aspect were interpreted as due to the setting -up of motion in the directions of least resistance (§ 91), are here -interpreted as due to differences in the incident forces; and the two -interpretations are quite consistent with each other. For that which in -each case _determines_ the direction of least resistance, is the -distribution of the forces to be overcome; and hence unlikenesses of -distribution in separate localities, entails unlikenesses in the course -of human action in those localities—entails industrial differentiations. - - * * * * * - -§ 115. In common with the general truths set forth in preceding -chapters, the instability of the homogeneous is demonstrable _à priori_. -It, like each of them, is a corollary from the persistence of force. -Already this has been tacitly implied by assigning unlikeness in the -exposure of its part to surrounding agencies, as the reason why a -uniform mass loses its uniformity. But here it will be proper to expand -this tacit implication into definite proof. - -On striking a mass of matter with such force as either to indent it or -make it fly to pieces, we see both that the blow affects differently its -different parts, and that the differences are consequent on the unlike -relations of its parts to the force impressed. The part with which the -striking body comes in contact, receiving the whole of the communicated -momentum, is driven in towards the centre of the mass. It thus -compresses and tends to displace the more centrally situated portions of -the mass. These, however, cannot be compressed or thrust out of their -places without pressing on all surrounding portions. And when the blow -is violent enough to fracture the mass, we see, in the radial dispersion -of its fragments, that the original momentum, in being distributed -throughout it, has been divided into numerous minor momenta, unlike in -their directions. We see that these directions are determined by the -positions of the parts with respect to each other, and with respect to -the point of impact. We see that the parts are differently affected by -the disruptive force, because they are differently related to it in -their directions and attachments—that the effects being the joint -products of the cause and the conditions, cannot be alike in parts which -are differently conditioned. A body on which radiant heat is -falling, exemplifies this truth still more clearly. Taking the simplest -case (that of a sphere) we see that while the part nearest to the -radiating centre receives the rays at right angles, the rays strike the -other parts of the exposed side at all angles from 90° down to 0°. -Again, the molecular vibrations propagated through the mass from the -surface which receives the heat, must proceed inwards at angles -differing for each point. Further, the interior parts of the sphere -affected by the vibrations proceeding from all points of the heated -side, must be dissimilarly affected in proportion as their positions are -dissimilar. So that whether they be on the recipient area, in the -middle, or at the remote side, the constituent atoms are all thrown into -states of vibration more or less unlike each other. - -But now, what is the ultimate meaning of the conclusion that a uniform -force produces different changes throughout a uniform mass, because the -parts of the mass stand in different relations to the force? Fully to -understand this, we must contemplate each part as simultaneously subject -to other forces—those of gravitation, of cohesion, of molecular motion, -&c. The effect wrought by an additional force, must be a resultant of it -and the forces already in action. If the forces already in action on two -parts of any aggregate, are different in their directions, the effects -produced on these two parts by like forces must be different in their -directions. Why must they be different? They must be different because -such unlikeness as exists between the two sets of factors, is made by -the presence in the one of some specially-directed force that is not -present in the other; and that this force will produce an effect, -rendering the total result in the one case unlike that in the other, is -a necessary corollary from the persistence of force. Still more -manifest does it become that the dissimilarly-placed parts of any -aggregate must be dissimilarly modified by an incident force, when we -remember that the _quantities_ of the incident force to which they are -severally subject, are not equal, as above supposed; but are nearly -always very unequal. The outer parts of masses are usually alone exposed -to chemical actions; and not only are their inner parts shielded from -the affinities of external elements, but such affinities are brought to -bear unequally on their surfaces; since chemical action sets up currents -through the medium in which it takes place, and so brings to the various -parts of the surface unequal quantities of the active agent. Again, the -amounts of any external radiant force which the different parts of an -aggregate receive, are widely contrasted: we have the contrast between -the quantity falling on the side next the radiating centre, and the -quantity, or rather no quantity, falling on the opposite side; we have -contrasts in the quantities received by differently-placed areas on the -exposed side; and we have endless contrasts between the quantities -received by the various parts of the interior. Similarly when mechanical -force is expended on any aggregate, either by collision, continued -pressure, or tension, the amounts of strain distributed throughout the -mass are manifestly unlike for unlike positions. But to say the -different parts of an aggregate receive different quantities of any -incident force, is to say that their states are modified by it in -different degrees—is to say that if they were before homogeneous in -their relations they must be rendered to a proportionate extent -heterogeneous; since, force being persistent, the different quantities -of it falling on the different parts, must work in them different -quantities of effect—different changes. Yet one more kindred -deduction is required to complete the argument. We may, by parallel -reasoning, reach the conclusion that, even apart from the action of any -external force, the equilibrium of a homogeneous aggregate must be -destroyed by the unequal actions of its parts on each other. That mutual -influence which produces aggregation (not to mention other mutual -influences) must work different effects on the different parts; since -they are severally exposed to it in unlike amounts and directions. This -will be clearly seen on remembering that the portions of which the whole -is made up, may be severally regarded as minor wholes; that on each of -these minor wholes, the action of the entire aggregate then becomes an -external incident force; that such external incident force must, as -above shown, work unlike changes in the parts of any such minor whole; -and that if the minor wholes are severally thus rendered heterogeneous, -the entire aggregate is rendered heterogeneous. - -The instability of the homogeneous is thus deducible from that -primordial truth which underlies our intelligence. One stable -homogeneity only, is hypothetically possible. If centres of force, -absolutely uniform in their powers, were diffused with absolute -uniformity through unlimited space, they would remain in equilibrium. -This however, though a verbally intelligible supposition, is one that -cannot be represented in thought; since unlimited space is -inconceivable. But all finite forms of the homogeneous—all forms of it -which we can know or conceive, must inevitably lapse into heterogeneity. -In three several ways does the persistence of force necessitate this. -Setting external agencies aside, each unit of a homogeneous whole must -be differently affected from any of the rest by the aggregate action of -the rest upon it. The resultant force exercised by the aggregate on each -unit, being in no two cases alike in both amount and direction, and -usually not in either, any incident force, even if uniform in amount and -direction, cannot produce like effects on the units. And the various -positions of the parts in relation to any incident force, preventing -them from receiving it in uniform amounts and directions, a further -difference in the effects wrought on them is inevitably produced. - -One further remark is needed. To the conclusion that the changes with -which Evolution _commences_, are thus necessitated, remains to be added -the conclusion that these changes must _continue_. The absolutely -homogeneous must lose its equilibrium; and the relatively homogeneous -must lapse into the relatively less homogeneous. That which is true of -any total mass, is true of the parts into which it segregates. The -uniformity of each such part must as inevitably be lost in multiformity, -as was that of the original whole; and for like reasons. And thus the -continued changes which characterize Evolution, in so far as they are -constituted by the lapse of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous, and -of the less heterogeneous into the more heterogeneous, are necessary -consequences of the persistence of force. - ------ - -Footnote 16: - - The idea developed in this chapter originally formed part of an - article on “Transcendental Physiology,” published in 1857. See - _Essays_, pp. 279–290. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - THE MULTIPLICATION OF EFFECTS. - - -§ 116. To the cause of increasing complexity set forth in the last -chapter, we have in this chapter to add another. Though secondary in -order of time, it is scarcely secondary in order of importance. Even in -the absence of the cause already assigned, it would necessitate a change -from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous; and joined with it, it makes -this change both more rapid and more involved. To come in sight of it, -we have but to pursue a step further, that conflict between force and -matter already delineated. Let us do this. - -When a uniform aggregate is subject to a uniform force, we have seen -that its constituents, being differently conditioned, are differently -modified. But while we have contemplated the various parts of the -aggregate as thus undergoing unlike changes, we have not yet -contemplated the unlike changes simultaneously produced on the various -parts of the incident force. These must be as numerous and important as -the others. Action and re-action being equal and opposite, it follows -that in differentiating the parts on which it falls in unlike ways, the -incident force must itself be correspondingly differentiated. Instead of -being as before, a uniform force, it must thereafter be a multiform -force—a group of dissimilar forces. A few illustrations will make this -truth manifest. - -A single force is divided by conflict with matter into forces that -widely diverge. In the case lately cited, of a body shattered by violent -collision, besides the change of the homogeneous mass into a -heterogeneous group of scattered fragments, there is a change of the -homogeneous momentum into a group of momenta, heterogeneous in both -amounts and directions. Similarly with the forces we know as light and -heat. After the dispersion of these by a radiating body towards all -points, they are re-dispersed towards all points by the bodies on which -they fall. Of the Sun’s rays, issuing from him on every side, some few -strike the Moon. These being reflected at all angles from the Moon’s -surface, some few of them strike the Earth. By a like process the few -which reach the Earth are again diffused through surrounding space. And -on each occasion, such portions of the rays as are absorbed instead of -reflected, undergo refractions that equally destroy their parallelism. - More than this is true. By conflict with matter, a uniform force -is in part changed into forces differing in their directions; and in -part it is changed into forces differing in their kinds. 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 that this is a very incomplete view of the matter. Besides -the visible mechanical result, sound is produced; or, to speak -accurately, a vibration in one or both bodies, and in the surrounding -air: and under some circumstances we call this the effect. Moreover, the -air has not simply been made to vibrate, but has had currents raised in -it by the transit of the bodies. Further, if there is not that great -structural change which we call fracture, there is a disarrangement of -the particles of the two bodies around their point of collision; -amounting in some cases to a visible condensation. Yet more, this -condensation is accompanied by disengagement of heat. In some cases a -spark—that is, light—results, from the incandescence of a portion struck -off; and occasionally 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 forces have -been produced. Take, again, the lighting of a candle. Primarily, this is -a chemical change consequent on a rise of temperature. The process of -combination having once been set going by extraneous heat, there is a -continued formation of carbonic acid, water, &c.—in itself a result more -complex than the extraneous heat that first caused it. But along with -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. Nor -does the decomposition of one force into many forces end here. Each of -the several changes worked becomes the parent of further changes. The -carbonic acid formed, will by and by combine with some base; or under -the influence of sunshine give up its carbon 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 various 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. Universally, then, the effect is -more complex than the cause. Whether the aggregate on which it falls be -homogeneous or otherwise, an incident force is transformed by the -conflict into a number of forces that differ in their amounts, or -directions, or kinds; or in all these respects. And of this group of -variously-modified forces, each ultimately undergoes a like -transformation. - -Let us now mark how the process of evolution is furthered by this -multiplication of effects. An incident force decomposed by the reactions -of a body into a group of unlike forces—a uniform force thus reduced to -a multiform force—becomes the cause of a secondary increase of -multiformity in the body which decomposes it. In the last chapter we saw -that the several parts of an aggregate are differently modified by any -incident force. It has just been shown that by the reactions of the -differently modified parts, the incident force itself must be divided -into differently modified parts. Here it remains to point out that each -differentiated division of the aggregate, thus becomes a centre from -which a differentiated division of the original force is again diffused. -And since unlike forces must produce unlike results, each of these -differentiated forces must produce, throughout the aggregate, a further -series of differentiations. This secondary cause of the change -from homogeneity to heterogeneity, obviously becomes more potent in -proportion as the heterogeneity increases. When the parts into which any -evolving whole has segregated itself, have diverged widely in nature, -they will necessarily react very diversely on any incident force—they -will divide an incident force into so many strongly contrasted groups of -forces. And each of them becoming the centre of a quite distinct set of -influences, must add to the number of distinct secondary changes wrought -throughout the aggregate. Yet another corollary must be added. The -number of unlike parts of which an aggregate consists, as well as the -degree of their unlikeness, is an important factor in the process. Every -additional specialized division is an additional centre of specialized -forces. If a uniform whole, in being itself made multiform by an -incident force, makes the incident force multiform; if a whole -consisting of two unlike sections, divides an incident force into two -unlike groups of multiform forces; it is clear that each new unlike -section must be a further source of complication among the forces at -work throughout the mass—a further source of heterogeneity. The -multiplication of effects must proceed in geometrical progression. Each -stage of evolution must initiate a higher stage. - - * * * * * - -§ 117. The force of aggregation acting on irregular masses of rare -matter, diffused through a resisting medium, will not cause such masses -to move in straight lines to their common centre of gravity; but, as -before said, each will take a curvilinear path, directed to one or other -side of the centre of gravity. All of them being differently -conditioned, gravitation will impress on each a motion differing in -direction, in velocity, and in the degree of its curvature—uniform -aggregative force will be differentiated into multiform momenta. The -process thus commenced, must go on till it produces a single mass of -nebulous matter; and these independent curvilinear motions must result -in a movement of this mass round its axis: a simultaneous condensation -and rotation in which we see how two effects of the aggregative force, -at first but slightly divergent, become at last widely differentiated. A -gradual increase of oblateness in this revolving spheroid, must take -place through the joint action of these two forces, as the bulk -diminishes and the rotation grows more rapid; and this we may set down -as a third effect. The genesis of heat, which must accompany -augmentation of density, is a consequence of yet another order—a -consequence by no means simple; since the various parts of the mass, -being variously condensed, must be variously heated. Acting throughout a -gaseous spheroid, of which the parts are unlike in their temperatures, -the forces of aggregation and rotation must work a further series of -changes: they must set up circulating currents, both general and local. -At a later stage light as well as heat will be generated. Thus without -dwelling on the likelihood of chemical combinations and electric -disturbances, it is sufficiently manifest that, supposing matter to have -originally existed in a diffused state, the once uniform force which -caused its aggregation, must have become gradually divided into -different forces; and that each further stage of complication in the -resulting aggregate, must have initiated further subdivisions of this -force—a further multiplication of effects, increasing the previous -heterogeneity. - -This section of the argument may however be adequately sustained, -without having recourse to any such hypothetical illustrations as the -foregoing. The astronomical attributes of the Earth, will even alone -suffice our purpose. Consider first the effects of its momentum round -its axis. There is the oblateness of its form; there is the alternation -of day and night; there are certain constant marine currents; and there -are certain constant aërial currents. Consider next the secondary series -of consequences due to the divergence of the Earth’s plane of rotation -from the plane of its orbit. The many differences of the seasons, both -simultaneous and successive, which pervade its surface, are thus caused. -External attraction acting on this rotating oblate spheroid with -inclined axis, produces the motion called nutation, and that slower and -larger one from which follows the precession of the equinoxes, with its -several sequences. And then by this same force are generated the tides, -aqueous and atmospheric. - -Perhaps, however, the simplest way of showing the multiplication of -effects among phenomena of this order, will be to set down the -influences of any member of the Solar System on the rest. A planet -directly produces in neighbouring planets certain appreciable -perturbations, complicating those otherwise produced in them; and in the -remoter planets it directly produces certain less visible perturbations. -Here is a first series of effects. But each of the perturbed planets is -itself a source of perturbations—each directly affects all the others. -Hence, planet A having drawn planet B out of the position it would have -occupied in A’s absence, the perturbations which B causes are different -from what they would else have been; and similarly with C, D, E, &c. -Here then is a secondary series of effects: far more numerous though far -smaller in their amounts. As these indirect perturbations must to some -extent modify the movements of each planet, there results from them a -tertiary series; and so on continually. Thus the force exercised by any -planet works a different effect on each of the rest; this different -effect is from each as a centre partially broken up into minor different -effects on the rest; and so on in ever multiplying and diminishing waves -throughout the entire system. - - * * * * * - -§ 118. If the Earth was formed by the concentration of diffused matter, -it must at first have been incandescent; and whether the nebular -hypothesis be accepted or not, this original incandescence of the Earth -must now be regarded as inductively established—or, if not established, -at least rendered so probable that it is a generally admitted geological -doctrine. Several results of the gradual cooling of the Earth—as the -formation of a crust, the solidification of sublimed elements, the -precipitation of water, &c., have been already noticed—and I here again -refer to them merely to point out that they are simultaneous effects of -the one cause, diminishing heat. Let us now, however, observe the -multiplied changes afterwards arising from the continuance of this one -cause. The Earth, falling in temperature, must contract. Hence the -solid crust at any time existing, is presently too large for the -shrinking nucleus; and being unable to support itself, inevitably -follows the nucleus. But a spheroidal envelope cannot sink down into -contact with a smaller internal spheroid, without disruption: it will -run into wrinkles, as the rind of an apple does when the bulk of its -interior decreases from evaporation. As the cooling progresses 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 not only be 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 arises from the one cause, loss of heat—a -heterogeneity which the telescope shows us to be paralleled on 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 contraction must not only have been small, but -the tracts between them must have rested with comparative smoothness on -the subjacent liquid spheroid; and the water in those arctic and -antarctic regions where 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, necessarily occurred at greater distances apart; the intermediate -surfaces followed the contracting nucleus with less uniformity; and -there consequently resulted larger areas of land and water. If any one, -after wrapping an orange in wet tissue paper, and observing both how -small are the wrinkles and how evenly the intervening spaces lie on the -surface of the orange, will then wrap it in thick cartridge-paper, and -note both the greater height of the ridges and the larger spaces -throughout which the paper does not touch the orange, he will realize -the fact, that as the Earth’s solid envelope thickened, the areas of -elevation and depression became greater. In place of islands more or -less homogeneously scattered over an all-embracing sea, there must have -gradually arisen heterogeneous arrangements of continent and ocean, such -as we now know. This double change in the extent and in the -elevation of the lands, involved yet another species of -heterogeneity—that of coast-line. A tolerably even surface raised out of -the ocean will have a simple, regular sea-margin; but a surface varied -by table-lands and intersected by mountain-chains, will, when raised out -of the ocean, have an outline extremely irregular, alike in its leading -features and in its details. Thus endless is the accumulation of -geological and geographical results slowly brought about by this one -cause—the escape of the Earth’s primitive heat. - -When we pass from the agency which geologists term igneous, to aqueous -and atmospheric agencies, we see a like ever-growing complication of -effects. The denuding actions of air and water have, from the beginning, -been modifying every exposed surface: everywhere working many different -changes. As already shown (§ 80) the original source of those gaseous -and fluid motions which effect denudation, is the solar heat. The -transformation of this into various modes of force, according to the -nature and condition of the matter on which it falls, is the first stage -of complication. The sun’s rays, striking at all angles a sphere, that -from moment to moment presents and withdraws different parts of its -surface, and each of them for a different time daily throughout the -year, would produce a considerable variety of changes even were the -sphere uniform. But falling as they do on a sphere surrounded by an -atmosphere in some parts of which wide areas of cloud are suspended, and -which here unveils vast tracts of sea, there of level land, there of -mountains, there of snow and ice, they initiate in its several parts -countless different movements. Currents of air of all sizes, directions, -velocities, and temperatures, are set up; as are also marine currents -similarly contrasted in their characters. In this region the surface is -giving off water in the state of vapour; in that, dew is being -precipitated; and in the other rain is descending—differences that arise -from the ever-changing ratio between the absorption and radiation of -heat in each place. At one hour, a rapid fall in temperature leads to -the formation of ice, with an accompanying expansion throughout the -moist bodies frozen; while at another, a thaw unlocks the dislocated -fragments of these bodies. And then, passing to a second stage of -complication, we see that the many kinds of motion directly or -indirectly caused by the sun’s rays, severally produce results that vary -with the conditions. Oxidation, drought, wind, frost, rain, glaciers, -rivers, waves, and other denuding agents effect disintegrations that are -determined in their amounts and qualities by local circumstances. Acting -upon a tract of granite, such agents here work scarcely an appreciable -effect; there cause exfoliations of the surface, and a resulting heap of -_débris_ and boulders; and elsewhere, after decomposing the feldspar -into a white clay, carry away this with the accompanying quartz and -mica, and deposit them in separate beds, fluviatile and marine. When the -exposed land consists of several unlike formations, sedimentary and -igneous, changes proportionably more heterogeneous are wrought. The -formations being disintegrable in different degrees, there follows an -increased irregularity of surface. The areas drained by different rivers -being differently constituted, these rivers carry down to the sea unlike -combinations of ingredients; and so sundry new strata of distinct -composition arise. And here indeed we may see very simply illustrated, -the truth, that the heterogeneity of the effects increases in a -geometrical progression, with the heterogeneity of the object acted -upon. A continent of complex structure, presenting many strata -irregularly distributed, raised to various levels, tilted up at all -angles, must, under the same denuding agencies, give origin to immensely -multiplied results: each district must be peculiarly modified; each -river must carry down a distinct kind of detritus; each deposit must be -differently distributed by the entangled currents, tidal and other, -which wash the contorted shores; and every additional complication of -surface must be the cause of more than one additional consequence. But -not to dwell on these, let us, for the fuller elucidation of this truth -in relation to the inorganic world, consider what would presently follow -from some extensive cosmical revolution—say the subsidence of Central -America. The immediate results of the disturbance would themselves 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 ones. The complex currents of -the Atlantic and Pacific would be altered in directions and amounts. The -distribution of heat achieved by these currents would be different from -what it is. The arrangement of the isothermal lines, not only 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 quantities as at present. In short, the -meteorological conditions thousands of miles off, on all sides, would be -more or less revolutionized. In these many changes, each of which -comprehends countless minor ones, the reader will see the immense -heterogeneity of the results wrought out by one force, when that force -expends itself on a previously complicated area; and he will readily -draw the corollary that from the beginning the complication has advanced -at an increasing rate. - - * * * * * - -§ 119. We have next to trace throughout organic evolution, this same -all-pervading principle. And here, where the transformation of the -homogeneous into the heterogeneous was first observed, the production of -many changes by one cause is least easy to demonstrate. The development -of a seed into a plant, or an ovum into an animal, is so gradual; while -the forces which determine it are so involved, and at the same time so -unobtrusive; that it is difficult to detect the multiplication of -effects which is elsewhere so obvious. Nevertheless, by indirect -evidence we may establish our proposition; spite of the lack of direct -evidence. - -Observe, first, how numerous are the changes which any marked stimulus -works on an adult organism—a human being, for instance. An alarming -sound or sight, besides impressions on the organs of sense and the -nerves, may produce a start, a scream, a distortion of the face, a -trembling consequent on 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 illness 