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diff --git a/old/53395-0.txt b/old/53395-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a31f182..0000000 --- a/old/53395-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,17330 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Essays: Scientific, Political, and -Speculative; Vol. II of Three, 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: Essays: Scientific, Political, and Speculative; Vol. II of Three - Library Edition (1891), Containing Seven Essays not before - Republished, and Various other Additions. - -Author: Herbert Spencer - -Release Date: October 29, 2016 [EBook #53395] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS: SCIENTIFIC *** - - - - -Produced by Josep Cols Canals, Adrian Mastronardi, RichardW, -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian -Libraries and Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - ESSAYS: SCIENTIFIC, POLITICAL, & SPECULATIVE. - - BY - HERBERT SPENCER. - - LIBRARY EDITION, - - (otherwise fifth thousand,) - - _Containing Seven Essays not before Republished,_ - _and various other additions_. - - VOL. II. - - WILLIAMS AND NORGATE, - 14, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON; - AND 20, SOUTH FREDERICK STREET, EDINBURGH. - - 1891. - - - - - LONDON: - G. NORMAN AND SON, PRINTERS, HART STREET, - COVENT GARDEN. - - - - -CONTENTS OF VOL. II. - - - PAGE - THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE 1 - - THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES 74 - - REASONS FOR DISSENTING FROM THE PHILOSOPHY OF M. COMTE 118 - - ON LAWS IN GENERAL, AND THE ORDER OF THEIR DISCOVERY 145 - - THE VALUATION OF EVIDENCE 161 - - WHAT IS ELECTRICITY? 168 - - MILL _versus_ HAMILTON—THE TEST OF TRUTH 188 - - REPLIES TO CRITICISMS 218 - - PROF. GREEN’S EXPLANATIONS 321 - - THE PHILOSOPHY OF STYLE 333 - - USE AND BEAUTY 370 - - THE SOURCES OF ARCHITECTURAL TYPES 375 - - GRACEFULNESS 381 - - PERSONAL BEAUTY 387 - - THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC 400 - - THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER 452 - - (_For Index, see Volume III._) - - - - -{1} - -THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE. - - -[_First published in_ The British Quarterly Review _for July 1854_.] - -There still prevails among men a vague notion that scientific knowledge -differs in nature from ordinary knowledge. By the Greeks, with whom -Mathematics—literally _things learnt_—was alone considered as knowledge -proper, the distinction must have been strongly felt; and it has ever -since maintained itself in the general mind. Though, considering -the contrast between the achievements of science and those of daily -unmethodic thinking, it is not surprising that such a distinction -has been assumed; yet it needs but to rise a little above the common -point of view, to see that it is but a superficial distinction. The -same faculties are employed in both cases; and in both cases their -mode of operation is fundamentally the same. If we say that science -is organized knowledge, we are met by the truth that all knowledge is -organized in a greater or less degree—that the commonest actions of -the household and the field presuppose facts colligated, inferences -drawn, results expected; and that the general success of these actions -proves the data by which they were guided to have been correctly put -together. If, again, we say that science is prevision—is a seeing -beforehand—is a knowing in what {2} times, places, combinations, -or sequences, specified phenomena will be found; we are obliged to -confess that the definition includes much that is foreign to science -in its ordinary acceptation: for example, a child’s knowledge of an -apple. This, as far as it goes, consists in previsions. When a child -sees a certain form and colours, it knows that if it puts out its -hand it will have certain impressions of resistance, and roundness, -and smoothness; and if it bites, a certain taste. And manifestly its -general acquaintance with surrounding objects is of like nature—is -made up of facts concerning them, grouped so that any part of a group -being perceived, the existence of the other facts included in it is -foreseen. If, once more, we say that science is _exact_ prevision, -we still fail to establish the supposed difference. Not only do we -find that much of what we call science is not exact, and that some of -it, as physiology, can never become exact; but we find further, that -many of the previsions constituting the common stock alike of wise -and foolish, _are_ exact. That an unsupported body will fall; that a -lighted candle will go out when immersed in water; that ice will melt -when thrown on the fire—these, and many like predictions relating to -the familiar properties of things, have as high a degree of accuracy as -predictions are capable of. It is true that the results foreseen are of -a very general character; but it is none the less true that they are -correct as far as they go: and this is all that is requisite to fulfil -the definition. There is perfect accordance between the anticipated -phenomena and the actual ones; and no more than this can be said of the -highest achievements of the sciences specially characterized as exact. - -Seeing thus that the assumed distinction between scientific knowledge -and common knowledge cannot be sustained; and yet feeling, as we must, -that however impossible it may be to draw a line between them, the two -are not practically identical; there arises the question—What is the -relationship {3} between them? A partial answer to this question may -be drawn from the illustrations just given. On reconsidering them, it -will be observed that those portions of ordinary knowledge which are -identical in character with scientific knowledge, comprehend only such -combinations of phenomena as are directly cognizable by the senses, -and are of simple, invariable nature. That the smoke from a fire which -she is lighting will ascend, and that the fire will presently boil -the water placed over it, are previsions which the servant-girl makes -equally well with the most learned physicist; but they are previsions -concerning phenomena in constant and direct relation—phenomena that -follow visibly and immediately after their antecedents—phenomena of -which the causation is neither remote nor obscure—phenomena which may -be predicted by the simplest possible act of reasoning. If, now, we -pass to the previsions constituting science—that an eclipse of the -moon will happen at a specified time; that when a barometer is taken -to the top of a mountain of known height, the mercurial column will -descend a stated number of inches; that the poles of a galvanic battery -immersed in water will give off, the one an inflammable and the other -an inflaming gas, in definite ratio—we perceive that the relations -involved are not of a kind habitually presented to our senses. They -depend, some of them, on special combinations of causes; and in some of -them the connexion between antecedents and consequents is established -only by an elaborate series of inferences. A broad distinction, -therefore, between scientific knowledge and common knowledge is its -remoteness from perception. If we regard the cases in their most -general aspect, we see that the labourer who, on hearing certain notes -in the adjacent hedge, can describe the particular form and colours -of the bird making them, and the astronomer who, having calculated a -transit of Venus, can delineate the black spot entering on the sun’s -disc, as it will appear through the telescope, at a specified hour, -do {4} essentially the same thing. Each knows that on fulfilling the -requisite conditions, he shall have a preconceived impression—that -after a definite series of actions will come a group of sensations of -a foreknown kind. The difference, then, is neither in the fundamental -character of the mental acts; nor in the correctness of the previsions -accomplished by them; but in the complexity of the processes required -to achieve the previsions. Much of our common knowledge is, as far -as it goes, precise. Science does not increase its precision. What -then does it do? It reduces other knowledge to the same degree of -precision. That certainty which direct perception gives us respecting -coexistences and sequences of the simplest and most accessible kind, -science gives us respecting coexistences and sequences, complex in -their dependencies, or inaccessible to immediate observation. In brief, -regarded from this point of view, science may be called _an extension -of the perceptions by means of reasoning_. - -On further considering the matter, however, it will perhaps be felt -that this definition does not express the whole fact—that inseparable -as science may be from common knowledge, and completely as we may fill -up the gap between the simplest previsions of the child and the most -recondite ones of the physicist, by interposing a series of previsions -in which the complexity of reasoning involved is greater and greater, -there is yet a difference between the two beyond that above described. -And this is true. But the difference is still not such as enables us to -draw the assumed line of demarcation. It is a difference not between -common knowledge and scientific knowledge; but between the successive -phases of science itself, or knowledge itself—whichever we choose to -call it. In its earlier phases science attains only to _certainty_ of -foresight; in its later phases it further attains to _completeness_. -We begin by discovering _a_ relation; we end by discovering _the_ -relation. Our first achievement is to foretell the _kind_ {5} of -phenomenon which will occur under specified conditions; our last -achievement is to foretell not only the kind but the _amount_. Or, to -reduce the proposition to its most definite form—undeveloped science is -_qualitative_ prevision; developed science is _quantitative_ prevision. - -This will at once be perceived to express the remaining distinction -between the lower and the higher stages of positive knowledge. The -prediction that a piece of lead will take more force to lift it -than a piece of wood of equal size, exhibits certainty, but not -completeness, of foresight. The kind of effect in which the one body -will exceed the other is foreseen; but not the amount by which it will -exceed. There is qualitative prevision only. On the other hand, the -predictions that at a stated time two particular planets will be in -conjunction; that by means of a lever having arms in a given ratio, a -known force will raise just so many pounds; that to decompose a given -quantity of sulphate of iron by carbonate of soda will require so many -grains—these predictions show foreknowledge, not only of the nature of -the effects to be produced, but of the magnitude, either of the effects -themselves, of the agencies producing them, or of the distance in time -or space at which they will be produced. There is both qualitative -provision and quantitative prevision. And this is the unexpressed -difference which leads us to consider certain orders of knowledge as -especially scientific when contrasted with knowledge in general. Are -the phenomena _measurable_? is the test which we unconsciously employ. -Space is measurable: hence Geometry. Force and space are measurable: -hence Statics. Time, force, and space are measurable: hence Dynamics. -The invention of the barometer enabled men to extend the principles -of mechanics to the atmosphere; and Aerostatics existed. When a -thermometer was devised there arose a science of heat, which was before -impossible. Of such external agents as we have found no measures -but our sensations {6} we have no sciences. We have no science of -smells; nor have we one of tastes. We have a science of the relations -of sounds differing in pitch, because we have discovered a way to -measure these relations; but we have no science of sounds in respect to -their loudness or their _timbre_, because we have got no measures of -loudness and _timbre_. Obviously it is this reduction of the sensible -phenomena it presents, to relations of magnitude, which gives to any -division of knowledge its specially scientific character. Originally -men’s knowledge of weights and forces was like their present knowledge -of smells and tastes—a knowledge not extending beyond that given by -the unaided sensations; and it remained so until weighing instruments -and dynamometers were invented. Before there were hour-glasses and -clepsydras, most phenomena could be estimated as to their durations -and intervals, with no greater precision than degrees of hardness can -be estimated by the fingers. Until a thermometric scale was contrived, -men’s judgments respecting relative amounts of heat stood on the same -footing with their present judgments respecting relative amounts of -sound. And as in these initial stages, with no aids to observation, -only the roughest comparisons of cases could be made, and only the most -marked differences perceived, it resulted that only the most simple -laws of dependence could be ascertained—only those laws which, being -uncomplicated with others, and not disturbed in their manifestations, -required no niceties of observation to disentangle them. Whence it -appears not only that in proportion as knowledge becomes quantitative -do its previsions become complete as well as certain, but that until -its assumption of a quantitative character it is necessarily confined -to the most elementary relations. - -Moreover it is to be remarked that while, on the one hand, we -can discover the laws of the greater part of phenomena only by -investigating them quantitatively; on the other hand we can extend -the range of our quantitative {7} previsions only as fast as we -detect the laws of the results we predict. For clearly the ability to -specify the magnitude of a result inaccessible to direct measurement, -implies knowledge of its mode of dependence on something which can be -measured—implies that we know the particular fact dealt with to be -an instance of some more general fact. Thus the extent to which our -quantitative previsions have been carried in any direction, indicates -the depth to which our knowledge reaches in that direction. And here, -as another aspect of the same fact, it may be observed that as we pass -from qualitative to quantitative prevision, we pass from inductive -science to deductive science. Science while purely inductive is purely -qualitative; when inaccurately quantitative it usually consists of -part induction, part deduction; and it becomes accurately quantitative -only when wholly deductive. We do not mean that the deductive and the -quantitative are coextensive; for there is manifestly much deduction -that is qualitative only. We mean that all quantitative prevision is -reached deductively; and that induction can achieve only qualitative -prevision. - -Still, however, it must not be supposed that these distinctions enable -us to separate ordinary knowledge from science; much as they seem to -do so. While they show in what consists the broad contrast between -the extreme forms of the two, they yet lead us to recognize their -essential identity, and once more prove the difference to be one of -degree only. For, on the one hand, much of our common knowledge is -to some extent quantitative; seeing that the amount of the foreseen -result is known within certain wide limits. And, on the other hand, -the highest quantitative prevision does not reach the exact truth, but -only a near approach to it. Without clocks the savage knows that the -day is longer in the summer than in the winter; without scales he knows -that stone is heavier than flesh; that is, he can foresee respecting -certain results that their amounts will exceed these, and be less than -{8} those—he knows _about_ what they will be. And, with his most -delicate instruments and most elaborate calculations, all that the man -of science can do, is to reduce the difference between the foreseen and -the actual results to an unimportant quantity. Moreover, it must be -borne in mind not only that all the sciences are qualitative in their -first stages,—not only that some of them, as Chemistry, have but lately -reached the quantitative stage—but that the most advanced sciences -have attained to their present power of determining quantities not -present to the senses, or not directly measurable, by a slow process -of improvement extending through thousands of years. So that science -and the knowledge of the uncultured are alike in the nature of their -previsions, widely as they differ in range; they possess a common -imperfection, though this is immensely greater in the last than in the -first; and the transition from the one to the other has been through a -series of steps by which the imperfection has been rendered continually -less, and the range continually wider. - -These facts, that science and ordinary knowledge are allied in -nature, and that the one is but a perfected and extended form of the -other, must necessarily underlie the whole theory of science, its -progress, and the relations of its parts to each other. There must be -incompleteness in any history of the sciences, which, leaving out of -view the first steps of their genesis, commences with them only when -they assume definite forms. There must be grave defects, if not a -general untruth, in a philosophy of the sciences considered in their -interdependence and development, which neglects the inquiry how they -came to be distinct sciences, and how they were severally evolved -out of the chaos of primitive ideas. Not only a direct consideration -of the matter, but all analogy, goes to show that in the earlier and -simpler stages must be sought the key to all subsequent intricacies. -The time was when the anatomy and physiology of the human being were -studied {9} by themselves—when the adult man was analyzed and the -relations of parts and of functions investigated, without reference -either to the relations exhibited in the embryo or to the homologous -relations existing in other creatures. Now, however, it has become -manifest that no true conceptions are possible under such conditions. -Anatomists and physiologists find that the real natures of organs and -tissues can be ascertained only by tracing their early evolution; and -that the affinities between existing genera can be satisfactorily made -out only by examining the fossil genera to which they are akin. Well, -is it not clear that the like must be true concerning all things that -undergo development? Is not science a growth? Has not science, too, -its embryology? And must not the neglect of its embryology lead to a -misunderstanding of the principles of its evolution and of its existing -organization? - -There are _à priori_ reasons, therefore, for doubting the truth of all -philosophies of the sciences which tacitly proceed upon the common -notion that scientific knowledge and ordinary knowledge are separate; -instead of commencing, as they should, by affiliating the one upon the -other, and showing how it gradually came to be distinguishable from -the other. We may expect to find their generalizations essentially -artificial; and we shall not be deceived. Some illustrations of this -may here be fitly introduced, by way of preliminary to a brief sketch -of the genesis of science from the point of view indicated. And we -cannot more readily find such illustrations than by glancing at a few -of the various _classifications_ of the sciences that have from time to -time been proposed. To consider all of them would take too much space: -we must content ourselves with some of the latest. - - * * * * * - -Commencing with those which may be soonest disposed of, let us notice, -first, the arrangement propounded by Oken. An abstract of it runs thus:― - - Part I. MATHESIS.—_Pneumatogeny_: Primary Act, Primary - Consciousness, {10} God, Primary Rest, Time, Polarity, Motion, Man, - Space, Point, Line, Surface, Globe, Rotation.—_Hylogeny_: Gravity, - Matter, Ether, Heavenly Bodies, Light, Heat, Fire. - - (He explains that MATHESIS is the doctrine of the whole; - _Pneumatogeny_ being the doctrine of immaterial totalities, and - _Hylogeny_ that of material totalities.) - - Part II. ONTOLOGY.—_Cosmogeny_: Rest, Centre, Motion, Line, - Planets, Form, Planetary System, Comets.—_Stöchiogeny_: Condensation, - Simple Matter, Elements, Air, Water, Earth.—_Stöchiology_: Functions - of the Elements, &c. &c.—_Kingdoms of Nature_: Individuals. - - (He says in explanation that ‘ONTOLOGY teaches - us the phenomena of matter. The first of these are the - heavenly bodies comprehended by _Cosmogeny_. These divide - into elements.—_Stöchiogeny._ The earth element divides - into minerals—_Mineralogy_. These unite into one collective - body—_Geogeny_. The whole in singulars is the living, or _Organic_, - which again divides into plants and animals. _Biology_, therefore, - divides into _Organogeny_, _Phytosophy_, _Zoosophy_.’) - - FIRST KINGDOM.—MINERALS. _Mineralogy_, - _Geology_. - - Part III. BIOLOGY.—_Organosophy_, _Phytogeny_, - _Phyto-physiology_, _Phytology_, _Zoogeny_, _Physiology_, _Zoology_, - _Psychology_. - -A glance over this confused scheme shows that it is an attempt to -classify knowledge, not after the order in which it has been, or may -be, built up in the human consciousness; but after an assumed order -of creation. It is a pseudo-scientific cosmogony, akin to those which -men have enunciated from the earliest times downwards; and only a -little more respectable. As such it will not be thought worthy of much -consideration by those who, like ourselves, hold that experience is -the sole origin of knowledge. Otherwise, it might have been needful to -dwell on the incongruities of the arrangement—to ask how motion can be -treated of before space? how there can be rotation without matter to -rotate? how polarity can be dealt with without involving points and -lines? But it will serve our present purpose just to indicate a few of -the absurdities resulting from the doctrine which Oken seems to hold in -common with Hegel, that “to philosophize on Nature is to re-think the -great thought of Creation.” Here is a sample:― - -“Mathematics is the universal science; so also is {11} -Physio-philosophy, although it is only a part, or rather but a -condition of the universe; both are one, or mutually congruent. - -“Mathematics is, however, a science of mere forms without substance. -Physio-philosophy is, therefore, _mathematics endowed with substance_.” - -From the English point of view it is sufficiently amusing to find such -a dogma not only gravely stated, but stated as an unquestionable truth. -Here we see the experiences of quantitative relations which men have -gathered from surrounding bodies and generalized (experiences which -had been scarcely at all generalized at the beginning of the historic -period)—we find these generalized experiences, these intellectual -abstractions, elevated into concrete actualities, projected back -into Nature, and considered as the internal frame-work of things—the -skeleton by which matter is sustained. But this new form of the old -realism, is by no means the most startling of the physio-philosophic -principles. We presently read that, - -“The highest mathematical idea, or the fundamental principle of all -mathematics is the zero = 0.” * * * - -“Zero is in itself nothing. Mathematics is based upon nothing, and, -_consequently_, arises out of nothing. - -“Out of nothing, _therefore_, it is possible for something to arise; -for mathematics, consisting of propositions, is a something in relation -to 0.” - -By such “consequentlys” and “therefores” it is, that men philosophize -when they “re-think the great thought of creation.” By dogmas that -pretend to be reasons, nothing is made to generate mathematics; and by -clothing mathematics with matter, we have the universe! If now we deny, -as we _do_ deny, that the highest mathematical idea is the zero—if, -on the other hand, we assert, as we _do_ assert, that the fundamental -idea underlying all mathematics, is that of equality; the whole of -Oken’s cosmogony disappears. And here, indeed, we may see illustrated, -the distinctive peculiarity of the German method of procedure in these -{12} matters—the bastard _à priori_ method, as it may be termed. The -legitimate _à priori_ method sets out with propositions of which the -negation is inconceivable; the _à priori_ method as illegitimately -applied, sets out either with propositions of which the negation is -_not_ inconceivable, or with propositions like Oken’s, of which the -_affirmation_ is inconceivable. - -It is needless to proceed further with the analysis; else might we -detail the steps by which Oken arrives at the conclusions that “the -planets are coagulated colours, for they are coagulated light”; that -“the sphere is the expanded nothing;” that gravity is “a weighty -nothing, a heavy essence, striving towards a centre;” that “the earth -is the identical, water the indifferent, air the different; or the -first the centre, the second the radius, the last the periphery of the -general globe or of fire.” To comment on them would be nearly as absurd -as are the propositions themselves. Let us pass on to another of the -German systems of knowledge—that of Hegel. - -The simple fact that Hegel puts Jacob Bœhme on a par with Bacon, -suffices alone to show that his stand-point is far remote from the one -usually regarded as scientific: so far remote, indeed, that it is not -easy to find any common basis on which to found a criticism. Those who -hold that the mind is moulded into conformity with surrounding things -by the agency of surrounding things, are necessarily at a loss how to -deal with those who, like Schelling and Hegel, assert that surrounding -things are solidified mind—that Nature is “petrified intelligence.” -However, let us briefly glance at Hegel’s classification. He divides -philosophy into three parts:― - -1. _Logic_, or the science of the idea in itself, the pure idea. - -2. _The Philosophy of Nature_, or the science of the idea considered -under its other form—of the idea as Nature. - -3. _The Philosophy of the Mind_, or the science of the idea in its -return to itself. - -Of these, the second is divided into the natural sciences, {13} -commonly so-called; so that in its more detailed form the series runs -thus:—Logic, Mechanics, Physics, Organic Physics, Psychology. - -Now, if we believe with Hegel, first, that thought is the true essence -of man; second, that thought is the essence of the world; and that, -therefore, there is nothing but thought; his classification, beginning -with the science of pure thought, may be acceptable. But otherwise, it -is an obvious objection to his arrangement, that thought implies things -thought of—that there can be no logical forms without the substance of -experience—that the science of ideas and the science of things must -have a simultaneous origin. Hegel, however, anticipates this objection, -and, in his obstinate idealism, replies, that the contrary is true. He -affirms that all contained in the forms, to become something, requires -to be thought; and that logical forms are the foundations of all things. - -It is not surprising that, starting from such premises, and reasoning -after this fashion, Hegel finds his way to strange conclusions. Out -of _space_ and _time_ he proceeds to build up _motion_, _matter_, -_repulsion_, _attraction_, _weight_, and _inertia_. He then goes on to -logically evolve the solar system. In doing this he widely diverges -from the Newtonian theory; reaches by syllogism the conviction that -the planets are the most perfect celestial bodies; and, not being able -to bring the stars within his theory, says that they are mere formal -existences and not living matter, and that as compared with the solar -system they are as little admirable as a cutaneous eruption or a swarm -of flies.[1] Results so absurd might be left as self-disproved, were -it not that speculators of this class are not alarmed by any amount -of incongruity with established beliefs. The only efficient mode of -treating systems like this of {14} Hegel, is to show that they are -self-destructive—that by their first steps they ignore that authority -on which all their subsequent steps depend. If Hegel professes, as he -manifestly does, to develop his scheme by reasoning—if he presents -successive inferences as _necessarily following_ from certain premises; -he implies the postulate that a belief which necessarily follows after -certain antecedents is a true belief; and did an opponent reply to one -of his inferences that, though it was impossible to think the opposite, -yet the opposite was true, he would consider the reply irrational. The -procedure, however, which he would thus condemn as destructive of all -thinking whatever, is just the procedure exhibited in the enunciation -of his own first principles. Mankind find themselves unable to conceive -that there can be thought without things thought of. Hegel, however, -asserts that there _can_ be thought without things thought of. That -ultimate test of a true proposition—the inability of the human mind -to conceive the negation of it—which in all the successive steps of -his arguments he considers valid, he considers invalid where it suits -his convenience to do so; and yet at the same time denies the right -of an opponent to follow his example. If it is competent for him to -posit dogmas which are the direct negations of what human consciousness -recognizes; then is it also competent for his antagonists to stop him -at any moment by saying, that though the particular inference he is -drawing seems to his mind, and to all minds, necessarily to follow -from the premises, yet it is not true, but the contrary inference is -true. Or, to state the dilemma in another form:—If he sets out with -inconceivable propositions, then may he with equal propriety make -all his succeeding propositions inconceivable ones—may at every step -throughout his reasoning draw the opposite conclusion to that which -seems involved. - -Hegel’s mode of procedure being thus essentially suicidal, the Hegelian -classification which depends upon {15} it, falls to the ground. Let us -consider next that of M. Comte. - -As all his readers must admit, M. Comte presents us with a scheme of -the sciences which, unlike the foregoing ones, demands respectful -consideration. Widely as we differ from him, we cheerfully bear witness -to the largeness of his views, the clearness of his reasoning, and the -value of his speculations as contributing to intellectual progress. -Did we believe a serial arrangement of the sciences to be possible, -that of M. Comte would certainly be the one we should adopt. His -fundamental propositions are thoroughly intelligible; and, if not true, -have a great semblance of truth. His successive steps are logically -co-ordinated; and he supports his conclusions by a considerable amount -of evidence—evidence which, so long as it is not critically examined, -or not met by counter evidence, seems to substantiate his positions. -But it only needs to assume that antagonistic attitude which _ought_ -to be assumed towards new doctrines, in the belief that, if true, they -will prosper by conquering objectors—it needs but to test his leading -doctrines either by other facts than those he cites, or by his own -facts differently applied, to show that they will not stand. We will -proceed thus to deal with the general principle on which he bases his -hierarchy of the sciences. - -In the condensed translation of the _Positive Philosophy_, by Miss -Martineau, M. Comte says:—“Our problem is, then, to find the one -_rational_ order, amongst a host of possible systems.” . . “This order -is determined by the degree of simplicity, or, what comes to the same -thing, of generality of their phenomena.” And the arrangement he -deduces runs thus:—_Mathematics_, _Astronomy_, _Physics_, _Chemistry_, -_Physiology_, _Social Physics_. This he asserts to be “the true -_filiation_ of the sciences.” He asserts further, that the principle -of progression from a greater to a less degree of generality, “which -gives this order to the whole body of science, arranges the parts of -each science.” And, {16} finally, he asserts that the gradations -thus established _à priori_ among the sciences and the parts of -each science, “is in essential conformity with the order which has -spontaneously taken place among the branches of natural philosophy;” -or, in other words—corresponds with the order of historic development. - -Let us compare these assertions with the facts. That there may be -perfect fairness, let us make no choice, but take as the field -for our comparison, the succeeding section treating of the first -science—Mathematics; and let us use none but M. Comte’s own facts, -and his own admissions. Confining ourselves to this one science, we -are limited to comparisons between its several parts. M. Comte says, -that the parts of each science must be arranged in the order of their -decreasing generality; and that this order of decreasing generality -agrees with the order of historic development. Our inquiry will be, -then, whether the history of mathematics confirms this statement. - -Carrying out his principle, M. Comte divides Mathematics into “Abstract -Mathematics, or the Calculus (taking the word in its most extended -sense) and Concrete Mathematics, which is composed of General Geometry -and of Rational Mechanics.” The subject-matter of the first of these is -_number_; the subject-matter of the second includes _space_, _time_, -_motion_, _force_. The one possesses the highest possible degree of -generality; for all things whatever admit of enumeration. The others -are less general; seeing that there are endless phenomena that are -not cognizable either by general geometry or rational mechanics. In -conformity with the alleged law, therefore, the evolution of the -calculus must throughout have preceded the evolution of the concrete -sub-sciences. Now somewhat awkwardly for him, the first remark M. Comte -makes bearing on this point is, that “from an historical point of view, -mathematical analysis _appears to have arisen out of_ the contemplation -of geometrical and mechanical facts.” True, he goes {17} on to say -that, “it is not the less independent of these sciences logically -speaking;” for that “analytical ideas are, above all others, universal, -abstract, and simple; and geometrical conceptions are necessarily -founded on them.” We will not take advantage of this last passage to -charge M. Comte with teaching, after the fashion of Hegel, that there -can be thought without things thought of. We are content simply to -compare the assertion, that analysis arose out of the contemplation of -geometrical and mechanical facts, with the assertion that geometrical -conceptions are founded upon analytical ones. Literally interpreted -they exactly cancel each other. Interpreted, however, in a liberal -sense, they imply, what we believe to be demonstrable, that the two -had _a simultaneous origin_. The passage is either nonsense, or it is -an admission that abstract and concrete mathematics are coeval. Thus, -at the very first step, the alleged congruity between the order of -generality and the order of evolution, does not hold good. - -But may it not be that though abstract and concrete mathematics took -their rise at the same time, the one afterwards developed more rapidly -than the other; and has ever since remained in advance of it? No: and -again we call M. Comte himself as witness. Fortunately for his argument -he has said nothing respecting the early stages of the concrete and -abstract divisions after their divergence from a common root; otherwise -the advent of Algebra long after the Greek geometry had reached a high -development, would have been an inconvenient fact for him to deal with. -But passing over this, and limiting ourselves to his own statements, -we find, at the opening of the next chapter, the admission, that “the -historical development of the abstract portion of mathematical science -has, since the time of Descartes, been for the most part _determined_ -by that of the concrete.” Further on we read respecting algebraic -functions that “most functions were concrete in their origin—even -those which are at present the most purely {18} abstract; and the -ancients discovered only through geometrical definitions elementary -algebraic properties of functions to which a numerical value was not -attached till long afterwards, rendering abstract to us what was -concrete to the old geometers.” How do these statements tally with -his doctrine? Again, having divided the calculus into algebraic and -arithmetical, M. Comte admits, as perforce he must, that the algebraic -is more general than the arithmetical; yet he will not say that algebra -preceded arithmetic in point of time. And again, having divided the -calculus of functions into the calculus of direct functions (common -algebra) and the calculus of indirect functions (transcendental -analysis), he is obliged to speak of this last as possessing a higher -generality than the first; yet it is far more modern. Indeed, by -implication, M. Comte himself confesses this incongruity; for he -says:—“It might seem that the transcendental analysis ought to be -studied before the ordinary, as it provides the equations which the -other has to resolve. But though the transcendental _is logically -independent of the ordinary_, it is best to follow the usual method of -study, taking the ordinary first.” In all these cases, then, as well as -at the close of the section where he predicts that mathematicians will -in time “create procedures of a _wider generality_,” M. Comte makes -admissions that are diametrically opposed to the alleged law. - -In the succeeding chapters treating of the concrete department of -mathematics, we find similar contradictions. M. Comte himself names the -geometry of the ancients _special_ geometry and that of the moderns -_general_ geometry. He admits that while “the ancients studied geometry -with reference to the _bodies_ under notice, or specially; the moderns -study it with reference to the _phenomena_ to be considered, or -generally.” He admits that while “the ancients extracted all they could -out of one line or surface before passing to another,” “the moderns, -since Descartes, employ themselves on questions {19} which relate to -any figure whatever.” These facts are the reverse of what, according -to his theory, they should be. So, too, in mechanics. Before dividing -it into statics and dynamics, M. Comte treats of the three laws of -_motion_, and is obliged to do so; for statics, the more _general_ of -the two divisions, though it does not involve motion, is impossible -as a science until the laws of motion are ascertained. Yet the laws -of motion pertain to dynamics, the more _special_ of the divisions. -Further on he points out that after Archimedes, who discovered the -law of equilibrium of the lever, statics made no progress until the -establishment of dynamics enabled us to seek “the conditions of -equilibrium through the laws of the composition of forces.” And he -adds—“At this day _this is the method universally employed_. At the -first glance it does not appear the most rational—dynamics being -more complicated than statics, and precedence being natural to the -simpler. It would, in fact, be more philosophical to refer dynamics to -statics, as has since been done.” Sundry discoveries are afterwards -detailed, showing how completely the development of statics has been -achieved by considering its problems dynamically; and before the close -of the section M. Comte remarks that “before hydrostatics could be -comprehended under statics, it was necessary that the abstract theory -of equilibrium should be made so general as to apply directly to fluids -as well as solids. This was accomplished when Lagrange supplied, as -the basis of the whole of rational mechanics, the single principle of -virtual velocities.” In which statement we have two facts directly at -variance with M. Comte’s doctrine;—first, that the simpler science, -statics, reached its present development only by the aid of the -principle of virtual velocities, which belongs to the more complex -science, dynamics; and that this “single principle” underlying all -rational mechanics—this _most general form_ which includes alike the -relations of statical, {20} hydrostatical, and dynamical forces—was -reached so late as the time of Lagrange. - -Thus it is _not_ true that the historical succession of the divisions -of mathematics has corresponded with the order of decreasing -generality. It is _not_ true that abstract mathematics was evolved -antecedently to, and independently of, concrete mathematics. It is -_not_ true that of the subdivisions of abstract mathematics, the -more general came before the more special. And it is _not_ true that -concrete mathematics, in either of its two sections, began with the -most abstract and advanced to the less abstract truths. - -It may be well to mention, parenthetically, that, in defending his -alleged law of progression from the general to the special, M. Comte -somewhere comments upon the two meanings of the word _general_, and -the resulting liability to confusion. Without now discussing whether -the asserted distinction exists in other cases, it is manifest that -it does not exist here. In sundry of the instances above quoted, the -endeavours made by M. Comte himself to disguise, or to explain away, -the precedence of the special over the general, clearly indicate that -the generality spoken of is of the kind meant by his formula. And it -needs but a brief consideration of the matter to show that, even did he -attempt it, he could not distinguish this generality which, as above -proved, frequently comes last, from the generality which he says always -comes first. For what is the nature of that mental process by which -objects, dimensions, weights, times, and the rest, are found capable -of having their relations expressed numerically? It is the formation -of certain abstract conceptions of unity, duality, and multiplicity, -which are applicable to all things alike. It is the invention of -general symbols serving to express the numerical relations of entities, -whatever be their special characters. And what is the nature of the -mental process by which numbers are found capable of having their -relations expressed algebraically? It is the same. {21} It is the -formation of certain abstract conceptions of numerical functions which -are constant whatever be the magnitudes of the numbers. It is the -invention of general symbols serving to express the relations between -numbers, as numbers express the relations between things. Just as -arithmetic deals with the common properties of lines, areas, bulks, -forces, periods; so does algebra deal with the common properties of the -numbers which arithmetic presents. - -Having shown that M. Comte’s alleged law of progression does not hold -among the several parts of the same science, let us see how it agrees -with the facts when applied to the separate sciences. “Astronomy,” -says M. Comte (_Positive Philosophy_, Book III.), “was a positive -science, in its geometrical aspect, from the earliest days of the -school of Alexandria; but Physics, which we are now to consider, had -no positive character at all till Galileo made his great discoveries -on the fall of heavy bodies.” On this, our comment is simply that -it is a misrepresentation based upon an arbitrary misuse of words—a -mere verbal artifice. By choosing to exclude from terrestrial physics -those laws of magnitude, motion, and position, which he includes in -celestial physics, M. Comte makes it appear that the last owes nothing -to the first. Not only is this unwarrantable, but it is radically -inconsistent with his own scheme of divisions. At the outset he -says—and as the point is important we quote from the original—“Pour -la _physique inorganique_ nous voyons d’abord, en nous conformant -toujours à l’ordre de généralité et de dépendance des phénomènes, -qu’elle doit être partagée en deux sections distinctes, suivant qu’elle -considère les phénomènes généraux de l’univers, ou, en particulier, -ceux que présentent les corps terrestres. D’où la physique céleste, -ou l’astronomie, soit géométrique, soit mechanique; et la physique -terrestre.” Here then we have _inorganic physics_ clearly divided into -_celestial physics_ and _terrestrial physics_—the phenomena presented -by the universe, and the {22} phenomena presented by earthly bodies. -If now celestial bodies and terrestrial bodies exhibit sundry leading -phenomena in common, as they do, how can the generalization of these -common phenomena be considered as pertaining to the one class rather -than to the other? If inorganic physics includes geometry (which M. -Comte has made it do by comprehending _geometrical_ astronomy in -its sub-section, celestial physics); and if its other sub-section, -terrestrial physics, treats of things having geometrical properties; -how can the laws of geometrical relations be excluded from terrestrial -physics? Clearly if celestial physics includes the geometry of -objects in the heavens, terrestrial physics includes the geometry of -objects on the earth. And if terrestrial physics includes terrestrial -geometry, while celestial physics includes celestial geometry, then -the geometrical part of terrestrial physics precedes the geometrical -part of celestial physics; seeing that geometry gained its first -ideas from surrounding objects. Until men had learnt geometrical -relations from bodies on the earth, it was impossible for them to -understand the geometrical relations of bodies in the heavens. So, -too, with celestial mechanics, which had terrestrial mechanics for its -parent. The very conception of _force_, which underlies the whole of -mechanical astronomy, is borrowed from our earthly experiences; and -the leading laws of mechanical action as exhibited in scales, levers, -projectiles, &c., had to be ascertained before the dynamics of the -Solar System could be entered upon. What were the laws made use of by -Newton in working out his grand discovery? The law of falling bodies -disclosed by Galileo; that of the composition of forces also disclosed -by Galileo; and that of centrifugal force found out by Huyghens—all -of them generalizations of terrestrial physics. Yet, with facts like -these before him, M. Comte places astronomy before physics in order -of evolution! He does not compare the geometrical parts of the two -together, and the mechanical parts of the two {23} together; for this -would by no means suit his hypothesis. But he compares the geometrical -part of the one with the mechanical part of the other, and so gives -a semblance of truth to his position. He is led away by a verbal -illusion. Had he confined his attention to the things and disregarded -the words, he would have seen that before mankind scientifically -co-ordinated _any one class of phenomena_ displayed in the heavens, -they had previously co-ordinated _a parallel class of phenomena_ -displayed on the surface of the earth. - -Were it needful we could fill a score pages with the incongruities -of M. Comte’s scheme. But the foregoing samples will suffice. So far -is his law of evolution of the sciences from being tenable, that, by -following his example, and arbitrarily ignoring one class of facts, -it would be possible to present, with great plausibility, just the -opposite generalization to that which he enunciates. While he asserts -that the rational order of the sciences, like the order of their -historic development, “is determined by the degree of simplicity, or, -what comes to the same thing, of generality of their phenomena;” it -might contrariwise be asserted that, commencing with the complex and -the special, mankind have progressed step by step to a knowledge of -greater simplicity and wider generality. So much evidence is there of -this as to have drawn from Whewell, in his _History of the Inductive -Sciences_, the remark that “the reader has already seen repeatedly -in the course of this history, complex and derivative principles -presenting themselves to men’s minds before simple and elementary -ones.” Even from M. Comte’s own work, numerous facts, admissions, and -arguments, might be picked out, tending to show this. We have already -quoted his words in proof that both abstract and concrete mathematics -have progressed towards a higher degree of generality, and that he -looks forward to a higher generality still. Just to strengthen this -adverse hypothesis, let us take a further instance. {24} From the -_particular_ case of the scales, the law of equilibrium of which was -familiar to the earliest nations known, Archimedes advanced to the -more _general_ case of the lever of which the arms may or may not be -equal; the law of equilibrium of which _includes_ that of the scales. -By the help of Galileo’s discovery concerning the composition of -forces, D’Alembert “established, for the first time, the equations -of equilibrium of _any_ system of forces applied to the different -points of a solid body”—equations which include all cases of levers -and an infinity of cases besides. Clearly this is progress towards -a higher generality—towards a knowledge more independent of special -circumstances—towards a study of phenomena “the most disengaged from -the incidents of particular cases;” which is M. Comte’s definition -of “the most simple phenomena.” Does it not indeed follow from the -admitted fact, that mental advance is from the concrete to the -abstract, from the particular to the general, that the universal and -therefore most simple truths are the last to be discovered? Should we -ever succeed in reducing all orders of phenomena to some single law—say -of atomic action, as M. Comte suggests—must not that law answer to his -test of being _independent_ of all others, and therefore most simple? -And would not such a law generalize the phenomena of gravity, cohesion, -atomic affinity, and electric repulsion, just as the laws of number -generalize the quantitative phenomena of space, time and force? - -The possibility of saying so much in support of an hypothesis the very -reverse of M. Comte’s, at once proves that his generalization is only a -half-truth. The fact is that neither proposition is correct by itself; -and the actuality is expressed only by putting the two together. The -progress of science is duplex. It is at once from the special to the -general, and from the general to the special. It is analytical and -synthetical at the same time. - -M. Comte himself observes that the evolution of science {25} has been -accomplished by the division of labour; but he quite misstates the -mode in which this division of labour has operated. As he describes -it, it has been simply an arrangement of phenomena into classes, and -the study of each class by itself. He does not recognize the effect of -progress in each class upon _all_ other classes: he recognizes only -the effect on the class succeeding it in his hierarchical scale. Or if -he occasionally admits collateral influences and intercommunications, -he does it so grudgingly, and so quickly puts the admissions out of -sight and forgets them, as to leave the impression that, with but -trifling exceptions, the sciences aid one another only in the order -of their alleged succession. The fact is, however, that the division -of labour in science, like the division of labour in society, and -like the “physiological division of labour” in individual organisms, -has been not only a specialization of functions, but a continuous -helping of each division by all the others, and of all by each. Every -particular class of inquirers has, as it were, secreted its own -particular order of truths from the general mass of material which -observation accumulates; and all other classes of inquirers have made -use of these truths as fast as they were elaborated, with the effect -of enabling them the better to elaborate each its own order of truths. -It was thus in sundry of the cases we have quoted as at variance with -M. Comte’s doctrine. It was thus with the application of Huyghens’s -optical discovery to astronomical observation by Galileo. It was thus -with the application of the isochronism of the pendulum to the making -of instruments for measuring intervals, astronomical and other. It was -thus when the discovery that the refraction and dispersion of light -did not follow the same law of variation, affected both astronomy and -physiology by giving us achromatic telescopes and microscopes. It -was thus when Bradley’s discovery of the aberration of light enabled -him to make the first step towards ascertaining the motions of the -stars. {26} It was thus when Cavendish’s torsion-balance experiment -determined the specific gravity of the Earth, and so gave a datum for -calculating the specific gravities of the Sun and Planets. It was -thus when tables of atmospheric refraction enabled observers to write -down the real places of the heavenly bodies instead of their apparent -places. It was thus when the discovery of the different expansibilities -of metals by heat, gave us the means of correcting our chronometrical -measurements of astronomical periods. It was thus when the lines of -the prismatic spectrum were used to distinguish the heavenly bodies -that are of like nature with the sun from those which are not. It was -thus when, as recently, an electro-telegraphic instrument was invented -for the more accurate registration of meridional transits. It was -thus when the difference in the rates of a clock at the equator, and -nearer the poles, gave data for calculating the oblateness of the -earth, and accounting for the precession of the equinoxes. It was -thus—but it is needless to continue. Here, within our own limited -knowledge of its history, we have named ten additional cases in which -the single science of astronomy has owed its advance to sciences -coming _after_ it in M. Comte’s series. Not only its minor changes, -but its greatest revolutions have been thus determined. Kepler could -not have discovered his celebrated laws had it not been for Tycho -Brahe’s accurate observations; and it was only after some progress -in physical and chemical science that the improved instruments with -which those observations were made, became possible. The heliocentric -theory of the Solar System had to wait until the invention of the -telescope before it could be finally established. Nay, even the grand -discovery of all—the law of gravitation—depended for its proof upon -an operation of physical science, the measurement of a degree on the -Earth’s surface. So completely, indeed, did it thus depend, that Newton -_had actually abandoned his hypothesis_ because the {27} length of -a degree, as then stated, brought out wrong results; and it was only -after Picart’s more exact measurement was published, that he returned -to his calculations and proved his great generalization. Now this -constant intercommunion which, for brevity’s sake, we have illustrated -in the case of one science only, has been taking place with all the -sciences. Throughout the whole course of their evolution there has been -a continuous _consensus_ of the sciences—a _consensus_ exhibiting a -general correspondence with the _consensus_ of the faculties in each -phase of mental development; the one being an objective registry of the -subjective state of the other. - - * * * * * - -From our present point of view, then, it becomes obvious that the -conception of a _serial_ arrangement of the sciences is a vicious one. -It is not simply that, as M. Comte admits, such a classification “will -always involve something, if not arbitrary, at least artificial;” it is -not, as he would have us believe, that, neglecting minor imperfections -such a classification may be substantially true; but it is that any -grouping of the sciences in a succession gives a radically erroneous -idea of their genesis and their dependencies. There is no “one -_rational_ order among a host of possible systems.” There is no “true -_filiation_ of the sciences.” The whole hypothesis is fundamentally -false. Indeed, it needs but a glance at its origin to see at once how -baseless it is. Why a _series_? What reason have we to suppose that -the sciences admit of a _linear_ arrangement? Where is our warrant -for assuming that there is some _succession_ in which they can be -placed? There is no reason; no warrant. Whence then has arisen the -supposition? To use M. Comte’s own phraseology, we should say, it is -a metaphysical conception. It adds another to the cases constantly -occurring, of the human mind being made the measure of Nature. We are -obliged to think in sequence; it is a law of our minds that we must -consider subjects separately, one after another: _therefore_ {28} -Nature must be serial—_therefore_ the sciences must be classifiable in -a succession. See here the birth of the notion, and the sole evidence -of its truth. Men have been obliged when arranging in books their -schemes of education and systems of knowledge, to choose _some_ order -or other. And from inquiring what is the best order, have fallen into -the belief that there is an order which truly represents the facts—have -persevered in seeking such an order; quite overlooking the previous -question whether it is likely that Nature has consulted the convenience -of book-making. For German philosophers, who hold that Nature is -“petrified intelligence,” and that logical forms are the foundations of -all things, it is a consistent hypothesis that as thought is serial, -Nature is serial; but that M. Comte, who is so bitter an opponent -of all anthropomorphism, even in its most evanescent shapes, should -have committed the mistake of imposing upon the external world an -arrangement which so obviously springs from a limitation of the human -consciousness, is somewhat strange. And it is the more strange when -we call to mind how, at the outset, M. Comte remarks that in the -beginning “_toutes les sciences sont cultivées simultanément par les -mêmes esprits_;” that this is “_inevitable et même indispensable_;” -and how he further remarks that the different sciences are “_comme les -diverses branches d’un tronc unique_.” Were it not accounted for by the -distorting influence of a cherished hypothesis, it would be scarcely -possible to understand how, after recognizing truths like these, M. -Comte should have persisted in attempting to construct “_une échelle -encyclopédique_.” - -The metaphor which M. Comte has here so inconsistently used to express -the relations of the sciences—branches of one trunk—is an approximation -to the truth, though not the truth itself. It suggests the facts that -the sciences had a common origin; that they have been developing -simultaneously; and that they have been from time to time dividing -and sub-dividing. But it fails to suggest the fact, that the {29} -divisions and sub-divisions thus arising do not remain separate, but -now and again re-unite in direct and indirect ways. They inosculate; -they severally send off and receive connecting growths; and the -intercommunion has been ever becoming more frequent, more intricate, -more widely ramified. There has all along been higher specialization, -that there might be a larger generalization; and a deeper analysis, -that there might be a better synthesis. Each larger generalization has -lifted sundry specializations still higher; and each better synthesis -has prepared the way for still deeper analysis. - -And here we may fitly enter upon the task awhile since indicated—a -sketch of the Genesis of Science, regarded as a gradual outgrowth -from common knowledge—an extension of the perceptions by the aid -of the reason. We propose to treat it as a psychological process -historically displayed; tracing at the same time the advance from -qualitative to quantitative prevision; the progress from concrete facts -to abstract facts, and the application of such abstract facts to the -analysis of new orders of concrete facts; the simultaneous advance -in generalization and specialization; the continually increasing -subdivision and reunion of the sciences; and their constantly improving -_consensus_. - - * * * * * - -To trace out scientific evolution from its deepest roots would, of -course, involve a complete analysis of the mind. For as science is a -development of that common knowledge acquired by the unaided senses and -uncultured reason, so is that common knowledge itself gradually built -up out of the simplest perceptions. We must, therefore, begin somewhere -abruptly; and the most appropriate stage to take for our point of -departure will be the adult mind of the savage. - -Commencing thus, without a proper preliminary analysis, we are -naturally somewhat at a loss how to present, in a satisfactory manner, -those fundamental processes of thought out of which science originates. -Perhaps our argument may {30} be best initiated by the proposition, -that all intelligent action whatever depends upon the discerning of -distinctions among surrounding things. The condition under which only -it is possible for any creature to obtain food and avoid danger, is, -that it shall be differently affected by different objects—that it -shall be led to act in one way by one object, and in another way by -another. In the lower orders of creatures this condition is fulfilled -by means of an apparatus which acts automatically. In the higher -orders the actions are partly automatic, partly conscious. And in man -they are almost wholly conscious. Throughout, however, there must -necessarily exist a certain classification of things according to their -properties—a classification which is either organically registered in -the system, as in the inferior creation, or is formed by conscious -experience, as in ourselves. And it may be further remarked, that the -extent to which this classification is carried, roughly indicates the -height of intelligence—that, while the lowest organisms are able to -do little more than discriminate organic from inorganic matter; while -the generality of animals carry their classifications no further than -to a limited number of plants or creatures serving for food, a limited -number of beasts of prey, and a limited number of places and materials; -the most degraded of the human race possess a knowledge of the -distinctive natures of a great variety of substances, plants, animals, -tools, persons, &c.; not only as classes but as individuals. - -What now is the mental process by which classification is effected? -Manifestly it is a recognition of the _likeness_ or _unlikeness_ of -things, either in respect of their sizes, colours, forms, weights, -textures, tastes, &c., or in respect of their modes of action. By -some special mark, sound, or motion, the savage identifies a certain -four-legged creature he sees, as one that is good for food, and to -be caught in a particular way; or as one that is dangerous; and acts -accordingly. He has classed together all the creatures that are -_alike_ in {31} this particular. And manifestly in choosing the wood -out of which to form his bow, the plant with which to poison his -arrows, the bone from which to make his fish-hooks, he identifies them -through their chief sensible properties as belonging to the general -classes, wood, plant, and bone, but distinguishes them as belonging to -sub-classes by virtue of certain properties in which they are _unlike_ -the rest of the general classes they belong to; and so forms genera and -species. - -And here it becomes manifest that not only is classification carried -on by grouping together in the mind things that are _like_; but -that classes and sub-classes are formed and arranged according to -the _degrees of unlikeness_. Things strongly contrasted are alone -distinguished in the lower stages of mental evolution; as may be -any day observed in an infant. And gradually as the powers of -discrimination increase, the strongly-contrasted classes at first -distinguished, come to be each divided into sub-classes, differing -from each other less than the classes differ; and these sub-classes -are again divided after the same manner. By the continuance of which -process, things are gradually arranged into groups, the members of -which are less and less _unlike_; ending, finally, in groups whose -members differ only as individuals, and not specifically. And thus -there tends ultimately to arise the notion of _complete likeness_. -For manifestly, it is impossible that groups should continue to be -subdivided in virtue of smaller and smaller differences, without there -being a simultaneous approximation to the notion of _no difference_. - -Let us next notice that the recognition of likeness and unlikeness, -which underlies classification, and out of which continued -classification evolves the idea of complete likeness—let us next notice -that it also underlies the process of _naming_, and by consequence -_language_. For all language consists, at the outset, of symbols -which are as _like_ to the things symbolized as it is practicable to -make them. The {32} language of signs is a means of conveying ideas -by mimicking the actions or peculiarities of the things referred to. -Verbal language also, in its first stage, is a mode of suggesting -objects or acts by imitating the sounds which the objects make, or -with which the acts are accompanied. Originally these two languages -were used simultaneously. It needs but to watch the gesticulations -with which the savage accompanies his speech—to see a Bushman -dramatizing before an audience his mode of catching game—or to note -the extreme paucity of words in primitive vocabularies; to infer that -in the beginning, attitudes, gestures, and sounds, were all combined -to produce as good a _likeness_ as possible of the things, animals, -persons, or events described; and that as the sounds came to be -understood by themselves the gestures fell into disuse: leaving traces, -however, in the manners of the more excitable civilized races. But be -this as it may, it suffices simply to observe, how many of the words -current among barbarous peoples are like the sounds appertaining to the -things signified; how many of our own oldest and simplest words have -the same peculiarity; how children habitually invent imitative words; -and how the sign-language spontaneously formed by deaf mutes is based -on imitative actions—to be convinced that the notion of _likeness_ -is that from which the nomenclature of objects takes its rise. Were -there space we might go on to point out how this law of likeness is -traceable, not only in the origin but in the development of language; -how in primitive tongues the plural is made by a duplication of the -singular, which is a multiplication of the word to make it _like_ the -multiplicity of the things; how the use of metaphor—that prolific -source of new words—is a suggesting of ideas which are _like_ the ideas -to be conveyed in some respect or other; and how, in the copious use -of simile, fable, and allegory among uncivilized races, we see that -complex conceptions which there is no direct language for, are {33} -rendered, by presenting known conceptions more or less _like_ them. - -This view is confirmed, and the predominance of this notion of likeness -in primitive thought further illustrated, by the fact that our system -of presenting ideas to the eye originated after the same fashion. -Writing and printing have descended from picture-language. The earliest -mode of permanently registering a fact was by depicting it on a skin -and afterwards on a wall; that is—by exhibiting something as _like_ -to the thing to be remembered as it could be made. Gradually as the -practice grew habitual and extensive, the most frequently repeated -forms became fixed, and presently abbreviated; and, passing through -the hieroglyphic and ideographic phases, the symbols lost all apparent -relation to the things signified: just as the majority of our spoken -words have done. - -Observe, again, that the same thing is true respecting the genesis of -reasoning. The _likeness_ which is perceived to exist between cases, -is the essence of all early reasoning and of much of our present -reasoning. The savage, having by experience discovered a relation -between a certain object and a certain act, infers that the _like_ -relation will be found in future. And the expressions we use in our -arguments—“_analogy_ implies,” “the cases are not _parallel_,” “by -_parity_ of reasoning,” “there is no _similarity_,”—show how constantly -the idea of likeness underlies our ratiocinative processes. Still -more clearly will this be seen on recognizing the fact that there is -a close connexion between reasoning and classification; that the two -have a common root; and that neither can go on without the other. For -on the one hand, it is a familiar truth that the attributing to a body -in consequence of some of its properties, all those other properties -in virtue of which it is referred to a particular class, is an act of -inference. And, on the other hand, the forming of a generalization -is the putting together in one class, all those {34} cases which -present like relations; while the drawing a deduction is essentially -the perception that a particular case belongs to a certain class of -cases previously generalized. So that as classification is a grouping -together of _like things_; reasoning is a grouping together of _like -relations_ among things. Add to which, that while the perfection -gradually achieved in classification consists in the formation of -groups of _objects_ which are _completely alike_; the perfection -gradually achieved in reasoning consists in the formation of groups of -_cases_ which are _completely alike_. - -Once more we may contemplate this dominant idea of likeness as -exhibited in art. All art, civilized as well as savage, consists -almost wholly in the making of objects _like_ other objects; either -as found in Nature, or as produced by previous art. If we trace back -the varied art-products now existing, we find that at each stage the -divergence from previous patterns is but small when compared with the -agreement; and in the earliest art the persistency of imitation is yet -more conspicuous. The old forms and ornaments and symbols were held -sacred, and perpetually copied. Indeed, the strong imitative tendency -notoriously displayed by the lowest human races—often seeming to be -half automatic, ensures among them a constant reproducing of likenesses -of things, forms, signs, sounds, actions and whatever else is imitable; -and we may even suspect that this aboriginal peculiarity is in some way -connected with the culture and development of this general conception, -which we have found so deep and wide-spread in its applications. - -And now let us go on to consider how, by a further unfolding of this -same fundamental notion, there is a gradual formation of the first -germs of science. This idea of likeness which underlies classification, -nomenclature, language spoken and written, reasoning, and art; and -which plays so important a part because all acts of intelligence are -made {35} possible only by distinguishing among surrounding things, or -grouping them into like and unlike;—this idea we shall find to be the -one of which science is the especial product. Already during the stage -we have been describing, there has existed _qualitative_ prevision in -respect to the commoner phenomena with which savage life is familiar; -and we have now to inquire how the elements of _quantitative_ prevision -are evolved. We shall find that they originate by the perfecting of -this same idea of likeness—that they have their rise in that conception -of _complete likeness_ which, as we have seen, necessarily results from -the continued process of classification. - -For when the process of classification has been carried as far as it -is possible for the uncivilized to carry it—when the animal kingdom -has been grouped not merely into quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and -insects, but each of these divided into kinds—when there come to be -classes, in each of which the members differ only as individuals, -and not specifically; it is clear that there must frequently -occur an observation of objects which differ so little as to be -indistinguishable. Among several creatures which the savage has killed -and carried home, it must often happen that some one, which he wished -to identify, is so exactly like another that he cannot tell which is -which. Thus, then, there originates the notion of _equality_. The -things which among ourselves are called _equal_—whether lines, angles, -weights, temperatures, sounds or colours—are things which produce in us -sensations which cannot be distinguished from each other. It is true -that we now apply the word _equal_ chiefly to the separate traits or -relations which objects exhibit, and not to those combinations of them -constituting our conceptions of the objects; but this limitation of -the idea has evidently arisen by analysis. That the notion of equality -originated as alleged, will, we think, become obvious on remembering -that as there were no artificial objects from which it could have been -{36} abstracted, it must have been abstracted from natural objects; -and that the various families of the animal kingdom chiefly furnish -those natural objects which display the requisite exactitude of -likeness. - -The experiences out of which this general idea of equality is evolved, -give birth at the same time to a more complex idea of equality; or, -rather, the process just described generates an idea of equality which -further experience separates into two ideas—_equality of things_ and -_equality of relations_. While organic forms occasionally exhibit this -perfection of likeness out of which the notion of simple equality -arises, they more frequently exhibit only that kind of likeness which -we call _similarity_; and which is really compound equality. For the -similarity of two creatures of the same species but of different sizes, -is of the same nature as the similarity of two geometrical figures. -In either case, any two parts of the one bear the same ratio to one -another, as the homologous parts of the other. Given in a species, the -proportions found to exist among the bones, and we may, and zoologists -do, predict from any one, the dimensions of the rest; just as, when -knowing the proportions subsisting among the parts of a geometrical -figure, we may, from the length of one, calculate the others. And -if, in the case of similar geometrical figures, the similarity can -be established only by proving exactness of proportion among the -homologous parts—if we express this relation between two parts in the -one, and the corresponding parts in the other, by the formula A is -to B as _a_ is to _b_; if we otherwise write this, A to B = _a_ to -_b_; if, consequently, the fact we prove is that the relation of A to -B _equals_ the relation of _a_ to _b_; then it is manifest that the -fundamental conception of similarity is _equality of relations_. With -this explanation we shall be understood when we say that the notion -of equality of relations is the basis of all exact reasoning. Already -it has been shown that reasoning in general is a recognition {37} of -_likeness_ of relations; and here we further find that while the notion -of likeness of things ultimately evolves the idea of simple equality, -the notion of likeness of relations evolves the idea of equality of -relations: of which the one is the concrete germ of exact science, -while the other is its abstract germ. Those who cannot understand -how the recognition of similarity in creatures of the same kind, -can have any alliance with reasoning, will get over the difficulty -on remembering that the phenomena among which equality of relations -is thus perceived, are phenomena of the same order and are present -to the senses at the same time; while those among which developed -reason perceives relations, are generally neither of the same order, -nor simultaneously present. And if, further, they will call to mind -how Cuvier and Owen, from a single part of a creature, as a tooth, -construct the rest by a process of reasoning based on this equality of -relations, they will see that the two things are intimately connected, -remote as they at first seem. But we anticipate. What it concerns us -here to observe is, that from familiarity with organic forms there -simultaneously arose the ideas of _simple equality_, and _equality of -relations_. - -At the same time, too, and out of the same mental processes, came -the first distinct ideas of _number_. In the earliest stages, the -presentation of several like objects produced merely an indefinite -conception of multiplicity; as it still does among Australians, and -Bushmen, and Damaras, when the number presented exceeds three or four. -With such a fact before us we may safely infer that the first clear -numerical conception was that of duality as contrasted with unity. And -this notion of duality must necessarily have grown up side by side -with those of likeness and equality; seeing that it is impossible to -recognize the likeness of two things without also perceiving that -there are two. From the very beginning the conception of number must -have been, as it is still, associated with {38} likeness or equality -of the things numbered; and for the purposes of calculation, an ideal -equality of the things is assumed. Before any _absolutely true_ -numerical results can be reached, it is requisite that the units be -_absolutely equal_. The only way in which we can establish a numerical -relationship between things that do not yield us like impressions, is -to divide them into parts that _do_ yield us like impressions. Two -unlike magnitudes of extension, force, time, weight, or what not, can -have their relative amounts estimated, only by means of some small unit -that is contained many times in both; and even if we finally write down -the greater one as a unit and the other as a fraction of it, we state, -in the denominator of the fraction, the number of parts into which -the unit must be divided to be comparable with the fraction. It is, -indeed, true, that by a modern process of abstraction, we occasionally -apply numbers to unequal units, as the furniture at a sale or the -various animals on a farm, simply as so many separate entities; but -no exact quantitative result can be brought out by calculation with -units of this order. And, indeed, it is the distinctive peculiarity -of the calculus in general, that it proceeds on the hypothesis of -that absolute equality of its abstract units, which no real units -possess; and that the exactness of its results holds only in virtue of -this hypothesis. The first ideas of number must necessarily then have -been derived from like or equal magnitudes as seen chiefly in organic -objects; and as the like magnitudes most frequently observed were -magnitudes of extension, it follows that geometry and arithmetic had a -simultaneous origin. - -Not only are the first distinct ideas of number co-ordinate with ideas -of likeness and equality, but the first efforts at numeration display -the same relationship. On reading accounts of savage tribes, we find -that the method of counting by the fingers, still followed by many -children, is the aboriginal method. Neglecting the several cases {39} -in which the ability to enumerate does not reach even to the number -of fingers on one hand, there are many cases in which it does not -extend beyond ten—the limit of the simple finger notation. The fact -that in so many instances, remote, and seemingly unrelated nations, -have adopted _ten_ as their basic number; together with the fact that -in the remaining instances the basic number is either _five_ (the -fingers of one hand) or _twenty_ (the fingers and toes); of themselves -show that the fingers were the original units of numeration. The still -surviving use of the word _digit_, as the general name for a figure in -arithmetic, is significant; and it is even said that our word _ten_ -(Sax. tyn; Dutch, tien; German, zehn) means in its primitive expanded -form _two hands_. So that, originally, to say there were ten things, -was to say there were two hands of them. From all which evidence it -is tolerably clear that the earliest mode of conveying the idea of -a number of things, was by holding up as many fingers as there were -things; that is, by using a symbol which was _equal_, in respect of -multiplicity, to the group symbolized. For which inference there is, -indeed, strong confirmation in the statement that our own soldiers -spontaneously adopted this device in their dealings with the Turks -during the Crimean war. And here it should be remarked that in this -re-combination of the notion of equality with that of multiplicity, by -which the first steps in numeration are effected, we may see one of -the earliest of those inosculations between the diverging branches of -science, which are afterwards of perpetual occurrence. - -As this observation suggests, it will be well, before tracing the -mode in which exact science emerges from the inexact judgments of the -senses, and showing the non-serial evolution of its divisions, to note -the non-serial character of those preliminary processes of which all -after development is a continuation. On re-considering them it will -be seen that not only are they divergent branches {40} from a common -root,—not only are they simultaneous in their growth; but that they -are mutual aids; and that none can advance without the rest. That -progress of classification for which the unfolding of the perceptions -paves the way, is impossible without a corresponding progress in -language, by which greater varieties of objects are thinkable and -expressible. On the one hand classification cannot be carried far -without names by which to designate the classes; and on the other hand -language cannot be made faster than things are classified. Again, -the multiplication of classes and the consequent narrowing of each -class, itself involves a greater likeness among the things classed -together; and the consequent approach towards the notion of complete -likeness itself allows classification to be carried higher. Moreover, -classification necessarily advances _pari passu_ with rationality—the -classification of _things_ with the classification of _relations_. -For things that belong to the same class are, by implication, things -of which the properties and modes of behaviour—the co-existences and -sequences—are more or less the same; and the recognition of this -sameness of co-existences and sequences is reasoning. Whence it follows -that the advance of classification is necessarily proportionate to the -advance of generalizations. Yet further, the notion of _likeness_, -both in things and relations, simultaneously evolves by one process of -culture the ideas of _equality_ of things and _equality_ of relations; -which are the respective bases of exact concrete reasoning and exact -abstract reasoning—Mathematics and Logic. And once more, this idea of -equality, in the very process of being formed, necessarily gives origin -to two series of relations—those of magnitude and those of number; from -which arise geometry and the calculus. Thus the process throughout -is one of perpetual subdivision and perpetual intercommunication of -the divisions. From the very first there has been that _consensus_ of -different kinds of knowledge, {41} answering to the _consensus_ of the -intellectual faculties, which, as already said, must exist among the -sciences. - -Let us now go on to observe how, out of the notions of _equality_ and -_number_, as arrived at in the manner described, there gradually arose -the elements of quantitative prevision. - -Equality, once having come to be definitely conceived, was recognizable -among other phenomena than those of magnitude. Being predicable of -all things producing indistinguishable impressions, there naturally -grew up ideas of equality in weights, sounds, colours, &c.; and, -indeed, it can scarcely be doubted that the occasional experience of -equal weights, sounds, and colours, had a share in developing the -abstract conception of equality—that the ideas of equality in sizes, -relations, forces, resistances, and sensible properties in general, -were evolved during the same stage of mental development. But however -this may be, it is clear that as fast as the notion of equality gained -definiteness, so fast did that lowest kind of quantitative prevision -which is achieved without any instrumental aid, become possible. The -ability to estimate, however roughly, the amount of a foreseen result, -implies the conception that it will be _equal_ to a certain imagined -quantity; and the correctness of the estimate will manifestly depend on -the precision which the perceptions of sensible equality have reached. -A savage with a piece of stone in his hand, and another piece lying -before him of greater bulk but of the same kind (sameness of kind -being inferred from the _equality_ of the two in colour and texture) -knows about what effort he must put forth to raise this other piece; -and he judges accurately in proportion to the accuracy with which he -perceives that the one is twice, three times, four times, &c. as large -as the other; that is—in proportion to the precision of his ideas of -equality and number. And here let us not omit to notice that even in -these vaguest of quantitative previsions, the conception of _equality -of relations_ is also involved. For it is only in {42} virtue of an -undefined consciousness that the relation between bulk and weight in -the one stone is _equal_ to the relation between bulk and weight in the -other, that even the roughest approximation can be made. - -But how came the transition from those uncertain perceptions of -equality which the unaided senses give, to the certain ones with which -science deals? It came by placing the things compared in juxtaposition. -Equality being asserted of things which give us indistinguishable -impressions, and no distinct comparison of impressions being possible -unless they occur in immediate succession, it results that exactness -of equality is ascertainable in proportion to the closeness of the -compared things. Hence the