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, dyspnœa, &c.; and in the third stage, œdematous -inflammations, pneumonia, pleurisy, diarrhœa, inflammation of the brain, -ophthalmia, erysipelas, &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 -on an adult organism, must be partially paralleled in an -embryo-organism, to understand how here also the production of many -effects by one cause is a source of increasing heterogeneity. The -external heat and other agencies which determine the first complications -of the germ, will, by acting on these, superinduce further -complications; on these still higher and more numerous ones; and so on -continually: each organ as it is developed, serving, by its actions and -reactions on the rest, to initiate new complexities. The first -pulsations of the fœtal 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 the blood; and -so must modify the nutrition of all the other tissues. The distributive -actions, implying as they do a certain waste, necessitate an addition to -the blood of effete matters, which must influence the rest of the -system, and perhaps, as some think, initiate the formation of excretory -organs. The nervous connections established among the viscera must -further multiply their mutual influences. And so with every modification -of structure—every additional part and every alteration in the ratios of -parts. Still stronger becomes the proof 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 acting on -it determines. Again, it is well-known that the larva of a working-bee -will develop into a queen-bee, if, before a certain period, its food be -changed to that on which the larvæ of queen-bees are fed. Even more -remarkable is the case of certain entozoa. The ovum of a tape-worm, -getting into the intestine of one animal, unfolds into the form of its -parent; but if carried into other parts of the system, or into the -intestine of some unlike animal, it becomes one of the sac-like -creatures, called by naturalists _Cysticerci_, or _Cœnuri_, or -_Echinococci_—creatures so extremely different from the tape-worm in -aspect and structure, that only after careful investigations have they -been proved to have the same origin. All which instances imply that each -advance in embryonic complication results from the action of incident -forces on the complication previously existing. Indeed, the now -accepted doctrine of epigenesis necessitates the conclusion that organic -evolution proceeds after this manner. For since it is proved that no -germ, animal or vegetal, contains the slightest rudiment, trace, or -indication of the future organism—since the microscope has shown us that -the first process set up in every fertilized germ is a process of -repeated spontaneous fissions, ending in the production of a mass of -cells, not one of which exhibits any special character; there seems no -alternative but to conclude that the partial organization at any moment -subsisting in a growing embryo, is transformed by the agencies acting on -it into the succeeding phase of organization, and this into the next, -until, through ever-increasing complexities, the ultimate form is -reached. Thus, though the subtlety of the forces and the slowness -of the metamorphosis, prevent us from _directly_ tracing the genesis of -many changes by one cause, throughout the successive stages which every -embryo passes through; yet, _indirectly_, we have strong evidence that -this is a source of increasing heterogeneity. We have marked how -multitudinous are the effects which a single agency may generate in an -adult organism; that a like multiplication of effects must happen in the -unfolding organism, we have inferred from 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. -Doubtless we are still in the dark respecting those mysterious -properties which make the germ, when subject to fit influences, undergo -the special changes beginning this series of transformations. All here -contended is, that given a germ possessing these mysterious properties, -the evolution of an organism from it depends, in part, on that -multiplication of effects which we have seen to be a cause of evolution -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 the argument again -becomes clear and simple. Though, as before admitted, the fragmentary -facts Palæontology has accumulated, do not clearly warrant us in saying -that, in the lapse of geologic time, there have been evolved more -heterogeneous organisms, and more heterogeneous assemblages of -organisms; yet we shall now see that there _must_ 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 heterogeneity of the Earth, has further -necessitated an increasing heterogeneity in its flora and fauna, -individually and collectively. 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 Indian Archipelago were to be -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 species, 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 swamps of a certain humidity, would, if -they survived at all, probably undergo visible changes of appearance. -While more marked alterations would occur in some of the plants that -spread over the lands newly raised above the sea. The animals and -insects living on these modified plants, would themselves 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 -disappearance of one kind of plant, an allied kind was eaten. In the -lapse of the many generations arising before the next upheaval, the -sensible or insensible alterations thus produced in each species, would -become organized—in all the races that survived there would be a more or -less complete adaptation to the new conditions. The next upheaval would -superinduce further organic changes, implying wider divergences from the -primary forms; and so repeatedly. Now however let it be observed that -this revolution would not be a substitution of a thousand 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 different members would be subject to different sets of -changes. Plants and animals migrating towards the equator would not be -affected in the same way with others migrating from it. Those which -spread towards the new shores, would undergo changes unlike the changes -undergone by those which spread into the mountains. Thus, each original -race of organisms would become the root from which diverged several -races, differing more or less from it and from each other; and while -some of these might subsequently disappear, probably more than one would -survive in the next geologic period: the very dispersion itself -increasing the chances of survival. Not only would there be certain -modifications thus caused by changes of physical conditions and food; -but also in some cases other modifications caused by changes of habit. -The fauna of each island, peopling, step by step, the newly-raised -tracts, would 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 differentiation of each race of organisms -into several races; but also a tendency to the occasional production of -a somewhat higher organism. Taken in the mass, these divergent -varieties, which have been caused by fresh physical conditions and -habits of life, will exhibit alterations quite indefinite in kind and -degree; and alterations that do not necessarily constitute an advance. -Probably in most cases the modified type will be not appreciably more -heterogeneous than the original one. But it _must_ now and then occur, -that some division of a species, falling into circumstances which give -it rather more complex experiences, and demand actions somewhat more -involved, will have certain of its organs further differentiated in -proportionately small degrees—will become slightly more heterogeneous. -Hence, there will from time to time arise an increased heterogeneity -both of the Earth’s flora and fauna, and of individual races included in -them. Omitting detailed explanations, and allowing for the -qualifications which cannot here be specified, it is sufficiently clear -that geological mutations have all along tended to complicate the forms -of life, whether regarded separately or collectively. That -multiplication of effects which has been a part-cause of the -transformation of the Earth’s crust from the simple into the complex, -has simultaneously led to a parallel transformation of the Life upon its -surface.[17] - -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 periods, in man and domestic -animals. And just that multiplication of effects which we concluded must -have been instrumental to the first, we see has in a great measure -wrought the last. Single causes, as famine, pressure of population, war, -have periodically led to further dispersions of mankind and of dependent -creatures: each such dispersion initiating new modifications, 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 distinguishable from each other, were originally one race—that -the diffusion of one race into different climates and conditions of -existence has produced many altered 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 sheep or the -cattle of our own country) it will not be questioned that local -differences of climate, food, and treatment, have transformed one -original breed into numerous breeds, now become so far distinct as to -produce unstable hybrids. Moreover, through the complication of effects -flowing from single causes, we here find, what we before inferred, not -only an increase of general heterogeneity, but also of special -heterogeneity. While of the divergent divisions and subdivisions of the -human race, many have undergone changes not constituting an advance; -others have become decidedly more heterogeneous. The civilized European -departs more widely from the vertebrate archetype than does the savage. - - * * * * * - -§ 120. A sensation does not expend itself in arousing some single state -of consciousness; but the state of consciousness aroused is made up of -various represented sensations connected by co-existence, or sequence -with the presented sensation. And that, in proportion as the grade of -intelligence is high, the number of ideas suggested is great, may be -readily inferred. Let us, however, look at the proof that here too, each -change is the parent of many changes; and that the multiplication -increases in proportion as the area affected is complex. - -Were some hitherto unknown bird, driven say by stress of weather from -the remote north, to make its appearance on our shores, it would excite -no speculation in the sheep or cattle amid which it alighted: a -perception of it as a creature like those constantly flying about, would -be the sole interruption of that dull current of consciousness which -accompanies grazing and rumination. The cow-herd, by whom we may suppose -the exhausted bird to be presently caught, would probably gaze at it -with some slight curiosity, as being unlike any he had before seen—would -note its most conspicuous markings, and vaguely ponder on the questions, -where it came from, and how it came. The village bird-stuffer would have -suggested to him by the sight of it, sundry forms to which it bore a -little resemblance; would receive from it more numerous and more -specific impressions respecting structure and plumage; would be reminded -of various instances of birds brought by storms from foreign parts—would -tell who found them, who stuffed them, who bought them. Supposing the -unknown bird taken to a naturalist of the old school, interested only in -externals, (one of those described by the late Edward Forbes, as -examining animals as though they were merely skins filled with straw,) -it would excite in him a more involved series of mental changes: there -would be an elaborate examination of the feathers, a noting of all their -technical distinctions, with a reduction of these perceptions to certain -equivalent written symbols; reasons for referring the new form to a -particular family, order, and genus would be sought out and written -down; communications with the secretary of some society, or editor of -some journal, would follow; and probably there would be not a few -thoughts about the addition of the _ii_ to the describer’s name, to form -the name of the species. Lastly, in the mind of a comparative anatomist, -such a new species, should it happen to have any marked internal -peculiarity, might produce additional sets of changes—might very -possibly suggest modified views respecting the relationships of the -division to which it belonged; or, perhaps, alter his conceptions of the -homologies and developments of certain organs; and the conclusions drawn -might not improbably enter as elements into still wider inquiries -concerning the origin of organic forms. - -From ideas let us turn to emotions. In a young child, a father’s anger -produces little else than vague fear—a disagreeable sense of impending -evil, taking various shapes of physical suffering or deprivation of -pleasures. In elder children, the same harsh words will arouse -additional feelings: sometimes a sense of shame, of penitence, or of -sorrow for having offended; at other times, a sense of injustice, and a -consequent anger. In the wife, yet a further range of feelings may come -into existence—perhaps wounded affection, perhaps self-pity for -ill-usage, perhaps contempt for groundless irritability, perhaps -sympathy for some suffering which the irritability indicates, perhaps -anxiety about an unknown misfortune which she thinks has produced it. -Nor are we without evidence that among adults, the like differences of -development are accompanied by like differences in the number of -emotions that are aroused, in combination or rapid succession—the lower -natures being characterized by that impulsiveness which results from the -uncontrolled action of a few feelings; and the higher natures being -characterized by the simultaneous action of many secondary feelings, -modifying those first awakened. - -Possibly it will be objected that the illustrations here given, are -drawn from the functional changes of the nervous system, not from its -structural changes; and that what is proved among the first, does not -necessarily hold among the last. This must be admitted. Those, however, -who recognize the truth that the structural changes are the slowly -accumulated results of the functional changes, will readily draw the -corollary, that a part-cause of the evolution of the nervous system, as -of other evolution, is this multiplication of effects which becomes ever -greater as the development becomes higher. - - * * * * * - -§ 121. If the advance of Man towards greater heterogeneity in both body -and mind, is in part 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 occasionally happen, some individual of a -tribe displays unusual 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 differentiation of that individual -into a maker of weapons. His companions (warriors and hunters all of -them) severally wish to have the best weapons that can be made; and are -therefore certain to offer strong inducements to this skilled individual -to make weapons for them. He, on the other hand, having both an unusual -faculty, and an unusual liking, for making weapons (the capacity and the -desire for any occupation being commonly associated), is predisposed to -fulfil these commissions on the offer of adequate rewards: 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 his clients, cessation of -practice entails decreased skill. Thus the influences that determine -this division of labour grow stronger in both ways: this social movement -tends ever to become more decided in the direction in which it was first -set up; and the incipient heterogeneity is, on the average of cases, -likely to become permanent for that generation, if no longer. Such -a process, besides differentiating the social mass into two parts, the -one monopolizing, or almost monopolizing, the performance of a certain -function, and the other having lost the habit, and in some measure the -power, of performing that function, has a tendency to initiate other -differentiations. The advance 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. Now 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 excels 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 aptitude. Thus it -results that the small specialities of faculty possessed by various -members of the tribe will tend to grow more decided. If such -transactions are from time to time repeated, these specializations may -become appreciable. And whether or not there ensue distinct -differentiations of other individuals into makers of particular -articles, it is clear that incipient differentiations take place -throughout the tribe: the one original cause produces not only the first -dual effect, but a number of secondary dual effects, like in kind but -minor in degree. This process, of which traces may be seen among -groups of school-boys, cannot well produce a lasting distribution of -functions in an unsettled tribe; but where there grows up a fixed and -multiplying community, such differentiations become permanent, and -increase with each generation. An addition to the number of citizens, -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 but nascent. By increasing the pressure on -the means of subsistence, a larger population again augments these -results; since every individual is forced more and more to confine -himself to that which he can do best, and by which he can gain most. And -this industrial progress, by aiding future production, opens the way for -further growth of population, which reacts as before. Presently, -under the same stimuli, new occupations arise. Competing workers, -severally aiming to produce improved articles, occasionally discover -better processes or better materials. In weapons and cutting-tools, the -substitution of bronze for stone entails on him who first makes it, a -great increase of demand—so great an increase 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 articles to others; and -eventually the 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 change. Bronze soon replaces -stone, not only in the articles it was first used for, but in many -others; and so affects the manufacture of them. Further, it affects the -processes which such improved utensils subserve, and the resulting -products—modifies buildings, carvings, dress, personal decorations. Yet -again, it sets going sundry manufactures which were before impossible, -from lack of a material fit for the requisite tools. And all these -changes react on the people—increase their manipulative skill, their -intelligence, their comfort—refine their habits and tastes. - -It is out of the question here to follow through its successive -complications, this increasing social heterogeneity that results from -the production of many effects by one cause. But leaving the -intermediate phases of social development, let us take an illustration -from its passing phase. To trace the effects of steam-power, in its -manifold applications to mining, navigation, and manufactures, 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 registration, -the trial-section, the parliamentary survey, the lithographed 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 transactions, and the further development of sundry occupations, (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, em-bankings, -tunnellings, diversions of roads; the building of bridges and stations; -the laying down of ballast, sleepers, and rails; the making of engines, -tenders, carriages, and wagons: which processes, acting upon numerous -trades, increase the importation of timber, the quarrying of stone, the -manufacture of iron, the mining of coal, the burning of bricks; -institute a variety of special manufactures weekly advertised in the -_Railway Times_; and call into being some new classes of -workers—drivers, stokers, cleaners, plate-layers, &c. &c. Then come the -changes, more numerous and involved still, which railways in action -produce on the community at large. The organization of every business is -more or less modified: ease of communication makes it better 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 distance once rendered inaccessible. The rapidity and small cost -of carriage, tend to specialize more than ever the industries of -different districts—to confine each manufacture to the parts in which, -from local advantages, it can be best carried on. Economical -distribution equalizes prices, and also, on the average, lowers prices: -thus bringing divers articles within the means of those before unable to -buy them, and so increasing their comforts and improving their habits. -At the same time the practice of travelling is immensely extended. -Classes who before could not afford it, take annual trips to the sea; -visit their distant relations; make tours; and so we are benefited in -body, feelings, and intellect. 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 advertisements in railway carriages: -both of them aiding ulterior progress. And 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 all places have been altered; each trader -has, more or less, modified his way of doing business; and every person -has been affected in his actions, thoughts, emotions. - -The only further fact demanding notice, is, that we here see more -clearly than ever, that in proportion as the area over which any -influence extends, becomes heterogeneous, the results are in a yet -higher degree multiplied in number and kind. While among the primitive -tribes to whom it was first known, caoutchouc caused but few changes, -among ourselves the changes have been so many and varied that the -history of them occupies a volume. Upon the small, homogeneous community -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. - -Space permitting, the synthesis might here be pursued in relation to all -the subtler products of social life. It might be shown how, in Science, -an advance of one division presently advances other divisions—how -Astronomy has been immensely forwarded by discoveries in Optics, while -other optical discoveries have initiated Microscopic Anatomy, and -greatly aided the growth of Physiology—how Chemistry has indirectly -increased our knowledge of Electricity, Magnetism, Biology, Geology—how -Electricity has reacted on Chemistry and Magnetism, developed our views -of Light and Heat, and disclosed sundry laws of nervous action. In -Literature the same truth might be exhibited in the still-multiplying -forms of periodical publications that have descended from the first -newspaper, and which have severally acted and reacted on other forms of -literature and on each other; or in the bias given by each book of power -to various subsequent books. The influence which a new school of -Painting (as that of the pre-Raphaelites) exercises on other schools; -the hints which all kinds of pictorial art are deriving from -Photography; the complex results of new critical doctrines; might -severally be dwelt on as displaying the like multiplication of effects. -But it would needlessly tax the reader’s patience to detail, in their -many ramifications, these various changes: here become so involved and -subtle as to be followed with some difficulty. - - * * * * * - -§ 122. After the argument which closed the last chapter, a parallel one -seems here scarcely required. For symmetry’s sake, however, it will be -proper briefly to point out how the multiplication of effects, like the -instability of the homogeneous, is a corollary from the persistence of -force. - -Things which we call different are things which react in different ways; -and we can know them as different only by the differences in their -reactions. When we distinguish bodies as hard and soft, rough and -smooth, we simply mean that certain like muscular forces expended on -them are followed by unlike sets of sensations—unlike re-active forces. -Objects that are classed as red, blue, yellow, &c., are objects that -decompose light in strongly-contrasted ways; that is, we know contrasts -of colour as contrasts in the changes produced in a uniform incident -force. Manifestly, any two things which do not work unequal effects on -consciousness, either by unequally opposing our own energies, or by -impressing our senses with unequally modified forms of certain external -energies, cannot be distinguished by us. Hence the proposition that the -different parts of any whole must react differently on a uniform -incident force, and must so reduce it to a group of multiform forces, is -in essence a truism. A further step will reduce this truism to its -lowest terms. - -When, from unlikeness between the effects they produce on consciousness, -we predicate unlikeness between two objects, what is our warrant? and -what do we mean by the unlikeness, objectively considered? Our warrant -is the persistence of force. Some kind or amount of change has been -wrought in us by the one, which has not been wrought by the other. This -change we ascribe to some force exercised by the one which the other has -not exercised. And we have no alternative but to do this, or to assert -that the change had no antecedent; which is to deny the persistence of -force. Whence it is further manifest that what we regard as the -objective unlikeness is the presence in the one of some force, or set of -forces, not present in the other—something in the kinds or amounts or -directions of the constituent forces of the one, which those of the -other do not parallel. But now if things or parts of things which we -call different, are those of which the constituent forces differ in one -or more respects; what must happen to any like forces, or any uniform -force, falling on them? Such like forces, or parts of a uniform force, -must be differently modified. The force which is present in the one and -not in the other, must be an element in the conflict—must produce its -equivalent reaction; and must so affect the total reaction. To say -otherwise is to say that this differential force will produce no effect; -which is to say that force is not persistent. - -I need not develop this corollary further. It manifestly follows that a -uniform force, falling on a uniform aggregate, must undergo dispersion; -that falling on an aggregate made up of unlike parts, it must undergo -dispersion from each part, as well as qualitative differentiations; that -in proportion as the parts are unlike, these qualitative -differentiations must be marked; that in proportion to the number of the -parts, they must be numerous; that the secondary forces so produced, -must undergo further transformations while working equivalent -transformations in the parts that change them; and similarly with the -forces they generate. Thus the conclusions that a part-cause of -Evolution is the multiplication of effects; and that this increases in -geometrical progression as the heterogeneity becomes greater; are not -only to be established inductively, but are deducible from the deepest -of all truths. - ------ - -Footnote 17: - - Had this paragraph, first published in the _Westminster Review_ in - 1857, been written after the appearance of Mr. Darwin’s work on _The - Origin of Species_, it would doubtless have been otherwise expressed. - Reference would have been made to the process of “natural selection,” - as greatly facilitating the differentiations described. As it is, - however, I prefer to let the passage stand in its original shape: - partly because it seems to me that these successive changes of - conditions would produce divergent varieties or species, apart from - the influence of “natural selection” (though in less numerous ways as - well as less rapidly); and partly because I conceive that in the - absence of these successive changes of conditions, “natural selection” - would effect comparatively little. Let me add that though these - positions are not enunciated in _The Origin of Species_, yet a mutual - friend gives me reason to think that Mr. Darwin would coincide in - them; if he did not indeed consider them as tacitly implied in his - work. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - DIFFERENTIATION AND INTEGRATION. - - -§ 123. The general interpretation of Evolution is far from being -completed in the preceding chapters. We must contemplate its changes -under yet another aspect, before we can form a definite conception of -the process constituted by them. Though the laws already set forth, -furnish a key to the re-arrangement of parts which Evolution exhibits, -in so far as it is an advance from the uniform to the multiform; they -furnish no key to this re-arrangement in so far as it is an advance from -the indefinite to the definite. On studying the actions and re-actions -everywhere going on, we have found it to follow inevitably from a -certain primordial truth, that the homogeneous must lapse into the -heterogeneous, and that the heterogeneous must become more -heterogeneous; but we have not discovered why the differently-affected -parts of any simple whole, become clearly marked off from each other, at -the same time that they become unlike. Thus far no reason has been -assigned why there should not ordinarily arise a vague chaotic -heterogeneity, in place of that orderly heterogeneity displayed in -Evolution. It still remains to find out the cause of that integration of -parts which accompanies their differentiation—that gradually-completed -segregation of like units into a group, distinctly separated from -neighbouring groups which are severally made up of other kinds of units. -The rationale will be conveniently introduced by a few instances in -which we may watch this segregative process taking place. - -When towards the end of September, the trees are gaining their autumn -colours, and we are hoping shortly to see a further change increasing -still more the beauty of the landscape, we are not uncommonly -disappointed by the occurrence of an equinoxial gale. Out of the mixed -mass of foliage on each branch, the strong current of air carries away -the decaying and brightly-tinted leaves, but fails to detach those which -are still green. And while these last, frayed and seared by -long-continued beatings against each other, and the twigs around them, -give a sombre colour to the woods, the red and yellow and orange leaves -are collected together in ditches and behind walls and in corners where -eddies allow them to settle. That is to say, by the action of that -uniform force which the wind exerts on both kinds, the dying leaves are -picked out from among their still living companions and gathered in -places by themselves. Again, the separation of particles of different -sizes, as dust and sand from pebbles, may be similarly effected; as we -see on every road in March. And from the days of Homer downwards, the -power of currents of air, natural and artificial, to part from one -another units of unlike specific gravities, has been habitually utilized -in the winnowing of chaff from wheat. In every river we see how -the mixed materials carried down, are separately deposited—how in rapids -the bottom gives rest to nothing but boulders and pebbles; how where the -current is not so strong, sand is let fall; and how, in still places, -there is a sediment of mud. This selective action of moving water, is -commonly applied in the arts to obtain masses of particles of different -degrees of fineness. Emery, for example, after being ground, is carried -by a slow current through successive compartments; in the first of which -the largest grains subside; in the second of which the grains that reach -the bottom before the water has escaped, are somewhat smaller; in the -third smaller still; until in the last there are deposited only those -finest particles which fall so slowly through the water, that they have -not previously been able to reach the bottom. And in a way that is -different though equally significant, this segregative effect of water -in motion, is exemplified in the carrying away of soluble from insoluble -matters—an application of it hourly made in every laboratory. The -effects of the uniform forces which aerial and aqueous currents -exercise, are paralleled by those of uniform forces of other orders. -Electric attraction will separate small bodies from large, or light -bodies from heavy. By magnetism, grains of iron may be selected from -among other grains; as by the Sheffield grinder, whose magnetized gauze -mask filters out the steel-dust which his wheel gives off, from the -stone-dust that accompanies it. And how the affinity of any agent acting -differently on the components of a given body, enables us to take away -some component and leave the rest behind, is shown in almost every -chemical experiment. - -What now is the general truth here variously presented? How are these -several facts and countless similar ones, to be expressed in terms that -embrace them all? In each case we see in action a force which may be -regarded as simple or uniform—fluid motion in a certain direction at a -certain velocity; electric or magnetic attraction of a given amount; -chemical affinity of a particular kind: or rather, in strictness, the -acting force is compounded of one of these and certain other uniform -forces, as gravitation, etc. In each case we have an aggregate made up -of unlike units—either atoms of different substances combined or -intimately mingled, or fragments of the same substance of different -sizes, or other constituent parts that are unlike in their specific -gravities, shapes, or other attributes. And in each case these unlike -units, or groups of units, of which the aggregate consists, are, under -the influence of some resultant force acting indiscriminately on them -all, separated from each other—segregated into minor aggregates, each -consisting of units that are severally like each other and unlike those -of the other minor aggregates. Such being the common aspect of these -changes, let us look for the common interpretation of them. - -In the chapter on “The Instability of the Homogeneous,” it was shown -that a uniform force falling on any aggregate, produces unlike -modifications in its different parts—turns the uniform into the -multiform and the multiform into the more multiform. The transformation -thus wrought, consists of either insensible or sensible changes of -relative position among the units, or of both—either of those molecular -re-arrangements which we call chemical, or of those larger -transpositions which are distinguished as mechanical, or of the two -united. Such portion of the permanently effective force as reaches each -different part, or differently-conditioned part, may be expended in -modifying the mutual relations of its constituents; or it may be -expended in moving the part to another place; or it may be expended -partially in the first and partially in the second. Hence, so much of -the permanently effective force as does not work the one kind of effect, -must work the other kind. It is manifest that if of the permanently -effective force which falls on some compound unit of an aggregate, -little, if any, is absorbed in re-arranging the ultimate components of -such compound unit, much or the whole, must show itself in motion of -such compound unit to some other place in the aggregate; and conversely, -if little or none of this force is absorbed in generating mechanical -transposition, much or the whole must go to produce molecular -alterations. What now must follow from this? In cases where none -or only part of the force generates chemical re-distributions, what -physical re-distributions must be generated? Parts that are similar to -each other will be similarly acted on by the force; and will similarly -react on it. Parts that are dissimilar will be dissimilarly acted on by -the force; and will dissimilarly react on it. Hence the permanently -effective incident force, when wholly or partially transformed into -mechanical motion of the units, will produce like motions in units that -are alike, and unlike motions in units that are unlike. If then, in an -aggregate containing two or more orders of mixed units, those of the -same order will be moved in the same way, and in a way that differs from -that in which units of other orders are moved, the respective orders -must segregate. A group of like things on which are impressed motions -that are alike in amount and direction, must be transferred as a group -to another place, and if they are mingled with some group of other -things, on which the motions impressed are like each other, but unlike -those of the first group in amount or direction or both, these other -things must be transferred as a group to some other place—the mixed -aggregate must undergo a simultaneous differentiation and integration. - -In further elucidation of this process, it will be well here to set down -a few instances in which we may see that, other things equal, the -definiteness of the separation is in proportion to the definiteness of -the difference between the units. Take a handful of any pounded -substance, containing fragments of all sizes; and let it fall to the -ground while a gentle breeze is blowing. The large fragments will be -collected together on the ground almost immediately under the hand; -somewhat smaller fragments will be carried a little to the leeward; -still smaller ones a little further; and those minute particles which we -call dust, will be drifted a long way before they reach the earth: that -is, the integration is indefinite where the difference among the -fragments is indefinite, though the divergence is greatest where the -difference is greatest. If, again, the handful be made up of quite -distinct orders of units—as pebbles, coarse sand, and dust—these will, -under like conditions, be segregated with comparative definiteness: the -pebbles will drop almost vertically; the sand will fall in an inclined -direction, and deposit itself within a tolerably circumscribed space -beyond the pebbles; while the dust will be blown almost horizontally to -a great distance. A case in which another kind of force comes into play, -will still better illustrate this truth. Through a mixed aggregate of -soluble and insoluble substances, let water slowly percolate. There will -in the first place be a distinct parting of the substances that are the -most widely contrasted in their relations to the acting forces: the -soluble will be carried away; the insoluble will remain behind. Further, -some separation, though a less definite one, will be effected among the -soluble substances; since the first part of the current will remove the -most soluble substances in the largest amounts, and after these have -been all dissolved, the current will still continue to bring out the -remaining less soluble substances. Even the undissolved matters will -have simultaneously undergone a certain segregation; for the percolating -fluid will carry down the minute fragments from among the large ones, -and will deposit those of small specific gravity in one place, and those -of great specific gravity in another. To complete the elucidation -we must glance at the obverse fact; namely, that mixed units which -differ but slightly, are moved in but slightly-different ways by -incident forces, and can therefore be separated only by such adjustments -of the incident forces as allow slight differences to become appreciable -factors in the result. This truth is made manifest by antithesis in the -instances just given; but it may be made much more manifest by a few -such instances as those which chemical analysis supplies in abundance. -The parting of alcohol from water by distillation is a good one. Here we -have atoms consisting of oxygen and hydrogen, mingled with atoms -consisting of oxygen, hydrogen, and carbon. The two orders of atoms have -a considerable similarity of nature: they similarly maintain a fluid -form at ordinary temperatures; they similarly become gaseous more and -more rapidly as the temperature is raised; and they boil at points not -very far apart. Now this comparative likeness of the atoms is -accompanied by difficulty in segregating them. If the mixed fluid is -unduly heated, much water distils over with the alcohol: it is only -within a narrow range of temperature, that the one set of atoms are -driven off rather than the others; and even then not a few of the others -accompany them. The most interesting and instructive example, however, -is furnished by certain phenomena of crystallization. When several salts -that have little analogy of constitution, are dissolved in the same body -of water, they are separated without much trouble, by crystallization: -their respective units moved towards each other, as physicists suppose, -by polar forces, segregate into crystals of their respective kinds. The -crystals of each salt do, indeed, usually contain certain small amounts -of the other salts present in the solution—especially when the -crystallization has been rapid; but from these other salts they are -severally freed by repeated resolutions and crystallizations. Mark now, -however, that the reverse is the case when the salts contained in the -same body of water are chemically homologous. The nitrates of baryta and -lead, or the sulphates of zinc, soda, and magnesia, unite in the same -crystals; nor will they crystallize separately if these crystals be -dissolved afresh, and afresh crystallized, even with great care. On -seeking the cause of this anomaly, chemists found that such salts were -isomorphous—that their atoms, though not chemically identical, were -identical in the proportions of acid, base, and water, composing them, -and in their crystalline forms: whence it was inferred that their atoms -are nearly alike in structure. Thus is clearly illustrated the truth, -that units of unlike kinds are differentiated and integrated with a -readiness proportionate to the degree of their unlikeness. In the first -case we see that being dissimilar in their forms, but similar in so far -as they are soluble in water of a certain temperature, the atoms -segregate, though imperfectly. In the second case we see that the atoms, -having not only the likeness implied by solubility in the same -menstruum, but also a great likeness of structure, do not segregate—are -differentiated and integrated only under quite special conditions, and -then very incompletely. That is, the incident force of mutual polarity -impresses unlike motions on the mixed units in proportion as they are -unlike; and therefore, in proportion as they are unlike, tends to -deposit them in separate places. - -There is a converse cause of segregation, which it is needless here to -treat of with equal fulness. If different units acted on by the same -force, must be differently moved; so, too, must units of the same kind -be differently moved by different forces. Supposing some group of units -forming part of a homogeneous aggregate, are unitedly exposed to a force -that is unlike in amount or direction to the force acting on the rest of -the aggregate; then this group of units will separate from the rest, -provided that, of the force so acting on it, there remains any portion -not dissipated in molecular vibrations, nor absorbed in producing -molecular re-arrangements. After all that has been said above, this -proposition needs no defence. - -Before ending our preliminary exposition, a complementary truth must be -specified; namely, that mixed forces are segregated by the reaction of -uniform matters, just as mixed matters are segregated by the action of -uniform forces. Of this truth a complete and sufficient illustration is -furnished by the dispersion of refracted light. A beam of light, made up -of ethereal undulations of different orders, is not uniformly deflected -by a homogeneous refracting body; but the different orders of -undulations it contains, are deflected at different angles: the result -being that these different orders of undulations are separated and -integrated, and so produce what we know as the colours of the spectrum. -A segregation of another kind occurs when rays of light traverse an -obstructing medium. Those rays which consist of comparatively short -undulations, are absorbed before those which consist of comparatively -long ones; and the red rays, which consist of the longest undulations, -alone penetrate when the obstruction is very great. How, conversely, -there is produced a separation of like forces by the reaction of unlike -matters, is also made manifest by the phenomena of refraction: since -adjacent and parallel beams of light, falling on, and passing through, -unlike substances, are made to diverge. - - * * * * * - -§ 124. On the assumption of their nebular origin, stars and planets -exemplify that cause of material integration last assigned—the action of -unlike forces on like units. - -In a preceding chapter (§ 110) we saw that if matter ever existed in a -diffused form, it could not continue uniformly distributed, but must -break up into masses. It was shown that in the absence of a perfect -balance of mutual attractions among atoms dispersed through unlimited -space, there must arise breeches of continuity throughout the aggregate -formed by them, and a concentration of it towards centres of dominant -attraction. Where any such breech of continuity occurs, and the atoms -that were before adjacent separate from each other; they do so in -consequence of a difference in the forces to which they are respectively -subject. The atoms on the one side of the breech are exposed to a -certain surplus attraction in the direction in which they begin to move; -and those on the other to a surplus attraction in the opposite -direction. That is, the adjacent groups of like units are exposed to -unlike resultant forces; and accordingly separate and integrate. - -The formation and detachment of a nebulous ring, illustrates the same -general principle. To conclude, as Laplace did, that the equatorial -portion of a rotating nebulous spheroid, will, during concentration, -acquire a centrifugal force sufficient to prevent it from following the -rest of the contracting mass, is to conclude that such portions will -remain behind as are in common subject to a certain differential force. -The line of division between the ring and the spheroid, must be a line -inside of which the aggregative force is greater than the force -resisting aggregation; and outside of which the force resisting -aggregation is greater than the aggregative force. Hence the alleged -process conforms to the law that among like units, separation and -integration is produced by the action of unlike forces. - -Astronomical phenomena do not furnish any other than these hypothetical -examples. In its present comparatively settled condition, the Solar -System exhibits no direct evidence of progressing integration: unless -indeed under the insignificant form of the union of meteoric masses with -the Earth, and, occasionally perhaps, of cometary matter with the Sun. - - * * * * * - -§ 125. Those geologic changes usually classed as aqueous, display under -numerous forms the segregation of unlike units by a uniform incident -force. On sea-shores, the waves are ever sorting-out and separating the -mixed materials against which they break. From each mass of fallen -cliff, the rising and ebbing tide carries away all those particles which -are so small as to remain long suspended in the water; and, at some -distance from shore, deposits them in the shape of fine sediment. Large -particles, sinking with comparative rapidity, are accumulated into beds -of sand near low water-mark. The coarse grit and small pebbles collect -together on the incline up which the breakers rush. And on the top lie -the larger stones and boulders. Still more specific segregations may -occasionally be observed. Flat pebbles, produced by the breaking down of -laminated rock, are sometimes separately collected in one part of a -shingle bank. On this shore the deposit is wholly of mud; on that it is -wholly of sand. Here we find a sheltered cove filled with small pebbles -almost of one size; and there, in a curved bay one end of which is more -exposed than the other, we see a progressive increase in the massiveness -of the stones as we walk from the less exposed to the more exposed end. -Indeed, our sedimentary strata form one vast series of illustrations of -the alleged law. Trace the history of each deposit, and we are quickly -led down to the fact, that mixed fragments of matter, differing in their -sizes or weights, are, when exposed to the momentum and friction of -water, joined with the attraction of the Earth, selected from each -other, and united into groups of comparatively like fragments. We see -that, other things equal, the separation is definite in proportion as -the differences of the units are marked; and that, under the action of -the same aggregate of forces, the most widely unlike units are most -widely removed from each other. - -Among igneous changes we do not find so many examples of the process -described. When specifying the conditions to Evolution, it was pointed -out (§ 104) that molecular vibration exceeding a certain intensity, does -not permit those integrations which result from the action of minor -differential forces. Nevertheless, geological phenomena of this order -are not barren of illustrations. Where the mixed matters composing the -Earth’s crust have been raised to a very high temperature, segregation -habitually takes place as the temperature diminishes. Sundry of the -substances that escape in a gaseous form from volcanoes, sublime into -crystals on coming against cool surfaces; and solidifying, as these -substances do, at different temperatures, they are deposited at -different parts of the crevices through which they are emitted together. -The best illustration, however, is furnished by the changes that occur -during the slow cooling of igneous rock. When, through one of the -fractures from time to time made in the solid shell which forms the -Earth’s crust, a portion of the molten nucleus is extruded; and when -this is cooled with comparative rapidity, through free radiation and -contact with cold masses; it forms a substance known as trap or basalt—a -substance that is uniform in texture, though made up of various -ingredients. But when, not escaping through the superficial strata, such -a portion of the molten nucleus is slowly cooled, it becomes what we -know as granite: the mingled particles of quartz, feldspar, and mica, -being kept for a long time in a fluid and semi-fluid state—a state of -comparative mobility—undergo those changes of position which the forces -impressed on them by their fellow units necessitate. Having time in -which to generate the requisite motions of the atoms, the differential -forces arising from mutual polarity, segregate the quartz, feldspar, and -mica, into crystals. How completely this is dependent on the -long-continued agitation of the mixed particles, and consequent -long-continued mobility by small differential forces, is proved by the -fact that in granite dykes, the crystals in the centre of the mass, -where the fluidity or semi-fluidity continued for a longer time, are -much larger than those at the sides, where contact with the neighbouring -rock caused more rapid cooling and solidification. - - * * * * * - -§ 126. The actions going on throughout an organism are so involved and -subtle, that we cannot expect to identify the particular forces by which -particular integrations are effected. Among the few instances admitting -of tolerably definite interpretation, the best are those in which -mechanical pressures and tensions are the agencies at work. We shall -discover several on studying the bony frame of the higher animals. - -The vertebral column of a man, is subject, as a whole, to certain -general strains—the weight of the body, together with the reactions -involved by all considerable muscular efforts; and in conformity with -this, it has a certain general integration. At the same time, being -exposed to different forces in the course of those lateral bendings -which the movements necessitate, its parts retain a certain -separateness. And if we trace up the development of the vertebral column -from its primitive form of a cartilaginous cord in the lowest fishes, we -see that, throughout, it maintains an integration corresponding to the -unity of the incident forces, joined with a division into segments -corresponding to the variety of the incident forces. Each segment, -considered apart, exemplifies the truth more simply. A vertebra is not a -single bone, but consists of a central mass with sundry appendages or -processes; and in rudimentary types of vertebræ, those appendages are -quite separate from the central mass, and, indeed, exist before it makes -its appearance. But these several independent bones, constituting a -primitive spinal segment, are subject to a certain aggregate of forces -which agree more than they differ: as the fulcrum to a group of muscles -habitually acting together, they perpetually undergo certain reactions -in common. And accordingly, we see that in the course of development -they gradually coalesce. Still clearer is the illustration -furnished by spinal segments that become fused together where they are -together exposed to some predominant strain. The sacrum consists of a -group of vertebræ firmly united. In the ostrich and its congeners there -are from seventeen to twenty sacral vertebræ; and besides being -confluent with each other, these are confluent with the iliac bones, -which run on each side of them. If now we assume these vertebræ to have -been originally separate, as they still are in the embryo bird; and if -we consider the mechanical conditions to which they must in such case -have been exposed; we shall see that their union results in the alleged -way. For through these vertebræ the entire weight of the body is -transferred to the legs: the legs support the pelvic arch; the pelvic -arch supports the sacrum; and to the sacrum is articulated the rest of -the spine, with all the limbs and organs attached to it. Hence, if -separate, the sacral vertebræ must be held firmly together by -strongly-contracted muscles; and must, by implication, be prevented from -partaking in those lateral movements which the other vertebræ -undergo—they must be subject to a common strain, while they are -preserved from strains which would affect them differently; and so they -fulfil the conditions under which integration occurs. But the -cases in which cause and effect are brought into the most obvious -relation, are supplied by the limbs. The metacarpal bones (those which -in man support the palm of the hand) are separate from each other in the -majority of mammalia: the separate actions of the toes entailing on them -slight amounts of separate movements. This is not so however in the -ox-tribe and the horse-tribe. In the ox-tribe, only the middle -metacarpals (third and fourth) are developed; and these, attaining -massive proportions, coalesce to form the cannon bone. In the -horse-tribe, the integration is what we may distinguish as indirect: the -second and fourth metacarpals are present only as rudiments united to -the sides of the third, while the third is immensely developed; thus -forming a cannon bone which differs from that of the ox in being a -single cylinder, instead of two cylinders fused together. The metatarsus -in these quadrupeds exhibits parallel changes. Now each of these -metamorphoses occurs where the different bones grouped together have no -longer any different functions, but retain only a common function. The -feet of oxen and horses are used solely for locomotion—are not put like -those of unguiculate mammals to purposes which involve some relative -movements of the metacarpals. Thus there directly or indirectly results -a single mass of bone where the incident force is single. And for the -inference that these facts have a causal connexion, we find confirmation -throughout the entire class of birds; in the wings and legs of which, -like integrations are found under like conditions. While this -sheet is passing through the press, a fact illustrating this general -truth in a yet more remarkable manner, has been mentioned to me by Prof. -Huxley; who kindly allows me to make use of it while still unpublished -by him. The _Glyptodon_, an extinct mammal found fossilized in South -America, has long been known as a large uncouth creature allied to the -Armadillo, but having a massive dermal armour consisting of polygonal -plates closely fitted together so as to make a vast box, inclosing the -body in such way as effectually to prevent it from being bent, laterally -or vertically, in the slightest degree. This bony box, which must have -weighed several hundred-weight, was supported on the spinous processes -of the vertebræ, and on the adjacent bones of the pelvic and thoracic -arches. And the significant fact now to be noted, is, that here, where -the trunk vertebræ were together exposed to the pressure of this heavy -dermal armour, at the same time that, by its rigidity, they were -preserved from all relative movements, the entire series of them were -united into one solid, continuous bone. - -The formation and maintenance of a species, considered as an assemblage -of similar organisms, is interpretable in an analogous way. We have -already seen that in so far as the members of a species are subject to -different sets of incident forces, they are differentiated, or divided -into varieties. And here it remains to add that in so far as they are -subject to like sets of incident forces, they are integrated, or reduced -to, and kept in, the state of a uniform aggregate. For by the process of -“natural selection,” there is a continual purification of each species -from those individuals which depart from the common type in ways that -unfit them for the conditions of their existence. Consequently, there is -a continual leaving behind of those individuals which are in all -respects fit for the conditions of their existence; and are therefore -very nearly alike. The circumstances to which any species is exposed, -being, as we before saw, an involved combination of incident forces; and -the members of the species having mixed with them some that differ more -than usual from the average structure required for meeting these forces; -it results that these forces are constantly separating such divergent -individuals from the rest, and so preserving the uniformity of the -rest—keeping up its integrity as a species. Just as the changing autumn -leaves are picked out by the wind from among the green ones around them, -or just as, to use Prof. Huxley’s simile, the smaller fragments pass -through the sieve while the larger are kept back; so, the uniform -incidence of external forces affects the members of a group of organisms -similarly in proportion as they are similar, and differently in -proportion as they are different; and thus is ever segregating the like -by parting the unlike from them. Whether these separated members are -killed off, as mostly happens, or whether, as otherwise happens, they -survive and multiply into a distinct variety, in consequence of their -fitness to certain partially unlike conditions, matters not to the -argument. The one case conforms to the law, that the unlike units of an -aggregate are differentiated and integrated when uniformly subject to -the same incident forces; and the other to the converse law, that the -like units of an aggregate are differentiated and integrated when -subject to different incident forces. And on consulting Mr. Darwin’s -remarks on divergence of character, it will be seen that the -segregations thus caused tend ever to become more definite. - - * * * * * - -§ 127. Mental evolution under one of its leading aspects, we found to -consist in the formation of groups of like objects and like -relations—a differentiation of the various things originally -confounded together in one assemblage, and an integration of each -separate order of things into a separate group (§ 