fact that when we wish to judge of two -shades of colour whether they are alike or not, we place them side by -side; hence the fact that we cannot, with any precision, say which -of two allied sounds is the louder, or the higher in pitch, unless -we hear the one immediately after the other; hence the fact that to -estimate the ratio of weights, we take one in each hand, that we may -compare their pressures by rapidly alternating in thought from the -one to the other; hence the fact, that in a piece of music, we can -continue to make equal beats when the first beat has been given, but -cannot ensure commencing with the same length of beat on a future -occasion; and hence, lastly, the fact, that of all magnitudes, those of -_linear extension_ are those of which the equality is most precisely -ascertainable, and those to which, by consequence, all others have -to be reduced. For it is the peculiarity of linear extension that it -alone allows its magnitudes to be placed in _absolute_ juxtaposition, -or, rather, in coincident position; it alone can test the equality of -two magnitudes by observing whether they will coalesce, as two equal -mathematical lines do, when placed between the same points; it alone -can test _equality_ by trying whether it will become _identity_. -Hence, then, the fact, that all exact science is reducible, {43} by -an ultimate analysis, to results measured in equal units of linear -extension. - -Still it remains to be noticed in what manner this determination -of equality by comparison of linear magnitudes originated. Once -more may we perceive that surrounding natural objects supplied the -needful lessons. From the beginning there must have been a constant -experience of like things placed side by side—men standing and walking -together; animals from the same herd; fish from the same shoal. And the -ceaseless repetition of these experiences could not fail to suggest -the observation, that the nearer together any objects were, the more -visible became any inequality between them. Hence the obvious device -of putting in apposition, things of which it was desired to ascertain -the relative magnitudes. Hence the idea of _measure_. And here we -suddenly come upon a group of facts which afford a solid basis to the -remainder of our argument; while they also furnish strong evidence in -support of the foregoing speculations. Those who look sceptically on -this attempted rehabilitation of early mental development, and who -think that the derivation of so many primary notions from organic -forms is somewhat strained, will perhaps see more probability in the -hypotheses which have been ventured, on discovering that all measures -of _extension_ and _force_ originated from the lengths and weights of -organic bodies, and all measures of _time_ from the periodic phenomena -of either organic or inorganic bodies. - -Thus, among linear measures, the cubit of the Hebrews was the _length -of the forearm_ from the elbow to the end of the middle finger; and -the smaller scriptural dimensions are expressed in _hand-breadths_ and -_spans_. The Egyptian cubit, which was similarly derived, was divided -into digits, which were _finger-breadths_; and each finger-breadth was -more definitely expressed as being equal to four _grains of barley_ -placed breadthwise. Other ancient measures were {44} the orgyia or -_stretch of the arms_, the _pace_, and the _palm_. So persistent has -been the use of these natural units of length in the East, that even -now some Arabs mete out cloth by the forearm. So, too, is it with -European measures. The _foot_ prevails as a dimension throughout -Europe, and has done so since the time of the Romans, by whom, also, it -was used: its lengths in different places varying not much more than -men’s feet vary. The heights of horses are still expressed in _hands_. -The inch is the length of the terminal joint of _the thumb_; as is -clearly shown in France, where _pouce_ means both thumb and inch. Then -we have the inch divided into three _barley-corns_. So completely, -indeed, have these organic dimensions served as the substrata of -mensuration, that it is only by means of them that we can form any -estimate of some of the ancient distances. For example, the length -of a degree on the Earth’s surface, as determined by the Arabian -astronomers shortly after the death of Haroun-al-Raschid, was fifty-six -of their miles. We know nothing of their mile further than that it was -4000 cubits; and whether these were sacred cubits or common cubits, -would remain doubtful, but that the length of the cubit is given as -twenty-seven inches, and each inch defined as the thickness of six -barley-grains. Thus one of the earliest measurements of a degree comes -down to us in barley-grains. Not only did organic lengths furnish those -approximate measures which satisfied men’s needs in ruder ages, but -they furnished also the standard measures required in later times. One -instance occurs in our own history. To remedy the irregularities then -prevailing, Henry I. commanded that the ulna, or ancient ell, which -answers to the modern yard, should be made of the exact length of _his -own arm_. - -Measures of weight had a kindred derivation. Seeds seem commonly to -have supplied the units. The original of the carat used for weighing in -India is _a small bean_. Our own systems, both troy and avoirdupois, -are derived {45} primarily from wheat-corns. Our smallest weight, -the grain is _a grain of wheat_. This is not a speculation; it is an -historically-registered fact. Henry III. enacted that an ounce should -be the weight of 640 dry grains of wheat from the middle of the ear. -And as all the other weights are multiples or sub-multiples of this, it -follows that the grain of wheat is the basis of our scale. So natural -is it to use organic bodies as weights, before artificial weights have -been established, or where they are not to be had, that in some of the -remoter parts of Ireland the people are said to be in the habit, even -now, of putting a man into the scales to serve as a measure for heavy -commodities. - -Similarly with time. Astronomical periodicity, and the periodicity of -animal and vegetable life, are simultaneously used in the first stages -of progress for estimating epochs. The simplest unit of time, the day, -nature supplies ready made. The next simplest period, the moneth or -month, is also thrust upon men’s notice by the conspicuous changes -constituting a lunation. For larger divisions than these, the phenomena -of the seasons, and the chief events from time to time occurring, have -been used by early and uncivilized races. Among the Egyptians the -rising of the Nile served as a mark. The New Zealanders were found to -begin their year from the reappearance of the Pleiades above the sea. -One of the uses ascribed to birds, by the Greeks, was to indicate the -seasons by their migrations. Barrow describes the aboriginal Hottentot -as expressing dates by the number of moons before or after the ripening -of one of his chief articles of food. He further states that the -Kaffir chronology is kept by the moon, and is registered by notches on -sticks—the death of a favourite chief, or the gaining of a victory, -serving for a new era. By which last fact, we are at once reminded -that in early history, events are commonly recorded as occurring in -certain reigns, and in certain years of certain reigns: a proceeding -which made a king’s reign {46} a rude measure of duration. And, as -further illustrating the tendency to divide time by natural phenomena -and natural events, it may be noticed that even by our own peasantry -the definite divisions of months and years are but little used; and -that they habitually refer to occurrences as “before sheep-shearing,” -or “after harvest,” or “about the time when the squire died.” It is -manifest, therefore, that the approximately equal periods perceived -in Nature gave the first units of measure for time; as did Nature’s -approximately equal lengths and weights give the first units of measure -for space and force. - -It remains only to observe, that measures of value were similarly -derived. Barter, in one form or other, is found among all but the -very lowest human races. It is obviously based upon the notion of -_equality of worth_. And as it gradually merges into trade by the -introduction of some kind of currency, we find that the _measures of -worth_, constituting this currency, are organic bodies; in some cases -_cowries_, in others _cocoa-nuts_, in others _cattle_, in others -_pigs_; among the American Indians peltry or _skins_, and in Iceland -_dried fish_. - -Notions of exact equality and of measure having been reached, there -arose definite ideas of magnitudes as being multiples one of another; -whence the practice of measurement by direct apposition of a measure. -The determination of linear extensions by this process can scarcely be -called science, though it is a step towards it; but the determination -of lengths of time by an analogous process may be considered as one -of the earliest samples of quantitative prevision. For when it is -first ascertained that the moon completes the cycle of her changes -in about thirty days—a fact known to most uncivilized tribes that -can count beyond the number of their fingers—it is manifest that it -becomes possible to say in what number of days any specified phase of -the moon will recur; and it is also manifest that this prevision is -effected by an apposition of two times, after the same manner {47} -that linear space is measured by the apposition of two lines. For to -express the moon’s period in days, is to say how many of these units -of measure are contained in the period to be measured—is to ascertain -the distance between two points in time by means of a _scale of days_, -just as we ascertain the distance between two points in space by a -scale of feet or inches; and in each case the scale coincides with the -thing measured—mentally in the one, visibly in the other. So that in -this simplest, and perhaps earliest case of quantitative prevision, -the phenomena are not only thrust daily upon men’s notice, but Nature -is, as it were, perpetually repeating that process of measurement by -observing which the prevision is effected. - -This fact, that in very early stages of social progress it is known -that the moon goes through her changes in nearly thirty days, and -that in rather more than twelve moons the seasons return—this fact -that chronological astronomy assumes a certain scientific character -even before geometry does; while it is partly due to the circumstance -that the astronomical divisions, day, month, and year, are ready made -for us, is partly due to the further circumstances that agricultural -and other operations were at first regulated astronomically, and that -from the supposed divine nature of the heavenly bodies their motions -determined the periodical religious festivals. As instances of the -one we have the observation of the Egyptians, that the rising of the -Nile corresponded with the heliacal rising of Sirius; the directions -given by Hesiod for reaping and ploughing, according to the positions -of the Pleiades; and his maxim that “fifty days after the turning of -the sun is a seasonable time for beginning a voyage.” As instances of -the other, we have the naming of the days after the sun, moon, and -planets; the early attempts among Eastern nations to regulate the -calendar so that the gods might not be offended by the displacement -of their sacrifices; and the fixing of the great annual festival of -the Peruvians by the position of the sun. {48} In all which facts we -see that, at first, science was simply an appliance of religion and -industry. - -After the discoveries that a lunation occupies nearly thirty days, and -that some twelve lunations occupy a year—discoveries which we may infer -were the earliest, from the fact that existing uncivilized races have -made them—we come to the first known astronomical records, which are -those of eclipses. The Chaldeans were able to predict these. “This they -did, probably,” says Dr. Whewell in his useful history, from which most -of the materials we are about to use will be drawn, “by means of their -cycle of 223 months, or about eighteen years; for, at the end of this -time, the eclipses of the moon begin to return, at the same intervals -and in the same order as at the beginning.” Now this method of -calculating eclipses by means of a recurring cycle,—the _Saros_ as they -called it—is a more complex case of prevision by means of coincidence -of measures. For by what observations must the Chaldeans have -discovered this cycle? Obviously, as Delambre infers, by inspecting -their registers; by comparing the successive intervals; by finding that -some of the intervals were alike; by seeing that these equal intervals -were eighteen years apart; by discovering that _all_ the intervals -that were eighteen years apart were equal; by ascertaining that the -intervals formed a series which repeated itself, so that if one of the -cycles of intervals were superposed on another the divisions would fit. -And this being once perceived, it became possible to use the cycle as -a scale of time by which to measure out future periods of recurrence. -Seeing thus that the process of so predicting eclipses, is in essence -the same as that of predicting the moon’s monthly changes by observing -the number of days after which they repeat—seeing that the two differ -only in the extent and irregularity of the intervals; it is not -difficult to understand how such an amount of knowledge should so early -have been reached. And we shall be the less surprised on remembering -that the only things involved in these {49} previsions were _time_ and -_number_; and that the time was in a manner self-numbered. - -Still, the ability to predict events recurring only after so long -a period as eighteen years, implies a considerable advance in -civilization—a considerable development of general knowledge; and we -have now to inquire what progress in other sciences accompanied, and -was necessary to, these astronomical previsions. In the first place, -there must have been a tolerably efficient system of calculation. Mere -finger-counting, mere head-reckoning, even with the aid of a decimal -notation, could not have sufficed for numbering the days in a year; -much less the years, months, and days between eclipses. Consequently -there must have been a mode of registering numbers; probably even a -system of numerals. The earliest numerical records, if we may judge by -the practices of the less civilized races now existing, were probably -kept by notches cut on sticks, or strokes marked on walls; much as -public-house scores are kept now. And there is reason to think that -the first numerals used were simply groups of straight strokes, as -some of the still-extant Roman ones are; leading us to suspect that -these groups of strokes were used to represent groups of fingers, as -the groups of fingers had been used to represent groups of objects—a -supposition harmonizing with the aboriginal practice of picture -writing. Be this so or not, however, it is manifest that before the -Chaldeans discovered their _Saros_, they must have had both a set of -written symbols serving for an extensive numeration, and a familiarity -with the simpler rules of arithmetic. - -Not only must abstract mathematics have made some progress, but -concrete mathematics also. It is scarcely possible that the buildings -belonging to this era should have been laid out and erected without -any knowledge of geometry. At any rate, there must have existed that -elementary geometry which deals with direct {50} measurement—with the -apposition of lines; and it seems that only after the discovery of -those simple proceedings, by which right angles are drawn, and relative -positions fixed, could so regular an architecture be executed. In the -case of the other division of concrete mathematics—mechanics, we have -definite evidence of progress. We know that the lever and the inclined -plane were employed during this period: implying that there was a -qualitative prevision of their effects, if not a quantitative one. -But we know more. We read of weights in the earliest records; and we -find weights in ruins of the highest antiquity. Weights imply scales, -of which we have also mention; and scales involve the primary theorem -of mechanics in its least complicated form—involve not a qualitative -but a quantitative prevision of mechanical effects. And here we may -notice how mechanics, in common with the other exact sciences, took -its rise from the simplest application of the idea of _equality_. For -the mechanical proposition which the scales involve, is, that if a -lever with _equal_ arms, have _equal_ weights suspended from them, the -weights will remain at _equal_ altitudes. And we may further notice -how, in this first step of rational mechanics, we see illustrated the -truth awhile since named, that as magnitudes of linear extension are -the only ones of which the equality is exactly ascertainable, the -equalities of other magnitudes have at the outset to be determined by -means of them. For the equality of the weights which balance each other -in scales, depends on the equality of the arms: we can know that the -weights are equal only by proving that the arms are equal. And when -by this means we have obtained a system of weights,—a set of equal -units of force and definite multiples of them, then does a science of -mechanics become possible. Whence, indeed, it follows, that rational -mechanics could not possibly have any other starting-point than the -scales. - -Let us further remember that during this same period {51} there was -some knowledge of chemistry. Sundry of the arts which we know to have -been carried on, were made possible only by a generalized experience -of the modes in which certain bodies affect each other under special -conditions. In metallurgy, which was extensively practised, this is -abundantly illustrated. And we even have evidence that in some cases -the knowledge possessed was, in a sense, quantitative. For, as we find -by analysis that the hard alloy of which the Egyptians made their -cutting tools, was composed of copper and tin in fixed proportions, -there must have been an established prevision that such an alloy -was to be obtained only by mixing them in these proportions. It is -true, this was but a simple empirical generalization; but so was the -generalization respecting the recurrence of eclipses; so are the first -generalizations of every science. - -Respecting the simultaneous advance of the sciences during this early -epoch, it remains to point out that even the most complex of them -must have made some progress. For under what conditions only were -the foregoing developments possible? The conditions furnished by an -established and organized social system. A long continued registry of -eclipses; the building of palaces; the use of scales; the practice of -metallurgy—alike imply a settled and populous nation. The existence -of such a nation not only presupposes laws and some administration of -justice, which we know existed, but it presupposes successful laws—laws -conforming in some degree to the conditions of social stability—laws -enacted because it was found that the actions forbidden by them were -dangerous to the State. We do not by any means say that all, or even -the greater part, of the laws were of this nature; but we do say, -that the fundamental ones were. It cannot be denied that the laws -affecting life and property were such. It cannot be denied that, -however little these were enforced between class and class, they were -to a considerable extent {52} enforced between members of the same -class. It can scarcely be questioned, that the administration of them -between members of the same class was seen by rulers to be necessary -for keeping society together. But supposition aside, it is clear that -the habitual recognition of these claims in their laws, implied some -prevision of social phenomena. That same idea of _equality_, which, -as we have seen, underlies other science, underlies also morals and -sociology. The conception of justice, which is the primary one in -morals; and the administration of justice, which is the vital condition -to social existence; are impossible without the recognition of a -certain likeness in men’s claims, in virtue of their common humanity. -_Equity_ literally means _equalness_; and if it be admitted that there -were even the vaguest ideas of equity in these primitive eras, it must -be admitted that there was some appreciation of the equalness of men’s -liberties to pursue the objects of life—some appreciation, therefore, -of the essential principle of national equilibrium. - -Thus in this initial stage of the positive sciences, before geometry -had yet done more than evolve a few empirical rules—before mechanics -had passed beyond its first theorem—before astronomy had advanced -from its merely chronological phase into the geometrical; the most -involved of the sciences had reached a certain degree of development—a -development without which no progress in other sciences was possible. - -Only noting as we pass, how, thus early, we may see that the progress -of exact science was not only towards an increasing number of -previsions, but towards previsions more accurately quantitative—how, -in astronomy, the recurring period of the moon’s motions was by and -by more correctly ascertained to be two hundred and thirty-five -lunations; how Callipus further corrected this Metonic cycle, by -leaving out a day at the end of every seventy-six years; and how -these successive advances implied a {53} longer continued registry -of observations, and the co-ordination of a greater number of facts; -let us go on to inquire how geometrical astronomy took its rise. The -first astronomical instrument was the gnomon. This was not only early -in use in the East, but it was found among the Mexicans; the sole -astronomical observations of the Peruvians were made by it; and we -read that 1100 B.C., the Chinese observed that, at a certain place, -the length of the sun’s shadow, at the summer solstice, was to the -height of the gnomon, as one and a half to eight. Here again it is -observable, both that the instrument is found ready made, and that -Nature is perpetually performing the process of measurement. Any fixed, -erect object—a column, a pole, the angle of a building—serves for a -gnomon; and it needs but to notice the changing position of the shadow -it daily throws, to make the first step in geometrical astronomy. How -small this first step was, may be seen in the fact that the only things -ascertained at the outset were the periods of the summer and winter -solstices, which corresponded with the least and greatest lengths of -the mid-day shadow; and to fix which, it was needful merely to mark -the point to which each day’s shadow reached. And now let it not be -overlooked that in the observing at what time during the next year this -extreme limit of the shadow was again reached, and in the inference -that the sun had then arrived at the same turning point in his annual -course, we have one of the simplest instances of that combined use of -_equal magnitudes_ and _equal relations_, by which all exact science, -all quantitative prevision, is reached. For the relation observed -was between the length of the gnomon’s shadow and the sun’s position -in the heavens; and the inference drawn was that when, next year, -the extremity of the shadow came to the same point, he occupied the -same place. That is, the ideas involved were, the equality of the -shadows, and the equality of the relations between {54} shadow and -sun in successive years. As in the case of the scales, the equality of -relations here recognized is of the simplest order. It is not as those -habitually dealt with in the higher kinds of scientific reasoning, -which answer to the general type—the relation between two and three -equals the relation between six and nine; but it follows the type—the -relation between two and three equals the relation between two and -three: it is a case of not simply _equal_ relations, but _coinciding_ -relations. And here, indeed, we may see beautifully illustrated how -the idea of equal relations takes its rise after the same manner that -that of equal magnitudes does. As already shown, the idea of equal -magnitudes arose from the observed coincidence of two lengths placed -together; and in this case we have not only two coincident lengths of -shadows, but two coincident relations between sun and shadows. - -From the use of the gnomon there naturally grew up the conception of -angular measurements; and with the advance of geometrical conceptions -came the hemisphere of Berosus, the equinoctial armil, the solstitial -armil, and the quadrant of Ptolemy—all of them employing shadows -as indices of the sun’s position, but in combination with angular -divisions. It is out of the question for us here to trace these details -of progress. It must suffice to remark that in all of them we may see -that notion of equality of relations of a more complex kind, which -is best illustrated in the astrolabe, an instrument which consisted -“of circular rims, moveable one within the other, or about poles, and -contained circles which were to be brought into the position of the -ecliptic, and of a plane passing through the sun and the poles of the -ecliptic”—an instrument, therefore, which represented, as by a model, -the relative positions of certain imaginary lines and planes in the -heavens; which was adjusted by putting these representative lines and -planes into parallelism with the celestial ones; and which depended -for its use on the perception that the relations among these {55} -representative lines and planes were _equal_ to the relations among -those represented. We might go on to point out how the conception -of the heavens as a revolving hollow sphere, the explanation of the -moon’s phases, and indeed all the successive steps taken, involved -this same mental process. But we must content ourselves with referring -to the theory of eccentrics and epicycles, as a further marked -illustration of it. As first suggested, and as proved by Hipparchus to -afford an explanation of the leading irregularities in the celestial -motions, this theory involved the perception that the progressions, -retrogressions, and variations of velocity seen in the heavenly bodies, -might be reconciled with their assumed uniform movements in circles, by -supposing that the earth was not in the centre of their orbits; or by -supposing that they revolved in circles whose centres revolved round -the earth; or by both. The discovery that this would account for the -appearances, was the discovery that in certain geometrical diagrams the -relations were such, that the uniform motion of points along curves -conditioned in specified ways, would, when looked at from a particular -position, present analogous irregularities; and the calculations of -Hipparchus involved the belief that the relations subsisting among -these geometrical curves were _equal_ to the relations subsisting among -the celestial orbits. - -Leaving here these details of astronomical progress, and the -philosophy of it, let us observe how the relatively concrete science -of geometrical astronomy, having been thus far helped forward by -the development of geometry in general, reacted upon geometry, -caused it also to advance, and was again assisted by it. Hipparchus, -before making his solar and lunar tables, had to discover rules -for calculating the relations between the sides and angles of -triangles—_trigonometry_, a subdivision of pure mathematics. Further, -the reduction of the doctrine of the sphere to a quantitative form -needed for astronomical purposes, required the formation of a -_spherical trigonometry_, which {56} was also achieved by Hipparchus. -Thus both plane and spherical trigonometry, which are parts of the -highly abstract and simple science of extension, remained undeveloped -until the less abstract and more complex science of the celestial -motions had need of them. The fact admitted by M. Comte, that since -Descartes the progress of the abstract division of mathematics has -been determined by that of the concrete division, is paralleled by -the still more significant fact that even thus early the progress of -mathematics was determined by that of astronomy. And here, indeed, we -see exemplified the truth, which the subsequent history of science -frequently illustrates, that before any more abstract division makes a -further advance, some more concrete division suggests the necessity for -that advance—presents the new order of questions to be solved. Before -astronomy put before Hipparchus the problem of solar tables, there -was nothing to raise the question of the relations between lines and -angles: the subject-matter of trigonometry had not been conceived. - -Just incidentally noticing the circumstance that the epoch we are -describing witnessed the evolution of algebra, a comparatively abstract -division of mathematics, by the union of its less abstract divisions, -geometry and arithmetic (a fact proved by the earliest extant samples -of algebra, which are half algebraic, half geometric) we go on to -observe that during the era in which mathematics and astronomy were -thus advancing, rational mechanics made its second step; and something -was done towards giving a quantitative form to hydrostatics, optics, -and acoustics. In each case we shall see how the idea of equality -underlies all quantitative prevision; and in what simple forms this -idea is first applied. - -As already shown, the first theorem established in mechanics was, that -equal weights suspended from a lever with equal arms would remain in -equilibrium. Archimedes discovered that a lever with unequal arms was -in {57} equilibrium when one weight was to its arm as the other arm to -its weight; that is—when the numerical relation between one weight and -its arm was _equal_ to the numerical relation between the other arm and -its weight. - -The first advance made in hydrostatics, which we also owe to -Archimedes, was the discovery that fluids press _equally_ in all -directions; and from this followed the solution of the problem of -floating bodies; namely, that they are in equilibrium when the upward -and downward pressures are _equal_. - -In optics, again, the Greeks found that the angle of incidence is -_equal_ to the angle of reflection; and their knowledge reached no -further than to such simple deductions from this as their geometry -sufficed for. In acoustics they ascertained the fact that three strings -of _equal_ lengths would yield the octave, fifth and fourth, when -strained by weights having certain definite ratios; and they did not -progress much beyond this. In the one of which cases we see geometry -used in elucidation of the laws of light; and in the other, geometry -and arithmetic made to measure certain phenomena of sound. - -While sundry sciences had thus reached the first stages of quantitative -prevision, others were progressing in qualitative prevision. It -must suffice just to note that some small generalizations were made -respecting evaporation, and heat, and electricity, and magnetism, -which, empirical as they were, did not in that respect differ from -the first generalizations of every science; that the Greek physicians -had made advances in physiology and pathology, which, considering -the great imperfection of our present knowledge, are by no means to -be despised; that zoology had been so far systematized by Aristotle, -as, to some extent, enabled him from the presence of certain organs -to predict the presence of others; that in Aristotle’s _Politics_, is -shown progress towards a scientific conception of social phenomena, -and sundry previsions respecting {58} them; and that in the state of -the Greek societies, as well as in the writings of Greek philosophers, -we may recognize both an increasing clearness in the conception of -equity and some appreciation of the fact that social stability depends -on the maintenance of equitable relations. Space permitting, we might -dwell on the causes which retarded the development of some of the -sciences, as for example, chemistry; showing that relative complexity -had nothing to do with it—that the oxidation of a piece of iron is a -simpler phenomenon than the recurrence of eclipses, and the discovery -of carbonic acid less difficult than that of the precession of the -equinoxes. The relatively slow advance of chemical knowledge might be -shown to be due, partly to the fact that its phenomena were not daily -thrust on men’s notice as those of astronomy were; partly to the fact -that Nature does not habitually supply the means, and suggest the modes -of investigation, as in the sciences dealing with time, extension, and -force; partly to the fact that the great majority of the materials with -which chemistry deals, instead of being ready to hand, are made known -only by the arts in their slow growth; and partly to the fact that even -when known, their chemical properties are not self-exhibited, but have -to be sought out by experiment. - -Merely indicating these considerations, however, let us go on to -contemplate the progress and mutual influence of the sciences in -modern days; only parenthetically noticing how, on the revival of the -scientific spirit, the successive stages achieved exhibit the dominance -of the law hitherto traced—how the primary idea in dynamics, a uniform -force, was defined by Galileo to be a force which generates _equal_ -velocities in _equal_ successive times—how the uniform action of -gravity was first experimentally determined by showing that the time -elapsing before a body thrown up, stopped, was _equal_ to the time it -took to fall—how the first fact in compound motion which Galileo {59} -ascertained was, that a body projected horizontally, will describe -_equal_ horizontal spaces in _equal_ times, compounded vertical spaces -described which increase by equal increments in _equal_ times—how his -discovery respecting the pendulum was, that its oscillations occupy -_equal_ intervals of time whatever their lengths—how the law which he -established that in any machine the weights that balance each other, -are reciprocally as their virtual velocities implies that the relation -of one set of weights to their velocities _equals_ the relation -of the other set of velocities to their weights;—and how thus his -achievements consisted in showing the equalities of certain magnitudes -and relations, whose equalities had not been previously recognized. - -And now, but only now, physical astronomy became possible. The -simple laws of force had been disentangled from those of friction -and atmospheric resistance by which all their earthly manifestations -are disguised. Progressing knowledge of _terrestrial physics_ had -given a due insight into these disturbing causes; and, by an effort -of abstraction, it was perceived that all motion would be uniform -and rectilinear unless interfered with by external forces. Geometry -and mechanics having diverged from a common root in men’s sensible -experiences, and having, with occasional inosculations, been separately -developed, the one partly in connexion with astronomy, the other solely -by analyzing terrestrial movements, now join in the investigations -of Newton to create a true theory of the celestial motions. And -here, also, we have to notice the important fact that, in the very -process of being brought jointly to bear upon astronomical problems, -they are themselves raised to a higher phase of development. For it -was in dealing with the questions raised by celestial dynamics that -the then incipient infinitesimal calculus was unfolded by Newton -and his continental successors; and it was from inquiries into the -mechanics of the solar system that the general theorems of mechanics -contained in the {60} _Principia_—many of them of purely terrestrial -application—took their rise. Thus, as in the case of Hipparchus, the -presentation of a new order of concrete facts to be analyzed, led to -the discovery of new abstract facts; and these abstract facts then -became instruments of access to endless groups of concrete facts -previously beyond quantitative treatment. - -Meanwhile, physics had been carrying further that progress without -which, as just shown, rational mechanics could not be disentangled. -In hydrostatics, Stevinus had extended and applied the discovery of -Archimedes. Torricelli had proved atmospheric pressure, “by showing -that this pressure sustained different liquids at heights inversely -proportional to their densities;” and Pascal “established the necessary -diminution of this pressure at increasing heights in the atmosphere”: -discoveries which in part reduced this branch of science to a -quantitative form. Something had been done by Daniel Bernouilli towards -the dynamics of fluids. The thermometer had been invented; and sundry -small generalizations reached by it. Huyghens and Newton had made -considerable progress in optics; Newton had approximately calculated -the rate of transmission of sound; and the continental mathematicians -had ascertained some of the laws of sonorous vibrations. Magnetism and -electricity had been considerably advanced by Gilbert. Chemistry had -got as far as the mutual neutralization of acids and alkalies. And -Leonardo da Vinci had advanced in geology to the conclusion that the -deposition of animal remains in marine strata is the origin of fossils. -Our present purpose does not require that we should give particulars. -Here it only concerns us to illustrate the _consensus_ subsisting in -this stage of growth, and afterwards. Let us look at a few cases. - -The theoretic law of the velocity of sound deduced by Newton from -purely mechanical data, was found wrong by one-sixth. The error -remained unaccounted for until the {61} time of Laplace, who, -suspecting that the heat disengaged by the compression of the -undulating strata of the air, gave additional elasticity, and so -produced the difference, made the needful calculations and found he -was right. Thus acoustics was arrested until thermology overtook and -aided it. When Boyle and Marriot had discovered the relation between -the densities of gases and the pressures they are subject to; and when -it thus became possible to calculate the rate of decreasing density -in the upper parts of the atmosphere; it also became possible to make -approximate tables of the atmospheric refraction of light. Thus optics, -and with it astronomy, advanced with barology. After the discovery of -atmospheric pressure had led to the invention of the air-pump by Otto -Guericke; and after it had become known that evaporation increases in -rapidity as atmospheric pressure decreases; it became possible for -Leslie, by evaporation in a vacuum, to produce the greatest cold known; -and so to extend our knowledge of thermology by showing that there is -no zero within reach of our researches. When Fourier had determined the -laws of conduction of heat, and when the Earth’s temperature had been -found to increase below the surface one degree in every forty yards, -there were data for inferring the past condition of our globe; the -vast period it has taken to cool down to its present state; and the -immense age of the solar system—a purely astronomical consideration. -Chemistry having advanced sufficiently to supply the needful materials, -and a physiological experiment having furnished the requisite hint, -there came the discovery of galvanic electricity. Galvanism reacting -on chemistry disclosed the metallic bases of the alkalies and earths, -and inaugurated the electro-chemical theory; in the hands of Oersted -and Ampère it led to the laws of magnetic action; and by its aid -Faraday has detected significant facts relative to the constitution of -light. Brewster’s discoveries respecting double refraction and {62} -dipolarization proved the essential truth of the classification of -crystalline forms according to the number of axes, by showing that -the molecular constitution depends on the axes. Now in these and in -numerous other cases, the mutual influence of the sciences has been -quite independent of any supposed hierarchical order. Often, too, their -inter-actions are more complex than as thus instanced—involve more -sciences than two. One illustration of this must suffice. We quote it -in full from the _History of the Inductive Sciences_. In Book XI., -chap. II., on “The Progress of the Electrical Theory,” Dr. Whewell -writes:― - - “Thus at that period, mathematics was behind experiment, and a problem - was proposed, in which theoretical numerical results were wanted for - comparison with observation, but could not be accurately obtained; - as was the case in astronomy also, till the time of the approximate - solution of the problem of three bodies, and the consequent formation - of the tables of the moon and planets, on the theory of universal - gravitation. After some time, electrical theory was relieved from - this reproach, mainly in consequence of the progress which astronomy - had occasioned in pure mathematics. About 1801 there appeared in the - _Bulletin des Sciences_, an exact solution of the problem of the - distribution of electric fluid on a spheroid, obtained by Biot, by the - application of the peculiar methods which Laplace had invented for - the problem of the figure of the planets. And, in 1811, M. Poisson - applied Laplace’s artifices to the case of two spheres acting upon - one another in contact, a case to which many of Coulomb’s experiments - were referrible; and the agreement of the results of theory and - observation, thus extricated from Coulomb’s numbers obtained above - forty years previously, was very striking and convincing.” - -Not only do the sciences affect each other after this direct manner, -but they affect each other indirectly. Where there is no dependence, -there is yet analogy—_likeness of relations_; and the discovery of the -relations subsisting among one set of phenomena, constantly suggests a -search for similar relations among another set. Thus the established -fact that the force of gravitation varies inversely as the square -of the distance, being recognized as a necessary characteristic of -all influences proceeding from a centre, raised the suspicion that -heat and light follow the same law; which proved to be the case—a -suspicion and a {63} confirmation which were repeated in respect to -the electric and magnetic forces. Thus, again, the discovery of the -polarization of light led to experiments which ended in the discovery -of the polarization of heat—a discovery that could never have been -made without the antecedent one. Thus, too, the known refrangibility -of light and heat lately produced the inquiry whether sound also is -not refrangible; which on trial it turns out to be. In some cases, -indeed, it is only by the aid of conceptions derived from one class of -phenomena that hypotheses respecting other classes can be formed. The -theory, at one time favoured, that evaporation is a solution of water -in air, assumed that the relation