113). Here it -remains to point out that while unlikeness in the incident forces is -the cause of such differentiations, likeness in the incident forces is -the cause of such integrations. For what is the process through which -classifications are established? At first, in common with the -uninitiated, the botanist recognizes only such conventional divisions -as those which agriculture has established—distinguishes a few -vegetables and cereals, and groups the rest together into the one -miscellaneous aggregate of wild plants. How do these wild plants -become grouped in his mind into orders, genera, and species? Each -plant he examines yields him a certain complex impression. Every now -and then he picks up a plant like one before seen; and the recognition -of it is the production in him of a like connected group of -sensations, by a like connected group of attributes. That is to say, -there is produced throughout the nerves concerned, a combined set of -changes, similar to a combined set of changes before produced. -Considered analytically, each such combined set of changes is a -combined set of molecular modifications wrought in the affected part -of the organism. On every repetition of the impression, a like -combined set of molecular modifications is superposed on the previous -ones, and makes them greater: thus generating an internal idea -corresponding to these similar external objects. Meanwhile, another -kind of plant produces in the brain of the botanist another set of -combined changes or molecular modifications—a set which does not agree -with and deepen the one we have been considering, but disagrees with -it; and by repetition of such there is generated a different idea -answering to a different species. What now is the nature of this -process expressed in general terms? On the one hand there are the like -and unlike things from which severally emanate the groups of forces by -which we perceive them. On the other hand, there are the organs of -sense and percipient centres, through which, in the course of -observation, these groups of forces pass. In passing through these -organs of sense and percipient centres, the like groups of forces are -segregated, or separated from the unlike groups of forces; and each -such differentiated and integrated series of groups of forces, -answering to an external genus or species, constitutes a state of -consciousness which we call our idea of the genus or species. We -before saw that as well as a separation of mixed matters by the same -force, there is a separation of mixed forces by the same matter; and -here we may further see that the unlike forces so separated, work -unlike structural changes in the aggregate that separates -them—structural changes each of which thus represents, and is -equivalent to, the integrated series of motions that has produced it. - -By a parallel process, the connexions of co-existence and sequence among -impressions, become differentiated and integrated simultaneously with -the impressions themselves. When two phenomena that have been -experienced in a given order, are repeated in the same order, those -nerves which before were affected by the transition are again affected; -and such molecular modification as they received from the first motion -propagated through them, is increased by this second motion along the -same route. Each such motion works a structural alteration, which, in -conformity with the general law set forth in Chapter X., involves a -diminution of the resistance to all such motions that afterwards occur. -The integration of these successive motions (or more strictly, the -permanently effective portions of them expended in overcoming -resistance) thus becomes the cause of, and the measure of, the mental -connexion between the impressions which the phenomena produce. -Meanwhile, phenomena that are recognized as different from these, being -phenomena that therefore affect different nervous elements, will have -their connexions severally represented by motions along other routes; -and along each of these other routes, the nervous discharges will -severally take place with a readiness proportionate to the frequency -with which experience repeats the connexion of phenomena. The -classification of relations must hence go on _pari passu_ with the -classification of the related things. In common with the mixed -sensations received from the external world, the mixed relations it -presents, cannot be impressed on the organism without more or less -segregation of them resulting. And through this continuous -differentiation and integration of changes or motions, which constitutes -nervous function, there is gradually wrought that differentiation and -integration of matter, which constitutes nervous structure. - - * * * * * - -§ 128. In social evolution, the collecting together of the like and the -separation of the unlike, by incident forces, is primarily displayed in -the same manner as we saw it to be among groups of inferior creatures. -The human races tend to differentiate and integrate, as do races of -other living forms. Of the forces which effect and maintain the -segregations of mankind, may first be named those external ones which we -class as physical conditions. The climate and food that are favourable -to an indigenous people, are more or less detrimental to a people of -different bodily constitution, coming from a remote part of the Earth. -In tropical regions the northern races cannot permanently exist: if not -killed off in the first generation, they are so in the second; and, as -in India, can maintain their footing only by the artificial process of -continuous immigration and emigration. That is to say, the external -forces acting equally on the inhabitants of a given locality, tend to -expel all who are not of a certain type; and so to keep up the -integration of those who are of that type. Though elsewhere, as among -European nations, we see a certain amount of permanent intermixture, -otherwise brought about, we still see that this takes place between -races of not very different types, that are naturalized to not very -different conditions. The other forces conspiring to produce these -national integrations, are those mental ones which show themselves in -the affinities of men for others like themselves. Emigrants usually -desire to get back among their own people; and where their desire does -not take effect, it is only because the restraining ties are too great. -Units of one society who are obliged to reside in another, very -generally form colonies in the midst of that other—small societies of -their own. Races which have been artificially severed, show strong -tendencies to re-unite. Now though these integrations that result from -the mutual affinities of kindred men, do not seem interpretable as -illustrations of the general principle above enunciated, they really are -thus interpretable. When treating of the direction of motion (§ 91), it -was shown that the actions performed by men for the satisfaction of -their wants, were always motions along lines of least resistance. The -feelings characterizing a member of a given race, are feelings which get -complete satisfaction only among other members of that race—a -satisfaction partly derived from sympathy with those having like -feelings, but mainly derived from the adapted social conditions which -grow up where such feelings prevail. When, therefore, a citizen of any -nation is, as we see, attracted towards others of his nation, the -rationale is, that certain agencies which we call desires, move him in -the direction of least resistance. Human motions, like all other -motions, being determined by the distribution of forces, it follows that -such integrations of races as are not produced by incident external -forces, are produced by forces which the units of the races exercise on -each other. - -During the development of each society, we see analogous segregations -caused in analogous ways. A few of them result from minor natural -affinities; but those most important ones which constitute political and -industrial organization, result from the union of men in whom -similarities have been produced by education—using education in its -widest sense, as comprehending all processes by which citizens are -moulded to special functions. Men brought up to bodily labour, are men -who have had wrought in them a certain likeness—a likeness which, in -respect of their powers of action, obscures and subordinates their -natural differences. Those trained to brain-work, have acquired a -certain other community of character which makes them, as social units, -more like each other than like those trained to manual occupations. And -there arise class-integrations answering to these superinduced -likenesses. Much more definite integrations take place among the much -more definitely assimilated members of any class who are brought up to -the same calling. Even where the necessities of their work forbid -concentration in one locality, as among artizans happens with masons and -brick-layers, and among traders happens with the retail distributors, -and among professionals happens with the medical men; there are not -wanting Operative Builders Unions, and Grocers Societies, and Medical -Associations, to show that these artificially-assimilated citizens -become integrated as much as the conditions permit. And where, as among -the manufacturing classes, the functions discharged do not require the -dispersion of the citizens thus artificially assimilated, there is a -progressive aggregation of them in special localities; and a consequent -increase in the definiteness of the industrial divisions. If now -we seek the causes of these integrations, considered as results of force -and motion, we find ourselves brought to the same general principle as -before. This likeness generated in any class or subclass by training, is -an aptitude acquired by its members for satisfying their wants in like -ways. That is, the occupation to which each man has been brought up, has -become to him, in common with those similarly brought up, a line of -least resistance. Hence under that pressure which determines all men to -activity, these similarly-modified social units are similarly affected, -and tend to take similar courses. If then there be any locality which, -either by its physical peculiarities or by peculiarities wrought on it -during social evolution, is rendered a place where a certain kind of -industrial action meets with less resistance than elsewhere; it follows -from the law of direction of motion that those social units who have -been moulded to this kind of industrial action, will move towards this -place, or become integrated there. If, for instance, the proximity of -coal and iron mines to a navigable river, gives to Glasgow a certain -advantage in the building of iron ships—if the total labour required to -produce the same vessel, and get its equivalent in food and clothing, is -less there than elsewhere; a concentration of iron-ship builders is -produced at Glasgow: either by keeping there the population born to -iron-ship building; or by immigration of those elsewhere engaged in it; -or by both—a concentration that would be still more marked did not other -districts offer counter-balancing facilities. The principle equally -holds where the occupation is mercantile instead of manufacturing. -Stock-brokers cluster together in the city, because the amount of effort -to be severally gone through by them in discharging their functions, and -obtaining their profits, is less there than in other localities. A place -of exchange having once been established, becomes a place where the -resistance to be overcome by each is less than elsewhere; and the -pursuit of the course of least resistance by each, involves their -aggregation around this place. - -Of course, with units so complicated as those which constitute a -society, and with forces so involved as those which move them, the -resulting differentiations and integrations must be far more entangled, -or far less definite, than those we have hitherto considered. But though -there may be pointed out many anomalies which at first sight seem -inconsistent with the alleged law, a closer study shows that they are -but subtler illustrations of it. For men’s likenesses being of various -kinds, lead to various order of integration. There are likenesses of -disposition, likenesses of taste, likenesses produced by intellectual -culture, likenesses that result from class-training, likenesses of -political feeling; and it needs but to glance round at the -caste-divisions, the associations for philanthropic, scientific, and -artistic purposes, the religious parties and social cliques; to see that -some species of likeness among the component members of each body -determines their union. Now these different integrations, by traversing -each other, and often by their indirect antagonism, more or less obscure -each other; and prevent any one kind of integration from becoming -complete. Hence the anomalies referred to. But if this cause of -incompleteness be duly borne in mind, social segregations will be seen -to conform entirely to the same principle as all other segregations. -Analysis will show that either by external incident forces, or by what -we may in a sense regard as mutual polarity, there are ever being -produced in society integrations of those units which have either a -natural likeness or a likeness generated by training. - - * * * * * - -§ 129. Can the general truth thus variously illustrated be deduced from -the persistence of force, in common with foregoing ones? Probably the -exposition at the beginning of the chapter will have led most readers to -conclude that it can be so deduced. - -The abstract propositions involved are these:—First, that like units, -subject to a uniform force capable of producing motion in them, will be -moved to like degrees in the same direction. Second, that like units if -exposed to unlike forces capable of producing motion in them, will be -differently moved—moved either in different directions or to different -degrees in the same direction. Third, that unlike units if acted on by a -uniform force capable of producing motion in them, will be differently -moved—moved either in different directions or to different degrees in -the same direction. Fourth, that the incident forces themselves must be -affected in analogous ways: like forces falling on like units must be -similarly modified by the conflict; unlike forces falling on like units -must be dissimilarly modified; and like forces falling on unlike units -must be dissimilarly modified. These propositions admit of reduction to -a still more abstract form. They all of them amount to this:—that in the -actions and reactions of force and matter, an unlikeness in either of -the factors necessitates an unlikeness in the effects; and that in the -absence of unlikeness in either of the factors the effects must be -alike. - -When thus generalized, the immediate dependence of these propositions on -the persistence of force, becomes obvious. Any two forces that are not -alike, are forces which differ either in their amounts or directions or -both; and by what mathematicians call the resolution of forces, it may -be proved that this difference is constituted by the presence in the one -of some force not present in the other. Similarly, any two units or -portions of matter which are unlike in size, weight, form, or other -attribute, can be known by us as unlike only through some unlikeness in -the forces they impress on our consciousness; and hence this unlikeness -also, is constituted by the presence in the one of some force or forces -not present in the other. Such being the common nature of these -unlikenesses, what is the inevitable corollary? Any unlikeness in the -incident forces, where the things acted on are alike, must generate a -difference between the effects; since otherwise, the differential force -produces no effect, and force is not persistent. Any unlikeness in the -things acted on, where the incident forces are alike, must generate a -difference between the effects; since otherwise, the differential force -whereby these things are made unlike, produces no effect, and force is -not persistent. While, conversely, if the forces acting and the things -acted on, are alike, the effects must be alike; since otherwise, a -differential effect can be produced without a differential cause, and -force is not persistent. - -Thus these general truths being necessary implications of the -persistence of force, all the re-distributions above traced out as -characterizing Evolution in its various phases, are also implications of -the persistence of force. Such portions of the permanently effective -forces acting on any aggregate, as produce sensible motions in its -parts, cannot but work the segregations which we see take place. If of -the mixed units making up such aggregate, those of the same kind have -like motions impressed on them by a uniform force, while units of -another kind are moved by this uniform force in ways more or less unlike -the ways in which those of the first kind are moved, the two kinds must -separate and integrate. If the units are alike and the forces unlike, a -division of the differently affected units is equally necessitated. Thus -there inevitably arises the demarcated grouping which we everywhere see. -By virtue of this segregation that grows ever more decided while there -remains any possibility of increasing it, the change from uniformity to -multiformity is accompanied by a change from indistinctness in the -relations of parts to distinctness in the relations of parts. As we -before saw that the transformation of the homogeneous into the -heterogeneous is inferrable from that ultimate truth which transcends -proof; so we here see, that from this same truth is inferrable the -transformation of an indefinite homogeneity into a definite -heterogeneity. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - EQUILIBRATION. - - -§ 130. And now towards what do these changes tend? Will they go on for -ever? or will there be an end to them? Can things increase in -heterogeneity through all future time? or must there be a degree which -the differentiation and integration of Matter and Motion cannot pass? Is -it possible for this universal metamorphosis to proceed in the same -general course indefinitely? or does it work towards some ultimate -state, admitting no further modification of like kind? The last of these -alternative conclusions is that to which we are inevitably driven. -Whether we watch concrete processes, or whether we consider the question -in the abstract, we are alike taught that Evolution has an impassable -limit. - -The re-distributions of matter that go on around us, are ever being -brought to conclusions by the dissipation of the motions which effect -them. The rolling stone parts with portions of its momentum to the -things it strikes, and finally comes to rest; as do also, in like -manner, the various things it has struck. Descending from the clouds and -trickling over the Earth’s surface till it gathers into brooks and -rivers, water, still running towards a lower level, is at last arrested -by the resistance of other water that has reached the lowest level. In -the lake or sea thus formed, every agitation raised by a wind or the -immersion of a solid body, propagates itself around in waves that -diminish as they widen, and gradually become lost to observation in -motions communicated to the atmosphere and the matter on the shores. The -impulse given by a player to the harp-string, is transformed through its -vibrations into aerial pulses; and these, spreading on all sides, and -weakening as they spread, soon cease to be perceptible; and finally die -away in generating thermal undulations that radiate into space. Equally -in the cinder that falls out of the fire, and in the vast masses of -molten lava ejected by a volcano, we see that the molecular agitation -known to us as heat, disperses itself by radiation; so that however -great its amount, it inevitably sinks at last to the same degree as that -existing in surrounding bodies. And if the actions observed be -electrical or chemical, we still find that they work themselves out in -producing sensible or insensible movements, that are dissipated as -before; until quiescence is eventually reached. The proximate -rationale of the process exhibited under these several forms, lies in -the fact dwelt on when treating of the Multiplication of Effects, that -motions are ever being decomposed into divergent motions, and these into -re-divergent motions. The rolling stone sends off the stones it hits in -directions differing more or less from its own; and they do the like -with the things they hit. Move water or air, and the movement is quickly -resolved into radiating movements. The heat produced by pressure in a -given direction, diffuses itself by undulations in all directions; and -so do the light and electricity similarly generated. That is to say, -these motions undergo division and subdivision; and by continuance of -this process without limit, they are, though never lost, gradually -reduced to insensible motions. - -In all cases then, there is a progress toward equilibration. That -universal co-existence of antagonist forces which, as we before saw, -necessitates the universality of rhythm, and which, as we before saw, -necessitates the decomposition of every force into divergent forces, at -the same time necessitates the ultimate establishment of a balance. -Every motion being motion under resistance, is continually suffering -deductions; and these unceasing deductions finally result in the -cessation of the motion. - -The general truth thus illustrated under its simplest aspect, we must -now look at under those more complex aspects it usually presents -throughout Nature. In nearly all cases, the motion of an aggregate is -compound; and the equilibration of each of its components, being carried -on independently, does not affect the rest. The ship’s bell that has -ceased to vibrate, still continues those vertical and lateral -oscillations caused by the ocean-swell. The water of the smooth stream -on whose surface have died away the undulations caused by the rising -fish, moves as fast as before onward to the sea. The arrested bullet -travels with undiminished speed round the Earth’s axis. And were the -rotation of the Earth destroyed, there would not be implied any -diminution of the Earth’s movement with respect to the Sun and other -external bodies. So that in every case, what we regard as equilibration -is a disappearance of some one or more of the many movements which a -body possesses, while its other movements continue as before. That -this process may be duly realized and the state of things towards which -it tends fully understood, it will be well here to cite a case in which -we may watch this successive equilibration of combined movements more -completely than we can do in those above instanced. Our end will best be -served, not by the most imposing, but by the most familiar example. Let -us take that of the spinning top. When the string which has been wrapped -round a top’s axis is violently drawn off, and the top falls on to the -table, it usually happens that besides the rapid rotation, two other -movements are given to it. A slight horizontal momentum, unavoidably -impressed on it when leaving the handle, carries it away bodily from the -place on which it drops; and in consequence of its axis being more or -less inclined, it falls into a certain oscillation, described by the -expressive though inelegant word—“wabbling.” These two subordinate -motions, variable in their proportions to each other and to the chief -motion, are commonly soon brought to a close by separate processes of -equilibration. The momentum which carries the top bodily along the -table, resisted somewhat by the air, but mainly by the irregularities of -the surface, shortly disappears; and the top thereafter continues to -spin on one spot. Meanwhile, in consequence of that opposition which the -axial momentum of a rotating body makes to any change in the plane of -rotation, (so beautifully exhibited by the gyroscope,) the “wabbling” -diminishes; and like the other is quickly ended. These minor motions -having been dissipated, the rotatory motion, interfered with only by -atmospheric resistance and the friction of the pivot, continues some -time with such uniformity that the top appears stationary: there being -thus temporarily established a condition which the French mathematicians -have termed _equilibrium mobile_. It is true that when the axial -velocity sinks below a certain point, new motions commence, and increase -till the top falls; but these are merely incidental to a case in which -the centre of gravity is above the point of support. Were the top, -having an axis of steel, to be suspended from a surface adequately -magnetized, all the phenomena described would be displayed, and the -moving equilibrium having been once arrived at, would continue until the -top became motionless, without any further change of position. Now -the facts which it behoves us here to observe, are these. First, that -the various motions which an aggregate possesses are separately -equilibrated: those which are smallest, or which meet with the greatest -resistance, or both, disappearing first; and leaving at last, that which -is greatest, or meets with least resistance, or both. Second, that when -the aggregate has a movement of its parts with respect to each other, -which encounters but little external resistance, there is apt to be -established an _equilibrium mobile_. Third, that this moving equilibrium -eventually lapses into complete equilibrium. - -Fully to comprehend the process of equilibration, is not easy; since we -have simultaneously to contemplate various phases of it. The best course -will be to glance separately at what we may conveniently regard as its -four different orders. The first order includes the comparatively -simple motions, as those of projectiles, which are not prolonged enough -to exhibit their rhythmical character; but which, being quickly divided -and subdivided into motions communicated to other portions of matter, -are presently dissipated in the rhythm of ethereal undulations. In -the second order, comprehending the various kinds of vibration or -oscillation as usually witnessed, the motion is used up in generating a -tension which, having become equal to it or momentarily equilibrated -with it, thereupon produces a motion in the opposite direction, that is -subsequently equilibrated in like manner: thus causing a visible rhythm, -that is, however, soon lost in invisible rhythms. The third order -of equilibration, not hitherto noticed, obtains in those aggregates -which continually receive as much motion as they expend. The steam -engine (and especially that kind which feeds its own furnace and boiler) -supplies an example. Here the force from moment to moment dissipated in -overcoming the resistance of the machinery driven, is from moment to -moment replaced from the fuel; and the balance of the two is maintained -by a raising or lowering of the expenditure according to the variation -of the supply: each increase or decrease in the quantity of steam, -resulting in a rise or fall of the engine’s movement, such as brings it -to a balance with the increased or decreased resistance. This, which we -may fitly call the _dependent_ moving equilibrium, should be specially -noted; since it is one that we shall commonly meet with throughout -various phases of Evolution. The equilibration to be distinguished -as of the fourth order, is the _independent_ or perfect moving -equilibrium. This we see illustrated in the rhythmical motions of the -Solar System; which, being resisted only by a medium of inappreciable -density, undergo no sensible diminution in such periods of time as we -can measure. - -All these kinds of equilibration may, however, from the highest point of -view, be regarded as different modes of one kind. For in every case the -balance arrived at is relative, and not absolute—is a cessation of the -motion of some particular body in relation to a certain point or points, -involving neither the disappearance of the relative motion lost, which -is simply transformed into other motions, nor a diminution of the body’s -motions with respect to other points. Thus understanding equilibration, -it manifestly includes that _equilibrium mobile_, which at first sight -seems of another nature. For any system of bodies exhibiting, like those -of the Solar System, a combination of balanced rhythms, has this -peculiarity;—that though the constituents of the system have relative -movements, the system as a whole has no movement. The centre of gravity -of the entire group remains fixed. Whatever quantity of motion any -member of it has in any direction, is from moment to moment -counter-balanced by an equivalent motion in some other part of the group -in an opposite direction; and so the aggregate matter of the group is in -a state of rest. Whence it follows that the arrival at a state of moving -equilibrium, is the disappearance of some movement which the aggregate -had in relation to external things, and a continuance of those movements -only which the different parts of the aggregate have in relation to each -other. Thus generalizing the process, it becomes clear that all forms of -equilibration are intrinsically the same; since in every aggregate, it -is the centre of gravity only that loses its motion: the constituents -always retaining some motion with respect to each other—the motion of -molecules if none else. - -Those readers who happen to bear in mind a proposition concerning the -functional characteristics of Evolution, which was set forth in Chapter -XII, will probably regard it as wholly at variance with that set forth -in this Chapter. It was there alleged that throughout Evolution, -integration of matter is accompanied by integration of such motion as -the matter previously had; and that thus there is a transformation of -diffused motion into aggregated motion, parallel to the transformation -of diffused matter into aggregated matter. Here however, it is asserted -that every aggregate motion is constantly undergoing diffusion—every -integrated motion undergoing perpetual disintegration. And so the motion -of masses, which before was said gradually to arise out of molecular -motion, is here said to be gradually lost in molecular motion. Doubtless -these statements, if severally accepted without qualification, are -contradictory. Neither of them, however, expresses the whole truth. Each -needs the other as its indispensable complement. It is quite true, as -before alleged, that there goes on an integration of motion -corresponding to the integration of matter; and that this essential -characteristic of Evolution, functionally considered, is clearly -displayed in proportion as the Evolution is active. But the -disintegration of motion, which, as we before saw, constitutes -Dissolution, functionally considered, is all along going on; and though -at first it forms but a small deduction from the change constituting -Evolution, it gradually becomes equal to it, and eventually exceeding -it, entails reverse changes. The aggregation of matter never being -complete, but leaving behind less aggregated or unaggregated matter, in -the shape of liquid, aeriform, or ethereal media; it results that from -the beginning, the integrated motion of integrated masses, is ever being -obstructed by these less integrated or unintegrated media. So that -though while the integration of matter is rapidly going on, there is an -increase of integrated motion, spite of the deductions thus continually -made from it, there comes a time when the integration of matter and -consequently of motion, ceases to increase, or increases so slowly that -the deductions counterbalance it; and thenceforth these begin to -decrease it, and, by its perpetual diffusion, to bring about a relative -equilibration. From the beginning, the process of Evolution is -antagonized by a process of Dissolution; and while the first for a long -time predominates, the last finally arrests and reverses it. - -Returning from this parenthetical explanation, we must now especially -note two leading truths brought out by the foregoing exposition: the one -concerning the ultimate, or rather the penultimate, state of motion -which the processes described tend to bring about; the other concerning -the concomitant distribution of matter. This penultimate state of -motion is the moving equilibrium; which, as we have seen, tends to arise -in an aggregate having compound motions, as a transitional state on the -way towards complete equilibrium. Throughout Evolution of all kinds, -there is a continual approximation to, and more or less complete -maintenance of, this moving equilibrium. As in the Solar System there -has been established an independent moving equilibrium—an equilibrium -such that the relative motions of the constituent parts are continually -so counter-balanced by opposite motions, that the mean state of the -whole aggregate never varies; so is it, though in a less distinct -manner, with each form of dependent moving equilibrium. The state of -things exhibited in the cycles of terrestrial changes, in the balanced -functions of organic bodies that have reached their adult forms, and in -the acting and re-acting processes of fully-developed societies, is -similarly one characterized by compensating oscillations. The involved -combination of rhythms seen in each of these cases, has an average -condition which remains practically constant during the deviations ever -taking place on opposite sides of it. And the fact which we have here -particularly to observe, is, that as a corollary from the general law of -equilibration above set forth, the evolution of every aggregate must go -on until this _equilibrium mobile_ is established; since, as we have -seen, an excess of force which the aggregate possesses in any direction, -must eventually be expended in overcoming resistances to change in that -direction: leaving behind only those movements which compensate each -other, and so form a moving equilibrium. Respecting the structural -state simultaneously reached, it must obviously be one presenting an -arrangement of forces that counterbalance all the forces to which the -aggregate is subject. So long as there remains a residual force in any -direction—be it excess of a force exercised by the aggregate on its -environment, or of a force exercised by its environment on the -aggregate, equilibrium does not exist; and therefore the re-distribution -of matter must continue. Whence it follows that the limit of -heterogeneity towards which every aggregate progresses, is the formation -of as many specializations and combinations of parts, as there are -specialized and combined forces to be met. - - * * * * * - -§ 131. Those successively changed forms which, if the nebular hypothesis -be granted, must have arisen during the evolution of the Solar System, -were so many transitional kinds of moving equilibrium; severally giving -place to more permanent kinds on the way towards complete equilibration. -Thus the assumption of an oblate spheroidal figure by condensing -nebulous matter, was the assumption of a temporary and partial moving -equilibrium among the component parts—a moving equilibrium that must -have slowly grown more settled, as local conflicting movements were -dissipated. In the formation and detachment of the nebulous rings, -which, according to this hypothesis, from time to time took place, we -have instances of progressive equilibration ending in the establishment -of a complete moving equilibrium. For the genesis of each such ring, -implies a perfect balancing of that aggregative force which the whole -spheroid exercises on its equatorial portion, by that centrifugal force -which the equatorial portion has acquired during previous concentration: -so long as these two forces are not equal, the equatorial portion -follows the contracting mass; but as soon as the second force has -increased up to an equality with the first, the equatorial portion can -follow no further, and remains behind. While, however, the resulting -ring, regarded as a whole connected by forces with external wholes, has -reached a state of moving equilibrium; its parts are not balanced with -respect to each other. As we before saw (§ 110) the probabilities -against the maintenance of an annular form by nebulous matter, are -immense: from the instability of the homogeneous, it is inferrable that -nebulous matter so distributed must break up into portions; and -eventually concentrate into a single mass. That is to say, the ring must -progress towards a moving equilibrium of a more complete kind, during -the dissipation of that motion which maintained its particles in a -diffused form: leaving at length a planetary body, attended perhaps by a -group of minor bodies, severally having residuary relative motions that -are no longer resisted by sensible media; and there is thus constituted -an _equilibrium mobile_ that is all but absolutely perfect.[18] - -Hypothesis aside, the principle of equilibration is still perpetually -illustrated in those minor changes of state which the Solar System is -undergoing. Each planet, satellite, and comet, exhibits to us at its -aphelion a momentary equilibrium between that force which urges it -further away from its primary, and that force which retards its retreat; -since the retreat goes on until the last of these forces exactly -counterpoises the first. In like manner at perihelion a converse -equilibrium is momentarily established. The variation of each orbit in -size, in eccentricity, and in the position of its plane, has similarly a -limit at which the forces producing change in the one direction, are -equalled by those antagonizing it; and an opposite limit at which an -opposite arrest takes place. Meanwhile, each of these simple -perturbations, as well as each of the complex ones resulting from their -combination, exhibits, besides the temporary equilibration at each of -its extremes, a certain general equilibration of compensating deviations -on either side of a mean state. That the moving equilibrium thus -constituted, tends, in the course of indefinite time, to lapse into a -complete equilibrium, by the gradual decrease of planetary motions and -eventually integration of all the separate masses composing the Solar -System, is a belief suggested by certain observed cometary retardations, -and entertained by some of high authority. The received opinion that the -appreciable diminution in the period of Encke’s comet, implies a loss of -momentum caused by resistance of the ethereal medium, commits -astronomers who hold it, to the conclusion that this same resistance -must cause a loss of planetary motions—a loss which, infinitesimal -though it may be in such periods as we can measure, will, if -indefinitely continued, bring these motions to a close. Even should -there be, as Sir John Herschel suggests, a rotation of the ethereal -medium in the same direction with the planets, this arrest, though -immensely postponed, would not be absolutely prevented. Such an -eventuality, however, must in any case be so inconceivably remote as to -have no other than a speculative interest for us. It is referred to -here, simply as illustrating the still-continued tendency towards -complete equilibrium, through the still-continued dissipation of -sensible motion, or transformation of it into insensible motion. - -But there is another species of equilibration going on in the Solar -System, with which we are more nearly concerned—the equilibration of -that molecular motion known as heat. The tacit assumption hitherto -current, that the Sun can continue to give off an undiminished amount of -light and heat through all future time, is fast being abandoned. -Involving as it does, under a disguise, the conception of power produced -out of nothing, it is of the same order as the belief that misleads -perpetual-motion schemers. The spreading recognition of the truth that -force is persistent, and that consequently whatever force is manifested -under one shape must previously have existed under another shape, is -carrying with it a recognition of the truth that the force known to us -in solar radiations, is the changed form of some other force of which -the Sun is the seat; and that by the gradual dissipation of these -radiations into space, this other force is being slowly exhausted. The -aggregative force by which the Sun’s substance is drawn to his centre of -gravity, is the only one which established physical laws warrant us in -suspecting to be the correlate of the forces thus emanating from him: -the only source of a known kind that can be assigned for the insensible -motions constituting solar light and heat, is the sensible motion which -disappears during the progressing concentration of the Sun’s substance. -We before saw it to be a corollary from the nebular hypothesis, that -there is such a progressing concentration of the Sun’s substance. And -here remains to be added the further corollary, that just as in the case -of the smaller members of the Solar System, the heat generated by -concentration, long ago in great part radiated into space, has left only -a central residue that now escapes but slowly; so in the case of that -immensely larger mass forming the Sun, the immensely greater quantity of -heat generated and still in process of rapid diffusion, must, as the -concentration approaches its limit, diminish in amount, and eventually -leave only an inappreciable internal remnant. With or without the -accompaniment of that hypothesis of nebular condensation, whence, as we -see, it naturally follows, the doctrine that the Sun is gradually losing -his heat, has now gained considerable currency; and calculations have -been made, both respecting the amount of heat and light already -radiated, as compared with the amount that remains, and respecting the -period during which active radiation is likely to continue. Prof. -Helmholtz estimates, that since the time when, according to the nebular -hypothesis, the matter composing the Solar System extended to the orbit -of Neptune, there has been evolved by the arrest of sensible motion, an -amount of heat 454 times as great as that which the Sun still has to -give out. He also makes an approximate estimate of the rate at which -this remaining 1/454th is being diffused: showing that a diminution of -the Sun’s diameter to the extent of 1/10,000, would produce heat, at the -present rate, for more than 2000 years; or in other words, that a -contraction of 1/20,000,000 of his diameter, suffices to generate the -amount of light and heat annually emitted; and that thus, at the present -rate of expenditure, the Sun’s diameter will diminish by something like -1/20 in the lapse of the next million years.[19] Of course these -conclusions are not to be considered as more than rude approximations to -the truth. Until quite recently, we have been totally ignorant of the -Sun’s chemical composition; and even now have obtained but a superficial -knowledge of it. We know nothing of his internal structure; and it is -quite possible (probable, I believe,) that the assumptions respecting -central density, made in the foregoing estimates, are wrong. But no -uncertainty in the data on which these calculations proceed, and no -consequent error in the inferred rate at which the Sun is expending his -reserve of force, militates against the general proposition that this -reserve of force _is_ being expended; and must in time be exhausted. -Though the residue of undiffused motion in the Sun, may be much greater -than is above concluded; though the rate of radiation cannot, as -assumed, continue at a uniform rate, but must eventually go on with -slowly-decreasing rapidity; and though the period at which the Sun will -cease to afford us adequate light and heat, is very possibly far more -distant than above implied; yet such a period must some time be reached, -and this is all which it here concerns us to observe. - -Thus while the Solar System, if evolved from diffused matter, has -illustrated the law of equilibration in the establishment of a complete -moving equilibrium; and while, as at present constituted, it illustrates -the law of equilibration in the balancing of all its movements; it also -illustrates this law in the processes which astronomers and physicists -infer are still going on. That motion of masses produced during -Evolution, is being slowly re-diffused in molecular motion of the -ethereal medium; both through the progressive integration of each mass, -and the resistance to its motion through space. Infinitely remote as may -be the state when all the motions of masses shall be transformed into -molecular motion, and all the molecular motion equilibrated; yet such a -state of complete integration and complete equilibration, is that -towards which the changes now going on throughout the Solar System -inevitably tend. - - * * * * * - -§ 132. A spherical figure is the one which can alone equilibrate the -forces of mutually-gravitating atoms. If the aggregate of such atoms has -a rotatory motion, the form of equilibrium becomes a spheroid of greater -or less oblateness, according to the rate of rotation; and it has been -ascertained that the Earth is an oblate spheroid, diverging just as much -from sphericity as is requisite to counterbalance the centrifugal force -consequent on its velocity round its axis. That is to say, during the -evolution of the Earth, there has been reached a complete equilibrium of -those forces which affect its general outline. The only other -process of equilibration which the Earth as a whole can exhibit, is the -loss of its axial motion; and that any such loss is going on, we have no -direct evidence. It has been contended, however, by Prof. Helmholtz, -that inappreciable as may be its effect within known periods of time, -the friction of the tidal wave must be slowly diminishing the Earth’s -rotatory motion, and must eventually destroy it. Now though it seems an -oversight to say that the Earth’s rotation can thus be destroyed, since -the extreme effect, to be reached only in infinite time by such a -process, would be an extension of the Earth’s day to the length of a -lunation; yet it seems clear that this friction of the tidal wave is a -real cause of decreasing rotation. Slow as its action is, we must -recognize it as exemplifying, under another form, the universal progress -towards equilibrium. - -It is needless to point out, in detail, how those movements which the -Sun’s rays generate in the air and water on the Earth’s surface, and -through them in the Earth’s solid substance,[20] one and all teach the -same general truth. Evidently the winds and waves and streams, as well -as the denudations and depositions they effect, perpetually illustrate -on a grand scale, and in endless modes, that gradual dissipation of -motions described in the first section; and the consequent tendency -towards a balanced distribution of forces. Each of these sensible -motions, produced directly or indirectly by integration of those -insensible motions communicated from the Sun, becomes, as we have seen, -divided and subdivided into motions less and less sensible; until it is -finally reduced to insensible motions, and radiated from the Earth in -the shape of thermal undulations. In their totality, these complex -movements of aerial, liquid, and solid matter on the Earth’s crust, -constitute a dependent moving equilibrium. As we before saw, there is -traceable throughout them an involved combination of rhythms. The -unceasing circulation of water from the ocean to the land, and from the -land back to the ocean, is a type of these various compensating actions; -which, in the midst of all the irregularities produced by their mutual -interferences, maintain an average. And in this, as in other -equilibrations of the third order, we see that the power from moment to -moment in course of dissipation, is from moment to moment renewed from -without: the rises and falls in the supply, being balanced by rises and -falls in the expenditure; as witness the correspondence between the -magnetic variations and the cycle of the solar spots. But the fact -it chiefly concerns us to observe, is, that this process must go on -bringing things ever nearer to complete rest. These mechanical -movements, meteorologic and geologic, which are continually being -equilibrated, both temporarily by counter-movements and permanently by -the dissipation of such movements and counter-movements, will slowly -diminish as the quantity of force received from the Sun diminishes. As -the insensible motions propagated to us from the centre of our system -become feebler, the sensible motions here produced by them must -decrease; and at that remote period when the solar heat has ceased to be -appreciable, there will no longer be any appreciable re-distributions of -matter on the surface of our planet. - -Thus from the highest point of view, all terrestrial changes are -incidents in the course of cosmical equilibration. It was before pointed -out, (§ 80) that of the incessant alterations which the Earth’s crust -and atmosphere undergo, those which are not due to the still-progressing -motion of the Earth’s substance towards its centre of gravity, are due -to the still-progressing motion of the Sun’s substance towards its -centre of gravity. Here it is to be remarked, that this continuance of -integration in the Earth and in the Sun, is a continuance of that -transformation of sensible motion into insensible motion which we have -seen ends in equilibration; and that the arrival in each case at the -extreme of integration, is the arrival at a state in which no more -sensible motion remains to be transformed into insensible motion—a state -in which the forces producing integration and the forces opposing -integration, have become equal. - - * * * * * - -§ 133. Every living body exhibits, in a four-fold form, the process we -are tracing out—exhibits it from moment to moment in the balancing of -mechanical forces; from hour to hour in the balancing of functions; from -year to year in the changes of state that compensate changes of -condition; and finally in the complete arrest of vital movements at -death. Let us consider the facts under these heads. - -The sensible motion constituting each visible action of an organism, is -soon brought to a close by some adverse force within or without the -organism. When the arm is raised, the motion given to it is antagonized -partly by gravity and partly by the internal resistances consequent on -structure; and its motion, thus suffering continual deduction, ends when -the arm has reached a position at which the forces are equilibrated. The -limits of each systole and diastole of the heart, severally show us a -momentary equilibrium between muscular strains that produce opposite -movements; and each gush of blood requires to be immediately followed by -another, because the rapid dissipation of its momentum would otherwise -soon bring the mass of circulating fluid to a stand. As much in the -actions and re-actions going on among the internal organs, as in the -mechanical balancing of the whole body, there is at every instant a -progressive equilibration of the motions at every instant produced. - Viewed in their aggregate, and as forming a series, the organic -functions constitute a dependent moving equilibrium—a moving -equilibrium, of which the motive power is ever being dissipated through -the special equilibrations just exemplified, and is ever being renewed -by the taking in of additional motive power. Food is a store of force -which continually adds to the momentum of the vital actions, as much as -is continually deducted from them by the forces overcome. All the -functional movements thus maintained, are, as we have seen, rhythmical -(§ 96); by their union compound rhythms of various lengths and -complexities are produced; and in these simple and compound rhythms, the -process of equilibration, besides being exemplified at each extreme of -every rhythm, is seen in the habitual preservation of a constant mean, -and in the re-establishment of that mean when accidental causes have -produced divergence from it. When, for instance, there is a great -expenditure of motion through muscular activity, there arises a -re-active demand on those stores of latent motion which are laid up in -the form of consumable matter throughout the tissues: increased -respiration and increased rapidity of circulation, are instrumental to -an extra genesis of force, that counter-balances the extra dissipation -of force. This unusual transformation of molecular motion into sensible -motion, is presently followed by an unusual absorption of food—the -source of molecular motion; and in proportion as there has been a -prolonged draft upon the spare capital of the system, is there a -tendency to a prolonged rest, during which that spare capital is -replaced. If the deviation from the ordinary course of the functions has -been so great as to derange them, as when violent exertion produces loss -of appetite and loss of sleep, an equilibration is still eventually -effected. Providing the disturbance is not such as to overturn the -balance of the functions, and destroy life (in which case a complete -equilibration is suddenly effected), the ordinary balance is by and by -re-established: the returning appetite is keen in proportion as the -waste has been large; while sleep, sound and prolonged, makes up for -previous wakefulness. Not even in those extreme cases where some excess -has wrought a derangement that is never wholly rectified, is there an -exception to the general law; for in such cases the cycle of the -functions is, after a time, equilibrated about a new mean state, which -thenceforth becomes the normal state of the individual. Thus, among the -involved rhythmical changes constituting organic life, any disturbing -force that works an excess of change in some direction, is gradually -diminished and finally neutralized by antagonistic forces; which -thereupon work a compensating change in the opposite direction, and so, -after more or less of oscillation, restore the medium condition. And -this process it is, which constitutes what physicians call the _vis -medicatrix naturæ_. The third form of equilibration displayed by -organic bodies, is a necessary sequence of that just illustrated. When -through a change of habit or circumstance, an organism is permanently -subject to some new influence, or different amount of an old influence, -there arises, after more or less disturbance of the organic rhythms, a -balancing of them around the new average condition produced by this -additional influence. As temporary divergences of the organic rhythms -are counteracted by temporary divergences of a reverse kind; so there is -an equilibration of their permanent divergences by the genesis of -opposing divergences that are equally permanent. If the quantity of -motion to be habitually generated by a muscle, becomes greater than -before, its nutrition becomes greater than before. If the expenditure of -the muscle bears to its nutrition, a greater ratio than expenditure -bears to nutrition in other parts of the system; the excess of nutrition -becomes such that the muscle grows. And the cessation of its growth is -the establishment of a balance between the daily waste and the daily -repair—the daily expenditure of force, and the amount of latent force -daily added. The like must manifestly be the case with all organic -modifications consequent on change of climate or food. This is a -conclusion which we may safely draw without knowing the special -re-arrangements that effect the equilibration. If we see that a -different mode of life is followed, after a period of functional -derangement, by some altered condition of the system—if we see that this -altered condition, becoming by and by established, continues without -further change; we have no alternative but to say, that the new forces -brought to bear on the system, have been compensated by the opposing -forces they have evoked. And this is the interpretation of the process -which we call _adaptation_. Finally, each organism illustrates the -law in the _ensemble_ of its life. At the outset it daily absorbs under -the form of food, an amount of force greater than it daily expends; and -the surplus is daily equilibrated by growth. As maturity is approached, -this surplus diminishes; and in the perfect organism, the day’s -absorption of potential motion balances the day’s expenditure of actual -motion. That is to say, during adult life, there is continuously -exhibited an equilibration of the third order. Eventually, the daily -loss, beginning to out-balance the daily gain, there results a -diminishing amount of functional action; the organic rhythms extend less -and less widely on each side of the medium state; and there finally -results that complete equilibration which we call death. - -The ultimate structural state accompanying that ultimate functional -state towards which an organism tends, both individually and as a -species, may be deduced from one of the propositions set down in the -opening section of this chapter. We saw that the limit of heterogeneity -is arrived at whenever the equilibration of any aggregate becomes -complete—that the re-distribution of matter can continue so long only as -there continues any motion unbalanced. Whence we found it to follow that -the final structural arrangements, must be such as will meet all the -forces acting on the aggregate, by equivalent antagonist forces. What is -the implication in the case of organic aggregates; the equilibrium of -which is a moving one? We have seen that the maintenance of such a -moving equilibrium, requires the habitual genesis of internal forces -corresponding in number, directions, and amounts to the external -incident forces—as many inner functions, single or combined, as there -are single or combined outer actions to be met. But functions are the -correlatives of organs; amounts of functions are, other things equal, -the correlatives of sizes of organs; and combinations of functions the -correlatives of connections of organs. Hence the structural complexity -accompanying functional equilibration, is definable as one in which -there are as many specialized parts as are capable, separately and -jointly, of counteracting the separate and joint forces amid which the -organism exists. And this is the limit of organic heterogeneity; to -which man has approached more nearly than any other creature. - -Groups of organisms display this universal tendency towards a balance -very obviously. In § 96, every species of plant and animal was shown to -be perpetually undergoing a rhythmical variation in number—now from -abundance of food and absence of enemies rising above its average; and -then by a consequent scarcity of food and abundance of enemies being -depressed below its average. And here we have to observe that there is -thus maintained an equilibrium between the sum of those forces which -result in the increase of each race, and the sum of those forces which -result in its decrease. Either limit of variation is a point at which -the one set of forces, before in excess of the other, is counterbalanced -by it. And amid these oscillations produced by their conflict, lies that -average number of the species at which its expansive tendency is in -equilibrium with surrounding repressive tendencies. Nor can it be -questioned that this balancing of the preservative and destructive -forces which we see going on in every race, must necessarily go on. -Since increase of number cannot but continue until increase of mortality -stops it; and decrease of number cannot but continue until it is either -arrested by