between water and air is _like_ the -relation between water and a dissolved solid; and could never have been -conceived if relations like that between salt and water had not been -previously known. Similarly the received theory of evaporation—that -it is a diffusion of the particles of the evaporating fluid in virtue -of their atomic repulsion—could not have been entertained without a -foregoing experience of magnetic and electric repulsions. So complete -in recent days has become this _consensus_ among the sciences, -caused either by the natural entanglement of their phenomena, or by -analogies between the relations of their phenomena, that scarcely any -considerable discovery concerning one order of facts now takes place, -without shortly leading to discoveries concerning other orders. - -To produce a complete conception of this process of scientific -evolution it would be needful to go back to the beginning, and trace -in detail the growth of classifications and nomenclatures; and to -show how, as subsidiary to science, they have acted upon it while it -has reacted upon them. We can only now remark that, on the one hand, -classifications and nomenclatures have aided science by subdividing -the subject-matter of research, and giving fixity and diffusion to -the truths disclosed; and that on the other hand, they have caught -from it that increasing {64} quantitativeness, and that progress from -considerations touching single phenomena to considerations touching the -relations among many phenomena, which we have been describing. Of this -last influence a few illustrations must be given. In chemistry it is -seen in the facts that the dividing of matter into the four elements -was ostensibly based on the single property of weight, that the -first truly chemical division into acid and alkaline bodies, grouped -together bodies which had not simply one property in common but in -which one property was constantly related to many others, and that the -classification now current, places together in the groups _supporters -of combustion_, _metallic and non-metallic bases_, _acids_, _salts_, -&c., bodies which are often quite unlike in sensible qualities, but -which are like in the majority of their _relations_ to other bodies. In -mineralogy again, the first classifications were based on differences -in aspect, texture, and other physical attributes. Berzelius made two -attempts at a classification based solely on chemical constitution. -That now current recognizes, as far as possible, the _relations_ -between physical and chemical characters. In botany the earliest -classes formed were _trees_, _shrubs_, and _herbs_: magnitude being the -basis of distinction. Dioscorides divided vegetables into _aromatic_, -_alimentary_, _medicinal_, and _vinous_: a division of chemical -character. Cæsalpinus classified them by the seeds and seed-vessels, -which he preferred because of the _relations_ found to subsist between -the character of the fructification and the general character of the -other parts. While the “natural system” since developed, carrying out -the doctrine of Linnæus, that “the natural orders must be formed by -attention not to one or two, but to _all_ the parts of plants,” bases -its divisions on like peculiarities which are found to be _constantly -related_ to the greatest number of other like peculiarities. And -similarly in zoology, the successive classifications, from having -been originally determined by external and often {65} subordinate -characters not indicative of the essential nature, have been more and -more determined by those internal and fundamental differences, which -have uniform _relations_ to the greatest number of other differences. -Nor shall we be surprised at this analogy between the modes of progress -of positive science and classification, when we bear in mind that -both proceed by making generalizations; that both enable us to make -previsions, differing only in their precision; and that while the one -deals with equal properties, magnitudes, and relations, the other deals -with properties and relations which approximate towards equality in -various degrees. - -Without further argument it will, we think, be admitted that the -sciences are none of them separately evolved—are none of them -independent either logically or historically; but that all of them -have, in a greater or less degree, required aid and reciprocated it. -Indeed, it needs but to throw aside hypotheses, and contemplate the -mixed character of surrounding phenomena, to see at once that these -notions of division and succession in the kinds of knowledge are simply -scientific fictions: good, if regarded merely as aids to study; bad, -if regarded as representing realities in Nature. No facts whatever are -presented to our senses uncombined with other facts—no facts whatever -but are in some degree disguised by accompanying facts: disguised in -such a manner that all must be partially understood before any one -can be understood. If it be said, as by M. Comte, that gravitating -force should be treated of before other forces, seeing that all things -are subject to it, it may on like grounds be said that heat should -be first dealt with; seeing that thermal forces are everywhere in -action. Nay more, it may be urged that the ability of any portion of -matter to manifest visible gravitative phenomena depends on its state -of aggregation, which is determined by heat; that only by the aid -of thermology can we explain those apparent exceptions to {66} the -gravitating tendency which are presented by steam and smoke, and so -establish its universality; and that, indeed, the very existence of -the Solar System in a solid form is just as much a question of heat as -it is one of gravitation. Take other cases:—All phenomena recognized -by the eyes, through which only are the data of exact science -ascertainable, are complicated with optical phenomena, and cannot be -exhaustively known until optical principles are known. The burning of -a candle cannot be explained without involving chemistry, mechanics, -thermology. Every wind that blows is determined by influences partly -solar, partly lunar, partly hygrometric; and implies considerations -of fluid equilibrium and physical geography. The direction, dip, and -variations of the magnetic needle, are facts half terrestrial, half -celestial—are caused by earthly forces which have cycles of change -corresponding with astronomical periods. The flowing of the gulf-stream -and the annual migration of icebergs towards the equator, involve in -their explanation the Earth’s rotation and spheroidal form, the laws of -hydrostatics, the relative densities of cold and warm water, and the -doctrines of evaporation. It is no doubt true, as M. Comte says, that -“our position in the Solar System, and the motions, form, size, and -equilibrium of the mass of our world among the planets, must be known -before we can understand the phenomena going on at its surface.” But, -fatally for his hypothesis, it is also true that we must understand -a great part of the phenomena going on at its surface before we can -know its position, &c., in the Solar System. It is not simply that, as -already shown, those geometrical and mechanical principles by which -celestial appearances are explained, were first generalized from -terrestrial experiences; but it is that even the obtainment of correct -data on which to base astronomical generalizations, implies advanced -terrestrial physics. Until after optics had made considerable advance, -the Copernican {67} system remained but a speculation. A single modern -observation on a star has to undergo a careful analysis by the combined -aid of various sciences—has to _be digested by the organism of the -sciences_; which have severally to assimilate their respective parts -of the observation, before the essential fact it contains is available -for the further development of astronomy. It has to be corrected -not only for nutation of the Earth’s axis and for precession of the -equinoxes, but for aberration and for refraction; and the formation of -the tables by which refraction is calculated, presupposes knowledge -of the law of decreasing density in the upper atmospheric strata, of -the law of decreasing temperature and the influence of this on the -density, and of hygrometric laws as also affecting density. So that, -to get materials for further advance, astronomy requires not only the -indirect aid of the sciences which have presided over the making of -its improved instruments, but the direct aid of an advanced optics, -of barology, of thermology, of hygrometry; and if we remember that -these delicate observations are in some cases registered electrically, -and that they are further corrected for the “personal equation”—the -time elapsing between seeing and registering, which differs with -different observers—we may even add electricity and psychology. And -here, before leaving these illustrations, and especially this last -one, let us not omit to notice how well they exhibit that increasingly -active _consensus_ of the sciences which characterizes their advancing -development. Besides finding that in these later times a discovery in -one science commonly causes progress in others; besides finding that -a great part of the questions with which modern science deals are -so mixed as to require the co-operation of many sciences for their -solution; we find that, to make a single good observation in the purest -of the natural sciences, requires the combined aid of half a dozen -other sciences. - -Perhaps the clearest comprehension of the interconnected {68} growth -of the sciences may be obtained by contemplating that of the arts, -to which it is strictly analogous, and with which it is bound up. -Most intelligent persons must have been occasionally struck with -the numerous antecedents pre-supposed by one of our processes of -manufacture. Let him trace the production of a printed cotton, and -consider all that is implied by it. There are the many successive -improvements through which the power-looms reached their present -perfection; there is the steam-engine that drives them, having its -long history from Papin downwards; there are the lathes in which its -cylinder was bored, and the string of ancestral lathes from which those -lathes proceeded; there is the steam-hammer under which its crank shaft -was welded; there are the puddling furnaces, the blast-furnaces, the -coal-mines and the iron-mines needful for producing the raw material; -there are the slowly improved appliances by which the factory was -built, and lighted, and ventilated; there are the printing engine, -and the dye-house, and the colour-laboratory with its stock of -materials from all parts of the world, implying cochineal-culture, -logwood-cutting, indigo-growing; there are the implements used by the -producers of cotton, the gins by which it is cleaned, the elaborate -machines by which it is spun; there are the vessels in which cotton -is imported, with the building-slips, the rope-yards, the sail-cloth -factories, the anchor-forges, needful for making them; and besides -all these directly necessary antecedents, each of them involving many -others, there are the institutions which have developed the requisite -intelligence, the printing and publishing arrangements which have -spread the necessary information, the social organization which has -rendered possible such a complex co-operation of agencies. Further -analysis would show that the many arts thus concerned in the economical -production of a child’s frock, have each been brought to its present -efficiency by slow steps which the other arts have aided; and that from -the beginning this reciprocity has been on {69} the increase. It needs -but on the one hand to consider how impossible it is for the savage, -even with ore and coal ready, to produce so simple a thing as an iron -hatchet; and then to consider, on the other hand, that it would have -been impracticable among ourselves, even a century ago, to raise the -tubes of the Britannia bridge from lack of the hydraulic press; to see -how mutually dependent are the arts, and how all must advance that each -may advance. Well, the sciences are involved with each other in just -the same manner. They are, in fact, inextricably woven into this same -complex web of the arts; and are only conventionally independent of -it. Originally the two were one. How to fix the religious festivals; -when to sow; how to weigh commodities; and in what manner to measure -ground; were the purely practical questions out of which arose -astronomy, mechanics, geometry. Since then there has been a perpetual -inosculation of the sciences and the arts. Science has been supplying -art with truer generalizations and more completely quantitative -previsions. Art has been supplying science with better materials, and -more perfect instruments. And all along the interdependence has been -growing closer, not only between art and science, but among the arts -themselves, and among the sciences themselves. How completely the -analogy holds throughout, becomes yet clearer when we recognize the -fact that _the sciences are arts to one another_. If, as occurs in -almost every case, the fact to be analyzed by any science, has first -to be prepared—to be disentangled from disturbing facts by the afore -discovered methods of other sciences; the other sciences so used, -stand in the position of arts. If, in solving a dynamical problem, -a parallelogram is drawn, of which the sides and diagonal represent -forces, and by putting magnitudes of extension for magnitudes of force -a measurable relation is established between quantities not else to be -dealt with; it may be fairly said that geometry plays towards mechanics -much the same part that the fire of the founder plays towards the -metal he is going to cast. {70} If, in analyzing the phenomena of the -coloured rings surrounding the point of contact between two lenses, -a Newton ascertains by calculation the amount of certain interposed -spaces, far too minute for actual measurement; he employs the science -of number for essentially the same purpose as that for which the -watchmaker employs tools. If, before calculating the orbit of a comet -from its observed position, the astronomer has to separate all the -errors of observation, it is manifest that the refraction-tables, and -logarithm-books, and formulæ, which he successively uses, serve him -much as retorts, and filters, and cupels serve the assayer who wishes -to separate the pure gold from all accompanying ingredients. So close, -indeed, is the relationship, that it is impossible to say where science -begins and art ends. All the instruments of the natural philosopher -are the products of art; the adjusting one of them for use is an art; -there is art in making an observation with one of them; it requires -art properly to treat the facts ascertained; nay, even the employing -established generalizations to open the way to new generalizations, -may be considered as art. In each of these cases previously organized -knowledge becomes the implement by which new knowledge is got at: -and whether that previously organized knowledge is embodied in a -tangible apparatus or in a formula, matters not in so far as its -essential relation to the new knowledge is concerned. If art is applied -knowledge, then such portion of a scientific investigation as consists -of applied knowledge is art. Hence we may even say that as soon as any -prevision in science passes out of its originally passive state, and -is employed for reaching other previsions, it passes from theory into -practice—becomes science in action—becomes art. And after contemplating -these facts, we shall the more clearly perceive that as the connexion -of the arts with each other has been becoming more intimate; as the -help given by sciences to arts and by arts to sciences, has been age by -age increasing; so the interdependence of the sciences {71} themselves -has been ever growing greater, their relations more involved, their -_consensus_ more active. - - * * * * * - -In here ending our sketch of the Genesis of Science, we are conscious -of having done the subject but scant justice. Two difficulties -have stood in our way: one, the having to touch on so many points -in such small space; the other, the necessity of treating in -serial arrangement a process which is not serial. Nevertheless, we -believe the evidence assigned suffices to substantiate the leading -propositions with which we set out. Inquiry into the first stages -of science confirms the conclusion drawn from analysis of science -as now existing, that it is not distinct from common knowledge, but -an outgrowth from it—an extension of perception by means of reason. -That more specific characteristic of scientific previsions, which -was analytically shown to distinguish them from the previsions of -uncultured intelligence—their quantitativeness—we also see to have been -the characteristic alike of the initial steps in science, and of all -the steps succeeding them. The facts and admissions cited in disproof -of the assertion that the sciences follow one another, both logically -and historically, in the order of their decreasing generality, have -been enforced by the instances we have met with, showing that a more -general science as much owes its progress to the presentation of new -problems by a more special science, as the more special science owes -its progress to the solutions which the more general science is thus -led to attempt—instances, therefore, illustrating the position that -scientific advance is as much from the special to the general as from -the general to the special. Quite in harmony with this position we -find to be the admissions that the sciences are as branches of one -trunk, and that they were at first cultivated simultaneously. This -harmony becomes the more marked on finding, as we have done, not -only that the sciences have a common root, but that science in {72} -general has a common root with language, classification, reasoning, -art; that throughout civilization these have advanced together, acting -and reacting upon each other just as the separate sciences have done; -and that thus the development of intelligence in all its divisions -and sub-divisions has conformed to this same law which we have shown -that the sciences conform to. From all which we may perceive that the -sciences can with no greater propriety be arranged in a succession, -than language, classification, reasoning, art, and science, can be -arranged in a succession; that, however needful a succession may be -for the convenience of books and catalogues, it must be recognized as -merely a convention; and that so far from its being the function of a -philosophy of the sciences to establish a hierarchy, it is its function -to show that the linear arrangements required for literary purposes, -have none of them any basis either in Nature or History. - -There is one further remark we must not omit—a remark touching the -importance of the question that has been discussed. Topics of this -abstract nature are commonly slighted as of no practical moment; -and, doubtless, many will think it of little consequence what theory -respecting the genesis of science may be entertained. But the value of -truths is often great, in proportion as their generality is wide. And -it must be so here. A correct theory of the development of the sciences -must have an important effect on education; and, through education, on -civilization. Much as we differ from him in other respects, we agree -with M. Comte in the belief that, rightly conducted, the education of -the individual must have a certain correspondence with the evolution -of the race. No one can contemplate the facts we have cited in -illustration of the early stages of science, without recognizing the -_necessity_ of the processes through which those stages were reached—a -necessity which, in respect to the leading truths, may likewise be -traced in all after stages. This necessity, {73} originating in the -very nature of the phenomena to be analyzed and the faculties to be -employed, partially applies to the mind of the child as to that of the -savage. We say partially, because the correspondence is not special -but general only. Were the _environment_ the same in both cases, the -correspondence would be complete. But though the surrounding material -out of which science is to be organized, is, in many cases, the same -to the juvenile mind and the aboriginal mind, it is not so throughout; -as, for instance, in the case of chemistry, the phenomena of which -are accessible to the one but were inaccessible to the other. Hence, -in proportion as the environment differs, the course of evolution -must differ. After admitting exceptions, however, there remains a -substantial parallelism; and, if so, it is of moment to ascertain what -really has been the process of scientific evolution. The establishment -of an erroneous theory must be disastrous in its educational results; -while the establishment of a true one must be fertile in school-reforms -and consequent social benefits. - - -ENDNOTE TO _THE GENESIS OF SCIENCE_. - -[1] It is curious that the author of “The Plurality of Worlds,” -with quite other aims, should have persuaded himself into similar -conclusions. - - - - -{74} - -THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. - - -[_First published as a brochure in April 1864. The preface to the -second edition, published in April 1869, I reproduce because of certain -facts contained in it which are not without interest._] - -The first edition of this Essay is not yet out of print. But a proposal -to translate it into French having been made by Professor Réthoré, I -have decided to prepare a new edition free from the imperfections which -criticism and further thought have disclosed, rather than allow these -imperfections to be reproduced. - -The occasion has almost tempted me into some amplification. Further -arguments against the classification of M. Comte, and further arguments -in support of the classification here set forth, have pleaded for -utterance. But reconsideration has convinced me that it is both -needless and useless to say more—needless because those who are not -committed will think the case sufficiently strong as it stands; and -useless because to those who are committed, additional reasons will -seem as inadequate as the original ones. [In the preface to the third -edition, however, a reason is given for a change of decision on -this point at that time made (February 1871): the reason being “the -publication of several objections by Prof. Bain in his Logic.”] - -This last conclusion is thrust on me by seeing how little M. Littré, -the leading expositor of M. Comte, is influenced by fundamental -objections the force of which he admits. After quoting one of these, -he says, with a candour equally {75} rare and admirable, that he -has vainly searched M. Comte’s works and his own mind for an answer. -Nevertheless, he adds—“j’ai réussi, je crois, à écarter l’attaque de M. -Herbert Spencer, et à sauver le fond par des sacrifices indispensables -mais accessoires.” The sacrifices are these. He abandons M. Comte’s -division of Inorganic Science into Celestial Physics and Terrestrial -Physics—a division which, in M. Comte’s scheme, takes precedence of -all the rest; and he admits that neither logically nor historically -does Astronomy come before Physics, as M. Comte alleges. After making -these sacrifices, which most will think too lightly described as -“sacrifices indispensables mais accessoires,” M. Littré proceeds to -rehabilitate the Comtean classification in a way which he considers -satisfactory, but which I do not understand. In short, the proof of -these incongruities affects his faith in the Positivist theory of the -sciences, no more than the faith of a Christian is affected by proof -that the Gospels contradict one another. - -Here in England I have seen no attempt to meet the criticisms with -which M. Littré thus deals. There has been no reply to the allegation, -based on examples, that the several sciences do not develop in the -order of their decreasing generality; nor to the allegation, based -on M. Comte’s own admissions, that within each science the progress -is not, as he says it is, from the general to the special; nor to -the allegation that the seeming historical precedence of Astronomy -over Physics in M. Comte’s pages, is based on a verbal ambiguity—a -mere sleight of words; nor to the allegation, abundantly illustrated, -that a progression in an order the reverse of that asserted by M. -Comte may be as well substantiated; nor to various minor allegations -equally irreconcileable with his scheme. I have met with nothing -more than iteration of the statement that the sciences _do_ conform, -logically and historically, to the order in which M. Comte places them; -regardless of the assigned evidence that they _do not_. - -Under these circumstances it is unnecessary for me to {76} say more; -and I think I am warranted in continuing to hold that the Comtean -classification of the sciences is demonstrably untenable. - - * * * * * - -In an essay on “The Genesis of Science,” originally published in 1854, -I endeavoured to show that the Sciences cannot be rationally arranged -in serial order. Proof was given that neither the succession in which -the Sciences are placed by M. Comte (to a criticism of whose scheme -the essay was in part devoted), nor any other succession in which the -Sciences can be placed, represents either their logical dependence or -their historical dependence. To the question—How may their relations be -rightly expressed? I did not then attempt any answer. This question I -propose now to consider. - -A true classification includes in each class, those objects which have -more characteristics in common with one another, than any of them -have in common with any objects excluded from the class. Further, -the characteristics possessed in common by the colligated objects, -and not possessed by other objects, involve more numerous dependent -characteristics. These are two sides of the same definition. For things -possessing the greatest number of attributes in common, are things that -possess in common those essential attributes on which the rest depend; -and, conversely, the possession in common of the essential attributes, -implies the possession in common of the greatest number of attributes. -Hence, either test may be used as convenience dictates. - -If, then, the Sciences admit of classification at all, it must be by -grouping together the like and separating the unlike, as thus defined. -Let us proceed to do this. - - * * * * * - -The broadest natural division among the Sciences, is the division -between those which deal with the abstract relations {77} under which -phenomena are presented to us, and those which deal with the phenomena -themselves. Relations of whatever orders, are nearer akin to one -another than they are to any objects. Objects of whatever orders, are -nearer akin to one another than they are to any relations. Whether, -as some hold, Space and Time are nothing but forms of Thought[2]; -or whether, as I hold myself, they are forms of Things, that have -generated forms of Thought through organized and inherited experience -of Things; it is equally true that Space and Time are contrasted -absolutely with the existences disclosed to us in Space and Time; and -hence the Sciences which deal exclusively with Space and Time, are -separated by the profoundest of all distinctions from the Sciences -which deal with the existences contained in Space and Time. Space is -the abstract of all relations of co-existence. Time is the abstract -of all relations of sequence. And dealing as they do entirely with -relations of co-existence and sequence, in their general or special -forms, Logic and Mathematics form a class of the Sciences more widely -unlike the rest, than any of the rest are from one another. - -The Sciences which deal with existences themselves, instead of the -blank forms in which existences are presented to us, admit of a -sub-division less profound than the division above made, but more -profound than any of the divisions among the Sciences individually -considered. They {78} fall into two classes, having quite different -aspects, aims, and methods. Every phenomenon is more or less -composite—is a manifestation of force under several distinct modes. -Hence result two objects of inquiry. We may study the component -modes of force separately; or we may study them as co-operating to -generate in this composite phenomenon. On the one hand, neglecting -all the incidents of particular cases, we may aim to educe the laws -of each mode of force, when it is uninterfered with. On the other -hand, the incidents of the particular case being given, we may seek to -interpret the entire phenomenon, as a product of the several forces -simultaneously in action. The truths reached through the first kind -of inquiry, though concrete inasmuch as they have actual existences -for their subject-matters, are abstract inasmuch as they refer to the -modes of existence apart from one another; while the truths reached -by the second kind of inquiry are properly concrete, inasmuch as they -formulate the facts in their combined order, as they occur in Nature. - -The Sciences, then, in their main divisions, stand thus:― - - SCIENCE is - - that which treats of the forms - in which phenomona are known to us; ABSTRACT SCIENCE - (Logic and Mathematics) - - that which treats of the phenomena themselves - - in their elements ABSTRACT-CONCRETE SCIENCE - (Mechanics, Physics, Chemistry, etc.) - - in their totalities CONCRETE SCIENCE - (Astronomy, Geology, Biology, Psychology, - Sociology, etc.) - -It is needful to define the words _abstract_ and _concrete_ as thus -used; since they are sometimes used with other {79} meanings. M. -Comte divides Science into abstract and concrete; but the divisions -which he distinguishes by these names are quite unlike those above -made. Instead of regarding some Sciences as wholly abstract, and -others as wholly concrete, he regards each Science as having an -abstract part, and a concrete part. There is, according to him, an -abstract mathematics and a concrete mathematics—an abstract biology -and concrete biology. He says:—“Il faut distinguer, par rapport à -tous les ordres de phénomènes, deux genres de sciences naturelles: -les unes abstraites, générales, ont pour objet la découverte des lois -qui régissent les diverses classes de phénomènes, en considérant tous -les cas qu’on peut concevoir; les autres concrètes, particulières, -descriptives, et qu’on désigne quelquefois sous le nom de sciences -naturelles proprement dites, consistent dans l’application de ces -lois a l’histoire effective des différens êtres existans.” And to -illustrate the distinction, he names general physiology as abstract, -and zoology and botany as concrete. Here it is manifest that the words -_abstract_ and _general_ are used as synonymous. They have, however, -different meanings; and confusion results from not distinguishing -their meanings. Abstractness means _detachment from_ the incidents of -particular cases. Generality means _manifestation in_ numerous cases. -On the one hand, the essential nature of some phenomenon is considered, -apart from disguising phenomena. On the other hand, the frequency of -the phenomenon, with or without disguising phenomena, is the thing -considered. Among the phenomena presented by numbers, which are purely -ideal, the two coincide; but excluding these, an abstract truth is not -realizable to perception in any case of which it is asserted, whereas -a general truth is realizable to perception in every case of which it -is asserted. Some illustrations will make the distinction clear. Thus -it is an abstract truth that the angle contained in a semi-circle is -a right angle—abstract in the sense that though it does not hold of -{80} actually-constructed semi-circles and angles, which are always -inexact, it holds of the ideal semi-circles and angles abstracted -from real ones; but this is not a general truth, either in the sense -that it is commonly manifested in Nature, or in the sense that it is -a space-relation that comprehends many minor space-relations: it is -a quite special space-relation. Again, that the momentum of a body -causes it to move in a straight line at a uniform velocity, is an -abstract-concrete truth—a truth abstracted from certain experiences of -concrete phenomena; but it is by no means a general truth: so little -generality has it, that no one fact in Nature displays it. Conversely, -surrounding things supply us with hosts of general truths that are not -in the least abstract. It is a general truth that the planets go round -the Sun from West to East—a truth which holds good in several hundred -cases (including the cases of the planetoids); but this truth is not -at all abstract, since it is perfectly realized as a concrete fact -in every one of these cases. Every vertebrate animal whatever, has a -double nervous system; all birds and all mammals are warm-blooded—these -are general truths, but they are concrete truths: that is to say, every -vertebrate animal individually presents an entire and unqualified -manifestation of this duality of the nervous system; every living bird -exemplifies absolutely or completely the warm-bloodedness of birds. -What we here call, and rightly call, a general truth, is simply a -proposition which _sums up_ a number of our actual experiences; and -not the expression of a truth _drawn from_ our actual experiences, but -never presented to us in any of them. In other words, a general truth -colligates a number of particular truths; while an abstract truth -colligates no particular truths, but formulates a truth which certain -phenomena all involve, though it is actually seen in none of them. - -Limiting the words to their proper meanings as thus defined, it becomes -manifest that the three classes of {81} Sciences above separated, -are not distinguishable at all by differences in their degrees of -generality. They are all equally general; or rather they are all, -considered as groups, universal. Every object whatever presents at once -the subject-matter for each of them. In every fragment of substance -we have simultaneously illustrated the abstract truths of relation in -Time and Space; the abstract-concrete truths in conformity with which -the fragment manifests its several modes of force; and the concrete -truths resulting from the joint manifestation of these modes of force, -and which give to the fragment the characters by which it is known as -such or such. Thus these three classes of Sciences severally formulate -different, but co-extensive, classes of facts. Within each group there -are truths of greater and less generality: there are general abstract -truths, and special abstract truths; general abstract-concrete truths, -and special abstract-concrete truths; general concrete truths, and -special concrete truths. But while within each class there are groups -and sub-groups and sub-sub-groups which differ in their degrees of -generality, the classes themselves differ only in their degrees of -abstractness.[3] - - * * * * * - -Let us pass to the sub-divisions of these classes. The first class is -separable into two parts—the one containing universal truths, the other -non-universal truths. Dealing {82} wholly with relations apart from -related things, Abstract Science considers first, that which is common -to all relations whatever; and, second, that which is common to each -order of relations. Besides the indefinite and variable connexions -which exist among phenomena, as occurring together in Space and Time, -we find that there are also definite and invariable connexions—that -between each kind of phenomenon and certain other kinds of phenomena, -there exist uniform relations. This is a universal abstract truth—that -there is an unchanging order, or fixity of law, in Space and Time. -We come next to the several kinds of unchanging order, which, taken -together, form the subjects of the {83} second division of Abstract -Science. Of this second division, the most general sub-division is -that which deals with the natures of the connexions in Space and Time, -irrespective of the terms connected. The conditions under which we may -predicate a relation of coincidence or proximity in Space and Time (or -of non-coincidence or non-proximity) from the subject-matter of Logic. -Here the natures and amounts of the terms between which the relations -are {84} asserted (or denied) are of no moment: the propositions -of Logic are independent of any qualitative or quantitative -specification of the related things. The other sub-division has for -its subject-matter, the relations between terms which are specified -quantitatively but not qualitatively. The amounts of the related terms, -irrespective of their natures, are here dealt with; and Mathematics -is a statement of the laws of quantity considered apart from reality. -Quantity considered apart from reality, is occupancy of Space or Time; -and occupancy of Space or Time is measured by units of one or other -order, but of which the ultimate ones are simply separate places in -consciousness, either coexistent or sequent. Among units that are -unspecified in their natures (extensive, protensive, or intensive), but -are ideally endowed with existence considered apart from attributes, -the quantitative relations that arise, are those most general relations -expressed by numbers. Such relations fall into either of two orders, -according as the units are considered simply as capable of filling -separate places in consciousness, or according as they are considered -as filling places that are not only separate, but equal. In the one -case, we have that indefinite calculus by which numbers of abstract -existences, but not sums of abstract existence, are predicable. In the -other case, we have that definite calculus by which both numbers of -abstract existences and sums of abstract existence are predicable. Next -comes that division of Mathematics which deals with the quantitative -relations of magnitudes (or aggregates of units) considered as -coexistent, or as occupying Space—the division called Geometry. And -then we arrive at relations, the terms of which include both quantities -of Time and quantities of Space—those in which times are estimated by -the units of space traversed at a uniform velocity, and those in which -equal units of time being given, the spaces traversed with uniform or -variable velocities are estimated. {85} These Abstract Sciences, -which are concerned exclusively with relations and with the relations -of relations, may be grouped as shown in Table I. - - * * * * * - -TABLE I. - - ABSTRACT SCIENCE. - - Universal law of relation—an expression of the truth that - uniformities of connexion obtain among modes of Being, irrespective - of any specification of the natures of the uniformities of connexion. - - Laws of relations - - that are qualitative; or that are specified in their natures as - relations of coincidence or proximity in Time and Space, but not - necessarily in their terms the natures and amount of which are - indifferent. (LOGIC.)[4] - - that are quantitative (MATHEMATICS) - - negatively: the terms of the relations being definitely-related - sets of positions in space; and the facts predicated being the - absences of certain quantities. (_Geometry of Position._[5]) - - positively: the terms being magnitudes composed of - - units that are equal only as having independent existences. - (_Indefinite Calculus._[6]) - - equal units - - the equality of which is not defined as extensive, - protensive, or intensive (_Definite Calculus_) - - when their numbers are completely specified (_Arithmetic._) - - when their numbers are specified only - - in their relations (_Algebra._) - - in the relations of their relations. (_Calculus of_ - _Operations._) - - the equality of which is that of extension - - considered in their relations of coexistence. (_Geometry._) - - considered as traversed in Time - - that is wholly indefinite. (_Kinematics._) - - that is divided into equal units (_Geometry of Motion._[7]) - -Passing from the Sciences concerned with the ideal or unoccupied -forms of relations, and turning to the Sciences concerned with -real relations, or the relations among realities, we come first to -those Sciences which treat of realities, not as they are habitually -manifested, but with realities as manifested in their different -modes, when these are artificially separated from one another. -While the Abstract Sciences are wholly ideal, relatively to the -Abstract-Concrete and Concrete Sciences; the Abstract-Concrete Sciences -are partially ideal, relatively to the Concrete Sciences. Just as -Logic and Mathematics generalize the laws of relation, qualitative -and quantitative, apart from related things; so, Mechanics, Physics, -Chemistry generalize the laws of relation which different modes -of Matter and Motion conform to, when severally disentangled from -those actual phenomena in which they are mutually modified. Just as -the geometrician formulates the properties of lines and surfaces, -independently of the irregularities and thicknesses of lines and -surfaces as they really exist; so the physicist and the chemist -formulate the manifestations of each mode of force, independently of -the disturbances in its manifestations which other modes of force cause -in every actual case. In works on Mechanics, the laws of motion are -expressed without reference to friction and resistance of the medium. -Not what motion ever really is, but what it would be if retarding -forces were absent, is asserted. If afterwards any retarding force is -taken into account, then the effect of this retarding force is dealt -with by itself: neglecting the other retarding forces. Consider, again, -the generalizations of the physicist respecting molecular motion. The -law that light varies inversely as the square of the distance, is -absolutely true only when the radiation {86} goes on from a point -without dimensions, which it never does; and it also assumes that -the rays are perfectly straight, which they cannot be unless the -medium differs from all actual media in being perfectly homogeneous. -If the disturbing effects of changes of media are investigated, the -formulæ expressing the refractions take for granted that the new media -entered are homogeneous; which they never really are. Even when a -compound disturbance is allowed for, as when the refraction undergone -by light in traversing a medium of increasing density, like the -atmosphere, is calculated, the calculation still supposes conditions -that are unnaturally simple—it supposes that the atmosphere is not -pervaded by heterogeneous currents, which it always is. Similarly -with the inquiries of the chemist. He does not take his substances as -Nature supplies them. Before he proceeds to specify their respective -properties, he purifies them—separates from each all trace of every -other. Before ascertaining the specific gravity of a gas, he has to -free this gas from the vapour of water, usually mixed with it. Before -describing the properties of a salt, he guards against any error that -may arise from the presence of an uncombined portion of the acid or -base. And when he alleges of any element that it has a certain atomic -weight, and unites with such and such equivalents of other elements, -he does not mean that the results thus expressed are exactly the -results of any one experiment; but that they are the results which, -after averaging many trials, he concludes would be realized if absolute -purity could be obtained, and if the experiments could be conducted -without loss. His problem is to ascertain the laws of combination of -molecules, not as they are actually displayed, but as they would be -displayed in the absence of those minute interferences which cannot -be altogether avoided. Thus all Abstract-Concrete Sciences have for -their object, _analytical interpretation_. In every case it is the -aim to decompose the phenomenon, and formulate its {87} components -apart from one another; or some two or three apart from the rest. -Wherever, throughout these Sciences, synthesis is employed, it is for -the verification of analysis.[8] The truths elaborated are severally -asserted, not as truths exhibited by this or that particular object; -but as truths universally holding of Matter and Motion in their more -general or more special forms, considered apart from particular -objects, and particular places in space. - -The sub-divisions of this group of Sciences, may be drawn on the -same principle as that on which the sub-divisions of the preceding -group were drawn. Phenomena, considered as more or less involved -manifestations of force, yield on analysis, certain laws of -manifestation which are universal, and other laws of manifestation, -which, being dependent on conditions, are not universal. Hence the -Abstract-Concrete Sciences are primarily divisible into—the laws of -force considered apart from its separate modes, and laws of force -considered under each of its separate modes. And this second division -of the Abstract-Concrete group, is sub-divisible after a manner -essentially analogous. It is needless to occupy space by defining -these several {88} orders and genera of Sciences. Table II. will -sufficiently explain their relations. - - * * * * * - -TABLE II. - - ABSTRACT-CONCRETE SCIENCE. - - Universal laws of forces (tensions and pressures), as deducible from - the persistence of force: the theorems of resolution and composition - of forces. - - Laws of forces as manifested by matter - - in masses (MECHANICS) - - that are in equilibrium relatively to other masses - - and are solid. (_Statics._) - - and are fluid. (_Hydrostatics._) - - that are not in equilibrium relatively to other masses - - and are solid. (_Dynamics._) - - and are fluid. (_Hydrodynamics._) - - in molecules (MOLECULAR MECHANICS) - - when in equilibrium: (_Molecular Statics_) - - giving statical properties of matter - - general, as impenetrability or space-occupancy. - - special, as the forms resulting from molecular equilibrium. - - giving statico-dynamical properties of matter (cohesion, - elasticity, etc.) - - when solid. - - when liquid. - - when gaseous. - - when not in equilibrium: (_Molecular Dynamics_) - - as resulting in a changed distribution of molecules - - which alters their relative positions homogeneously - - causing increase of volume (expansion, liquefaction, - evaporation). - - causing decrease of volume (condensation, solidification, - contraction). - - which alters their relative positions heterogeneously - (_Chemistry_) - - producing new relations of molecules (new compounds). - - producing new relations of forces (new affinities). - - as resulting in a changed distribution of molecular motion, - - which, by integration, generates sensible motion. - - which, by disintegration, generates insensible motion, under - the forms of {_Heat._ _Light._ _Electricity._ _Magnetism._} - -Wecome now to the third great group. We have done with the Sciences which -are concerned only with the blank forms of relations under which Being -is manifested to us. We have left behind the Sciences which, dealing -with Being under its universal mode, and its several non-universal -modes regarded as independent, treat the terms of its relations as -simple and homogeneous; which they never are in Nature. There remain -the Sciences which, taking these modes of Being as they are habitually -connected with one another, have for the terms of their relations, -those heterogeneous combinations of forces that constitute actual -phenomena. The subject-matter of these Concrete-Sciences is the real, -as contrasted with the wholly or partially ideal. It is their aim, -not to separate and generalize apart the components of all phenomena, -but to explain each phenomenon as a product of these components. -Their relations are not, like those of the simplest Abstract-Concrete -Sciences, relations between one antecedent and one consequent; nor -are they, like those of the more involved Abstract-Concrete Sciences, -relations between some few antecedents cut off in imagination from -all others, and some few consequents similarly cut off; but they -are relations each of which has for its terms a complete plexus of -antecedents and a complete plexus of consequents. This is manifest in -the least involved Concrete Sciences. The astronomer seeks to explain -the Solar System. He does not stop short after generalizing the laws -of planetary movement, such as planetary movement would be did only -a single planet exist; but he solves this abstract-concrete problem, -as a step towards solving the concrete problem of the planetary -movements as affecting one another. In astronomical language, “the -theory of the Moon” means an interpretation of the Moon’s motions, not -as determined simply by centripetal {89} and centrifugal forces, but -as perpetually modified by gravitation towards the Earth’s equatorial -protuberance, towards the Sun, and even towards Venus: forces daily -varying in their amounts and combinations. Nor does the astronomer -leave off when he has calculated what will be the position of a given -body at a given time, allowing for all perturbations; but he goes on to -consider the effects produced by reactions on the perturbing masses. -And he further goes on to consider how the mutual perturbations of -the planets cause, during a long period, increasing deviations from a -mean state; and then how compensating perturbations cause continuous -decrease of the deviations. That is, the goal towards which he ever -strives, is a complete explanation of these complex planetary motions -in their totality. Similarly with the geologist. He does not take for -his problem only those irregularities of the Earth’s crust that are -worked by denudation; or only those which igneous action causes. He -does not seek simply to understand how sedimentary strata were formed; -or how faults were produced; or how moraines originated; or how the -beds of Alpine lakes were scooped out. But taking into account all -agencies co-operating in endless and ever-varying combinations, he -aims to interpret the entire structure of the Earth’s crust. If he -studies separately the actions of rain, rivers, glaciers, icebergs, -tides, waves, volcanoes, earthquakes, etc.; he does so that he may be -better able to comprehend their joint actions as factors in geological -phenomena: the object of his science being to generalize these -phenomena in all their intricate connexions, as parts of one whole. In -like manner Biology is the elaboration of a complete theory of Life, in -each and all of its involved manifestations. If different aspects of -its phenomena are investigated apart—if one observer busies himself in -classing organisms, another in dissecting them, another in ascertaining -their chemical compositions, another in studying functions, another -in tracing laws of modification; they are {90} all, consciously or -unconsciously, helping to work out a solution of vital phenomena in -their entirety, both as displayed by individual organisms and by -organisms at large. Thus, in these Concrete Sciences, the object is -the converse of that which the Abstract-Concrete Sciences propose to -themselves. In the one case we have _analytical interpretation_; while -in the other case we have _synthetical interpretation_. Instead of -synthesis being used merely to verify analysis; analysis is here used -only to aid synthesis. Not to formulate the factors of phenomena is -now the object; but to formulate the phenomena resulting from these -factors, under the various conditions which the Universe presents. - -This third class of Sciences, like the other classes, is divisible -into the universal and the non-universal. As there are truths which -hold of all phenomena in their elements; so there are truths which -hold of all phenomena in their totalities. As force has certain -ultimate laws common to its separate modes of manifestation, so in -those combinations of its modes which constitute actual phenomena, we -find certain ultimate laws that are conformed to in every case. These -are the laws of the re-distribution of force. Since we can become -conscious of a phenomenon only by some change wrought in us, every -phenomenon necessarily implies re-distribution of force—change in -the arrangements of matter and motion. Alike in molecular movements -and the movements of masses, one great uniformity may be traced. -A decreasing quantity of motion, sensible or insensible, always -has for its concomitant an increasing aggregation of matter; and, -conversely, an increasing quantity of motion, sensible or insensible, -has for its concomitant a decreasing aggregation of matter. Give to -the molecules of any mass, more of that insensible motion which we -call heat, and the parts of the mass become somewhat less closely -aggregated. Add a further quantity of insensible motion, and the -mass so far disintegrates as to become {91} liquid. Add still more -insensible motion, and the mass disintegrates so completely as to -become gas; which occupies a greater space with every extra quantity -of insensible motion given to it. On the other hand, every loss of -insensible motion by a mass, gaseous, liquid, or solid, is accompanied -by a progressing integration of the mass. Similarly with sensible -motions, be the bodies moved large or small. Augment the velocities -of the planets, and their orbits will enlarge—the Solar System will -occupy a wider space. Diminish their velocities, and their orbits will -lessen—the Solar System will contract, or become more integrated. -And in like manner we see that sensible motions given to bodies on -the Earth’s surface involve partial disintegrations of the bodies -from the Earth; while the loss of their motions are accompanied by -their re-integration with the Earth. In all changes we have either an -integration of matter and concomitant dissipation of motion; or an -absorption of motion and concomitant disintegration of matter. And -where, as in living bodies, these processes go on simultaneously, there -is an integration of matter proportioned to the dissipation of motion, -and an absorption of motion proportioned to the disintegration of -matter. Such, then, are the universal laws of that re-distribution of -matter and motion everywhere going on—a re-distribution which results -in Evolution so long as the aggregation of matter and dispersion of -motion predominate; but which results in Dissolution where there is -a predominant aggregation of motion and dispersion of matter. Hence -we have a division of Concrete Science which bears towards the other -Concrete Sciences, a relation like that which the Universal Law of -Relation bears to Mathematics, and like that which Universal Mechanics -(composition and resolution of forces) bears to Physics. We have a -division of Concrete Science which generalizes those concomitants -of this re-distribution that hold good among all orders of concrete -objects—a division which explains why, along with a {92} predominating -integration of matter and dissipation of motion, there goes a change -from an indefinite, incoherent homogeneity, to a definite, coherent -heterogeneity; and why a reverse re-distribution of matter and motion, -is accompanied by a reverse structural change. Passing from this -universal Concrete Science, to the non-universal Concrete Sciences; we -find that these are primarily divisible into the science which deals -with the re-distributions of matter and motion among masses in space, -consequent on their mutual actions as wholes; and the science which -deals with the re-distributions of matter and motion consequent on the -mutual actions of the parts of each mass. And of these equally general -Sciences, this last is re-divisible into the Science which is limited -to the concomitants of re-distribution among the parts of each mass -when regarded as independent, and the Science which takes into account -the molecular motion received by radiation from other masses. But these -sub-divisions, and their sub-sub-divisions, will be best seen in the -annexed Table III. - - * * * * * - -TABLE III. - - CONCRETE SCIENCE. - - Universal laws of the continuous re-distribution of Matter and - Motion; which results in Evolution where there is a predominant - integration of Matter and dissipation of Motion, and which results - in Dissolution where there is a predominant absorption of Motion and - disintegration of Matter. - - Laws of the redistributions of Matter and Motion actually going on - - among the celestial bodies in their relations to one another as - masses: comprehending (ASTRONOMY) - - the dynamics of our solar system. (_Planetary Astronomy._) - - the dynamics of our stellar universe. (_Sidereal Astronomy._) - - among the molecules of any celestial mass; as caused by - - the actions of these molecules on one another - (ASTROGENY) - - resulting in the formation of compound molecules. (_Solar_ - _Mineralogy._) - - resulting in molecular motions and genesis of radiant - forces.[9] - - resulting in movements of gases and liquids. (_Solar_ - _Meteorology._[10]) - - the actions of these molecules on one another, joined with the - actions on them of forces radiated by the molecules of other - masses: (GEOGENY) - - as exhibited in the planets generally. - - as exhibited in the Earth - - causing composition and of decomposition of inorganic - matters. (_Mineralogy._) - - causing re-distributions of gases and liquids. - (_Meteorology._) - - causing re-distributions of solids. (_Geology._) - - causing organic phenomena; which are (_Biology_) - - those of structure (_Morphology_) - - general. - - special. - - those of function - - in their internal relations (_Physiology_) - - general. - - special. - - in their external relations (_Psychology_) - - general - - special - - separate. - - combined. (_Sociology._[11]) - -That these great groups of Sciences and their respective sub-groups, -fulfil the definition of a true classification given at the outset, is, -I think, tolerably manifest. The subjects of inquiry included in each -primary division, have essential attributes in common with one another, -which they have not in common with any of the subjects contained in -the other primary divisions; and they have, by consequence, a greater -number of attributes in which they are severally like the subjects -they are grouped with, and unlike the subjects otherwise grouped. -Between Sciences which deal with relations apart from realities, and -Sciences which deal with realities, the distinction is the widest -possible; since Being, in some or all of its attributes, is common to -all Sciences of the second class, and excluded from all Sciences of the -first class. And when we divide the Sciences which treat of realities, -into those which deal {93} with their component phenomena considered in -ideal separation and those which deal with their component phenomena -as actually united, we make a profounder distinction than can exist -between the Sciences which deal with one or other order of the -components, or than can exist between the Sciences which deal with one -or other order of the things composed. The three groups of Sciences -may be briefly defined as—laws of the _forms_; laws of the _factors_; -laws of the _products_. When thus defined, it becomes manifest that -the groups are so radically unlike in their natures, that there can -be no transitions between them; and that any Science belonging to one -of the groups must be quite incongruous with the Sciences belonging -to either of the other groups, if transferred. How fundamental are -the differences between them, will be further seen on considering -their functions. The first, or abstract group, is _instrumental_ with -respect to both the others; and the second, or abstract-concrete group -is _instrumental_ with respect to the third or concrete group. An -endeavour to invert these functions will at once show how essential -is the difference of character. The second and third groups supply -subject-matter to the first, and the third supplies subject-matter to -the second; but none of the truths which constitute the third group are -of any use as solvents of the problems presented by the second group; -and none of the truths which the second group formulates can act as -solvents of problems contained in the first group. - -Concerning the sub-divisions of these great groups, little remains -to be added. That each of the groups, being co-extensive with all -phenomena, contains truths that are universal and others that are not -universal, and that these must be classed apart, is obvious. And that -the sub-divisions of the non-universal truths, are to be made according -to their decreasing generality in something like the manner shown in -the Tables, is proved by the fact that {94} when the descriptive -words are read from the root to the extremity of any branch, they form -a definition of the Science constituting that branch. That the minor -divisions might be otherwise arranged, and that better definitions of -them might be given, is highly probable. They are here set down merely -for the purpose of showing how this method of classification works out. - -I will only further remark that the relations of the Sciences as -thus represented, are still but imperfectly represented: their -relations cannot be truly shown on a plane, but only in space of three -dimensions. The three groups cannot rightly be put in linear order as -they have here been. Since the first stands related to the third, not -only indirectly through the second, but also directly—it is directly -instrumental with respect to the third, and the third supplies it -directly with subject-matter. Their relations can thus only be truly -shown by branches diverging from a common root on different sides, -in such a way that each stands in juxta-position to the other two. -And only by a like mode of arrangement, can the relations among the -sub-divisions of each group be correctly represented. - - * * * * * - -The foregoing exposition, highly abstract as it is, will by some -readers be less readily followed than a more concrete one. With the -view of carrying conviction to such I will re-state the case in two -ways: the first of them adapted only to those who accept the doctrine -of Evolution in its most general form. - -We set out with concentrating nebulous matter. Tracing the -re-distributions of this, as the rotating contracting spheroid leaves -behind successive annuli and as these severally form secondary rotating -spheroids, we come at length to planets in their early stages. Thus -far we consider the phenomena dealt with purely astronomical; and so -long as our Earth, regarded as one of these spheroids, {95} was made -up of gaseous and molten matters only, it presented no data for any -more complex Concrete Science. In the lapse of cosmical time a solid -film forms, which, in the course of millions of years, thickens, and, -in the course of further millions of years, becomes cool enough to -permit the precipitation, first of various other gaseous compounds, -and finally of water. Presently, the varying exposure of different -parts of the spheroid to the Sun’s rays, begins to produce appreciable -effects; until at length there have arisen meteorological actions, and -consequent geological actions, such as those we now know: determined -partly by the Sun’s heat, partly by the still-retained internal heat -of the Earth, and partly by the action of the Moon on the ocean? How -have we reached these geological phenomena? When did the astronomical -changes end and the geological changes begin? It needs but to ask this -question to see that there is no real division between the two. Putting -pre-conceptions aside, we find nothing more than a group of phenomena -continually complicating under the influence of the same original -factors; and we see that our conventional division is defensible only -on grounds of convenience. Let us advance a stage. As the Earth’s -surface continues to cool, passing through all degrees of temperature -by infinitesimal gradations, the formation of more and more complex -inorganic compounds becomes possible. Later, its surface sinks to that -heat at which the less complex compounds of the kinds called organic -can exist; and, finally, the formation of the more complex organic -compounds takes place. Chemists now show us that these compounds may -be built up synthetically in the laboratory—each stage in ascending -complexity making possible the next higher stage. Hence it is inferable -that, in the myriads of laboratories, endlessly diversified in their -materials and conditions, which the Earth’s surface furnished during -the myriads of years occupied in passing through these stages of -temperature, such successive {96} syntheses were effected; and that -the highly complex unstable substance out of which all organisms are -composed, was eventually formed in microscopic portions: from which, -by continuous integrations and differentiations, the evolution of all -organisms has proceeded. Where then shall we draw the line between -Geology and Biology? The synthesis of this most complex compound, is -but a continuation of the syntheses by which all simpler compounds were -formed. The same primary factors have been co-operating with those -secondary factors, meteorologic and geologic, previously derived from -them. Nowhere do we find a break in the ever-complicating series; for -there is a manifest connexion between those movements which various -complex compounds undergo during their isomeric transformations, -and those changes of form undergone by the protoplasm which we -distinguish as living. Strongly contrasted as they eventually -become, biological phenomena are at their root inseparable from -geological phenomena—inseparable from the aggregate of transformations -continually wrought in the matters forming the Earth’s surface by the -physical forces to which they are exposed. Further stages I need not -particularize. The gradual development out of the biological group of -phenomena, of the more specialized group we class as psychological, -needs no illustration. And when we come to the highest psychological -phenomena, it is clear that since aggregations of human beings may be -traced upwards from single wandering families to tribes and nations of -all sizes and complexities, we pass insensibly from the phenomena of -individual human action to those of corporate human action. To resume, -then, is it not manifest that in the group of sciences—Astronomy, -Geology, Biology, Psychology, Sociology, we have a natural group -that admits neither of disruption nor change of order? Here there is -both a genetic dependence, and a dependence of interpretations. The -phenomena have arisen in this succession in cosmical {97} time; and -complete scientific interpretation of each group depends on scientific -interpretation of the preceding groups. No other science can be thrust -in anywhere without destroying the continuity. To insert Physics -between Astronomy and Geology, would be to make a break in the history -of a continuous series of changes; and a like break would be produced -by inserting Chemistry between Geology and Biology. It is true that -Physics and Chemistry are needful as interpreters of these successive -assemblages of facts; but it does not therefore follow that they are -themselves to be placed among these assemblages. - -Concrete Science, made up of these five concrete sub-sciences, being -thus coherent within itself, and separated from all other science, -there comes the question—Is all other science similarly coherent within -itself? or is it traversed by some second division that is equally -decided? It is thus traversed. A statical or dynamical theorem, however -simple, has always for its subject-matter something that is conceived -as extended, and as displaying force or forces—as being a seat of -resistance, or of tension, or of both, and as capable of possessing -more or less of _vis viva_. If we examine the simplest proposition of -Statics, we see that the conception of Force must be joined with the -conception of Space, before the proposition can be framed in thought; -and if we similarly examine the simplest proposition in Dynamics, -we see that Force, Space, and Time, are its essential elements. The -amounts of the terms are indifferent; and, by reduction of its terms -beyond the limits of perception, they are applied to molecules: Molar -Mechanics and Molecular Mechanics are continuous. From questions -concerning the relative motions of two or more molecules, Molecular -Mechanics passes to changes of aggregation among many molecules, to -changes in the amounts and kinds of the motions possessed by them as -members of an aggregate, and to changes of the motions transferred -through aggregates of them, as those constituting light. {98} Daily -extending its range of interpretations, it is coming to deal even -with the components of each compound molecule on the same principles. -And the unions and disunions of such more or less compound molecules, -which constitute the phenomena of Chemistry, are also being conceived -as resultant phenomena of essentially kindred natures—the affinities -of molecules for one another, and their reactions in relation to -light, heat, and other modes of force, being regarded as consequent -on the combinations of the various mechanically-determined motions of -their various components. Without at all out-running, however, this -progress in the mechanical interpretation of molecular phenomena, it -suffices to point out that the indispensable elements in any chemical -conception are units occupying places in space, and exerting forces on -one another. This, then, is the common character of all these sciences -which we at present group under the names of Mechanics, Physics, -Chemistry. Leaving undiscussed the question whether it is possible to -conceive of force apart from extended somethings exerting it, we may -assert, as beyond dispute, that if the conception of force be expelled, -no science of Mechanics, Physics, or Chemistry remains. Made coherent, -as these sciences are, by this bond of union, it is impossible to -thrust among them any other science without breaking their continuity. -We cannot place Logic between Molar Mechanics and Molecular Mechanics. -We cannot place Mathematics between the group of propositions -concerning the behaviour of homogeneous molecules to one another, and -the group of propositions concerning the behaviour of heterogeneous -molecules to one another (which we call Chemistry). Clearly these two -sciences lie outside the coherent whole we have contemplated; separated -from it in some radical way. - -By what are they radically separated? By the absence of the conception -of force through which alone we know objects as existing or acting. -However true it may be {99} that so long as Logic and Mathematics have -any terms at all, these must be capable of affecting consciousness, -and, by implication, of exerting force; yet it is the distinctive trait -of these sciences that not only do their propositions make no reference -to such force, but, as far as possible, they deliberately ignore it. -Instead of being, as in all the other sciences, an element that is -not only recognized but vital; in Mathematics and Logic, force is an -element that is not only not vital, but is studiously not recognized. -The terms in which Logic expresses its propositions, are symbols that -do not profess to represent things, properties, or powers, of one -kind more than another; and may equally well stand for the attributes -belonging to members of some connected series of ideal curves which -have never been drawn, as for so many real objects. And the theorems of -Geometry, so far from contemplating perceptible lines and surfaces as -elements in the truths enunciated, consider these truths as becoming -absolute only when such lines and surfaces become ideal—only when the -conception of something exercising force is extruded. - - * * * * * - -Let me now make a second re-statement, not implying acceptance of the -doctrine of Evolution, but exhibiting with a clearness almost if not -quite as great, these fundamental distinctions. - -The concrete sciences, taken together or separately, contemplate as -their subject-matters, _aggregates_—either the entire aggregate of -sensible existences, or some secondary aggregate separable from this -entire aggregate, or some tertiary aggregate separable from this, and -so on. Sidereal Astronomy occupies itself with the totality of visible -masses distributed through space; which it deals with as made up of -identifiable individuals occupying specified places, and severally -standing towards one another, towards sub-groups, and towards the -entire group, in defined ways. Planetary Astronomy, cutting out of this -all-including aggregate that {100} relatively minute part constituting -the Solar System, deals with this as a whole—observes, measures, and -calculates the sizes, shapes, distances, motions, of its primary, -secondary, and tertiary members; and, taking for its larger inquiries -the mutual actions of all these members as parts of a coordinated -assemblage, takes for its smaller inquiries the actions of each member -considered as an individual, having a set of intrinsic activities that -are modified by a set of extrinsic activities. Restricting itself to -one of these aggregates, which admits of close examination, Geology -(using this word in its comprehensive meaning) gives an account of -terrestrial actions and terrestrial structures, past and present; and, -taking for its narrower problems local formations and the agencies -to which they are due, takes for its larger problems the serial -transformations undergone by the entire Earth. The geologist being -occupied with this cosmically small, but otherwise vast, aggregate, -the biologist occupies himself with small aggregates formed out of -parts of the Earth’s superficial substance, and treats each of these -as a coordinated whole in its structures and functions; or, when he -treats of any particular organ, considers this as a whole made up of -parts held in a sub-coordination that refers to the coordination of -the entire organism. To the psychologist he leaves those specialized -aggregates of functions which adjust the actions of organisms to the -complex activities surrounding them: doing this, not simply because -they are a stage higher in speciality, but because they are the -counterparts of those aggregated states of consciousness dealt with by -the science of Subjective Psychology, which stands entirely apart from -all other sciences. Finally, the sociologist considers each tribe and -nation as an aggregate presenting multitudinous phenomena, simultaneous -and successive, that are held together as parts of one combination. -Thus, in every case, a concrete science deals with a real aggregate -(or a plurality of real aggregates); and it includes as its {101} -subject-matter whatever is to be known of this aggregate in respect -of its size, shape, motions, density, texture, general arrangement -of parts, minute structure, chemical composition, temperature, etc., -together with all the multitudinous changes, material and dynamical, -gone through by it from the time it begins to exist as an aggregate to -the time it ceases to exist as an aggregate. - -No abstract-concrete science makes the remotest attempt to do anything -of this sort. Taken together, the abstract-concrete sciences give -an account of the various kinds of _properties_ which aggregates -display; and each abstract-concrete science concerns itself with a -certain order of these properties. By this, the properties common to -all aggregates are studied and formulated; by that, the properties of -aggregates having special forms, special states of aggregation, etc.; -and by others, the properties of particular components of aggregates -when dissociated from other components. But by all these sciences the -aggregate, considered as an individual object, is tacitly ignored; and -a property, or a connected set of properties, exclusively occupies -attention. It matters not to Mechanics whether the moving mass it -considers is a planet or a molecule, a dead stick thrown into the river -or the living dog that leaps after it: in any case the curve described -by the moving mass conforms to the same laws. Similarly when the -physicist takes for his subject the relation between the changing bulk -of matter and the changing quantity of molecular motion it contains. -Dealing with the subject generally, he leaves out of consideration the -kind of matter; and dealing with the subject specially in relation to -this or that kind of matter, he ignores the attributes of size and -form: save in the still more special cases where the effect on form -is considered, and even then size is ignored. So, too, is it with the -chemist. A substance he is investigating, never thought of by him -as distinguished in extension or amount, is not even required to be -perceptible. A portion of carbon on {102} which he is experimenting, -may or may not have been visible under its forms of diamond or -graphite or charcoal—this is indifferent. He traces it through various -disguises and various combinations—now as united with oxygen to form -an invisible gas; now as hidden with other elements in such more -complex compounds as ether, and sugar, and oil. By sulphuric acid or -other agent he precipitates it from these as a coherent cinder, or as -a diffused impalpable powder; and again, by applying heat, forces it -to disclose itself as an element of animal tissue. Evidently, while -thus ascertaining the affinities and atomic equivalence of carbon, the -chemist has nothing to do with any aggregate. He deals with carbon -in the abstract, as something considered apart from quantity, form, -appearance, or temporary state of combination; and conceives it as the -possessor of powers or properties, whence the special phenomena he -describes result: the ascertaining of all these powers or properties -being his sole aim. - -Finally, the Abstract Sciences ignore alike aggregates and the powers -which aggregates or their components possess; and occupy themselves -with _relations_—either with the relations among aggregates, or among -their parts, or the relations among aggregates and properties, or the -relations among properties, or the relations among relations. The -same logical formula applies equally well, whether its terms are men -and their deaths, crystals and their planes of cleavage, or plants -and their seeds. And how entirely Mathematics concerns itself with -relations, we see on remembering that it has just the same expression -for the characters of an infinitesimal triangle, as for those of the -triangle which has Sirius for its apex and the diameter of the Earth’s -orbit for its base. - -I cannot see how these definitions of these groups of sciences can -be questioned. It is undeniable that every Concrete Science gives -an account of an aggregate or of aggregates, inorganic, organic, or -super-organic (a society); {103} and that, not concerning itself -with properties of this or that order, it concerns itself with the -co-ordination of the assembled properties of all orders. It seems to -me no less certain that an Abstract-Concrete Science gives an account -of some order of properties, general or special; not caring about the -other traits of an aggregate displaying them, and not recognizing -aggregates at all further than is implied by discussion of the -particular order of properties. And I think it is equally clear that -an Abstract Science, freeing its propositions, so far as the nature -of thought permits, from aggregates and properties, occupies itself -with relations of co-existence and sequence, as disentangled from -all particular forms of being and action. If then these three groups -of sciences are, respectively, accounts of _aggregates_, accounts -of _properties_, accounts of _relations_, it is manifest that the -divisions between them are not simply perfectly clear, but that the -chasms between them are absolute. - - * * * * * - -Here, perhaps more clearly than before, will be seen the untenability -of the classification made by M. Comte. Already, after setting forth -in a general way these fundamental distinctions, I have pointed out -the incongruities that arise when the sciences, conceived as Abstract, -Abstract-Concrete, and Concrete, are arranged in the order proposed -by him. Such incongruities become still more conspicuous if for these -general names of the groups we substitute the definitions given above. -The series will then stand thus:― - - MATHEMATICS An account of _relations_ - (including, under Mechanics, - an account of _properties_). - ASTRONOMY An account of _aggregates_. - PHYSICS An account of _properties_. - CHEMISTRY An account of _properties_. - BIOLOGY An account of _aggregates_. - SOCIOLOGY An account of _aggregates_. - -That those who espouse opposite views see clearly the {104} defects -in the propositions of their opponents and not those in their own, -is a trite remark that holds in philosophical discussions as in all -others: the parable of the mote and the beam applies as well to men’s -appreciations of one another’s opinions as to their appreciations of -one another’s natures. Possibly to my positivist friends I exemplify -this truth,—just as they exemplify it to me. Those uncommitted to -either view must decide where the mote exists and where the beam. -Meanwhile it is clear that one or other of the two views is essentially -erroneous; and that no qualifications can bring them into harmony. -Either the sciences admit of no such grouping as that which I have -described, or they admit of no such serial order as that given by M. -Comte. - - -POSTSCRIPT REPLYING TO CRITICISMS. - -Among objections made to any doctrine, those which come from avowed -supporters of an adverse doctrine must be considered, other things -equal, as of less weight than those which come from men uncommitted -to an adverse doctrine, or but partially committed to it. The element -of prepossession, distinctly present in the one case and in the other -case mainly or quite absent, is a well-recognized cause of difference -in the values of the judgments: supposing the judgments to be otherwise -fairly comparable. Hence, when it is needful to bring the replies -within a restricted space, a fit course is that of dealing rather with -independent criticisms than with criticisms which are really indirect -arguments for an opposite view, previously espoused. - -For this reason I propose here to confine myself substantially, -though not absolutely, to the demurrers entered against the foregoing -classification by Prof. Bain, in his recent work on Logic. Before -dealing with the more {105} important of these, let me clear the -ground by disposing of the less important. - - * * * * * - -Incidentally, while commenting on the view I take respecting the -position of Logic, Prof. Bain points out that this, which is the most -abstract of the sciences, owes much to Psychology, which I place among -the Concrete Sciences; and he alleges an incongruity between this -fact and my statement that the Concrete Sciences are not instrumental -in disclosing the truths of the Abstract Sciences. Subsequently he -re-raises this apparent anomaly when saying― - - “Nor is it possible to justify the placing of Psychology wholly among - Concrete Sciences. It is a highly analytic science, as Mr. Spencer - thoroughly knows.” - -For a full reply, given by implication, I must refer Prof. Bain to -§ 56 of _The Principles of Psychology_, where I have contended that -“while, under its objective aspect, Psychology is to be classed as one -of the Concrete Sciences which successively decrease in scope as they -increase in speciality; under its subjective aspect, Psychology is a -totally unique science, independent of, and antithetically opposed to, -all other sciences whatever.” A pure idealist will not, I suppose, -recognize this distinction; but to every one else it must, I should -think, be obvious that the science of subjective existences is the -correlative of all the sciences of objective existences; and is as -absolutely marked off from them as subject is from object. Objective -Psychology, which I class among the Concrete Sciences, is purely -synthetic, so long as it is limited, like the other sciences, to -objective data; though great aid in the interpretation of these data -is derived from the observed correspondence between the phenomena of -Objective Psychology as presented in other beings and the phenomena of -Subjective Psychology as presented in one’s own consciousness. Now it -is Subjective Psychology only which is analytic, and which affords aid -in the {106} development of Logic. This being explained, the apparent -incongruity disappears. - -A difficulty raised respecting the manner in which I have expressed the -nature of Mathematics, may next be dealt with. Prof. Bain writes:― - - “In the first place, objection may be taken to his language, in - discussing the extreme Abstract Sciences, when he speaks of the _empty_ - _forms_ therein considered. To call Space and Time empty forms, must - mean that they can be thought of without any concrete embodiment - whatsoever; that one can think of Time, as a pure abstraction, without - having in one’s mind any concrete succession. Now, this doctrine is in - the last degree questionable.” - -I quite agree with Prof. Bain that “this doctrine is in the last -degree questionable;” but I do not admit that this doctrine is implied -by the definition of Abstract Science which I have given. I speak -of Space and Time as they are dealt with by mathematicians, and as -it is alone possible for pure Mathematics to deal with them. While -Mathematics habitually uses in its points, lines, and surfaces, certain -existences, it habitually deals with these as representing points, -lines, and surfaces that are ideal; and _its conclusions are true only -on condition that it does this_. Points having dimensions, lines having -breadths, planes having thicknesses, are negatived by its definitions. -Using, though it does, material representatives of extension, linear, -superficial, or solid, Geometry deliberately ignores their materiality; -and attends only to the truths of relation they present. Holding with -Prof. Bain, as I do, that our consciousness of Space is disclosed by -our experiences of Matter—arguing, as I have done in _The Principles -of Psychology_, that it is a consolidated aggregate of all relations -of co-existence that have been severally presented by Matter; I -nevertheless contend that it is possible to dissociate these relations -from Matter to the extent required for formulating them as abstract -truths. I contend, too, that this separation is of the kind habitually -made in other cases; as, for instance, when the general laws of motion -are formulated (as M. Comte’s system, among {107} others, formulates -them) in such way as to ignore all properties of the bodies dealt -with save their powers of taking up, and retaining, and giving out, -quantities of motion; though these powers are inconceivable apart from -the attribute of extension, which is intentionally disregarded. - -Taking other of Prof. Bain’s objections, not in the order in which they -stand but in the order in which they may be most conveniently dealt -with, I quote as follows:― - - “The law of the radiation of light (the inverse square of the - distance) is said by Mr. Spencer to be Abstract-Concrete, while the - disturbing changes in the medium are not to be mentioned except in a - Concrete Science of Optics. We need not remark that such a separate - handling is unknown to science.” - -It is perfectly true that “such a separate handling is unknown to -science.” But, unfortunately for the objection, it is also perfectly -true that no such separate handling is proposed by me, or is implied by -my classification. How Prof. Bain can have so missed the meaning of the -word “concrete,” as I have used it, I do not understand. After pointing -out that “no one ever drew the line,” between the Abstract-Concrete -and the Concrete Sciences, “as I have done it,” he alleges an anomaly -which exists only supposing that I have drawn it where it is ordinarily -drawn. He appears inadvertently to have carried with him M. Comte’s -conception of Optics as a Concrete Science, and, importing it into my -classification, debits me with the incongruity. If he will re-read -the definition of the Abstract-Concrete Sciences, or study their -sub-divisions as shown in Table II., he will, I think, see that the -most special laws of the redistribution of light, equally with its most -general laws, are included. And if he will pass to the definition and -the tabulation of the Concrete Sciences, he will, I think, see no less -clearly that Optics cannot be included among them. - -Prof. Bain considers that I am not justified in classing Chemistry as -an Abstract-Concrete Science, and excluding from it all consideration -of the crude forms of the various {108} substances dealt with; and -he enforces his dissent by saying that chemists habitually describe -the ores and impure mixtures in which the elements, etc., are -naturally found. Undoubtedly chemists do this. But do they therefore -intend to include an account of the ores of a substance, _as a part -of the science_ which formulates its molecular constitution and the -constitutions of all the definite compounds it enters into? I shall be -very much surprised if I find that they do. Chemists habitually prefix -to their works a division treating of Molecular Physics; but they do -not therefore claim Molecular Physics as a part of Chemistry. If they -similarly prefix to the chemistry of each substance an outline of its -mineralogy, I do not think they therefore mean to assert that the -last belongs to the first. Chemistry proper, embraces nothing beyond -an account of the constitutions and modes of action and combining -proportions of substances that are taken as absolutely pure; and its -truths no more recognize impure substances than the truths of Geometry -recognize crooked lines. - -Immediately after, in criticizing the fundamental distinction I have -made between Chemistry and Biology, as Abstract-Concrete and Concrete -respectively, Prof. Bain says:― - - “But the objects of Chemistry and the objects of Biology are equally - concrete, so far as they go; the simple bodies of chemistry, and their - several compounds, are viewed by the Chemist as concrete wholes, and - are described by him, not with reference to one factor, but to all - their factors.” - -Issue is here raised in a form convenient for elucidation of the -general question. It is true that, _for purposes of identification_, a -chemist gives an account of all the sensible characters of a substance. -He sets down its crystalline form, its specific gravity, its power -of refracting light, its behaviour as magnetic or diamagnetic. But -does he thereby include these phenomena as part of the Science of -Chemistry? It seems to me that the relation between the weight {109} -of any portion of matter and its bulk, which is ascertained on -measuring its specific gravity, is a physical and not a chemical fact. -I think, too, that the physicist will claim, as part of his science, -all investigations touching the refraction of light: be the substance -producing this refraction what it may. And the circumstance that the -chemist may test the magnetic or diamagnetic property of a body, as -a means of ascertaining what it is, or as a means of helping other -chemists to determine whether they have got before them the same body, -will neither be held by the chemist, nor allowed by the physicist, to -imply a transfer of magnetic phenomena from the domain of the one to -that of the other. In brief, though the chemist, in his account of an -element or a compound, may refer to certain physical traits associated -with its molecular constitution and affinities, he does not by so -doing change these into chemical traits. Whatever chemists may put -into their books, Chemistry, considered as a science, includes only -the phenomena of molecular structures and changes—of compositions and -decompositions.