fertility or extinguishes the race entirely. - - * * * * * - -§ 134. The equilibrations of those nervous actions which constitute what -we know as mental life, may be classified in like manner with those -which constitute what we distinguish as bodily life. We may deal with -them in the same order. - -Each pulse of nervous force from moment to moment generated, (and it was -shown in § 97 that nervous currents are not continuous but rhythmical) -is met by counteracting forces; in overcoming which it is dispersed and -equilibrated. When tracing out the correlation and equivalence of -forces, we saw that each sensation and emotion, or rather such part of -it as remains after the excitation of associated ideas and feelings, is -expended in working bodily changes—contractions of the involuntary -muscles, the voluntary muscles, or both; as also in a certain -stimulation of secreting organs. That the movements thus initiated are -ever being brought to a close by the opposing forces they evoke, was -pointed out above; and here it is to be observed that the like holds -with the nervous changes thus initiated. Various facts prove that the -arousing of a thought or feeling, always involves the overcoming of a -certain resistance: instance the fact that where the association of -mental states has not been frequent, a sensible effort is needed to call -up the one after the other; instance the fact that during nervous -prostration there is a comparative inability to think—the ideas will not -follow one another with the habitual rapidity; instance the converse -fact that at times of unusual energy, natural or artificial, the -friction of thought becomes relatively small, and more numerous, more -remote, or more difficult connections of ideas are formed. That is to -say, the wave of nervous energy each instant generated, propagates -itself throughout body and brain, along those channels which the -conditions at the instant render lines of least resistance; and -spreading widely in proportion to its amount, ends only when it is -equilibrated by the resistances it everywhere meets. If we -contemplate mental actions us extending over hours and days, we discover -equilibrations analogous to those hourly and daily established among the -bodily functions. In the one case as in the other, there are rhythms -which exhibit a balancing of opposing forces at each extreme, and the -maintenance of a certain general balance. This is seen in the daily -alternation of mental activity and mental rest—the forces expended -during the one being compensated by the forces acquired during the -other. It is also seen in the recurring rise and fall of each desire: -each desire reaching a certain intensity, is equilibrated either by -expenditure of the force it embodies, in the desired actions, or, less -completely, in the imagination of such actions: the process ending in -that satiety, or that comparative quiescence, forming the opposite limit -of the rhythm. And it is further manifest under a two-fold form, on -occasions of intense joy or grief: each paroxysm of passion, expressing -itself in vehement bodily actions, presently reaches an extreme whence -the counteracting forces produce a return to a condition of moderate -excitement; and the successive paroxysms finally diminishing in -intensity, end in a mental equilibrium either like that before existing, -or partially differing from it in its medium state. But the -species of mental equilibration to be more especially noted, is that -shown in the establishment of a correspondence between relations among -our states of consciousness and relations in the external world. Each -outer connection of phenomena which we are capable of perceiving, -generates, through accumulated experiences, an inner connection of -mental states; and the result towards which this process tends, is the -formation of a mental connection having a relative strength that answers -to the relative constancy of the physical connection represented. In -conformity with the general law that motion pursues the line of least -resistance, and that, other things equal, a line once taken by motion is -made a line that will be more readily pursued by future motion; we have -seen that the ease with which nervous impressions follow one another, -is, other things equal, great in proportion to the number of times they -have been repeated together in experience. Hence, corresponding to such -an invariable relation as that between the resistance of an object and -some extension possessed by it, there arises an indissoluble connection -in consciousness; and this connection, being as absolute internally as -the answering one is externally, undergoes no further change—the inner -relation is in perfect equilibrium with the outer relation. Conversely, -it hence happens that to such uncertain relations of phenomena as that -between clouds and rain, there arise relations of ideas of a like -uncertainty; and if, under given aspects of the sky, the tendencies to -infer fair or foul weather, correspond to the frequencies with which -fair or foul weather follow such aspects, the accumulation of -experiences has balanced the mental sequences and the physical -sequences. When it is remembered that between these extremes there are -countless orders of external connections having different degrees of -constancy, and that during the evolution of intelligence there arise -answering internal associations having different degrees of cohesion; it -will be seen that there is a progress towards equilibrium between the -relations of thought and the relations of things. This equilibration can -end only when each relation of things has generated in us a relation of -thought, such that on the occurrence of the conditions, the relation in -thought arises as certainly as the relation in things. Supposing this -state to be reached (which however it can be only in infinite time) -experience will cease to produce any further mental evolution—there will -have been reached a perfect correspondence between ideas and facts; and -the intellectual adaptation of man to his circumstances will be -complete. The like general truths are exhibited in the process -moral of adaptation; which is a continual approach to equilibrium -between the emotions and the kinds of conduct necessitated by -surrounding conditions. The connections of feelings and actions, are -determined in the same way as the connections of ideas: just as -repeating the association of two ideas, facilitates the excitement of -the one by the other; so does each discharge of feeling into action, -render the subsequent discharge of such feeling into such action more -easy. Hence it happens that if an individual is placed permanently in -conditions which demand more action of a special kind than has before -been requisite, or than is natural to him—if the pressure of the painful -feelings which these conditions entail when disregarded, impels him to -perform this action to a greater extent—if by every more frequent or -more lengthened performance of it under such pressure, the resistance is -somewhat diminished; then, clearly, there is an advance towards a -balance between the demand for this kind of action and the supply of it. -Either in himself, or in his descendants continuing to live under these -conditions, enforced repetition must eventually bring about a state in -which this mode of directing the energies will be no more repugnant than -the various other modes previously natural to the race. Hence the limit -towards which emotional modification perpetually tends, and to which it -must approach indefinitely near (though it can absolutely reach it only -in infinite time) is a combination of desires that correspond to all the -different orders of activity which the circumstances of life call -for—desires severally proportionate in strength to the needs for these -orders of activity; and severally satisfied by these orders of activity. -In what we distinguish as acquired habits, and in the moral differences -of races and nations produced by habits that are maintained through -successive generations, we have countless illustrations of this -progressive adaptation; which can cease only with the establishment of a -complete equilibrium between constitution and conditions. - -Possibly some will fail to see how the equilibrations described in this -section, can be classed with those preceding them; and will be inclined -to say that what are here set down as facts, are but analogies. -Nevertheless such equilibrations are as truly physical as the rest. To -show this fully, would require a more detailed analysis than can now be -entered on. For the present it must suffice to point out, as before (§ -82), that what we know subjectively as states of consciousness, are, -objectively, modes of force; that so much feeling is the correlate of so -much motion; that the performance of any bodily action is the -transformation of a certain amount of feeling into its equivalent amount -of motion; that this bodily action is met by forces which it is expended -in overcoming; and that the necessity for the frequent repetition of -this action, implies the frequent recurrence of forces to be so -overcome. Hence the existence in any individual of an emotional stimulus -that is in equilibrium with certain external requirements, is literally -the habitual production of a certain specialized portion of nervous -energy, equivalent in amount to a certain order of external resistances -that are habitually met. And thus the ultimate state, forming the limit -towards which Evolution carries us, is one in which the kinds and -quantities of mental energy daily generated and transformed into -motions, are equivalent to, or in equilibrium with, the various orders -and degrees of surrounding forces which antagonize such motions. - - * * * * * - -§ 135. Each society taken as a whole, displays the process of -equilibration in the continuous adjustment of its population to its -means of subsistence. A tribe of men living on wild animals and fruits, -is manifestly, like every tribe of inferior creatures, always -oscillating about that average number which the locality can support. -Though by artificial production, and by successive improvements in -artificial production, a superior race continually alters the limit -which external conditions put to population; yet there is ever a -checking of population at the temporary limit reached. It is true that -where the limit is being so rapidly changed as among ourselves, there is -no actual stoppage: there is only a rhythmical variation in the rate of -increase. But in noting the causes of this rhythmical variation—in -watching how, during periods of abundance, the proportion of marriages -increases, and how it decreases during periods of scarcity; it will be -seen that the expansive force produces unusual advance whenever the -repressive force diminishes, and _vice versâ_; and thus there is as near -a balancing of the two as the changing conditions permit. - -The internal actions constituting social functions, exemplify the -general principle no less clearly. Supply and demand are continually -being adjusted throughout all industrial processes; and this -equilibration is interpretable in the same way as preceding ones. The -production and distribution of a commodity, is the expression of a -certain aggregate of forces causing special kinds and amounts of motion. -The price of this commodity, is the measure of a certain other aggregate -of forces expended by the labourer who purchases it, in other kinds and -amounts of motion. And the variations of price represent a rhythmical -balancing of these forces. Every rise or fall in the rate of interest, -or change in the value of a particular security, implies a conflict of -forces in which some, becoming temporarily predominant, cause a movement -that is presently arrested or equilibrated by the increase of opposing -forces; and amid these daily and hourly oscillations, lies a more -slowly-varying medium, into which the value ever tends to settle; and -would settle but for the constant addition of new influences. As -in the individual organism so in the social organism, functional -equilibrations generate structural equilibrations. When on the workers -in any trade there comes an increased demand, and when in return for the -increased supply, there is given to them an amount of other commodities -larger than was before habitual—when, consequently, the resistances -overcome by them in sustaining life are less than the resistances -overcome by other workers; there results a flow of other workers into -this trade. This flow continues until the extra demand is met, and the -wages so far fall again, that the total resistance overcome in obtaining -a given amount of produce, is as great in this newly-adopted occupation -as in the occupations whence it drew recruits. The occurrence of motion -along lines of least resistance, was before shown to necessitate the -growth of population in those places where the labour required for -self-maintenance is the smallest; and here we further see that those -engaged in any such advantageous locality, or advantageous business, -must multiply till there arises an approximate balance between this -locality or business and others accessible to the same citizens. In -determining the career of every youth, we see an estimation by parents -of the respective advantages offered by all that are available, and a -choice of the one which promises best; and through the consequent influx -into trades that are at the time most profitable, and the withholding of -recruits from over-stocked trades, there is insured a general equipoise -between the power of each social organ and the function it has to -perform. - -The various industrial actions and re-actions thus continually -alternating, constitute a dependent moving equilibrium like that which -is maintained among the functions of an individual organism. And this -dependent moving equilibrium parallels those already contemplated, in -its tendency to become more complete. During early stages of social -evolution, while yet the resources of the locality inhabited are -unexplored, and the arts of production undeveloped, there is never -anything more than a temporary and partial balancing of such actions, -under the form of acceleration or retardation of growth. But when a -society approaches the maturity of that type on which it is organized, -the various industrial activities settle down into a comparatively -constant state. Moreover, it is observable that advance in organization, -as well as advance in growth, is conducive to a better equilibrium of -industrial functions. While the diffusion of mercantile information is -slow, and the means of transport deficient, the adjustment of supply to -demand is extremely imperfect: great over-production of each commodity -followed by great under-production, constitute a rhythm having extremes -that depart very widely from the mean state in which demand and supply -are equilibrated. But when good roads are made, and there is a rapid -diffusion of printed or written intelligence, and still more when -railways and telegraphs come into existence—when the periodical fairs of -early days lapse into weekly markets, and these into daily markets; -there is gradually produced a better balance of production and -consumption. Extra demand is much more quickly followed by augmented -supply; and the rapid oscillations of price within narrow limits on -either side of a comparatively uniform mean, indicate a near approach to -equilibrium. Evidently this industrial progress has for its limit, -that which Mr. Mill has called “the stationary state.” When population -shall have become dense over all habitable parts of the globe; when the -resources of every region have been fully explored; and when the -productive arts admit of no further improvements; there must result an -almost complete balance, both between the fertility and mortality of -each society, and between its producing and consuming activities. Each -society will exhibit only minor deviations from its average number, and -the rhythm of its industrial functions will go on from day to day and -year to year with comparatively insignificant perturbations. This limit, -however, though we are inevitably advancing towards it, is indefinitely -remote; and can never indeed be absolutely reached. The peopling of the -Earth up to the point supposed, cannot take place by simple spreading. -In the future, as in the past, the process will be carried on -rhythmically, by waves of emigration from new and higher centres of -civilization successively arising; and by the supplanting of inferior -races by the superior races they beget; and the process so carried on -must be extremely slow. Nor does it seem to me that such an -equilibration will, as Mr. Mill suggests, leave scope for further mental -culture and moral progress; but rather that the approximation to it must -be simultaneous with the approximation to complete equilibrium between -man’s nature and the conditions of his existence. - -One other kind of social equilibration has still to be considered:—that -which results in the establishment of governmental institutions, and -which becomes complete as these institutions fall into harmony with the -desires of the people. There is a demand and supply in political affairs -as in industrial affairs; and in the one case as in the other, the -antagonist forces produce a rhythm which, at first extreme in its -oscillations, slowly settles down into a moving equilibrium of -comparative regularity. Those aggressive impulses inherited from the -pre-social state—those tendencies to seek self-satisfaction regardless -of injury to other beings, which are essential to a predatory life, -constitute an anti-social force, tending ever to cause conflict and -eventual separation of citizens. Contrariwise, those desires whose ends -can be achieved only by union, as well as those sentiments which find -satisfaction through intercourse with fellow-men, and those resulting in -what we call loyalty, are forces tending to keep the units of a society -together. On the one hand, there is in each citizen, more or less of -resistance against all restraints imposed on his actions by other -citizens: a resistance which, tending continually to widen each -individual’s sphere of action, and reciprocally to limit the spheres of -action of other individuals, constitutes a repulsive force mutually -exercised by the members of a social aggregate. On the other hand, the -general sympathy of man for man, and the more special sympathy of each -variety of man for others of the same variety, together with sundry -allied feelings which the social state gratifies, act as an attractive -force, tending ever to keep united those who have a common ancestry. And -since the resistances to be overcome in satisfying the totality of their -desires when living separately, are greater than the resistances to be -overcome in satisfying the totality of their desires when living -together, there is a residuary force that prevents their separation. -Like all other opposing forces, those exerted by citizens on each other, -are ever producing alternating movements, which, at first extreme, -undergo a gradual diminution on the way to ultimate equilibrium. In -small, undeveloped societies, marked rhythms result from these -conflicting tendencies. A tribe whose members have held together for a -generation or two, reaches a size at which it will not hold together; -and on the occurrence of some event causing unusual antagonism among its -members, divides. Each primitive nation, depending largely for its -continued union on the character of its chief, exhibits wide -oscillations between an extreme in which the subjects are under rigid -restraint, and an extreme in which the restraint is not enough to -prevent disorder. In more advanced nations of like type, we always find -violent actions and reactions of the same essential nature—“despotism -tempered by assassination,” characterizing a political state in which -unbearable repression from time to time brings about a bursting of all -bonds. In this familiar fact, that a period of tyranny is followed by a -period of license and _vice versâ_, we see how these opposing forces are -ever equilibrating each other; and we also see, in the tendency of such -movements and counter-movements to become more moderate, how the -equilibration progresses towards completeness. The conflicts between -Conservatism (which stands for the restraints of society over the -individual) and Reform (which stands for the liberty of the individual -against society), fall within slowly approximating limits; so that the -temporary predominance of either, produces a less marked deviation from -the medium state. This process, now so far advanced among -ourselves that the oscillations are comparatively unobtrusive, must go -on till the balance between the antagonist forces approaches -indefinitely near perfection. For, as we have already seen, the -adaptation of man’s nature to the conditions of his existence, cannot -cease until the internal forces which we know as feelings are in -equilibrium with the external forces they encounter. And the -establishment of this equilibrium, is the arrival at a state of human -nature and social organization, such that the individual has no desires -but those which may be satisfied without exceeding his proper sphere of -action, while society maintains no restraints but those which the -individual voluntarily respects. The progressive extension of the -liberty of citizens, and the reciprocal removal of political -restrictions, are the steps by which we advance towards this state. And -the ultimate abolition of all limits to the freedom of each, save those -imposed by the like freedom of all, must result from the complete -equilibration between man’s desires and the conduct necessitated by -surrounding conditions. - -Of course in this case, as in the preceding ones, there is thus involved -a limit to the increase of heterogeneity. A few pages back, we reached -the conclusion that each advance in mental evolution, is the -establishment of some further internal action, corresponding to some -further external action—some additional connection of ideas or feelings, -answering to some before unknown or unantagonized connection of -phenomena. We inferred that each such new function, involving some new -modification of structure, implies an increase of heterogeneity; and -that thus, increase of heterogeneity must go on, while there remain any -outer relations affecting the organism which are unbalanced by inner -relations. Whence we saw it to follow that increase of heterogeneity can -come to an end only as equilibration is completed. Evidently the like -must simultaneously take place with society. Each increment of -heterogeneity in the individual, must directly or indirectly involve, as -cause or consequence, some increment of heterogeneity in the -arrangements of the aggregate of individuals. And the limit to social -complexity can be arrived at, only with the establishment of the -equilibrium, just described, between social and individual forces. - - * * * * * - -§ 136. Here presents itself a final question, which has probably been -taking a more or less distinct shape in the minds of many, while reading -this chapter. “If Evolution of every kind, is an increase in complexity -of structure and function that is incidental to the universal process of -equilibration—if equilibration, passing through the gradually-perfected -forms of moving equilibrium, must end in complete rest; what is the fate -towards which all things tend? If the bodies constituting our Solar -System are slowly dissipating the forces they possess—if the Sun is -losing his heat at a rate which, though insignificant as stated in terms -of our chronology, will tell in millions of years—if geologic and -meteorologic processes cannot but diminish in activity as the Sun’s -radiations diminish—if with the diminution of these radiations there -must also go on a diminution in the quantity of vegetal and animal -existence—if Man and Society, however high the degree of evolution at -which they arrive, are similarly dependent on this supply of force that -is gradually coming to an end—if thus the highest, equally with the -lowest, terrestrial life, must eventually dwindle and disappear; are we -not manifestly progressing towards omnipresent death? And have we thus -to contemplate, as the out-come of things, a universe of extinct suns -round which circle planets devoid of life?” - -That such a state must be the proximate end of the processes everywhere -going on, seems beyond doubt. But the further question tacitly involved, -whether this state will continue eternally, is quite a different one. To -give a positive answer to this further question would be quite -illegitimate; since to affirm any proposition into which unlimited time -enters as one of the terms, is to affirm a proposition of which one term -cannot be represented in consciousness—is to affirm an unthinkable -proposition. At a first glance it may appear that the reverse conclusion -must be equally illegitimate; and that so the question is altogether -insoluble. But further consideration will show that this is not true. So -long as the terms to which we confine our reasonings are finite, the -finite conclusions reached are not necessarily illegitimate. Though, if -the general argument, when carried out, left no apparent escape from the -inference that the state of rest to which Evolution is carrying things, -must, when arrived at, last for ever, this inference would be invalid, -as transcending the scope of human intelligence; yet if, on pushing -further the general argument, we bring out the inference that such a -state will not last for ever, this inference is not necessarily invalid: -since, by the hypothesis, it contains no terms necessarily transcending -the scope of human intelligence. It is permissible therefore, to -inquire, what are the probable ulterior results of this process which -must bring Evolution to a close in Universal Death. Without being so -rash as to form anything like a positive conclusion on a matter so vast -and so far beyond the boundaries of exact science; we may still inquire -what _seems_ to be the remote future towards which the facts point. - -It has been already shown that all equilibration, so far as we can trace -it, is relative. The dissipation of a body’s motion by communication of -it to surrounding matter, solid, liquid, gaseous, and ethereal, tends to -bring the body to a fixed position in relation to the matter that -abstracts its motion. But all its other motions continue as before. The -arrest of a cannon-shot does not diminish its movement towards the East -at a thousand miles an hour, along with the wall it has struck; and a -gradual dispersion of the Earth’s rotatory motion, would abstract -nothing from the million and a half miles per day through which the -Earth speeds in its orbit. Further, we have to bear in mind that this -motion, the disappearance of which causes relative equilibration, is not -lost but simply transferred; and by continual division and subdivision -finally reduced to ethereal undulations and radiated through space. -Whether the sensible motion dissipated during relative equilibration, is -directly transformed into insensible motion, as happens in the case of -the Sun; or whether, as in the sensible motions going on around us, it -is directly transformed into smaller sensible motions, and these into -still smaller, until they become insensible, matters not. In every -instance the ultimate result is, that whatever motion of masses is lost, -re-appears as molecular motion pervading space. Thus the questions we -have to consider, are—Whether after the completion of all the relative -equilibrations above contemplated as bringing Evolution to a close, -there remain any further equilibrations to be effected?—Whether there -are any other motions of masses that must eventually be transformed into -molecular motion?