[12] I contend, then, that Chemistry does _not_ give an -account of anything as a concrete whole, in the same way that Biology -gives an account of an organism as a concrete whole. This will become -even more manifest on observing the character of {110} the biological -account. All the attributes of an organism are comprehended, from -the most general to the most special—from its conspicuous structural -traits to its hidden and faint ones; from its outer actions that thrust -themselves on the attention, to the minutest sub-divisions of its -multitudinous internal functions; from its character as a germ, through -the many changes of size, form, organization, and habit, it goes -through until death; from the physical characters of it as a whole, -to the physical characters of its microscopic cells, and vessels, and -fibres; from the chemical characters of its substance in general to -the chemical characters of each tissue and each secretion—all these, -with many others. And not only so, but there is comprehended as the -ideal goal of the science, the _consensus_ of all these phenomena -in their co-existences and successions, as constituting a coherent -individualized group definitely combined in space and in time. It is -this recognition of _individuality_ in its subject-matter, that gives -its concreteness to Biology, as to every other Concrete Science. As -Astronomy deals with bodies that have their several proper names, or -(as with the smaller stars) are registered by their positions, and -considers each of them as a distinct individual—as Geology, while dimly -perceiving in the Moon and nearest planets other groups of geological -phenomena (which it would deal with as independent wholes, did not -distance forbid), occupies itself with that individualized group -presented by the Earth; so Biology treats either of an individual -distinguished from all others, or of parts or products belonging to -such an individual, or of structural or functional traits common to -many such individuals that have been observed, and supposed to be -common to others that are like them in most or all of their attributes. -Every biological truth connotes a specifically individualized object, -or a number of specifically individualized objects of the same kind, -or numbers of different kinds that are severally specific. See, then, -the contrast. {111} The truths of the Abstract-Concrete Sciences do -not imply specific individuality. Neither Molar Physics, nor Molecular -Physics, nor Chemistry, concerns itself with this. The laws of motion -are expressed without any reference whatever to the sizes or shapes -of the moving masses; which may be taken indifferently to be suns or -atoms. The relations between contraction and the escape of molecular -motion, and between expansion and the absorption of molecular motion, -are expressed in their general forms without reference to the kind -of matter; and, if the degree of either that occurs in a particular -kind of matter is formulated, no note is taken of the quantity of that -matter, much less of its individuality. Similarly with Chemistry. -When it inquires into the atomic weight, the molecular structure, the -atomicity, the combining proportions, etc., of a substance, it is -indifferent whether a grain or a ton be thought of—the conception of -amount is absolutely irrelevant. And so with more special attributes. -Sulphur, considered chemically, is not sulphur under its crystalline -form, or under its allotropic viscid form, or as a liquid, or as a gas; -but it is sulphur considered apart from those attributes of quantity, -and shape, and state, that give individuality. - -Prof. Bain objects to the division I have drawn between the Concrete -Science of Astronomy and that Abstract-Concrete Science which deals -with the mutually-modified motions of hypothetical masses in space, as -“not a little arbitrary.” He says:― - - “We can suppose a science to confine itself _solely_ to the - ‘factors,’ or the separated elements, and never, on any occasion, to - combine two into a composite third. This position is intelligible, - and possibly defensible. For example, in Astronomy, the Law of - Persistence of Motion in a straight line might be discussed in pure - ideal separation; and so, the Law of Gravity might be discussed in - equally pure separation—both under the Abstract-Concrete department - of Mechanics. It might then be reserved to a _concrete_ department to - unite these in the explanation of a projectile or of a planet. Such, - however, is not Mr. Spencer’s boundary line. He allows Theoretical - Mechanics to make this particular combination, and to arrive at the - laws of {112} planetary movement, _in the case of a single planet_. - What he does not allow is, to proceed to the case of two planets, - mutually disturbing one another, or a planet and a satellite, commonly - called the ‘problem of the Three Bodies.’” - -If I held what Prof. Bain supposes me to hold, my position would be -an absurd one; but he misapprehends me. The misapprehension results -in part from his having here, as before, used the word “concrete” -with the Comtean meaning, as though it were my meaning; and in part -from the inadequacy of my explanation. I did not in the least mean to -imply that the Abstract-Concrete Science of Mechanics, when dealing -with the motions of bodies in space, is limited to the interpretation -of planetary movement such as it would be did only a single planet -exist. It never occurred to me that my words might be so construed. -Abstract-Concrete problems admit, in fact, of being complicated -indefinitely, without going in the least beyond the definition. I do -not draw the line, as Prof. Bain alleges, between the combination of -two factors and the combination of three, or between the combination -of any number and any greater number. I draw the line between the -science which deals with the theory of the factors, taken singly and -in combinations of two, three, four, or more, and the science which, -_giving to these factors the values derived from observations of actual -objects, uses the theory to explain actual phenomena_. - -It is true that, in these departments of science, no radical -distinction is consistently recognized between theory and the -applications of theory. As Prof. Bain says:― - - “Newton, in the First Book of the Principia, took up the problem of - the Three Bodies, as applied to the Moon, and worked it to exhaustion. - So writers on Theoretical Mechanics continue to include the Three - Bodies, Precession, and the Tides.” - -But, supreme though the authority of Newton may be as a mathematician -and astronomer, and weighty as are the names of Laplace and Herschel, -who in their works have similarly mingled theorems and the explanations -yielded by them, it does not seem to me that these facts go for -much; {113} unless it can be shown that these writers intended thus -to enunciate the views at which they had arrived respecting the -classification of the sciences. Such a union as that presented in -their works, adopted merely for the sake of convenience, is, in fact, -the indication of incomplete development; and has been paralleled in -simpler sciences which have afterwards outgrown it. Two conclusive -illustrations are at hand. The name Geometry, utterly inapplicable by -its meaning to the science as it now exists, was applicable in that -first stage during which its few truths were taught in preparation -for land-measuring and the setting-out of buildings; but, at a -comparatively early date, these comparatively simple truths became -separated from their applications, and were embodied by the Greek -geometers into systems of theory.[13] A like purification is now -taking place in another division of the science. In the _Géométrie -Descriptive_ of Monge, theorems were mixed with their applications -to projection and plan-drawing. But, since his time, the science and -the art have been segregating; and Descriptive Geometry, or, as it -may be better termed, the Geometry of Position, is now recognized by -mathematicians as a far-reaching system of truths, parts of which -are already embodied in books that make no reference to derived -methods available by the architect or the engineer. To meet a -counter-illustration that will be cited, I may remark that though, in -works on Algebra intended for beginners, the theories of quantitative -relations, as treated algebraically, are accompanied by groups of -problems to be solved, the subject-matters of these problems are not -thereby made parts of the Science of Algebra. To say that they are, -is to say that Algebra includes the conceptions of distances and -relative speeds and times, or of weights and bulks and {114} specific -gravities, or of areas ploughed and days and wages; since these, and -endless others, may be the terms of its equations. And just in the -same way that these concrete problems, solved by its aid, cannot be -incorporated with the Abstract Science of Algebra; so I contend that -the concrete problems of Astronomy, cannot be incorporated with that -division of Abstract-Concrete Science which develops the theory of the -inter-actions of free bodies that attract one another. - -On this point I find myself at issue, not only with Prof. Bain, but -also with Mr. Mill, who contends that:― - - “There _is_ an abstract science of astronomy, namely, the theory of - gravitation, which would equally agree with and explain the facts of a - totally different solar system from the one of which our earth forms a - part. The actual facts of our own system, the dimensions, distances, - velocities, temperatures, physical constitution, etc., of the sun, - earth, and planets, are properly the subject of a concrete science, - similar to natural history; but the concrete is more inseparably - united to the abstract science than in any other case, since the - few celestial facts really accessible to us are nearly all required - for discovering and proving the law of gravitation as an universal - property of bodies, and have therefore an indispensable place in - the abstract science as its fundamental data.”—_Auguste Comte and_ - _Positivism_, p. 43. - -In this explanation, Mr. Mill recognizes the fundamental distinction -between the Concrete Science of Astronomy, dealing with the bodies -actually distributed in space, and a science dealing with hypothetical -bodies hypothetically distributed in space. Nevertheless, he regards -these sciences as not separable; because the second derives from -the first the data whence the law of inter-action is derived. But -the truth of this premiss, and the legitimacy of this inference, -may alike be questioned. The discovery of the law of inter-action -was not due primarily, but only secondarily, to observation of the -heavenly bodies. The conception of an inter-acting force that varies -inversely as the square of the distance, is an _à priori_ conception -rationally deducible from mechanical and geometrical considerations. -Though unlike in derivation to the many empirical hypotheses of Kepler -respecting planetary orbits and planetary motions, yet it was {115} -like the successful among these in its relation to astronomical -phenomena: it was one of many possible hypotheses, which admitted of -having their consequences worked out and tested; and one which, on -having its implications compared with the results of observation, -was found to explain them. In short, the theory of gravitation grew -out of experiences of terrestrial phenomena; but the verification -of it was reached through experiences of celestial phenomena. -Passing now from premiss to inference, I do not see that, even -were the alleged parentage substantiated, it would necessitate the -supposed inseparability; any more than the descent of Geometry from -land-measuring necessitates a persistent union of the two. In the case -of Algebra, as above indicated, the disclosed laws of quantitative -relations hold throughout multitudinous orders of phenomena that are -extremely heterogeneous; and this makes conspicuous the distinction -between the theory and its applications. Here the laws of quantitative -relations among masses, distances, velocities, and momenta, being -applied mainly (though not exclusively) to the concrete cases presented -by Astronomy, the distinction between the theory and its applications -is less conspicuous. But, intrinsically, it is as great in the one case -as in the other. - -How great it is, we shall see on taking an analogy. This is a living -man, of whom we may know little more than that he is a visible, -tangible person; or of whom we may know enough to form a voluminous -biography. Again, this book tells of a fictitious hero, who, like the -heroes of old romance, may be an impersonated virtue or vice, or, -like a modern hero, one of mixed nature, whose various motives and -consequent actions are elaborated into a semblance of reality. But -no accuracy and completeness of the picture makes this fictitious -personage an actual personage, or brings him any nearer to one. Nor -does any meagreness in our knowledge of a real man reduce him any -nearer to the imaginary being of a novel. To the {116} last, the -division between fiction and biography remains an impassable gulf. -So, too, remains the division between the Science dealing with the -inter-actions of hypothetical bodies in space, and the Science dealing -with the inter-actions of existing bodies in space. We may elaborate -the first to any degree whatever by the introduction of three, four, or -any greater number of factors under any number of assumed conditions, -until we symbolize a solar system; but to the last an account of our -symbolic solar system is as far from an account of the actual solar -system as fiction is from biography. - -Even more obvious, if it be possible, does the radical character -of this distinction become, on observing that from the simplest -proposition of General Mechanics we may pass to the most complex -proposition of Celestial Mechanics, without a break. We take a body -moving at a uniform velocity, and commence with the proposition that -it will continue so to move for ever. Next, we state the law of its -accelerated motion in the same line, when subject to a uniform force. -We further complicate the proposition by supposing the force to -increase in consequence of approach towards an attracting body; and we -may formulate a series of laws of acceleration, resulting from so many -assumed laws of increasing attraction (of which the law of gravitation -is one). Another factor may now be added by supposing the body to have -motion in a direction other than that of the attracting body; and we -may determine, according to the ratios of the supposed forces, whether -its course will be hyperbolic, parabolic, elliptical, or circular—we -may begin with this hypothetical additional force as infinitesimal, and -formulate the varying results as it is little by little increased. The -problem is complicated a degree more by taking into account the effects -of a third force, acting in some other direction; and beginning with an -infinitesimal amount of this force we may reach any amount. Similarly, -by introducing factor after factor, {117} each at first insensible in -proportion to the rest, we arrive, through an infinity of gradations, -at a combination of any complexity. - -Thus, then, the Science which deals with the inter-action of -hypothetical bodies in space, is _absolutely continuous_ with General -Mechanics. We have already seen that it is _absolutely discontinuous_ -with that account of the heavenly bodies which has been called -Astronomy from the beginning. When these facts are recognized, it seems -to me that there cannot remain a doubt respecting its true place in a -classification of the Sciences. - - -ENDNOTES TO _THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES_. - -[2] I have been charged with misrepresenting Kant and misunderstanding -him, because I have used the expression “forms of Thought” instead of -“forms of Intuition.” Elsewhere I have shown that my argument against -him remains equally valid when the phrase “forms of Intuition” is used. -Here I may in the first place add that I did but follow some Kantists -in saying “forms of Thought,” and I may add in the second place that -the objection is superficial and quite irrelevant to the issue. Thought -when broadly used as antithetical to Things includes Intuition: it -comprehends in this sense all that is subjective as distinguished from -all that is objective, and in so doing comprehends Intuition. Nor is -this all. There cannot be Intuition without Thought: every act of -intuition implies an act of classing without which the thing intuited -is not known as such or such; and every act of classing is an act of -thought. - -[3] Some propositions laid down by M. Littré, in his book—_Auguste -Comte et la Philosophie Positive_ (published in 1863), may fitly be -dealt with here. In the candid and courteous reply he makes to my -strictures on the Comtean classification in “The Genesis of Science,” -he endeavours to clear up some of the inconsistencies I pointed out; -and he does this by drawing a distinction between objective generality -and subjective generality. He says—“qu’il existe deux ordres de -généralité, l’une objective et dans les choses, l’autre subjective, -abstraite et dans l’esprit.” This sentence, in which M. Littré makes -subjective generality synonymous with abstractness, led me at first -to conclude that he had in view the same distinction as that which -I have above explained between generality and abstractness. On -re-reading the paragraph, however, I found this was not the case. In -a previous sentence he says—“La biologie a passé de la considération -des organes à celles des tissus, plus généraux que les organes, et -de la considération des tissus à celle des éléments anatomiques, -plus généraux que les tissus. Mais cette généralité croissante est -subjective non objective, abstraite non concrète.” Here it is manifest -that abstract and concrete, are used in senses analogous to those in -which they are used by M. Comte; who, as we have seen, regards general -physiology as abstract and zoology and botany as concrete. And it is -further manifest that the word abstract, as thus used, is not used -in its proper sense. For, as above shown, no such facts as those of -anatomical structure can be abstract facts; but can only be more or -less general facts. Nor do I understand M. Littré’s point of view -when he regards these more general facts of anatomical structure, as -_subjectively_ general and not _objectively_ general. The structural -phenomena presented by any tissue, such as mucous membrane, are more -general than the phenomena presented by any of the organs which mucous -membrane goes to form, simply in the sense that the phenomena peculiar -to the membrane are repeated in a greater number of instances than -the phenomena peculiar to any organ into the composition of which the -membrane enters. And, similarly, such facts as have been established -respecting the anatomical elements of tissues, are more general than -the facts established respecting any particular tissue, in the sense -that they are facts which the various parts of organized bodies exhibit -in a greater number of cases—they are _objectively_ more general; and -they can be called _subjectively_ more general only in the sense that -the conception corresponds with the phenomena. - -Let me endeavour to clear up this point:—There is, as M. Littré -truly says, a decreasing generality that is objective. If we omit -the phenomena of Dissolution, which are changes from the special to -the general, all changes which matter undergoes are from the general -to the special—are changes involving a decreasing generality in the -united groups of attributes. This is the progress of _things_. The -progress of _thought_, is not only in the same direction, but also -in the opposite direction. The investigation of Nature discloses an -increasing number of specialities; but it simultaneously discloses more -and more the generalities within which these specialities fall. Take a -case. Zoology, while it goes on multiplying the number of its species, -and getting a more complete knowledge of each species (decreasing -generality); also goes on discovering the common characters by which -species are united into larger groups (increasing generality). Both -these are subjective processes; and in this case, both orders of truth -reached are concrete—formulate the phenomena as actually manifested. -The truth that mammals of all kinds have seven cervical vertebræ (I -believe there is one exception) is a generalization—a general relation -in thought answering to a general relation in things. As the existence -of seven cervical vertebræ in each mammal is a concrete fact, the -statement of it is a concrete truth, and the statement colligating such -truths is not made other than concrete by holding of case after case. - -M. Littré, recognizing the necessity for some modification of the -hierarchy of the Sciences, as enunciated by M. Comte, still regards it -as substantially true; and for proof of its validity, he appeals mainly -to the essential _constitutions_ of the Sciences. It is unnecessary -for me here to meet, in detail, the arguments by which he supports -the proposition, that the essential constitutions of the Sciences, -justify the order in which M. Comte places them. It will suffice to -refer to the foregoing pages, and to the pages which are to follow, as -containing the definitions of those fundamental characteristics which -demand the grouping of the Sciences in the way I have pointed out. As -already shown, and as will be shown still more clearly by and bye, the -radical differences of constitution among the Sciences, necessitate the -colligation of them into the three classes—Abstract, Abstract-Concrete, -and Concrete. How irreconcilable is M. Comte’s classification with -these groups, will be at once apparent on inspection. It stands thus:― - - Mathematics - (including rational Mechanics), partly Abstract, partly - Abstract-Concrete. - Astronomy Concrete. - Physics Abstract-Concrete. - Chemistry Abstract-Concrete. - Biology Concrete. - Sociology Concrete. - -[4] This definition includes the laws of relations called necessary, -but not those of relations called contingent. These last, in which the -probability of an inferred connexion varies with the number of times -such connexion has occurred in experience, are rightly dealt with -mathematically. - -[5] Here, by way of explanation of the term negatively-quantitative, -it will suffice to instance the proposition that certain three lines -will meet in a point, as a negatively-quantitative proposition; -since it asserts the absence of any quantity of space between their -intersections. Similarly, the assertion that certain three points will -always fall in a straight line, is negatively-quantitative; since the -conception of a straight line implies the negation of any lateral -quantity, or deviation. - -[6] Lest the meaning of this division should not be understood, it may -be well to name, in illustration, the estimates of the statistician. -Calculations respecting population, crime, disease, etc., have -results which are correct only numerically, and not in respect of the -totalities of being or action represented by the numbers. - -[7] Perhaps it will be asked—how can there be a Geometry of Motion into -which the conception of Force does not enter? The reply is, that the -time-relations and space-relations of Motion may be considered apart -from those of Force, in the same way that the space-relations of Matter -may be considered apart from Matter. - -[8] I am indebted to Prof. Frankland for reminding me of an objection -that may be made to this statement. The production of new compounds -by synthesis, has of late become an important branch of chemistry. -According to certain known laws of composition, complex substances, -which never before existed, are formed, and fulfil anticipations both -as to their general properties and as to the proportions of their -constituents—as proved by analysis. Here it may be said with truth, -that analysis is used to verify synthesis. Nevertheless, the exception -to the above statement is apparent only,—not real. In so far as the -production of new compounds is carried on merely for the obtainment -of such new compounds, it is not Science but Art—the application of -pre-established knowledge to the achievement of ends. The proceeding -is a part of Science, only in so far as it is a means to the better -interpretation of the order of Nature. And how does it aid the -interpretation? It does it only by verifying the pre-established -conclusions respecting the laws of molecular combination; or by serving -further to explain them. That is to say, these syntheses, considered -on their scientific side, have simply the purpose of _forwarding the -analysis of the laws of chemical combination_. - -[9] This must not be supposed to mean chemically-produced forces. The -molecular motion here referred to as dissipated in radiations, is the -equivalent of that sensible motion lost during the integration of the -mass of molecules, consequent on their mutual gravitation. - -[10] Embracing the interpretation of such phenomena as the solar spots, -the faculæ and the coronal flames. - -[11] Want of space prevents anything beyond the briefest indication of -these subdivisions. - -[12] Perhaps some will say that such incidental phenomena as those of -the heat and light evolved during chemical changes, are to be included -among chemical phenomena. I think, however, the physicist will hold -that all phenomena of re-distributed molecular motion, no matter how -arising, come within the range of Physics. But whatever difficulty -there may be in drawing the line between Physics and Chemistry (and, -as I have incidentally pointed out in _The Principles of Psychology_, -§ 55, the two are closely linked by the phenomena of allotropy and -isomerism), applies equally to the Comtean classification, or to any -other. And I may further point out that no obstacle hence arises to the -classification I am defending. Physics and Chemistry being both grouped -by me as Abstract-Concrete Sciences, no difficulty in satisfactorily -dividing them in the least affects the satisfactoriness of the division -of the great group to which they both belong, from the other two great -groups. - -[13] It may be said that the mingling of problems and theorems in -Euclid is not quite consistent with this statement; and it is true that -we have, in this mingling, a trace of the earlier form of the science. -But it is to be remarked that these problems are all purely abstract, -and, further, that each of them admits of being expressed as a theorem. - - - - -{118} - -REASONS FOR DISSENTING FROM THE PHILOSOPHY OF M. COMTE. - - -[_Originally published in April 1864 as an appendix to the foregoing -essay._] - -While the preceding pages were passing through the press, there -appeared in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ for February 15th, 1864, an -article on a late work of mine—_First Principles_. To M. Auguste -Laugel, the writer of the article, I am much indebted for the careful -exposition he has made of some of the leading views set forth in that -work; and for the catholic and sympathetic spirit in which he has dealt -with them. In one respect, however, M. Laugel conveys to his readers -an erroneous impression—an impression doubtless derived from what -appears to him adequate evidence, and doubtless expressed in perfect -sincerity. M. Laugel describes me as being, in part, a follower of -M. Comte. After describing the influence of M. Comte as traceable in -the works of some other English writers, naming especially Mr. Mill -and Mr. Buckle, he goes on to say that this influence, though not -avowed, is easily recognizable in the work he is about to make known; -and in several places throughout his review, there are remarks having -the same implication. I greatly regret having to take exception to -anything said by a critic so candid and so able. But the _Revue des -Deux Mondes_ {119} circulates widely in England, as well as elsewhere; -and finding that there exists in some minds, both here and in America, -an impression similar to that entertained by M. Laugel—an impression -likely to be confirmed by his statement—it appears to me needful to -meet it. - -Two causes of quite different kinds, have conspired to diffuse the -erroneous belief that M. Comte is an accepted exponent of scientific -opinion. His bitterest foes and his closest friends, have unconsciously -joined in propagating it. On the one hand, M. Comte having designated -by the term “Positive Philosophy” all that definitely-established -knowledge which men of science have been gradually organizing into -a coherent body of doctrine; and having habitually placed this in -opposition to the incoherent body of doctrine defended by theologians; -it has become the habit of the theological party to think of the -antagonist scientific party, under the title of “positivists.” And -thus, from the habit of calling them “positivists,” there has grown -up the assumption that they call themselves “positivists,” and that -they are disciples of M. Comte. On the other hand, those who have -accepted M. Comte’s system, and believe it to be the philosophy of the -future, have naturally been prone to see everywhere the signs of its -progress; and wherever they have found opinions in harmony with it, -have ascribed these opinions to the influence of its originator. It -is always the tendency of discipleship to magnify the effects of the -master’s teachings; and to credit the master with all the doctrines he -teaches. In the minds of his followers, M. Comte’s name is associated -with scientific thinking, which, in many cases, they first understood -from his exposition of it. Influenced as they inevitably are by this -association of ideas, they are reminded of M. Comte wherever they meet -with thinking which corresponds, in some marked way, to M. Comte’s -description of scientific thinking; and hence are apt to imagine him -as introducing into other minds, the {120} conceptions which he -introduced into their minds. Such impressions are, however, in most -cases quite unwarranted. That M. Comte has given a general exposition -of the doctrine and method elaborated by Science, is true. But it -is not true that the holders of this doctrine and followers of this -method, are disciples of M. Comte. Neither their modes of inquiry -nor their views concerning human knowledge in its nature and limits, -are appreciably different from what they were before. If they are -“positivists,” it is in the sense that all men of science have been -more or less consistently “positivists;” and the applicability of M. -Comte’s title to them, no more makes them his disciples, than does its -applicability to men of science who lived and died before M. Comte -wrote, make these his disciples. M. Comte himself by no means claims -that which some of his adherents are apt, by implication, to claim -for him. He says:—“Il y a, sans doute, beaucoup d’analogie entre ma -_philosophie positive_ et ce que les savans anglais entendent, depuis -Newton surtout, par _philosophie naturelle_;” (see _Avertissement_) and -further on he indicates the “grand mouvement imprimé à l’esprit humain, -il y a deux siècles, par l’action combinée des préceptes de Bacon, -des conceptions de Descartes, et des découvertes de Galilée, comme le -moment où l’esprit de la philosophie positive a commencé à se prononcer -dans le monde.” That is to say, the general mode of thought and way of -interpreting phenomena, which M. Comte calls “Positive Philosophy,” he -recognizes as having been growing for two centuries; as having reached, -when he wrote, a marked development; and as being the heritage of all -men of science. - -That which M. Comte proposed to do, was to give scientific thought -and method a more definite embodiment and organization; and to apply -it to the interpretation of classes of phenomena not previously dealt -with in a scientific manner. The conception was a great one; and the -endeavour to work it out was worthy of sympathy and {121} applause. -Some such conception was entertained by Bacon. He, too, aimed at the -organization of the sciences; he, too, held that “Physics is the mother -of all the sciences;” he, too, held that the sciences can be advanced -only by combining them, and saw the nature of the required combination; -he, too, held that moral and civil philosophy could not flourish when -separated from their roots in natural philosophy; and thus he, too, -had some idea of a social science growing out of physical science. -But the state of knowledge in his day prevented any advance beyond -the general conception: indeed, it was marvellous that he should have -advanced so far. Instead of a vague, undefined conception, M. Comte has -presented the world with a defined and highly-elaborated conception. -In working out this conception he has shown remarkable breadth of -view, great originality, immense fertility of thought, unusual powers -of generalization. Considered apart from the question of its truth, -his system of Positive Philosophy is a vast achievement. But after -according to M. Comte high admiration for his conception, for his -effort to realize it, and for the faculty he has shown in the effort to -realize it, there remains the inquiry—Has he succeeded? A thinker who -re-organizes the scientific method and knowledge of his age, and whose -re-organization is accepted by his successors, may rightly be said -to have such successors for his disciples. But successors who accept -this method and knowledge of his age, _minus_ his re-organization, -are certainly not his disciples. How then stands the case with M. -Comte? There are some few who receive his doctrines with but little -reservation; and these are his disciples truly so called. There are -others who regard with approval certain of his leading doctrines, -but not the rest: these we may distinguish as partial adherents. -There are others who reject all his distinctive doctrines; and these -must be classed as his antagonists. The members of this class stand -substantially in the same position as they would {122} have done had -he not written. Declining his re-organization of scientific doctrine, -they possess this scientific doctrine in its pre-existing state, as -the common heritage bequeathed by the past to the present; and their -adhesion to this scientific doctrine in no sense implicates them with -M. Comte. In this class stand the great body of men of science. And in -this class I stand myself. - - * * * * * - -Coming thus to the personal part of the question, let me first specify -those great general principles on which M. Comte is at one with -preceding thinkers; and on which I am at one with M. Comte. - -All knowledge is from experience, holds M. Comte; and this I also -hold—hold it, indeed, in a wider sense than M. Comte; since, not -only do I believe that all the ideas acquired by individuals, and -consequently all the ideas transmitted by past generations, are thus -derived; but I also contend that the very faculties by which they are -acquired, are the products of accumulated and organized experiences -received by ancestral races of beings (see _Principles of Psychology_). -But the doctrine that all knowledge is from experience, is not -originated by M. Comte; nor is it claimed by him. He himself says—“Tous -les bons esprits répètent, depuis Bacon, qu’il n’y a de connaissances -réelles que celles qui reposent sur des faits observés.” And the -elaboration and definite establishment of this doctrine, has been the -special characteristic of the English school of Psychology. Nor am I -aware that M. Comte, accepting this doctrine, has done anything to -make it more certain, or give it greater definiteness. Indeed it was -impossible for him to do so; since he repudiates that part of mental -science by which alone this doctrine can be proved. - -It is a further belief of M. Comte, that all knowledge is phenomenal -or relative; and in this belief I entirely agree. But no one alleges -that the relativity of all knowledge was first enunciated by M. Comte. -Among others who have {123} more or less consistently held this truth, -Sir William Hamilton enumerates, Protagoras, Aristotle, St. Augustin, -Boethius, Averroes, Albertus Magnus, Gerson, Leo Hebræus, Melancthon, -Scaliger, Francis Piccolomini, Giordano Bruno, Campanella, Bacon, -Spinoza, Newton, Kant. And Sir William Hamilton, in his “Philosophy of -the Unconditioned,” first published in 1829, has given a scientific -demonstration of this belief. Receiving it in common with other -thinkers, from preceding thinkers, M. Comte has not, to my knowledge, -advanced this belief. Nor indeed could he advance it, for the reason -already given—he denies the possibility of that analysis of thought -which discloses the relativity of all cognition. - -M. Comte reprobates the interpretation of different classes of -phenomena by assigning metaphysical entities as their causes; and I -coincide in the opinion that the assumption of such separate entities, -though convenient, if not indeed necessary, for purposes of thought, -is, scientifically considered, illegitimate. This opinion is, in fact, -a corollary from the last; and must stand or fall with it. But like the -last it has been held with more or less consistency for generations. M. -Comte himself quotes Newton’s favorite saying—“O! Physics, beware of -Metaphysics!” Neither to this doctrine, any more than to the preceding -doctrines, has M. Comte given a firmer basis. He has simply reasserted -it; and it was out of the question for him to do more. In this case, as -in the others, his denial of subjective psychology debarred him from -proving that these metaphysical entities are mere symbolic conceptions -which do not admit of verification. - -Lastly, M. Comte believes in invariable natural laws—absolute -uniformities of relation among phenomena. But very many before him -have believed in them too. Long familiar even beyond the bounds of the -scientific world, the proposition that there is an unchanging order in -things, has, within the scientific world, held, for generations, the -{124} position of an established postulate: by some men of science -recognized only as holding of inorganic phenomena; but recognized -by other men of science, as universal. And M. Comte, accepting this -doctrine from the past, has left it substantially as it was. Though -he has asserted new uniformities, I do not think scientific men will -admit that he has so demonstrated them, as to make the induction -more certain; nor has he deductively established the doctrine, by -showing that uniformity of relation is a necessary corollary from the -persistence of force, as may readily be shown. - -These, then, are the pre-established general truths with which M. -Comte sets out—truths which cannot be regarded as distinctive of his -philosophy. “But why,” it will perhaps be asked, “is it needful to -point out this; seeing that no instructed reader supposes these truths -to be peculiar to M. Comte?” I reply that though no disciple of M. -Comte would deliberately claim them for him; and though no theological -antagonist at all familiar with science and philosophy, supposes M. -Comte to be the first propounder of them; yet there is so strong a -tendency to associate any doctrines with the name of a conspicuous -recent exponent of them, that false impressions are produced, even in -spite of better knowledge. Of the need for making this reclamation, -definite proof is at hand. In the No. of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ -named at the commencement, may be found, on p. 936, the words—“Toute -religion, comme toute philosophie, a la prétention de donner une -explication de l’univers. La philosophie qui s’appelle _positive_ se -distingue de toutes les philosophies et de toutes les religions en -ce qu’elle a renoncé à cette ambition de l’esprit humain;” and the -remainder of the paragraph is devoted to explaining the doctrine of the -relativity of knowledge. The next paragraph begins—“Tout imbu de ces -idées, que nous exposons sans les discuter pour le moment, M. Spencer -divise, etc.” Now this is one of those collocations of ideas {125} -which tends to create, or to strengthen, the erroneous impression I -would dissipate. I do not for a moment suppose that M. Laugel intended -to say that these ideas which he describes as ideas of the “Positive -Philosophy,” are peculiarly the ideas of M. Comte. But little as he -probably intended it, his expressions suggest this conception. In the -minds of both disciples and antagonists, “the Positive Philosophy” -means the philosophy of M. Comte; and to be imbued with the ideas -of “the Positive Philosophy” means to be imbued with the ideas of -M. Comte—to have received these ideas from M. Comte. After what has -been said above, I need scarcely repeat that the conception thus -inadvertently suggested, is a wrong one. M. Comte’s brief enunciations -of these general truths, gave me no clearer apprehensions of them than -I had before. Such clarifications of ideas on these ultimate questions, -as I can trace to any particular teacher, I owe to Sir William Hamilton. - - * * * * * - -From the principles which M. Comte held in common with many preceding -and contemporary thinkers, let us pass now to the principles that are -distinctive of his system. Just as entirely as I agree with M. Comte -on those cardinal doctrines which we jointly inherit; so entirely do I -disagree with him on those cardinal doctrines which he propounds, and -which determine the organization of his philosophy. The best way of -showing this will be to compare, side by side, the― - - _Propositions held by M. Comte._ _Propositions which I hold._ - - “. . . chacune de nos conceptions The progress of our conceptions, - principales, chaque branche and of each branch of knowledge, - de nos connaissances, passe is from beginning to end - successivement par trois états intrinsically alike. There are not - théoriques différens: l’état three methods of philosophizing - théologique, ou fictif; l’état radically opposed; but one method - métaphysique, ou abstrait; of philosophizing which remains, - l’état scientifique, ou positif. in essence, the same. At first, - En d’autres termes, l’esprit and to the last, the conceived - humain, par sa nature, emploie causal agencies of phenomena, - successivement dans chacune de have a degree of generality - ses recherches trois méthodes de corresponding {126} to the width - philosopher, dont le caractère of the generalizations which - est essentiellement différent et experiences have determined; and - même radicalement opposé: d’abord they change just as gradually - la méthode théologique, ensuite as experiences accumulate. The - la méthode métaphysique, et enfin integration of causal agencies, - la méthode positive.” _Cours de_ originally thought of as - _Philosophie Positive_, 1830, Vol. multitudinous and local, but - i. p. 3. finally believed to be one and - universal, is a process which - involves the passing through all - intermediate steps between these - extremes; and any appearance of - stages can be but superficial. - Supposed concrete and individual - causal agencies, coalesce in - the mind as fast as groups of - phenomena are assimilated, or seen - to be similarly caused. Along - with their coalescence, comes - a greater extension of their - individualities, and a concomitant - loss of distinctness in their - individualities. Gradually, by - continuance of such coalescences, - causal agencies become, in - thought, diffused and indefinite. - And eventually, without any change - in the nature of the process, - there is reached the consciousness - of a universal causal agency, - which cannot be conceived.[14] - - “Le système théologique est As the progress of thought is - parvenu à la plus haute perfection one, so is the end one. There - dont il soit susceptible, are not three possible terminal - quand il a substitué l’action conceptions; but only a single - providentielle d’un être unique au terminal conception. When - jeu varié des nombreuses divinités the theological idea of the - indépendantes qui avaient été providential action of one being, - imaginées primitivement. De même, is developed to its ultimate - le dernier terme du système form, by the absorption of all - metaphysique consiste à concevoir, independent secondary agencies, - au lieu des différentes entités it becomes the conception of a - particulières, une seule grande being immanent in all phenomena; - entité générale, la _nature_, and the reduction of it to - envisagée comme la source this {127} state, implies the - unique de tous les phénomènes. fading-away, in thought, of all - Pareillement, la perfection du those anthropomorphic attributes - système positif, vers laquelle by which the aboriginal idea - il tend sans cesse, quoiqu’il was distinguished. The alleged - soit très-probable qu’il ne doive last term of the metaphysical - jamais l’atteindre, serait de system—the conception of a - pouvoir se représenter tous les single great general entity, - divers phénomènes observables _nature_, as the source of all - comme des cas particuliers d’un phenomena—is a conception - seul fait général, tel que celui identical with the previous one: - de la gravitation, par exemple.” the consciousness of a single - p. 5. source which, in coming to be - regarded as universal, ceases - to be regarded as conceivable, - differs in nothing but name from - the consciousness of one being, - manifested in all phenomena. And - similarly, that which is described - as the ideal state of science—the - power to represent all observable - phenomena as particular cases - of a single general fact, - implies the postulating of some - ultimate existence of which this - single fact is alleged; and the - postulating of this ultimate - existence, involves a state of - consciousness indistinguishable - from the other two. - - “. . . la perfection du système Though along with the extension - positif, vers laquelle il tend of generalizations, and - sans cesse, quoiqu’il soit concomitant integration of - très-probable, qu’il ne doive conceived causal agencies, the - jamais l’atteindre, serait de conceptions of causal agencies - pouvoir se représenter tous les grow more indefinite; and though - divers phénomènes observables as they gradually coalesce into - comme des cas particuliers d’un a universal causal agency, - seul fait general, p. 5. . . . . . they cease to be representable - considérant comme absolument in thought, and are no longer - inaccessible, et vide de sens supposed to be comprehensible; - pour nous la recherche de ce yet the consciousness of _cause_ - qu’on appelle les _causes_, soit remains as dominant to the last - premières, soit finales.” p. 14. as it was at first; and can never - be got rid of. The consciousness - of cause can be abolished only - by abolishing consciousness - itself.[15] (_First Principles_, § - 26.) {128} - - “Ce n’est pas aux lecteurs de cet Ideas do not govern and - ouvrage que je croirai jamais overthrow the world: the world - devoir prouver que les idées is governed or overthrown by - gouvernent et bouleversent le feelings, to which ideas serve - monde, ou, en d’autres termes, que only as guides. The social - tout le mécanisme social repose mechanism does not rest finally - finalement sur des opinions. Ils on opinions; but almost wholly - savent surtout que la grande on character. Not intellectual - crise politique et morale des anarchy, but moral antagonism, is - sociétés actuelles tient, en the cause of political crises. - dernière analyse, à l’anarchie All social phenomena are produced - intellectuelle.” p. 48.[16] by the totality of human emotions - and beliefs; of which the emotions - are mainly pre-determined, - while the beliefs are mainly - post-determined. Men’s desires - are chiefly inherited; but their - beliefs are chiefly acquired, - and depend on surrounding - conditions; and the most important - surrounding conditions depend - on the social state which the - prevalent desires have produced. - The social state at any time - existing, is the resultant of all - the ambitions, self-interests, - fears, reverences, indignations, - sympathies, etc., of ancestral - citizens and existing citizens. - The ideas current in this social - state, must, on the average, be - congruous with the feelings of - citizens; and therefore, on the - average, with the social state - these feelings have produced. - Ideas wholly foreign to this - social state {129} cannot be - evolved, and if introduced from - without, cannot get accepted—or, - if accepted, die out when the - temporary phase of feeling which - caused their acceptance, ends. - Hence, though advanced ideas when - once established, act on society - and aid its further advance; - yet the establishment of such - ideas depends on the fitness of - the society for receiving them. - Practically, the popular character - and the social state, determine - what ideas shall be current; - instead of the current ideas - determining the social state and - the character. The modification - of men’s moral natures, caused - by the continuous discipline of - social life, which adapts them - more and more to social relations, - is therefore the chief proximate - cause of social progress. (_Social_ - _Statics_, chap. xxx.) - - “. . . je ne dois pas négliger The order in which the - d’indiquer d’avance, comme une generalizations of science are - propriété essentielle de l’échelle established, is determined by - encyclopédique que je vais the frequency and impressiveness - proposer, sa conformité générale with which different classes - avec l’ensemble de l’histoire of relations are repeated in - scientifique; en ce sens, que, conscious experience; and this - malgré la simultanéité réelle et depends, partly on _the directness_ - continue du développement des _with which personal welfare_ - différentes sciences, celles qui _is affected_; partly on _the_ - seront classées comme antérieures _conspicuousness of one or both the_ - seront, en effet, plus anciennes _phenomena between which a relation_ - et constamment plus avancées _is to be perceived_; partly on - que celles présentées comme _the absolute frequency with which_ - postérieures.” p. 84. . . _the relations occur_; partly on - . . . . . . “Cet ordre est their _relative frequency of_ - déterminé par le degré de _occurrence_; partly on their - simplicité, ou, ce qui revient au _degree of simplicity_; and partly - même, par le degré de généralité on their _degree of abstractness_. - des phénomènes.” p. 87. (_First Principles_, 1st ed., § - 36; or otherwise see “_Essay on_ - _Laws in General and the Order of_ - _their Discovery_.”) - - “En résultat définitif, la The sciences as arranged in this - mathématique, l’astronomie, succession specified by M. Comte, - la physique, la chimie, la _do not_ logically conform to the - physiologie, et la physique natural and invariable hierarchy - sociale; telle est la formule of phenomena; and {130} there - encyclopédique qui, parmi is no serial order whatever in - le très-grand nombre de which they can be placed, which - classifications que comportent les represents either their logical - six sciences fondamentales, est dependence or the dependence - seule logiquement conforme à la of phenomena. (See _Genesis of - hiérarchie naturelle et invariable Science_, and foregoing Essay.) - des phénomènes.”[17] p. 115. - - “On conçoit, en effet, que l’étude The historical development of - rationelle de chaque science the sciences _has not_ taken - fondamentale exigeant la culture place in this serial order; nor - préalable de toutes celles qui la in any other serial order. There - précèdent dans notre hiérarchie is no “true _filiation_ of the - encyclopédique, n’a pu faire de sciences.” From the beginning, - progrès réels et prendre son the abstract sciences, the - véritable caractère, qu’ après un abstract-concrete sciences, and - grand développement des sciences the concrete sciences, have - antérieures relatives à des progressed together: the first - phénomènes plus généraux, plus solving problems which the second - abstraits, moins compliqués, et and third presented, and growing - indépendans des autres. C’est done only by the solution of the - dans cet ordre que la progression, problems; and the second similarly - quoique simultanée, a dû avoir growing by joining the first - lieu.” p. 100. in solving the problems of the - third. All along there has been - a continuous action and reaction - between the three great classes - of sciences—an advance from - concrete facts to abstract facts, - and then an application of such - abstract facts to the analysis of - new orders of concrete facts. (See - _Genesis of Science_.) - -Such then are the organizing principles of M. Comte’s philosophy and -my reasons for rejecting them. Leaving out of his “_Exposition_” those -pre-established general {131} doctrines which are the common property -of modern thinkers; these are the general doctrines which remain—these -are the doctrines which fundamentally distinguish his system. From -every one of them I dissent. To each proposition I oppose either a -widely-different proposition, or a direct negation; and I not only -do it now, but have done it from the time when I became acquainted -with his writings. The rejection of his cardinal principles should, I -think, alone suffice; but there are sundry other views of his, some of -them largely characterizing his system, which I equally reject. Let us -glance at them. - - How organic beings have This inquiry, I believe, admits - originated, is an inquiry which of answer, and will be answered. - M. Comte deprecates as a useless That division of Biology which - speculation: asserting, as he concerns itself with the origin of - does, that species are immutable. species, I hold to be the supreme - division, to which all others are - subsidiary. For on the verdict - of Biology on this matter, must - wholly depend our conception of - human nature, past, present, and - future; our theory of the mind; - and our theory of society. - - M. Comte contends that of what is I have very emphatically expressed - commonly known as mental science, my belief in a subjective science - all that most important part of the mind, by writing a - which consists of the subjective _Principles of Psychology_, one - analysis of our ideas, is an half of which is subjective. - impossibility. - - M. Comte’s ideal of society That form of society towards which - is one in which _government_ we is are progressing, I hold - developed to the greatest to be one in which _government_ - extent—in which class-functions will be reduced to the smallest - are far more under conscious amount possible, and _freedom_ - public regulation than now—in increased to the greatest amount - which hierarchical organization possible—one in which human - with unquestioned authority nature will have become so moulded - shall guide everything—in which by social discipline into fitness - the individual life shall be for the social state, that it will - subordinated in the greatest need little external restraint, - degree to the social life. but will be self-restrained—one - in which the citizen will tolerate - no interference with his freedom, - save that which maintains the - equal freedom of others—one in - which the spontaneous {132} - co-operation which has developed - our industrial system, and is now - developing it with increasing - rapidity, will produce agencies - for the discharge of nearly all - social functions, and will leave - to the primary governmental agency - nothing beyond the function of - maintaining those conditions - to free action, which make - such spontaneous co-operation - possible—one in which individual - life will thus be pushed to the - greatest extent consistent with - social life; and in which social - life will have no other end than - to maintain the completest sphere - for individual life. - - M. Comte, not including in his I conceive, on the other hand, - philosophy the consciousness of that the object of religious - a cause manifested to us in all sentiment will ever continue - phenomena, and yet holding that to be, that which it has ever - there must be a religion, which been—the unknown source of - must have an object, takes for his things. While the _forms_ under - object—Humanity. “This Collective which men are conscious of the - Life (of Society) is in Comte’s unknown source of things, may - system the _Être Suprême_; the fade away, the _substance_ of - only one we can _know_ therefore the consciousness is permanent. - the only one we can worship.” Beginning with causal agents - conceived as imperfectly known; - progressing to causal agents - conceived as less known and less - knowable; and coming at last to - a universal causal agent posited - as not to be known at all; the - religious sentiment must ever - continue to occupy itself with - this universal causal agent. - Having in the course of evolution - come to have for its object - of contemplation the Infinite - Unknowable, the religious - sentiment can never again (unless - by retrogression) take a Finite - Knowable, like Humanity, for its - object of contemplation. - -Here, then, are sundry other points, all of them important, and the -last two supremely important, on which I am diametrically opposed to -M. Comte; and did space permit, I could add many others. Radically -differing from him as I thus do, in everything distinctive of his -philosophy; and having invariably expressed my dissent, {133} publicly -and privately, from the time I became acquainted with his writings; -it may be imagined that I have been not a little startled to find -myself classed as one of the same school. That any who are acquainted -with my writings, should suppose I have any general sympathy with M. -Comte, save that implied by preferring proved facts to superstitions, -astonishes me. - -It is true that, disagreeing with M. Comte, though I do, in all those -fundamental views that are peculiar to him, I agree with him in -sundry minor views. The doctrine that the education of the individual -should accord in mode and arrangement with the education of mankind, -considered historically, I have cited from him; and have endeavoured to -enforce it. I entirely concur in his opinion that there requires a new -order of scientific men, whose function shall be that of co-ordinating -the results arrived at by the rest. To him, I believe, I am indebted -for the conception of a social _consensus_; and when the time comes for -dealing with this conception, I shall state my indebtedness. And I also -adopt his word, Sociology. There are, I believe, in the part of his -writings which I have read, various incidental thoughts of great depth -and value; and I doubt not that were I to read more of his writings, I -should find others.[18] It is very probable, too, that I have said (as -I am told I have) some things which M. Comte had already said. It would -be difficult, I believe, to find two men who had no opinions in common. -And it would be extremely strange if two men, starting from the same -general doctrines established by modern science, should traverse some -of the same fields of inquiry, without their lines of thought having -any points of intersection. But {134} none of these minor agreements -can be of much weight in comparison with the fundamental disagreements -above specified. Leaving out of view that general community which we -both have with the scientific thought of the age, the differences -between us are essential, while the correspondences are non-essential. -And I venture to think that kinship must be determined by essentials, -and not by non-essentials.[19] - - * * * * * - -Joined with the ambiguous use of the phrase “Positive Philosophy,” -which has led to a classing with M. Comte of many men who either ignore -or reject his distinctive principles, there has been one special -circumstance that has tended to originate and maintain this classing in -my own case. The assumption of some relationship between M. Comte and -myself, was unavoidably raised by the title of my first book—_Social -Statics_. When that book was published, I was unaware that this title -had been before used: had I known the fact, I should certainly have -adopted an alternative title which I had in view.[20] If, however, -instead of {135} the title, the work itself be considered, its -irrelation to the philosophy of M. Comte becomes abundantly manifest. -There is decisive testimony on this point. In the _North British -Review_ for August, 1851, a reviewer of _Social Statics_ says― - - “The title of this work, however, is a complete misnomer. According to - all analogy, the phrase “Social Statics” should be used only in some - such sense as that in which, as we have already explained, it is used - by Comte, namely as designating a branch of inquiry whose end it is to - ascertain the laws of social equilibrium or order, as distinct ideally - from those of social movement or progress. Of this Mr. Spencer does - not seem to have had the slightest notion, but to have chosen the name - for his work only as a means of indicating vaguely that it proposed to - treat of social concerns in a scientific manner.”—p. 321. - -Respecting M. Comte’s application of the words _statics_ and _dynamics_ -to social phenomena, now that I know what it is, I will only say -that while I perfectly understand how, by a defensible extension -of their mathematical meanings, the one may be used to indicate -social _functions in balance_, and the other social _functions out -of balance_, I am quite at a loss to understand how the phenomena of -_structure_ can be included in the one any more than in the other. But -the two things which here concern me, are, first, to point out that I -had not “the slightest notion” of giving Social Statics the meaning -which M. Comte gave it; and, second, to explain the meaning which I -did give it. The units of any aggregate of matter, are in equilibrium -when they severally act and re-act on one another on all sides with -equal forces. A state of change among them implies that there are -forces exercised by some that are not counterbalanced by like forces -exercised by others; and a state of rest implies the absence of such -uncounterbalanced {136} forces—implies, if the units are homogeneous, -equal distances among them—implies a maintenance of their respective -spheres of molecular motion. Similarly among the units of a society, -the fundamental condition to equilibrium, is, that the restraining -forces which the units exercise on each other, shall be balanced. If -the spheres of action of some units are diminished by extension of the -spheres of action of others, there necessarily results an unbalanced -force which tends to produce political change in the relations -of individuals; and the tendency to change can cease, only when -individuals cease to aggress on each other’s spheres of action—only -when there is maintained that law of equal freedom, which it was -the purpose of _Social Statics_ to enforce in all its consequences. -Besides this totally-unlike conception of what constitutes Social -Statics, the work to which I applied that title, is fundamentally at -variance with M. Comte’s teachings in almost everything. So far from -alleging, as M. Comte does, that society is to be re-organized by -philosophy; it alleges that society is to be re-organized only by the -accumulated effects of habit on character. Its aim is not the increase -of authoritative control over citizens, but the decrease of it. A more -pronounced individualism, instead of a more pronounced nationalism, is -its ideal. So profoundly is my political creed at variance with the -creed of M. Comte, that, unless I am misinformed, it has been instanced -by a leading English disciple of M. Comte as the creed to which he -has the greatest aversion. One point of coincidence, however, is -recognizable. The analogy between an individual organism and a social -organism, which was held by Plato and by Hobbes, is asserted in _Social -Statics,_ as it is in the _Sociology_ of M. Comte. Very rightly, M. -Comte has made this analogy the cardinal idea of this division of -his philosophy. In _Social Statics_, the aim of which is essentially -ethical, this analogy is pointed out incidentally, to enforce certain -ethical considerations; and is there obviously suggested partly by the -definition of life which {137} Coleridge derived from Schelling, and -partly by the generalizations of physiologists there referred to (chap. -xxx. §§. 12, 13, 16). Excepting this incidental agreement, however, -the contents of _Social Statics_ are so entirely antagonistic to the -philosophy of M. Comte, that, but for the title, the work would never, -I think, have raised the remembrance of him—unless, indeed, by the -association of opposites.[21] - -And now let me point out that which really _has_ exercised a profound -influence over my course of thought. The truth which Harvey’s -embryological inquiries first dimly indicated, which was afterwards -more clearly perceived by Wolff, and which was put into a definite -shape by Von Baer—the truth that all organic development is a change -from a state of homogeneity to a state of heterogeneity—this it is from -which very many of the conclusions which I now hold, have indirectly -resulted. In _Social Statics_, there is everywhere manifested a -dominant belief in the evolution of man and of society. There is also -manifested the belief that this evolution is in both cases determined -by the incidence of conditions—the actions of circumstances. And -there is further, in the sections already referred to, a recognition -of the fact that organic and social evolutions, conform to the same -law. Falling amid beliefs in evolutions of various orders, everywhere -determined by natural causes (beliefs {138} again displayed in the -_Theory of Population_ and in the _Principles of Psychology_); the -formula of Von Baer set up a process of organization. The extension -of it to other kinds of phenomena than those of individual and social -bodies, is traceable through successive stages. It may be seen in the -last paragraph of an essay on “The Philosophy of Style,” published in -October, 1852; again in an essay on “Manners and Fashion,” published -in April, 1854; and then, in a comparatively advanced form, in an -essay on “Progress: its Law and Cause,” published in April, 1857. -Afterwards, there came the recognition of the need for modifying Von -Baer’s formula by including the trait of increasing definiteness; next -the inquiry into those general laws of force from which this universal -transformation necessarily results; next the deduction of these from -the ultimate law of the persistence of force; next the perception that -there is everywhere a process of Dissolution complementary to that of -Evolution; and, finally, the determination of the conditions (specified -in the foregoing essay) under which Evolution and Dissolution -respectively occur. The filiation of these results is, I think, -tolerably manifest. The process has been one of continuous development, -set up by the addition of Von Baer’s law to a number of ideas that were -in harmony with it. And I am not conscious of any other influences by -which the process has been affected. - -It is possible, however, that there may have been influences of which -I am not conscious; and my opposition to M. Comte’s system may have -been one of them. The presentation of antagonistic thoughts, often -produces greater definiteness and development of one’s own thoughts. It -is probable that the doctrines set forth in the essay on “The Genesis -of Science,” might never have been reached, had not my dissent from M. -Comte’s conception, led me to work them out; and but for this, I might -not have arrived at the classification of the sciences exhibited in the -foregoing essay. Possibly there are other cases in which the stimulus -of {139} repugnance to M. Comte’s views, may have aided in elaborating -my own views; though I cannot call to mind any other cases. - -Let it by no means be supposed from all I have said, that I do not -regard M. Comte’s speculations as of value. True or untrue, his system -as a whole, has doubtless produced important and salutary revolutions -of thought in many minds; and will doubtless do so in many more. -Doubtless, too, not a few of those who dissent from his general -views, have been healthfully stimulated by consideration of them. The -presentation of scientific knowledge and method as a whole, whether -rightly or wrongly co-ordinated, cannot have failed greatly to widen -the conceptions of most of his readers. And he has done especial -service by familiarizing men with the idea of a social science, based -on the other sciences. Beyond which benefits resulting from the general -character and scope of his philosophy, I believe that there are -scattered through his pages many large ideas that are valuable not only -as stimuli, but for their actual truth. - -It has been by no means an agreeable task to make these personal -explanations; but it has seemed to me a task not to be avoided. -Differing so profoundly as I do from M. Comte on all fundamental -doctrines, save those which we inherit in common from the past; it -has become needful to dissipate the impression that I agree with -him—needful to show that a large part of what is currently known as -“positive philosophy,” is not “positive philosophy” in the sense of -being peculiarly M. Comte’s philosophy; and to show that beyond that -portion of the so-called “positive philosophy” which is not peculiar to -him, I dissent from it. - -And now at the close, as at the outset, let me express my great regret -that these explanations should have been called forth by the statements -of a critic who has treated me so liberally. Nothing will, I fear, -prevent the foregoing pages from appearing like a very ungracious -response to M. Laugel’s sympathetically-written review. I can only -hope that the gravity of the question at issue, in so far as it {140} -concerns myself, may be taken in mitigation, if not as a sufficient -apology. - - -NOTE. - - _The preceding pages originally formed the second portion of a_ - _pamphlet entitled_ The Classification of the Sciences: to which are - added Reasons for dissenting from the Philosophy of M. Comte, _which - was first published in 1864. For some time past this pamphlet has been - included in the third volume of my_ Essays, &c., _and has been no - longer accessible in a separate form. There has recently been diffused - afresh, the misconception which originally led me to exhibit my entire - rejection of those views of M. Comte, which essentially distinguish - his system from other systems; and the motives which then prompted me - to publish the reasons for this rejection, now prompt me to put them - within the reach of all who care to inquire about the matter. The - Appendix, presenting an outline of the leading propositions of the - Synthetic Philosophy, will further aid the reader in forming a correct - judgment_. - - _Oct. 7, 1884._ - - -APPENDIX A. - -Some fourteen or more years ago, an American friend requested me, with -a view to a certain use which he named, to furnish him with a succinct -statement of the cardinal principles developed in the successive works -I had published and in those I was intending to publish. This statement -I here reproduce. Having been written solely for an expository purpose, -and without thought of M. Comte and his system, it will serve better -than a statement now drawn up since it is not open to the suspicion of -being adapted to the occasion.[22] - - “1. Throughout the universe in general and in detail, there is an - unceasing redistribution of matter and motion. - - “2. This redistribution constitutes evolution where there is a {141} - predominant integration of matter and dissipation of motion, and - constitutes dissolution where there is a predominant absorption of - motion and disintegration of matter. - - “3. Evolution is simple when the process of integration, or the - formation of a coherent aggregate, proceeds uncomplicated by other - processes. - - “4. Evolution is compound when, along with this primary change from - an incoherent to a coherent state, there go on secondary changes due - to differences in the circumstances of the different parts of the - aggregate. - - “5. These secondary changes constitute a transformation of the - homogeneous into the heterogeneous—a transformation which, like the - first, is exhibited in the universe as a whole and in all (or nearly - all) its details: in the aggregate of stars and nebulae; in the - planetary system; in the earth as an inorganic mass; in each organism, - vegetal or animal (Von Baer’s law); in the aggregate of organisms - throughout geologic time; in the mind; in society; in all products of - social activity. - - “6. The process of integration, acting locally as well as generally, - combines with the process of differentiation to render this change - not simply from homogeneity to heterogeneity, but from an indefinite - homogeneity to a definite heterogeneity; and this trait of increasing - definiteness, which accompanies the trait of increasing heterogeneity, - is, like it, exhibited in the totality of things and in all its - divisions and sub-divisions down to the minutest. - - “7. Along with this redistribution of the matter composing any - evolving aggregate, there goes on a redistribution of the retained - motion of its components in relation to one another: this also - becomes, step by step, more definitely heterogeneous. - - “8. In the absence of a homogeneity that is infinite and absolute, - that redistribution of which evolution is one phase, is inevitable. - The causes which necessitate it are these:― - - “9. The instability of the homogeneous, which is consequent upon the - different exposures of the different parts of any limited aggregate to - incident forces. The transformations hence resulting are complicated - by― - - “10. The multiplication of effects. Every mass and part of a mass - on which a force falls, sub-divides and differentiates that force, - which thereupon proceeds to work a variety of changes; and each - of these becomes the parent of similarly-multiplying changes: the - multiplication of them becoming greater in proportion as the aggregate - becomes more heterogeneous. And these two causes of increasing - differentiations are furthered by― - - “11. Segregation, which is a process tending ever to separate unlike - units and to bring together like units—so serving continually to - sharpen, or make definite, differentiations otherwise caused. - - “12. Equilibration is the final result of these transformations which - an evolving aggregate undergoes. The changes go on until there is - reached an equilibrium between the forces which all parts of the - aggregate are exposed to and the forces these parts oppose to them. - Equilibration may pass through a transition stage of balanced motions - (as in a planetary system) or of {142} balanced functions (as in a - living body) on the way to ultimate equilibrium; but the state of rest - in inorganic bodies, or death in organic bodies, is the necessary - limit of the changes constituting evolution. - - “13. Dissolution is the counter-change which sooner or later every - evolved aggregate undergoes. Remaining exposed to surrounding - forces that are unequilibrated, each aggregate is ever liable to - be dissipated by the increase, gradual or sudden, of its contained - motion; and its dissipation, quickly undergone by bodies lately - animate and slowly undergone by inanimate masses, remains to be - undergone at an indefinitely remote period by each planetary and - stellar mass, which, since an indefinitely distant period in the past, - has been slowly evolving: the cycle of its transformations being thus - completed. - - “14. This rhythm of evolution and dissolution, completing itself - during short periods in small aggregates, and in the vast aggregates - distributed through space completing itself in periods which are - immeasurable by human thought, is, so far as we can see, universal and - eternal—each alternating phase of the process predominating now in - this region of space and now in that, as local conditions determine. - - “15. All these phenomena, from their great features down to their - minutest details, are necessary results of the persistence of force, - under its forms of matter and motion. Given these as distributed - through space, and their quantities being unchangeable, either - by increase or decrease, there inevitably result the continuous - redistributions distinguishable as evolution and dissolution, as well - as all those special traits above enumerated. - - “16. That which persists unchanging in quantity but ever changing in - form, under these sensible appearances which the universe presents - to us, transcends human knowledge and conception—is an unknown and - unknowable power, which we are obliged to recognize as without limit - in space and without beginning or end in time.” - -These successive paragraphs set forth in the most abstract way, that -process of transformation going on throughout the Cosmos as a whole, -and in each larger or smaller portion of it. In _First Principles_ the -statements contained in these paragraphs are elaborated, explained, and -illustrated; and in subsequent volumes of the series, the purpose has -been to interpret the several great groups of phenomena, Astronomical, -Geological (both postponed), Biological, Psychological, Sociological, -and Ethical, in conformity with these general laws of Evolution which -_First Principles_ enunciates. - - * * * * * - -If it can be shown that any one of the above propositions has been -adopted from, or has been suggested by, the {143} Positive Philosophy, -there will be evidence that the Synthetic Philosophy is to that extent -indebted to it. Or if there can be quoted any expressed conviction of -M. Comte, that the factors producing changes of all kinds, inorganic -and organic, co-operate everywhere throughout the Cosmos in the -same general way, and everywhere work metamorphoses having the same -essential traits, a much more decided indebtedness may reasonably be -supposed. - -So far as I know it, however, the Positive Philosophy contains none of -the special ideas above enumerated, nor any of the more general ideas -they involve. - - -APPENDIX B. - -On pp. 119 and 120, I have pointed out that the followers of M. Comte, -swayed by the spirit of discipleship, habitually ascribe to him a great -deal which was the common inheritance of the scientific world before -he wrote, and to which he himself laid no claim. Kindred remarks have -since been made by others, both in England and in France—the one by Mr. -Mill, and the other by M. Fouillée. Mr. Mill says:― - - “The foundation of M. Comte’s philosophy is thus in no way peculiar - to him, but the general property of the age, however far as yet from - being universally accepted even by thoughtful minds. The philosophy - called Positive is not a recent invention of M. Comte, but a simple - adherence to the traditions of all the great scientific minds whose - discoveries have made the human race what it is. M. Comte has never - presented it in any other light. But he has made the doctrine his own - by his manner of treating it.”—_Auguste Comte and Positivism_, pp. 8, - 9. - -In his _Histoire de la Philosophie_, 1875, M. Alfred Fouillée writes:― - - “Saint-Simon voulut successivement organiser la société à l’aide de - la science (prétention d’où sortit le positivisme) puis à l’aide de - l’industrie, et enfin à l’aide d’une religion nouvelle, capable de - ‘forcer chacun de ses membres à suivre le précepte de l’amour du - prochain.’”—p. 428. - - “Les doctrines sociales de Saint-Simon, jointes au naturalisme - de Cabanis et de Broussais, donnèrent naissance au ‘positivisme’ - d’Auguste Comte. {144} Ce dernier, comme Saint-Simon, voit dans la - science sociale ou ‘sociologie’ le terme et le but de toutes les - recherches scientifiques.”—p. 422. - - “A cette méthode Auguste Comte ajouta des vues historiques, qu’il - croyait entièrement originales, sur les trois états par où passe - nécessairement selon lui la connaissance humaine: état théologique, - état métaphysique, et état scientifique. Le germe de cette théorie - était déjà dans Turgot.”