—And if there are such other motions, what must be the -consequence when the molecular motion generated by their transformation, -is added to that which already exists? - -To the first of these questions the answer is, that there _do_ remain -motions which are undiminished by all the relative equilibrations thus -far considered; namely, the motions of translation possessed by those -vast masses of incandescent matter called stars—masses now known to be -suns that are in all probability, like our own, surrounded by circling -groups of planets. The belief that the stars are literally fixed, has -long since been exploded: observation has proved many of them to have -sensible proper motions. Moreover, it has been ascertained by -measurement, that in relation to the stars nearest to us, our own star -is moving at the rate of about half a million miles per day; and if, as -is admitted to be not improbable by sundry astronomers, our own star is -traversing space in the same direction with adjacent stars, its absolute -velocity may be, and most likely is, immensely greater than this. Now no -such changes as those taking place within the Solar System, even when -carried to the extent of integrating the whole of its matter into one -mass, and diffusing all its relative movements in an insensible form -through space, can affect these sidereal movements. Hence, there appears -no alternative but to infer, that these sidereal movements must remain -to be equilibrated by some subsequent process. - -The next question that arises, if we venture to inquire the probable -nature of this process, is—To what law do sidereal motions conform? And -to this question Astronomy replies—the law of gravitation. The relative -motions of binary stars have proved this. When it was discovered that -certain of the double stars are not optically double but physically -double, and move round each other, it was at once suspected that their -revolutions might be regulated by a mutual attraction like that which -regulates the revolutions of planets and satellites. The requisite -measurements having been from time to time made, the periodic times of -sundry binary stars were calculated on this assumption; and the -subsequent performances of their revolutions in the predicted periods, -have completely verified the assumption. If, then, it is demonstrated -that these remote bodies are centres of gravitation—if we infer that all -other stars are centres of gravitation, as we may fairly do—and if we -draw the unavoidable corollary, that this gravitative force which so -conspicuously affects stars that are comparatively near each other, must -affect remote stars; we find ourselves led to the conclusion that all -the members of our Sidereal System gravitate, individually and as an -aggregate. - -But if these widely-dispersed moving masses mutually gravitate, what -must happen? There appears but one tenable answer. Even supposing they -were all absolutely equal in weight, and arranged into an annulus with -absolute regularity, and endowed with exactly the amounts of centrifugal -force required to prevent nearer approach to their common centre of -gravity; the condition would still be one which the slightest disturbing -force would destroy. Much more then are we driven to the inference, that -our actual Sidereal System cannot preserve its present arrangement: the -irregularities of its distribution being such as to render even a -temporary moving equilibrium impossible. If the stars are so many -centres of an attractive force that varies inversely as the square of -the distance, there appears to be no escape from the conclusion, that -the structure of our galaxy must be undergoing change; and must continue -to undergo change. - -Thus, in the absence of tenable alternatives, we are brought to the -positions:—1, that the stars are in motion;—2, that they move in -conformity with the law of gravitation;—3, that, distributed as they -are, they cannot move in conformity with the law of gravitation, without -undergoing change of arrangement. If now we permit ourselves to take a -further step, and ask the nature of this change of arrangement, we find -ourselves obliged to infer a progressive concentration. Whether we do or -do not suppose the clustering which is now visible, to have been caused -by mutual gravitation acting throughout past eras, as the hypothesis of -Evolution implies, we are equally compelled to conclude that this -clustering must increase throughout future eras. Stars at present -dispersed, must become locally aggregated; existing aggregations, at the -same time that they are enlarged by the drawing in of adjacent stars, -must grow more dense; and aggregations must coalesce with each other: -each greater degree of concentration augmenting the force by which -further concentration is produced. - -And now what must be the limit of this concentration? The mutual -attraction of two individual stars, when it so far predominates over -other attractions as to cause approximation, almost certainly ends in -the formation of a binary star; since the motions generated by other -attractions, prevent the two stars from moving in straight lines to -their common centre of gravity. Between small clusters, too, having also -certain proper motions as clusters, mutual attraction may lead, not to -complete union, but to the formation of binary clusters. As the process -continues however, and the clusters become larger, it seems clear that -they must move more directly towards each other, thus forming clusters -of increasing density; and that eventually all clusters must unite into -one comparatively close aggregation. While, therefore, during the -earlier stages of concentration, the probabilities are immense against -the actual contact of these mutually-gravitating masses; it is tolerably -manifest, that as the concentration increases, collision must become -probable, and ultimately certain. This is an inference not lacking the -support of high authority. Sir John Herschel, treating of those numerous -and variously-aggregated clusters of stars revealed by the telescope, -and citing with apparent approval his father’s opinion, that the more -diffused and irregular of these, are “globular clusters in a less -advanced state of condensation;” subsequently remarks, that “among a -crowd of solid bodies of whatever size, animated by independent and -partially opposing impulses, motions opposite to each other _must_ -produce collision, destruction of velocity, and subsidence or near -approach towards the centre of preponderant attraction; while those -which conspire, or which remain outstanding after such conflicts, _must_ -ultimately give rise to circulation of a permanent character.” Now what -is here alleged of these minor sidereal aggregations, cannot be denied -of the large aggregations; and thus the above-described process of -concentration, appears certain to bring about an increasingly-frequent -integration of masses. - -We have next to consider the consequences of the accompanying loss of -velocity. The sensible motion which disappears, cannot be destroyed; but -must be transformed into insensible motion. What will be the effect of -this insensible motion? Some approach to a conception of it, will be -made by considering what would happen were the comparatively -insignificant motion of our planet thus transformed. In his essay on -“The Inter-action of Natural Forces,” Prof. Helmholtz states the thermal -equivalent of the Earth’s movement through space; as calculated on the -now received datum of Mr. Joule. “If our Earth,” he says, “were by a -sudden shock brought to rest in her orbit,—which is not to be feared in -the existing arrangement of our system—by such a shock a quantity of -heat would be generated equal to that produced by the combustion of -fourteen such Earths of solid coal. Making the most unfavourable -assumption as to its capacity for heat, that is, placing it equal to -that of water, the mass of the Earth would thereby be heated 11,200 -degrees; it would therefore be quite fused, and for the most part -reduced to vapour. If then the Earth, after having been thus brought to -rest, should fall into the Sun, which of course would be the case, the -quantity of heat developed by the shock would be 400 times greater.” Now -so relatively small a momentum as that acquired by the Earth in falling -through 95,000,000 of miles to the Sun, being equivalent to a molecular -motion such as would reduce the Earth to gases of extreme rarity; what -must be the molecular motion generated by the mutually-arrested momenta -of two stars, that have moved to their common centre of gravity through -spaces immeasurably greater? There seems no alternative but to conclude, -that this molecular motion must be so great, as to reduce the matter of -the stars to an almost inconceivable tenuity—a tenuity like that which -we ascribe to nebular matter. Such being the immediate effect of -the integration of any two stars in a concentrating aggregate, what must -be the ulterior effect on the aggregate as a whole? Sir John Herschel, -in the passage above quoted, describing the collisions that must arise -in a mutually-gravitating group of stars, adds that those stars “which -remain outstanding after such conflicts, _must_ ultimately give rise to -circulation of a permanent character.” The problem, however, is here -dealt with purely as a mechanical one: the assumption being, that the -mutually-arrested masses will continue as masses—an assumption to which -no objection was apparent at the time when Sir John Herschel wrote this -passage; since the doctrine of the correlation of forces was not then -recognized. But obliged as we now are to conclude, that stars moving at -the high velocities acquired during concentration, will, by mutual -arrest, be dissipated into gases of great tenuity, the problem becomes -different; and a different inference appears unavoidable. For the -diffused matter produced by such conflicts, must form a resisting -medium, occupying that central region of the aggregate through which its -members from time to time pass in describing their orbits—a resisting -medium which they cannot move through without having their velocities -diminished. Every further such collision, by augmenting this resisting -medium, and making the losses of velocity greater, must further aid in -preventing the establishment of that equilibrium which would else arise; -and so must conspire to produce more frequent collisions. And the -nebulous matter thus formed, presently enveloping and extending beyond -the whole aggregate, must, by continuing to shorten their gyrations, -entail an increasingly-active integration and re-active disintegration -of the moving masses; until they are all finally dissipated. This, -indeed, is the conclusion which, leaving out all consideration of the -process gone through, presents itself as a simple deduction from the -persistence of force. If the stars have been, and still are, -concentrating however indirectly on their common centre of gravity, and -must eventually reach it; it is a corollary from the persistence of -force, that the quantities of motion they have severally acquired, must -suffice to carry them away from the common centre of gravity to those -remote regions whence they originally began to move towards it. And -since, by the conditions of the case, they cannot return to these remote -regions in the shape of concrete masses, they must return in the shape -of diffused masses. Action and reaction being equal and opposite, the -momentum producing dispersion, must be as great as the momentum acquired -by aggregation; and being spread over the same quantity of matter, must -cause an equivalent distribution through space, whatever be the form of -the matter. One condition, however, essential to the literal -fulfilment of this result, must be specified; namely, that the quantity -of molecular motion produced and radiated into space by each star in the -course of its formation from diffused matter, shall be compensated by an -equal quantity of molecular motion radiated from other parts of space -into the space which our Sidereal System occupies. In other words, if we -set out with that amount of molecular motion implied by the existence of -the matter of our Sidereal System in a nebulous form; then it follows -from the persistence of force, that if this matter undergoes the -re-distribution constituting Evolution, the quantity of molecular motion -given out during the integration of each mass, plus the quantity of -molecular motion given out during the integration of all the masses, -must suffice again to reduce it to the same nebulous form. Here -indeed we arrive at an impassable limit to our reasonings; since we -cannot know whether this condition is or is not fulfilled. On the -hypothesis of an unlimited space, containing, at certain intervals, -Sidereal Systems like our own, it may be that the quantity of molecular -motion radiated into the region occupied by our Sidereal System, is -equal to that which our Sidereal System radiates; in which case the -quantity of motion possessed by it, remaining undiminished, our Sidereal -System may continue during unlimited time, to repeat this alternate -concentration and diffusion. But if, on the other hand, throughout -boundless space there exist no other Sidereal Systems subject to like -changes, or if such other Sidereal Systems exist at more than a certain -average distance from each other; then it seems an unavoidable -conclusion that the quantity of motion possessed, must diminish by -radiation into unoccupied space; and that so, on each successive -resumption of the nebulous form, the matter of our Sidereal System will -occupy a less space; until at the end of an infinite time it reaches -either a state in which its concentrations and diffusions are relatively -small, or a state of complete aggregation and rest. Since, however, we -have no evidence showing the existence or non-existence of Sidereal -Systems throughout remote space; and since, even had we such evidence, a -legitimate conclusion could not be drawn from premises of which one -element (unlimited space) is inconceivable; we must be for ever without -answer to this transcendent question. All we can say is, that so far as -the data enable us to judge, the integration of our Sidereal System will -be followed by disintegration; that such integration and disintegration -will be repeated; and that, for anything we know to the contrary, the -alternation of them may continue without limit. - -But leaving this ultimate insoluble problem, and confining ourselves to -the proximate and not necessarily insoluble one, we find reason for -thinking that after the completion of those various equilibrations which -bring to a close all the forms of Evolution we have contemplated, there -must still continue an equilibration of a far wider kind. When that -integration everywhere in progress throughout our Solar System, has -reached its climax, there will remain to be effected the immeasurably -greater integration of our Solar System, with all other such systems. As -in those minor forms now going on around us, this integration with its -concomitant equilibration, involves the change of aggregate motion into -diffused motion; so in those vaster forms hereafter to be carried out, -there must similarly be gained in molecular motion what is lost in the -motion of masses; and the inevitable transformation of this motion of -masses into molecular motion, cannot take place without reducing the -masses to a nebulous form. Thus we seem led to the conclusion that the -entire process of things, as displayed in the aggregate of the visible -Universe, is analogous to the entire process of things as displayed in -the smallest aggregates. Where, as in organic bodies, the whole series -of changes constituting Evolution can be traced, we saw that, -dynamically considered, Evolution is a change from molecular motion to -the motion of masses; and this change, becoming more active during the -ascending phase of Evolution while the masses increase in bulk and -heterogeneity, eventually begins to get less active; until, passing -through stages in which the integration grows greater, and the -equilibrium more definite, it finally ceases; whereupon there arises, by -an ulterior process, an increase of molecular motion, ending in the more -or less complete dissolution of the aggregate. And here we find reason -to believe that, along with each of the thousands of similar ones -dispersed through the heavens, our Solar System, after passing through -stages during which the motion of masses is produced at the expense of -lost molecular motion, and during which there goes on an increasingly -active differentiation and integration, arrives at a climax whence these -changes, beginning to decline in activity, slowly bring about that -complete integration and equilibration which in other cases we call -death; and that there afterwards comes a time, when the still-remaining -motions of masses are transformed into a molecular motion which causes -dissolution of the masses. Motion as well as Matter being fixed in -quantity, it would seem that the change in the distribution of Matter -which Motion effects, coming to a limit in whichever direction it is -carried, the indestructible Motion thereupon necessitates a reverse -distribution. Apparently, the universally-coexistent forces of -attraction and repulsion, which, as we have seen, necessitate rhythm in -all minor changes throughout the Universe, also necessitate rhythm in -the totality of its changes—produce now an immeasurable period during -which the attractive forces predominating, cause universal -concentration, and then an immeasurable period during which the -repulsive forces predominating, cause universal diffusion—alternate eras -of Evolution and Dissolution. And thus there is suggested the conception -of a past during which there have been successive Evolutions similar to -that which is now going on; and a future during which successive other -such Evolutions may go on. - -Let none suppose, however, that this is to be taken as anything more -than a speculation. In dealing with times and spaces and forces so -immensely transcending those of which we have definite experience, we -are in danger of passing the limits to human intelligence. Though these -times and spaces and forces cannot literally be classed as infinite; yet -they are so utterly beyond the possibility of definite conception, as to -be almost equally unthinkable with the infinite. What has been above -said, should therefore be regarded simply as a possible answer to a -possible doubt. When, pushing to its extreme the argument that Evolution -must come to a close in complete equilibrium or rest, the reader -suggests that for aught which appears to the contrary, the Universal -Death thus implied will continue indefinitely; it is legitimate to point -out how, on carrying the argument still further, we are led to infer a -subsequent Universal Life. But while this last inference may fitly be -accepted as a demurrer to the first, it would be unwise to accept it in -any more positive sense. - - * * * * * - -§ 137. Returning from this parenthetical discussion, concerning the -probable or possible state of things that may arise after Evolution has -run its course; and confining ourselves to the changes constituting -Evolution, with which alone we are immediately concerned; we have now to -inquire whether the cessation of these changes, in common with all their -transitional characteristics, admits of _à priori_ proof. It will soon -become apparent that equilibration, not less than the preceding general -principles, is deducible from the persistence of force. - -We have seen (§ 85) that phenomena are interpretable only as the results -of universally-coexistent forces of attraction and repulsion. These -universally-coexistent forces of attraction and repulsion, are, indeed, -the complementary aspects of that absolutely persistent force which is -the ultimate datum of consciousness. Just in the same way that the -equality of action and re-action is a corollary from the persistence of -force, since their inequality would imply the disappearance of the -differential force into nothing, or its appearance out of nothing; so, -we cannot become conscious of an attractive force without becoming -simultaneously conscious of an equal and opposite repulsive force. For -every experience of a muscular tension, (under which form alone we can -immediately know an attractive force,) presupposes an equivalent -resistance—a resistance shown in the counter-balancing pressure of the -body against neighbouring objects, or in that absorption of force which -gives motion to the body, or in both—a resistance which we cannot -conceive as other than equal to the tension, without conceiving force to -have either appeared or disappeared, and so denying the persistence of -force. And from this necessary correlation, results our inability, -before pointed out, of interpreting any phenomena save in terms of these -correlatives—an inability shown alike in the compulsion we are under to -think of the statical forces which tangible matter displays, as due to -the attraction and repulsion of its atoms, and in the compulsion we are -under to think of dynamical forces exercised through space, by regarding -space as filled with atoms similarly endowed. Thus from the existence of -a force that is for ever unchangeable in quantity, there follows, as a -necessary corollary, the co-extensive existence of these opposite forms -of force—forms under which the conditions of our consciousness oblige us -to represent that absolute force which transcends our knowledge. - -But the forces of attraction and repulsion being universally -co-existent, it follows, as before shown, that all motion is motion -under resistance. Units of matter, solid, liquid, aëriform, or ethereal, -filling the space which any moving body traverses, offer to such body -the resistance consequent on their cohesion, or their inertia, or both. -In other words, the denser or rarer medium which occupies the places -from moment to moment passed through by such moving body, having to be -expelled from them, as much motion is abstracted from the moving body as -is given to the medium in expelling it from these places. This being the -condition under which all motion occurs, two corollaries result. The -first is, that the deductions perpetually made by the communication of -motion to the resisting medium, cannot but bring the motion of the body -to an end in a longer or shorter time. The second is, that the motion of -the body cannot cease until these deductions destroy it. In other words, -movement must continue till equilibration takes place; and equilibration -must eventually take place. Both these are manifest deductions from the -persistence of force. To say that the whole or part of a body’s motion -can disappear, save by transfer to something which resists its motion, -is to say that the whole or part of its motion can disappear without -effect; which is to deny the persistence of force. Conversely, to say -that the medium traversed can be moved out of the body’s path, without -deducting from the body’s motion, is to say that motion of the medium -can arise out of nothing; which is to deny the persistence of force. -Hence this primordial truth is our immediate warrant for the -conclusions, that the changes which Evolution presents, cannot end until -equilibrium is reached; and that equilibrium must at last be reached. - -Equally necessary, because equally deducible from this same truth that -transcends proof, are the foregoing propositions respecting the -establishment and maintenance of moving equilibria, under their several -aspects. It follows from the persistence of force, that the various -motions possessed by any aggregate, either as a whole or among its -parts, must be severally dissipated by the resistances they severally -encounter; and that thus, such of them as are least in amount, or meet -with greatest opposition, or both, will be brought to a close while the -others continue. Hence in every diversely moving aggregate, there -results a comparatively early dissipation of motions which are smaller -and much resisted; followed by long-continuance of the larger and -less-resisted motions; and so there arise dependent and independent -moving equilibria. Hence also may be inferred the tendency to -conservation of such moving equilibria; since, whenever the new motion -given to the parts of a moving equilibrium by a disturbing force, is not -of such kind and amount that it cannot be dissipated before the -pre-existing motions (in which case it brings the moving equilibrium to -an end) it must be of such kind and amount that it can be dissipated -before the pre-existing motions (in which case the moving equilibrium is -re-established). - -Thus from the persistence of force follow, not only the various direct -and indirect equilibrations going on around, together with that cosmical -equilibration which brings Evolution under all its forms to a close; but -also those less manifest equilibrations shown in the re-adjustments of -moving equilibria that have been disturbed. By this ultimate principle -is proveable the tendency of every organism, disordered by some unusual -influence, to return to a balanced state. To it also may be traced the -capacity, possessed in a slight degree by individuals, and in a greater -degree by species, of becoming adapted to new circumstances. And not -less does it afford a basis for the inference, that there is a gradual -advance towards harmony between man’s mental nature and the conditions -of his existence. After finding that from it are deducible the various -characteristics of Evolution, we finally draw from it a warrant for the -belief, that Evolution can end only in the establishment of the greatest -perfection and the most complete happiness. - ------ - -Footnote 18: - - Sir David Brewster has recently been citing with approval, a - calculation by M. Babinet, to the effect that on the hypothesis of - nebular genesis, the matter of the Sun, when it filled the Earth’s - orbit, must have taken 3181 years to rotate; and that therefore the - hypothesis cannot be true. This calculation of M. Babinet may pair-off - with that of M. Comte, who, contrariwise, made the time of this - rotation agree very nearly with the Earth’s period of revolution round - the Sun; for if M. Comte’s calculation involved a _petitio principii_, - that of M. Babinet is manifestly based on two assumptions, both of - which are gratuitous, and one of them totally inconsistent with the - doctrine to be tested. He has evidently proceeded on the current - supposition respecting the Sun’s internal density, which is not - proved, and from which there are reasons for dissenting; and he has - evidently taken for granted that all parts of the nebulous spheroid, - when it filled the Earth’s orbit, had the same angular velocity; - whereas if (as is implied in the nebular hypothesis, rationally - understood) this spheroid resulted from the concentration of far more - widely-diffused matter, the angular velocity of its equatorial portion - would obviously be immensely greater than that of its central portion. - -Footnote 19: - - See paper “On the Inter-action of Natural Forces,” by Prof. Helmholtz, - translated by Prof. Tyndall, and published in the _Philosophical - Magazine_, supplement to Vol. XI. fourth series. - -Footnote 20: - - Until I recently consulted his “Outlines of Astronomy” on another - question, I was not aware that so far back as 1833, Sir John Herschel - had enunciated the doctrine that “the sun’s rays are the ultimate - source of almost every motion which takes place on the surface of the - earth.” He expressly includes all geologic, meteorologic, and vital - actions; as also those which we produce by the combustion of coal. The - late George Stephenson appears to have been wrongly credited with this - last idea. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - SUMMARY AND CONCLUSION. - - -§ 138. In the chapter on “Laws in general,” after delineating the -progress of mankind in recognizing uniformities of relation among -surrounding phenomena—after showing how the actual succession in the -establishment of different orders of co-existences and sequences, -corresponds with the succession deducible _à priori_ from the conditions -to human knowledge—after showing how, by the ever-multiplying -experiences of constant connections among phenomena, there has been -gradually generated the conception of universal conformity to law; it -was suggested that this conception will become still clearer, when it is -perceived that there are laws of wider generality than any of those at -present accepted. - -The existence of such more general laws, is, indeed, almost implied by -the _ensemble_ of the facts set forth in the above-named chapter; since -they make it apparent, that the process hitherto carried on, of bringing -phenomena under fewer and wider laws, has not ceased, but is advancing -with increasing rapidity. Apart, however, from evidence of this kind, -the man of science, hourly impressed with new proof of uniformity in the -relations of things, until the conception of uniformity has become with -him a necessity of thought, tacitly entertains the conclusion that the -minor uniformities which Science has thus far established, will -eventually be merged in uniformities that are universal. Taught as he is -by every observation and experiment, to regard phenomena as -manifestations of Force; and learning as he does to contemplate Force as -unchangeable in amount; there tends to grow up in him a belief in -unchangeable laws common to Force under all its manifestations. Though -he may not have formulated it to himself, he is prepared to recognize -the truth, that, being fixed in quantity, fixed in its two ultimate -modes of presentation (Matter and Motion), and fixed in the conditions -under which it is presented (Time and Space); Force must have certain -equally fixed laws of action, common to all the changes it produces. - -Hence to the classes who alone are likely to read these pages, the -hypothesis of a fundamental unity, extending from the simplest inorganic -actions up to the most complex associations of thought and the most -involved social processes, will have an _à priori_ probability. All -things being recognized as having one source, will be expected to -exhibit one method. Even in the absence of a clue to uniformities -co-extensive with all modes of Force, as the mathematical uniformities -are co-extensive with Space and Time, it will be inferred that such -uniformities exist. And thus a certain presumption will result in favour -of any formula, of a generality great enough to include concrete -phenomena of every order. - - * * * * * - -§ 139. In the chapters on the “Law of Evolution,” there was set forth a -principle, which, so far as accessible evidence enables us to judge, -possesses this universality. The order of material changes, first -perceived to have certain constant characteristics in cases where it -could be readily traced from beginning to end, we found to have these -same characteristics in cases where it could be less readily traced; and -we saw numerous indications that these same characteristics were -displayed during past changes of which we have no direct knowledge. The -transformation of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous, first observed -by naturalists to be exhibited during the development of every plant and -animal, proved to be also exhibited during the development of every -society; both in its political and industrial organization, and in all -the products of social life,—language, science, art, and literature. -From the disclosures of geology, we drew adequate support for the -conclusion, that in the structure of the Earth there has similarly been -a progress from uniformity, through ever-increasing degrees of -multiformity, to the complex state which we now see. And on the -assumption of that nebular origin to which so many facts point, we -inferred that a like transition from unity to variety of distribution, -must have been undergone by our Solar System; as well as by that vast -assemblage of such systems constituting the visible Universe. This -definition of the metamorphosis, first asserted by physiologists of -organic aggregates only, but which we thus found reason to think, holds -of all other aggregates, proved on further inquiry to be too wide. Its -undue width was shown to arise from the omission of certain other -characteristics, that are, not less than the foregoing one, displayed -throughout all kinds of Evolution. We saw that simultaneously with the -change from homogeneity to heterogeneity, there takes place a change -from indefiniteness of arrangement to definiteness of arrangement—a -change everywhere equally traceable with that which it accompanies. -Further consideration made it apparent, that the increasing definiteness -thus manifested along with increasing heterogeneity, necessarily results -from increasing integration of the parts severally rendered unlike. And -thus we finally reached the conclusion, that there has been going on -throughout an immeasurable past, is still going on, and will continue to -go on, an advance from a diffused, indeterminate, and uniform -distribution of Matter, to a concentrated, determinate, and multiform -distribution of it. - -At a subsequent stage of our inquiry, we discovered that this -progressive change in the arrangement of Matter, is accompanied by a -parallel change in the arrangement of Motion—that every increase in the -structural complexity of things, involves a corresponding increase in -their functional complexity. It was shown that along with the -integration of molecules into masses, there arises an integration of -molecular motion into the motion of masses; and that as fast as there -results variety in the sizes and forms of aggregates and their relations -to incident forces, there also results variety in their movements. -Whence it became manifest, that the general process of things is from a -confused simplicity to an orderly complexity, in the distribution of -both Matter and Motion. - -It was pointed out, however, that though this species of transformation -is universal, in the sense of holding throughout all classes of -phenomena, it is not universal in the sense of being continued without -limit in all classes of phenomena. Those aggregates which exhibit the -entire change from uniformity to multiformity of structure and function, -in comparatively short periods, eventually show us a reverse set of -changes: Evolution is followed by Dissolution. The differentiations and -integrations of Matter and Motion, finally reach a degree which the -conditions do not allow them to pass; and there then sets in a process -of disintegration and assimilation, of both the parts and the movements -that were before growing more united and more distinct. - -But under one or the other of these processes, all observable -modifications in the arrangement of things may be classed. Every change -comes under the head of integration or disintegration, material or -dynamical; or under the head of differentiation or assimilation, -material or dynamical; or under both. Each inorganic mass is either -undergoing increase by the combination with it of surrounding elements -for which its parts have affinity; or undergoing decrease by the solvent -and abraiding action of surrounding elements; or both one and the other -in varied succession and combination. By perpetual additions and losses -of heat, it is having its parts temporarily differentiated from each -other, or temporarily assimilated to each other, in molecular state. And -through the actions of divers agents, it is also undergoing certain -permanent molecular re-arrangements; rendering it either more uniform or -more multiform in structure. These opposite kinds of change, thus -vaguely typified in every surrounding fragment of matter, are displayed -in all aggregates with increasing distinctness in proportion as the -conditions essential to re-arrangement of parts are fulfilled. So that -universally, the process of things is either in the one direction or the -other. There is in all cases going on that ever-complicating -distribution of Matter and Motion which we call Evolution; save in those -cases where it has been brought to a close and reversed by what we call -Dissolution. - - * * * * * - -§ 140. Whether this omnipresent metamorphosis admits of interpretation, -was the inquiry on which we next entered. Recognizing the changes thus -formulated as consisting in Motions of Matter that are produced by -Force, we saw that if they are interpretable at all, it must be by the -affiliation of them on certain ultimate laws of Matter, Motion, and -Force. We therefore proceeded to inquire what these ultimate laws are. - -We first contemplated under its leading aspects, the principle of -correlation and equivalence among forces. The genesis of sensible motion -by insensible motion, and of insensible motion by sensible motion, as -well as the like reciprocal production of those forms of insensible -motion which constitute Light, Heat, Electricity, Magnetism, and -Chemical Action, was shown to be a now accepted doctrine, that involves -certain corollaries respecting the processes everywhere going on around -us. Setting out with the probability that the insensible motion radiated -by the Sun, is the transformed product of the sensible motion lost -during the progressive concentration of the solar mass; we saw that by -this insensible motion, are in turn produced the various kinds of -sensible motion on the Earth’s surface. Besides the inorganic -terrestrial changes, we found that the changes constituting organic life -are thus originated. We were obliged to conclude that within this -category, come the vital phenomena classed as mental, as well as those -classed as physical. And it appeared inevitably to follow that of social -changes, too, the like must be said. We next saw that phenomena -being cognizable by us only as products of Force, manifested under the -two-fold form of attraction and repulsion, there results the general law -that all Motion must occur in the direction of least resistance, or in -the direction of greatest traction, or in the direction of their -resultant. It was pointed out that this law is every instant illustrated -in the movements of the celestial bodies. The innumerable transpositions -of matter, gaseous, liquid, and solid, going on over the Earth’s -surface, were shown to conform to it. Evidence was given that this same -ultimate principle of motion underlies the structural and functional -changes of organisms. Throughout the succession of those nervous actions -which constitute thought and feeling, as also in the discharge of -feeling into action, we no less found this principle conspicuous. Nor -did we discover any exception to it in the movements, temporary and -permanent, that go on in societies. From the universal coexistence -of opposing forces, there also resulted the rhythm of motion. It was -shown that this is displayed from the infinitesimal vibrations of -molecules up to the enormous revolutions and gyrations of planets; that -it is traceable throughout all meteorologic and geologic changes; that -the functions of every organic body exemplify it in various forms; that -mental activities too, intellectual and emotional, exhibit periodicities -of sundry kinds; and that actions and reactions illustrating this law -under a still more complex form, pervade social processes. - -Such being the principles to which conform all changes produced by -Force on the distribution of Matter, and all changes re-actively -produced by Matter on the distribution of Force, we proceeded to -inquire what must be the consequent nature of any re-distributions -produced: having first noted the limiting conditions between which -such re-distributions are possible, and the medium conditions that are -most favourable to them. The first conclusion arrived at, was, -that any finite homogeneous aggregate must inevitably lose its -homogeneity, through the unequal exposure of its parts to incident -forces. We observed how this was shown in surrounding things, by the -habitual establishment of differences between inner and outer parts, -and parts otherwise dissimilarly circumstanced. It was pointed out -that the production of diversities of structure by forces acting under -diverse conditions, has been illustrated in astronomic evolution, -supposing such evolution to have taken place; and that a like -connection of cause and effect is seen in the large and small -modifications undergone by our globe. In the early changes of organic -germs, we discovered further evidence that unlikenesses of structure -follow unlikenesses of relations to surrounding agencies—evidence -enforced by the tendency of the differently-placed members of each -species to diverge into varieties. We found that the principle is also -conformed to in the establishment of distinctions among our ideas; and -that the contrasts, political and industrial, that arise between the -parts of societies are no less in harmony with it. The instability of -the homogeneous thus caused, and thus everywhere exemplified, we also -saw must hold of the unlike parts into which any uniform whole lapses; -and that so the less heterogeneous must tend continually to become -more heterogeneous—an inference which we also found to be everywhere -confirmed by fact. Carrying a step further our inquiry into -these actions and reactions between Force and Matter, there was -disclosed a secondary cause of increasing multiformity. Every -differentiated part becomes, we found, a parent of further -differentiations; not only in the sense that it must lose its own -homogeneity in heterogeneity, but also in the sense that it must, in -growing unlike other parts, become a centre of unlike reactions on -incident forces; and by so adding to the diversity of forces at work, -must add to the diversity of effects produced. This multiplication of -effects, likewise proved to be manifest throughout all Nature. That -forces modified in kind and direction by every part of every -aggregate, are gradually expended in working changes that grow more -numerous and more varied as the forces are subdivided, is shown in the -actions and reactions going on throughout the Solar System, in the -never-ceasing geologic complications, in the involved symptoms -produced in organisms by disturbing influences, in the many thoughts -and feelings generated by single impressions, and in the -ever-ramifying results of each new agency brought to bear on a -society. To which add the corollary, confirmed by abundant facts, that -the multiplication of effects must increase in a geometrical -progression, as the heterogeneity increases. Completely to -interpret the structural changes constituting Evolution, there -remained to assign a reason for that increasingly-distinct demarcation -of parts, which accompanies the production of differences between -parts. This reason we discovered to be, the segregation of mixed units -under the action of forces capable of moving them. We saw that when -the parts of an aggregate have been made qualitatively unlike by -unlike incident forces—that is, when they have become contrasted in -the natures of their component units; there necessarily arises a -tendency to separation of the dissimilar orders of units from each -other, and to aggregation of those units which are similar. This cause -of the integration that accompanies differentiation, turned out to be -likewise exemplified by all kinds of Evolution—by the formation of -celestial bodies, by the moulding of the Earth’s crust, by organic -modifications, by the establishment of mental distinctions, by the -genesis of social divisions. And we inferred, what we may everywhere -see, that the segregation thus produced goes on so long as there -remains a possibility of making it more complete. At length, to -the query whether the processes thus traced out have any limit, there -came the answer that they must end in equilibration. That continual -division and subdivision of forces, which is instrumental in changing -the uniform into the multiform and the multiform into the more -multiform, we saw to be at the same time a process by which force is -perpetually dissipated; and that dissipation, continuing as long as -there remains any force unbalanced by an opposing force, must end in -rest. It was shown that when, as happens with aggregates of various -orders, a number of movements are going on in combination, the earlier -dispersion of the smaller and more resisted movements, entails the -establishment of different kinds of moving equilibria: forming -transitional stages on the way to complete equilibrium. And further -inquiry made it apparent that for the same reason, these moving -equilibria have a certain self-conserving power; shown in the -neutralization of perturbations, and the adjustment to new conditions. -This general principle, like the preceding ones, proved to be -traceable throughout all forms of Evolution—astronomic, geologic, -biologic, mental and social. And our concluding inference was, that -the penultimate stage of this process, in which the extremest degree -of multiformity and completest form of moving equilibrium is -established, must be one implying the highest conceivable state of -humanity. - -Thus it became apparent that this transformation of on indefinite, -incoherent homogeneity into a definite coherent heterogeneity, which -goes on everywhere, until it brings about a reverse transformation, is -consequent on certain simple laws of force. Given those universal modes -of action which are from moment to moment illustrated in the commonest -changes around us, and it follows that there cannot but result the -observed metamorphosis of an indeterminate uniformity into a determinate -multiformity. - - * * * * * - -§ 141. Finally, we have asked whether, for these universal modes of -action, any common cause is assignable—whether these wide truths are -dependent on any single widest truth. And to this question we found a -positive answer. These several principles are corollaries from that -primordial principle which transcends human intelligence by underlying -it. - -In the first part of this work it was shown, by analysis of both our -religious and our scientific ideas, that while knowledge of the cause -which produces effects on our consciousness is impossible, the existence -of a cause for these effects is a datum of consciousness. Though Being -is cognizable by us only under limits of Time and Space, yet Being -without limits of Time and Space was proved to be the indefinite -cognition forming the necessary basis of our definite cognitions. We saw -that the belief in an Omnipresent Power of which no commencement or -cessation can be conceived, is that fundamental element in Religion -which survives all its changes of form. We saw that all Philosophies -avowedly or tacitly recognize this same ultimate truth:—that while the -Relativist rightly repudiates those definite assertions which the -Absolutist makes respecting real existence, he is yet at last compelled -to unite with him in predicating real existence. And this inexpugnable -consciousness in which Religion and Philosophy are at one with Common -Sense, proved to be likewise that on which all exact Science is founded. -We found that subjective Science can give no account of those -conditioned modes of existence which constitute consciousness, without -postulating unconditioned existence. And we found that objective Science -can give no account of the existence which we know as external, without -regarding its changes of form as manifestations of an existence that -continues constant under all forms. Absolute Being, or Being which -persists without beginning or end, was shown to be the common datum of -all human thought; for the sufficient reason that the consciousness of -it cannot be suppressed, without the suppression of consciousness -itself. - -From this truth which transcends proof, we have seen that the general -principles above set down, are deducible. That the power or force -manifested to us in all phenomena, continues unaltered in quantity, -however its mode of manifestation be altered, is a proposition in which -these several propositions are involved. It was shown that on the -Persistence of Force are based the demonstrations that Matter is -indestructible and Motion continuous. When its proofs were examined, the -correlation and equivalence of forces was found to follow from the -Persistence of Force. The necessity we are under of conceiving Force -under the two-fold form of attraction and repulsion, turns out to be but -an implication of the necessity we are under of conceiving Force as -persistent. On the Persistence of Force, we saw that the law of -direction of Motion is dependent; and from it also we saw that the -rhythm of Motion necessarily results. Passing to those changes of -distribution which, by the Motion it generates, Force produces in -Matter, it was pointed out that from the Persistence of Force are -severally deducible, the instability of the homogeneous, the -multiplication of effects, and that increasing definiteness of structure -to which continuous differentiation and integration leads. And lastly we -saw that Force being persistent, Evolution cannot cease until -equilibrium is reached; and that equilibrium must eventually be reached. - -So that given Force manifested in Time and Space, under the forms of -Matter and Motion; and it is demonstrable, _à priori_, that there must -go on such transformations as we find going on. - - * * * * * - -§ 142. See then the accumulation of proofs. The advance of human -intelligence in establishing laws continually wider in generality, -raises the presumption that there are all-comprehensive laws. Turning to -the facts, we discern a pervading uniformity in the general course of -things where this can be watched, and indications of such uniformity -where it cannot be watched. Considering this uniformity analytically, we -find it to result from certain simpler uniformities in the actions of -Force. And these uniformities prove to be so many necessary implications -of that primordial truth which underlies all knowledge—the Persistence -of Force. The aspect of things raises a presumption; extended -observations lead to an induction that fulfils this presumption; this -induction is deductively confirmed; and the laws whence it is deduced -are corollaries from that datum without which thought is impossible. - -No higher degree of verification than this can be imagined. An induction -based on facts so numerous and varied, and falling short of universality -only where the facts are beyond observation, possesses of itself a -validity greater than that of most scientific inductions. When it is -shown that the proposition thus arrived at _à posteriori_, may also be -arrived at _à priori_, starting from certain simple laws of force; it is -raised to a level with those generalizations of concrete science which -are accepted as proved. And when these simple laws of force are -affiliated upon that ultimate truth which transcends proof; this -dependent proposition takes rank with those propositions of abstract -science which are our types of the greatest conceivable certainty. - -Let no one suppose that any such degree of certainty is alleged of the -various minor propositions brought in illustration of the general -argument. Such an assumption would be so manifestly absurd, that it -seems scarcely needful to disclaim it. But the truth of the doctrine as -a whole, is unaffected by errors in the details of its presentation. As -the first principles of mathematics are not invalidated by mistakes made -in working out particular equations; so the first principles set forth -in the foregoing pages, do not stand or fall with each special statement -made in them. If it can be shown that the Persistence of Force is not a -datum of consciousness; or if it can be shown that the several laws of -force above specified are not corollaries from it; then, indeed, it will -be shown that the theory of Evolution has not the certainty here claimed -for it. But nothing short of this can invalidate the general conclusions -arrived at. - - * * * * * - -§ 143. If these conclusions be accepted—if it be admitted that they -inevitably follow from the truth transcending all others in authority—if -it be agreed that the phenomena going on everywhere are parts of the -general process of Evolution, save where they are parts of the reverse -process of Dissolution; then it must be inferred that all phenomena -receive their complete interpretation, only when recognized as parts of -these processes. Regarded from the point of view here reached, each -change that takes place, is an incident in the course of the -ever-complicating distribution of Matter and Motion, except where it is -an incident in the course of the reverse distribution; and each such -change is fully understood, only when brought under those universal -principles of change, to which these transformations necessarily -conform. Whence, indeed, it appears to be an unavoidable -conclusion, that the limit towards which Science is advancing, must be -reached when these formulæ are made all-comprehensive. Manifestly, the -perfection of Science, is a state in which all phenomena are seen to be -necessary implications of the Persistence of Force. In such a state, the -dependence of each phenomenon on the Persistence of Force, must be -proved either directly or indirectly—either by showing that it is a -corollary of the Persistence of Force, or by showing that it is a -corollary from some general proposition deduced from the Persistence of -Force. And since all phenomena are incidents in the re-distributions of -Matter and Motion; and since there are certain general principles, -deducible from the Persistence of Force, to which all these -re-distributions conform; it seems inferrable that ultimately all -phenomena, where not classed as consequences of the Persistence of -Force, must be classed as consequences of these derivative principles. - - * * * * * - -§ 144. Of course this development of Science into an organized aggregate -of direct and indirect deductions from the Persistence of Force, can be -achieved only in the remote future; and indeed cannot be completely -achieved even then. Scientific progress, is progress in that -equilibration of thought and things which we saw is going on, and must -continue to go on; but which cannot arrive at perfection in any finite -period, because it advances more slowly the further it advances. But -though Science can never be entirely reduced to this form; and though -only at a far distant time can it be brought nearly to this form; yet -much may even now be done in the way of rude approximation. Those who -are familiar with the present aspects of Science, must recognize in them -the broken outlines of a general organization. The possibility of -arranging the facts already accumulated, into the order rudely exhibited -in the foregoing pages, will itself incline them to the belief that our -knowledge may be put into a more connected shape than it at present has. -They will see the probability that many now isolated inductions, may be -reduced to the form of deductions from first principles. They will -suspect that inferences drawn from the ultimate laws of force, will lead -to the investigation and generalization of classes of facts hitherto -unexamined. And they will feel, not only that a greater degree of -certainty must be acquired by Science, as fast as its propositions are -directly or indirectly deduced from the highest of all truths; but also -that it must so be rendered a more efficient agent of further inquiry. - -To bring scientific knowledge to such degree of logical coherence as is -at present possible, is a task to be achieved only by the combined -efforts of many. No one man can possess that encyclopedic information -required for rightly arranging even the truths already established. But -as progress is effected by increments—as all organization, beginning in -faint and blurred outlines, is completed by successive modifications and -additions; advantage may accrue from an attempt, however rude, to reduce -the facts already accumulated—or rather certain classes of them—to -something like co-ordination. Such must be the plea for the several -volumes which are to succeed this. - - * * * * * - -§ 145. A few closing words must be said, concerning the general bearings -of the doctrines that are now to be further developed. Before proceeding -to interpret the detailed phenomena of Life, and Mind, and Society, in -terms of Matter, Motion, and Force, the reader must be reminded in what -sense the interpretations are to be accepted. In spite of everything -said at the outset, there are probably some who have gained the -impression that those most general truths set forth in the preceding -chapters, together with the truths deducible from them, claim to be -something more than relative truths. And, notwithstanding all evidence -to the contrary, there will probably have arisen in not a few minds, the -conviction that the solutions which have been given, along with those to -be derived from them, are essentially materialistic. Let none persist in -these misconceptions. - -As repeatedly shown in various ways, the deepest truths we can reach, -are simply statements of the widest uniformities in our experience of -the relations of Matter, Motion, and Force; and Matter, Motion, and -Force are but symbols of the Unknown Reality. That Power of which the -nature remains for ever inconceivable, and to which no limits in Time or -Space can be imagined, works in us certain effects. These effects have -certain likenesses of kind, the most general of which we class together -under the names of Matter, Motion, and Force; and between these effects -there are likenesses of connection, the most constant of which we class -as laws of the highest certainty. Analysis reduces these several kinds -of effect to one kind of effect; and these several kinds of uniformity -to one kind of uniformity. And the highest achievement of Science is the -interpretation of all orders of phenomena, as differently-conditioned -manifestations of this one kind of effect, under differently-conditioned -modes of this one kind of uniformity. But when Science has done this, it -has done nothing more than systematize our experience; and has in no -degree extended the limits of our experience. We can say no more than -before, whether the uniformities are as absolutely necessary, as they -have become to our thought relatively necessary. The utmost possibility -for us, is an interpretation of the process of things as it presents -itself to our limited consciousness; but how this process is related to -the actual process, we are unable to conceive, much less to know. - -Similarly, it must be remembered that while the connection between the -phenomenal order and the ontological order is for ever inscrutable; so -is the connection between the conditioned forms of being and the -unconditioned form of being, for ever inscrutable. The interpretation of -all phenomena in terms of Matter, Motion, and Force, is nothing more -than the reduction of our complex symbols of thought, to the simplest -symbols; and when the equation has been brought to its lowest terms the -symbols remain symbols still. Hence the reasonings contained in the -foregoing pages, afford no support to either of the antagonist -hypotheses respecting the ultimate nature of things. Their implications -are no more materialistic than they are spiritualistic; and no more -spiritualistic than they are materialistic. Any argument which is -apparently furnished to either hypothesis, is neutralized by as good an -argument furnished to the other. The Materialist, seeing it to be a -necessary deduction from the law of correlation, that what exists in -consciousness under the form of feeling, is transformable into an -equivalent of mechanical motion, and by consequence into equivalents of -all the other forces which matter exhibits; may consider it therefore -demonstrated that the phenomena of consciousness are material phenomena. -But the Spiritualist, setting out with the same data, may argue with -equal cogency, that if the forces displayed by matter are cognizable -only under the shape of those equivalent amounts of consciousness which -they produce, it is to be inferred that these forces, when existing out -of consciousness, are of the same intrinsic nature as when existing in -consciousness; and that so is justified the spiritualistic conception of -the external world, as consisting of something essentially identical -with what we call mind. Manifestly, the establishment of correlation and -equivalence between the forces of the outer and the inner worlds, may be -used to assimilate either to the other; according as we set out with one -or other term. But he who rightly interprets the doctrine contained in -this work, will see that neither of these terms can be taken as -ultimate. He will see that though the relation of subject and object -renders necessary to us these antithetical conceptions of Spirit and -Matter; the one is no less than the other to be regarded as but a sign -of the Unknown Reality which underlies both. - - - THE END. - - - JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Changed “which takes place” to “which take place” on p. 315. - 2. Duplicated the large spaces in the original text. - 3. Silently corrected typographical errors. - 4. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - 5. 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