—p. 424. - - “En somme, Auguste Comte a eu le mérite d’insister sur les méthodes - qui conviennent aux sciences de la nature; mais il faut avouer que ces - méthodes étaient connues bien avant lui.”—p. 425. - - -ENDNOTES TO _REASONS FOR DISSENTING FROM THE PHILOSOPHY OF M. COMTE_. - -[14] A clear illustration of this process, is furnished by the -recent mental integration of Heat, Light, Electricity, etc., as -modes of molecular motion. If we go a step back, we see that the -modern conception of Electricity, resulted from the integration in -consciousness, of the two forms of it involved in the galvanic battery -and in the electric-machine. And going back to a still earlier stage, -we see how the conception of statical electricity, arose by the -coalescence in thought, of the previously-separate forces manifested -in rubbed amber, in rubbed glass, and in lightning. With such -illustrations before him, no one can, I think, doubt that the process -has been the same from the beginning. - -[15] Possibly it will be said that M. Comte himself admits that what -he calls the perfection of the positive system, will probably never be -reached; and that what he condemns is the inquiry into the _natures_ of -causes and not the general recognition of cause. To the first of these -allegations I reply that, as I understand M. Comte, the obstacle to the -perfect realization of the positive philosophy is the impossibility -of carrying generalization so far as to reduce all particular facts -to cases of one general fact—not the impossibility of excluding the -consciousness of cause. And to the second allegation I reply that the -essential principle of his philosophy is an avowed ignoring of cause -altogether. For if it is not, _what becomes of his alleged distinction -between the perfection of the positive system and the perfection of -the metaphysical system_? And here let me point out that, by affirming -exactly the opposite to that which M. Comte thus affirms, I am excluded -from the positive school. If his own definition of positivism is to -be taken, then, as I hold that what he defines as positivism is an -absolute impossibility, it is clear that I cannot be what he calls a -positivist. - -[16] A friendly critic alleges that M. Comte is not fairly represented -by this quotation, and that he is blamed by his biographer, M. Littré, -for his too-great insistance on feeling as a motor of humanity. If in -his “Positive Politics,” which I presume is here referred to, M. Comte -abandons his original position, so much the better. But I am here -dealing with what is known as “the Positive Philosophy;” and that the -passage above quoted does not misrepresent it, is proved by the fact -that this doctrine is re-asserted at the commencement of the Sociology. - -[17] In 1885, during a controversy with one of M. Comte’s English -disciples, I was blamed for speaking “of Comte as making six sciences,” -and was told that “in all Comte’s works, except the first, he makes -seven sciences.” As I was dealing with The Positive Philosophy, I -thought I could not do better than give the foregoing extract from the -_Cours de Philosophie Positive_; and it did not occur to me that I was -called upon to see whether, in any of his later voluminous works, M. -Comte had made a different statement. My opponent, however, enlarged -on this “blunder,” as he politely called it: apparently oblivious of -the fact that if it was a blunder on my part to speak of Comte as -recognizing six sciences when in his later days he recognized seven, it -was a much more serious blunder on the part of Comte himself to have -long overlooked the seventh. - -[18] M. Comte’s “Exposition” I read in the original in 1852; and in two -or three other places have referred to the original to get his exact -words. The Inorganic Physics, and the first chapter of the Biology, I -read in Miss Martineau’s condensed translation, when it appeared. The -rest of M. Comte’s views I know only through Mr. Lewes’s outline, and -through incidental references. - -[19] In his work, _Auguste Comte et la Philosophie Positive_ (1863), -M. Littré defending the Comtean classification of the sciences from -the criticism I made upon it in the “Genesis of Science,” deals with -me wholly as an antagonist. The chapter he devotes to his reply, opens -by placing me in direct opposition to the English adherents of Comte, -named in the preceding chapter. - -[20] I believed at the time, and have never doubted until now, that the -choice of this title was absolutely independent of its previous use by -M. Comte. While writing these pages, I have found reason to think the -contrary. On referring to _Social Statics_, to see what were my views -of social evolution in 1850, when M. Comte was to me but a name, I met -with the following sentence:—“Social philosophy may be aptly divided -(as political economy has been) into statics and dynamics” (ch. xxx. § -1). This I remembered to be a reference to a division which I had seen -in the Political Economy of Mr. Mill. But why had I not mentioned Mr. -Mill’s name? On referring to the first edition of his work, I found, -at the opening of Book iv., this sentence:—“The three preceding parts -include as detailed a view as the limits of this treatise permit, of -what, by a happy generalization of a mathematical phrase, has been -called the Statics of the subject.” Here was the solution of the -question. The division had not been made by Mr. Mill, but by some -writer (on Political Economy I supposed) who was not named by him; and -whom I did not know. It is now manifest, however, that while I supposed -I was giving a more extended use to this division, I was but returning -to the original use which Mr. Mill had limited to his special topic. -Another thing is, I think, tolerably manifest. As I evidently wished -to point out my obligation to some unknown political economist, whose -division I thought I was extending, I should have named him had I known -who he was. And in that case should not have put this extension of the -division as though it were new. - -[21] Let me add that the conception developed in _Social Statics_, -dates back to a series of letters on the “Proper Sphere of Government,” -published in the _Nonconformist_ newspaper in the latter half of -1842, and republished as a pamphlet in 1843. In these letters will -be found, along with many crude ideas, the same belief in the -conformity of social phenomena to unvariable laws; the same belief -in human progression as determined by such laws; the same belief in -the moral modification of men as caused by social discipline; the -same belief in the tendency of social arrangements “of themselves to -assume a condition of _stable_ equilibrium;” the same repudiation -of state-control over various departments of social life; the -same limitation of state-action to the maintenance of equitable -relations among citizens. The writing of _Social Statics_ arose from -a dissatisfaction with the basis on which the doctrines set forth -in those letters were placed: the second half of that work is an -elaboration of these doctrines; and the first half a statement of the -principles from which they are deducible. - -[22] Published many years since in America, this statement was -republished in England eight years since. See _Athenæum_ for July 22nd, -1882. - - - - -{145} - -ON LAWS IN GENERAL, AND THE ORDER OF THEIR DISCOVERY. - - -[_The following was contained in the first edition of_ First -Principles. _I omitted it from the re-organized second edition, -because it did not form an essential part of the new structure. As it -is referred to in the foregoing pages, and as its general argument is -germane to the contents of those pages, I have thought well to insert -it here. Moreover, though I hope eventually to incorporate it in that -division of the_ Principles of Sociology _which treats of Intellectual -Progress, yet as it must be long before it can thus re-appear in its -permanent place, and as, should I not get so far in the execution of -my undertaking, it may never thus re-appear at all, it seems proper -to make it more accessible than it is at present. The first and last -sections, which served to link it into the argument of the work to -which it originally belonged, are omitted. The rest has been carefully -revised, and in some parts considerably altered._] - -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 with -which the uniform relations they severally display are distinctly -experienced. At any given stage of progress, those {146} uniformities -will be best known 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 succession in which relations are generalized being thus -determined, there result certain derivative principles to which this -succession must more immediately and obviously conform. The first -is _the directness with which personal welfare is affected_. While, -among surrounding things, many do not appreciably influence us in any -way, some produce pleasures and some pains, in various degrees; and -manifestly, those things of which the actions on the organism for -good or evil are most decided, will, _cæteris paribus_, be those of -which the laws of action are earliest observed. Second comes _the -conspicuousness of one or both phenomena between which a relation is -to be perceived_. On every side are 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 on consciousness; and, -supposing 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 manifestly, 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 limited to certain times or certain places, or both; -{147} and, as a relation which does not exist within the environment -of an observer cannot be perceived 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 of the state of society, of the -arts, and of the sciences—all of which affect the frequency with which -certain groups of facts are observable. The fifth corollary to be -noticed is, that the succession in which different classes of relations -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 connexions 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 comes _the degree of concreteness, or absence -of abstractness_. Concrete relations are the earliest acquisitions. -Such analyses of them as separate the essential connexions from their -disguising accompaniments, necessarily come later. The analyses of the -connexions, always more or less compound, into their elements then -becomes possible. And so on continually, until the highest and most -abstract truths 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 {148} exemplify the special truths which we here -see follow from it. - - * * * * * - -The relations earliest known as uniformities, are those subsisting -among the common properties of matter—tangibility, visibility, -cohesion, weight, etc. We have no trace of a time when the resistance -offered by an object was regarded as caused by the will of the object; -or when the pressure of a body on the hand holding it, was ascribed to -the agency of a living being. And accordingly, these are the relations -of which we are oftenest conscious: being, as they are, objectively -frequent, conspicuous, simple, concrete, and of immediate personal -concern. - -Similarly with 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 era when ordinary movements due to -terrestrial gravitation were attributed to volition. Only when the -relation is obscured, as where the withdrawal of a support is not -obvious, or, as in the case of an aërolite, where the antecedent of -the descent is unperceived, do we find the conception of personal -agency. 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, and indeed for a -long time after, 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 of slight eccentricity, -is as simple and concrete a phenomenon as the motion of a projected -arrow in an ellipse of extreme eccentricity indistinguishable from a -parabola. But the antecedents are not conspicuous; the sequences are -of long duration; and they are not often repeated. And that these are -the causes of their slow {149} 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 see are earliest generalized, nor is the -presence of the antecedent so manifest. 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 obvious -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 belief in 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 organic relations, -intrinsically very complex and special, were generalized. The -constant coexistence of feathers and a beak, of four legs with an -internal bony framework, 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. Now these uniformities of organic structure thus early -perceived, are of exactly the same kind as those more numerous ones -later established by biology. The constant {150} coexistence of -mammary glands with two occipital condyles to 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 botanist cannot in the least understand -the complex relation between papilionaceous flowers and seeds borne -in flattened pods: he knows these and like connexions simply in the -same way that the barbarian knows the connexions between particular -leaves and particular kinds of wood. 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 degrees of vividness and -frequency with which they were presented to consciousness. Though the -connexion between the sounds characteristic of a certain bird, and the -possession of edible flesh, is extremely involved, yet the two terms -of the relation are conspicuous, often recur in experience, and a -knowledge of their connexion has a direct bearing on personal welfare. -Meanwhile innumerable relations of 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 mainly -constitute what is distinguished as Science, we find the succession -in which knowledge of them is reached, to be still determined in the -same manner. This will become obvious on contemplating separately the -influence of each derivative condition. - - * * * * * - -How relations that have immediate bearings on the maintenance of life, -are, other things equal, fixed in the mind before those which have no -immediate bearings, the history of Science abundantly illustrates. The -habits of existing uncivilized races, who fix times by moons and barter -so many of one article for so many of another, show {151} us that -conceptions of equality and number, which are the germs of mathematical -science, were developed 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 of the word 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 in 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 to 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 is -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 {152} life—joined to the -ridicule commonly vented on scientific pursuits having no obvious uses, -suffice to show that the order in which laws are discovered greatly -depends on the directness with which knowledge of them affects 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 relations, it must be admitted that in 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 -not empirically known; 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 -the same class), 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 {153} which illustrations of them came under observation, nor -by relative simplicity; but by the greater obtrusiveness of the -connexion between antecedent and consequent in the one case than in -the other. Among miscellaneous illustrations, it may be pointed out -that the connexions between lightning and thunder, and between rain and -clouds, were recognized 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 not ordinarily perceptible, though in 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. The connexion between death and bodily injury, constantly -displayed not only in men but in all inferior creatures, came to be -recognized as an instance of natural causation while yet deaths from -diseases or from some of them continued to be thought supernatural. -Among diseases themselves, it is observable that unusual ones were -regarded as of demoniacal origin during ages when the more frequent -were ascribed to ordinary causes: a truth paralleled 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 {154} interpreted in an analogous way: though a -more marvellous occurrence, and a more complex one, its great frequency -led to the early recognition of it as a natural uniformity. Rainbows -and comets do not differ much 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 signs of -divine wrath. - -That races living inland must long have remained ignorant of the daily -and monthly sequences of the tides, and that tropical 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 structures or habits, -because these are so familiar, when taken to countries 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 shares -in controlling 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 in 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 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 added to, we have become acquainted with a vast range of chemical -relations that were relatively {155} non-existent to the primitive -man. To highly-developed industries we owe both the substances and -the appliances that have disclosed to us countless uniformities which -our ancestors had no opportunity of seeing. These and like instances, -show that the accumulated materials, and processes, and products, -which characterize the environments of complex societies, greatly -increase the accessibility of various classes of relations; and by -thus multiplying the experiences of them, or making them relatively -frequent, facilitate the generalization of them. Moreover, 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 either 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 levers -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 or organic compounds. And where, as in the higher sciences, -the conditions of the exploration are {156} more complicated, we still -may trace relative complexity as determining the order of discovery -where other things are equal. - -The progression from concrete relations to abstract relations, 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 Calculus of Operations comes after Algebra, both -in order of evolution and in order of abstractness. In Mechanics, the -more concrete relations of forces exhibited in the lever, inclined -plane, etc., were understood before the more abstract relations -expressed in the laws of resolution and composition of forces; and -later than the three abstract laws of motion as formulated by Newton -came the still more abstract law of inertia. Similarly with Physics and -Chemistry, there has been an advance from truths entangled in all the -specialities of particular facts and particular classes of facts, to -truths disentangled from the disguising incidents under which they are -manifested—to truths of a higher abstractness. - -Brief and rude as is this sketch of a mental development which has been -long and complicated, 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. 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 in time and in space, variously open to observation, and -variously related to our own constitutions: our perception of them -being influenced by all these conditions in endless combinations. The -comparative degrees {157} of importance, of obtrusiveness, of absolute -frequency, of relative frequency, of simplicity, of concreteness, are -every one of them factors; and from their unions in proportions that -are never twice alike, there results a highly complex process of mental -evolution. But while it is thus manifest that the proximate causes of -the succession in which relations are reduced to law, are numerous and -involved; it is also manifest that there is one ultimate cause to which -these proximate causes 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 _a 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. - - * * * * * - -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. And -manifestly, as fast as the relations which are unreduced to law become -fewer, the probability that among them there are some which 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 {158} -in their kinds, the presumption gains strength. And when the known -cases of uniformity amount to millions, including many of each variety, -it becomes an ordinary induction that uniformity exists everywhere. - -Silently and insensibly their experiences have been pressing men on -towards the conclusion thus drawn. Not out of a conscious regard -for these reasons, but from a habit of thought which these reasons -formulate and justify, all minds have been advancing towards a belief -in the constancy of surrounding coexistences and sequences. Familiarity -with concrete 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. - -This habitual recognition of law which already distinguishes modern -thought from ancient thought, must spread among men at large. The -fulfilment of fresh predictions that are made possible by every new -step, and the further {159} command gained over Nature’s forces, prove -to the uninitiated the validity of scientific generalizations and the -doctrine they illustrate. Widening education is daily diffusing among -the mass of men that knowledge of these generalizations which has been -hitherto confined to the few. And as fast as this diffusion goes on, -the belief of the scientific must become the belief of the world at -large. - - * * * * * - -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 this perception makes it clear 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 on 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; 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 exploration. Having long ago proved uniformity throughout all the -lower classes of relations, and having been step by step proving {160} -uniformity throughout classes of relations successively higher and -higher, if we have not yet 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 even among the -most involved and obscure phenomena. - - - - -{161} - -THE VALUATION OF EVIDENCE. - - -[_First published in_ The Leader _for June 25, 1853._] - -With Spirit-rappings and Table-movings still the rage, and with the -belief in Spontaneous Combustion still unextinguished, it seems -desirable that something should be said in justification of that -general scepticism with which the philosophical meet the alleged -wonders that periodically turn the heads of the nation. Nothing less -than a bulky octavo would be needed to contain all that might be -written on the matter; and unfortunately such an octavo, when written, -would be little read by those most requiring it. A brief hint or two, -however, may find listeners among them. - -“I tell you I saw it myself,” is the so-thought conclusive assertion -with which many a controversy is abruptly ended. Commonly those who -make this assertion think that after it nothing remains to be urged; -and they are astonished at the unreasonableness of those who still -withhold their belief. Though they reject many tales of witchcraft, -many ghost stories whose marvels were attested by eye-witnesses—though -they have repeatedly seen stage-conjurors seem to do things which they -do not believe were really done—though they have heard of the Automaton -Chess-player and the Invisible Girl, and have perhaps seen explanations -of the modes in which the public were deluded by {162} them—though in -all these cases they know that the facts were other than the spectators -supposed them to be; yet they cannot imagine that their own perceptions -have been vitiated by influences like those which vitiated the -perceptions of others. Or, to put the thing more charitably and perhaps -more truly, they forget that such vitiations are constantly occurring. - -To observe correctly, though commonly thought very easy, every man -of science knows to be difficult. Our faculties are liable to report -falsely from two opposite causes—the presence of hypothesis, and the -absence of hypothesis. To the dangers arising from one or other of -these, every observation we make is exposed; and between the two it is -hard to see any fact _quite_ truly. A few illustrations of the extreme -distortions arising from the one cause, and the extreme inaccuracy -consequent on the other, will justify this seeming paradox. - -Nearly every one is familiar with the myth prevalent on our sea-coasts, -respecting the Barnacle Goose. The popular belief was, and indeed is -still in some places, that the fruits on branches which hang into the -sea become changed into shell-covered creatures called barnacles, found -incrusting these submerged branches; and further, that these barnacles -are in process of time transformed into the birds known as barnacle -geese. This belief was not confined to the vulgar; it was received -among naturalists. Nor was it with them simply an adopted rumour. It -was based on observations which were recorded and approved by the -highest scientific authorities, and published with their countenance. -In a paper contained in the _Philosophical Transactions_, Sir Robert -Moray says:—“In every shell that I opened . . . there appeared nothing -wanting, as to the external parts, for making up a perfect sea-fowl; -the little bill like that of a goose, the eyes marked, the head, neck, -breast, wings, tail, and feet formed, the feathers everywhere perfectly -shaped and blackish coloured, and the feet like those of other {163} -waterfowl, to my best remembrance.” Now this myth respecting the -barnacle goose has been exploded for some century and a half. To a -modern zoologist who examines one of these cirrhipeds, as the barnacles -are called, it seems scarcely credible that it could ever have been -thought a chick; and what Sir Robert Moray could have taken for “head, -neck, breast, wings, tail, feet, and feathers,” he cannot imagine. -Under the influence of a pre-conception, here is a man of education -describing as “a perfect sea-fowl” what is now known to be a modified -crustacean—a creature belonging to a remote part of the animal kingdom. - -A still more remarkable instance of perverted observation exists -in an old book entitled _Metamorphosis Naturalis_, &c., published -at Middleburgh in 1662. This work, in which is attempted for the -first time a detailed account of insect-transformations, contains -numerous illustrative plates, in which are represented the various -stages of evolution—larva, pupa, and imago. Those who have any -knowledge of Entomology will recollect that the chrysalises of all our -common butterflies exhibit at the anterior end a number of pointed -projections, producing an irregular outline. Have they ever observed -in this outline a resemblance to a man’s face? For myself, I can say -that though in early days I kept brood after brood of butterfly larvæ -through all their changes, I never perceived any such likeness; nor -can I see it now. Nevertheless, in the plates of this _Metamorphosis -Naturalis_, each chrysalis has its projections so modified as to -represent a burlesque human head—the respective species having -different profiles given them. Whether the author was a believer -in metempsychosis, and thought he saw in the chrysalis a disguised -humanity; or whether, swayed by the false analogy which Butler makes -so much of, between the change from chrysalis to butterfly and that -from mortality to immortality, he considered the chrysalis as typical -of man; does not appear. Here, however, is the fact, that influenced -by some {164} pre-conception or other, he has made his drawings quite -different from the actual forms. It is not that he simply thinks this -resemblance exists—it is not that he merely says he can see it; but his -preconception so possesses him as to swerve his pencil, and make him -produce representations laughably unlike the realities. - -These, which are extreme cases of distorted perceptions, differ only -in degree from the distorted perceptions of daily life; and so strong -is the distorting influence that even the man of science cannot escape -its effects. Every microscopist knows that if they have conflicting -theories respecting its nature, two observers shall look through -the same instrument at the same object, and give quite different -descriptions of its appearance. - -From the dangers of hypothesis let us now turn to the dangers of no -hypothesis. Little recognized as is the fact, it is nevertheless -true that we cannot make the commonest observation correctly without -beforehand having some notion of what we are to observe. You are asked -to listen to a faint sound, and you find that without a pre-conception -of the _kind_ of sound you are to hear, you cannot hear it. Provided -that it is not strong, an unusual flavour in your food may pass quite -unperceived, unless some one draws attention to it, when you taste it -distinctly. After knowing him for years, you shall suddenly discover -that your friend’s nose is slightly awry, and wonder that you never -remarked it before. Still more striking becomes this inability when -the facts to be observed are complex. Of a hundred people who listen -to the dying vibrations of a church bell, almost all fail to perceive -the harmonics, and assert the sound to be simple. Scarcely any one -who has not practised drawing, sees, when in the street, that all -the horizontal lines in the walls, windows, shutters, roofs, seem -to converge to one point in the distance: a fact which, after a few -lessons in perspective, becomes visible enough. - -Perhaps I cannot more clearly illustrate this necessity for {165} -hypothesis as a condition to accurate perception, than by narrating a -portion of my own experience relative to the colours of shadows. - -Indian ink was the pigment which, during boyhood, I invariably -used for shading. Ask any one who has received no culture in art, -or who has given no thought to it, of what colour a shadow is, and -the unhesitating reply will be—black. This is uniformly the creed -of the uninitiated; and in this creed I undoubtingly remained till -about eighteen. Happening, at that age, to come much in contact with -an amateur artist, I was told, to my great surprise, that shadows -are not black but of a neutral tint. This, to me, novel doctrine, I -strenuously resisted. I have a pretty distinct recollection of denying -it point blank, and quoting all my experience in support of the denial. -I remember, too, that the controversy lasted over a considerable -period; and that it was only after my friend had repeatedly drawn my -attention to instances in Nature, that I finally gave in. Though I must -previously have seen myriads of shadows, yet in consequence of the fact -that very generally the tint approaches to black, I had been unable, -in the absence of hypothesis, to perceive that in many cases it is -distinctly not black. - -I continued to hold this amended doctrine for some years. It is true -that from time to time I observed that the tone of the neutral tint -varied considerably in different shadows; but still the divergencies -were not such as to shake my faith in the dogma. By-and-bye, however, -in a popular work on Optics, I met with the statement that the colour -of a shadow is always the complement of the colour of the light casting -it. Not seeing the wherefore of this alleged law, which seemed moreover -to conflict with my established belief, I was led to study the matter -as a question of causation. _Why_ are shadows coloured? and what -determines the colour? were the queries that suggested themselves. In -seeking answers, it soon became manifest {166} that as a space in -shadow is a space from which the _direct_ light alone is excluded, and -into which the _indirect_ light (namely, that reflected by surrounding -objects, by the clouds and by the sky) continues to fall, the colour -of a shadow must partake of the colour of everything that can either -radiate or reflect light into it. Hence, the colour of a shadow must -be _the average colour of the diffused light;_ and must vary, as that -varies, with the colours of all surrounding things. Thus was at once -explained the inconstancy I had already noticed; and I presently -recognized in Nature that which the theory implies—namely, that a -shadow may have any colour whatever, according to circumstances. Under -a clear sky, and with no trees, hedges, houses, or other objects at -hand, shadows are of a pure blue. During a red sunset, mixture of the -yellow light from the upper part of the western sky with the blue light -from the eastern sky, produces green shadows. Go near to a gas-lamp on -a moonlight night, and a pencil-case placed at right angles to a piece -of paper will be found to cast a purple-blue shadow and a yellow-grey -shadow, produced by the gas and the moon respectively. And there are -conditions it would take too long here to describe, under which two -parts of the same shadow are differently coloured. All which facts -became obvious to me as soon as I knew that they must exist. - -Here, then, respecting certain simple phenomena that are hourly -visible, are three successive convictions; each of them based on years -of observation; each of them held with unhesitating confidence; and -yet only one—as I now believe—true. But for the help of an hypothesis, -I should probably have remained in the common belief that shadows are -black. And but for the help of another hypothesis, I should probably -have remained in the half-true belief that they are neutral tint. - -Is it not clear, therefore, that to observe correctly is by no means -easy? On the one hand, a pre-conception, makes {167} us liable to -see things not quite as they are, but as we think them. On the other -hand, in the absence of a pre-conception, we are liable to pass over -much that we ought to see. Yet we must have either a pre-conception -or no pre-conception. Evidently, then, all our observations, save -those guided by true theories already reached, are in danger of either -distortion or incompleteness. - -It remains but to remark, that if our observations are imperfect in -cases like the foregoing, where the things seen are persistent, and -may be again and again looked at or continuously contemplated; how -much more imperfect must they be where the things seen are complex -processes, changes, or actions, each presenting successive phases, -which, if not truly observed at the moments they severally occur, -can never be truly observed at all! Here the chances of error become -immensely multiplied. And when, in addition, there exists some moral -excitement,—when, as in these Spirit-rapping and Table-turning -experiments, the intellect is partially paralysed by fear or wonder -correct observation becomes next to an impossibility. - - - - -{168} - -WHAT IS ELECTRICITY? - - -[_First published in_ The Reader _for November 19, 1864._] - -Probably few, if any, competent physicists have, of late years, used -the term “electric fluid” in any other than a conventional sense. -When distinguishing electricity into the two kinds, “positive” and -“negative,” or “vitreous” and “resinous,” they have used the ideas -suggested by these names merely as convenient symbols, and not as -representatives of different entities. And, now that heat and light are -proved to be modes of motion, it has become obvious that all the allied -manifestations of force must be modes of motion. - -What is the particular mode of motion which constitutes electricity, -thus becomes the question. That it is some kind of molecular vibration, -different from the molecular vibrations which luminous bodies give off, -is, I presume, taken for granted by all who bring to the consideration -of the matter a knowledge of recent discoveries. Beyond those simple -oscillations of molecules from which light and heat result, may we not -suspect that there will, in some cases, arise compound oscillations? -Let us consider whether the conditions under which electricity arises -are not such as to generate compound oscillations; and whether the -phenomena of electricity are not such as must result from compound -oscillations. - -The universal antecedent to the production of electricity {169} is the -immediate or mediate contact of heterogeneous substances—substances -that are heterogeneous either in their molecular constitutions, or in -their molecular states. If, then, electricity is some mode of molecular -motion, and if, whenever it is produced, the contact of substances -having unlike molecules or molecules in unlike states, is the -antecedent, there seems thrust upon us the conclusion that electricity -results from some mutual action of molecules whose motions are unlike. - -What must be that mutual action of molecules having unlike motions, -which, as we see, is the universal antecedent of electrical -disturbance? The answer to this question does not seem difficult to -reach, if we take the simplest case—the case of contact-electricity. -When two pieces of metal of the same kind, and at the same temperature, -are applied to one another, there is no electrical excitation; but, if -the metals applied to one another be of different kinds, there is a -genesis of electricity. This, which has been regarded as an anomalous -fact—a fact so anomalous that it has been much disputed because -apparently at variance with every hypothesis—is a fact to which an -interpretation is at once supplied by the hypothesis that electricity -results from the mutual disturbances of unlike molecular motions. -For if, on the one hand, we have homogeneous metals in contact, -their respective molecules, oscillating synchronously, will give and -take any forces which they impress on one another without producing -oscillations of new orders. But if, on the other hand, the molecules -of the one mass have periods of oscillation different from those of -the other mass, their mutual impacts will not agree with the period -of oscillation of either, but will generate a new rhythm, differing -from, and much slower than, that of either. The production of what -are called “beats” in acoustics, will best illustrate this. It is a -familiar fact that two strings vibrating at different rates, from -time to time concur in sending off aërial waves in the {170} same -direction at the same instant: that then, their vibrations getting -more and more out of correspondence, they send off their aërial waves -in the same direction at exactly intermediate instants; and presently, -coming once more into correspondence, they again generate coinciding -waves. So that when their periods of vibration differ but little, -and when consequently it takes an appreciable time to complete their -alternations of agreement and disagreement, there results an audible -alternation in the sound—a succession of pulses of louder and feebler -sound. In other words, besides the primary, simple, and rapid series -of waves, constituting the two sounds themselves, there is a series -of slow compound waves, resulting from their repeated conflicts and -concurrences. Now if, instead of the two strings communicating their -vibrations to the air, each communicated its vibrations to the other, -we should have just the same alternation of concurrent and conflicting -pulses. And if each of the two strings was combined with an aggregate -of others like itself, in such way that it communicated to its -neighbours both its normal and its abnormal vibrations, it is clear -that through each aggregate of strings there would be propagated one of -these compound waves of oscillation, in addition to their simple rapid -oscillations. This illustration will, I think, make it manifest that -when a mass of molecules which have a certain period of vibration, is -placed in contact with a mass of molecules which have another period -of vibration, there must result an alternation of coincidences and -antagonisms in the molecular motions, such as will make the molecules -alternately increase and decrease one another’s motions. There will -be instants at which they are moving in the same direction, and -intervening instants at which they are moving in opposite directions; -whence will arise periods of greatest and least deviations from their -ordinary motions. And these greatest and least deviations, being -communicated to neighbouring molecules, and passed on by them {171} to -the next, will result in waves of perturbation propagated throughout -each mass. - -Let us now ask what will be the mutual relations of these waves. Action -and reaction being equal and opposite, it must happen that whatever -effect a molecule of the mass A produces upon an adjacent molecule of -the mass B, must be accompanied by an equivalent reverse effect upon -itself. If a molecule of the mass A is at any instant moving in such -way as to impress on a molecule of the mass B an additional momentum -in any given direction, then the momentum of the molecule of A, in -that direction, will be diminished to an equal amount. That is to say, -to any wave of increased motion propagated through the molecules of -B, there must be a reactive wave of decreased motion propagated in -the opposite direction through the molecules of A. See, then, the two -significant facts. Any _addition_ of motion, which at one of these -alternate periods is given by the molecules of A to the molecules of -B, must be propagated through the molecules of B in a direction _away -from_ A; and simultaneously there must be a _subtraction_ from the -motion of the molecules of A, which will be propagated through them -in a direction _away from_ B. To every wave of _excess_ sent through -the one mass, there will be a corresponding wave of _defect_ sent -through the other; and these _positive_ and _negative_ waves will be -exactly coincident in their times, and exactly equal in their amounts. -Whence it follows that if these waves, proceeding from the surface of -contact through the two masses in contrary directions, are brought into -relation, they will neutralize each other. Action and reaction being -equal and opposite, these _plus_ and _minus_ molecular motions will -cancel if they are added together; and there will be a restoration of -equilibrium. - -These positive and negative waves of perturbation will travel -through the two masses of molecules with great facility. It is now -an established truth that molecules {172} absorb, in the increase -of their own vibrations, those rhythmical impulses or waves which -have periodic times the same as their own; but that they cannot thus -absorb successive impulses that have periodic times different from -their own. Hence these differential undulations, being very long -undulations in comparison with those of the molecules themselves, will -readily pass through the masses of molecules, or be _conducted_ by -them. Further observe that, if the two masses of molecules continue -joined, these positive and negative differential waves travelling away -from the surface of contact in opposite directions, and severally -arriving at the outer surfaces of the two masses, will be reflected -from these; and, travelling back again toward the surface of contact, -will there meet and neutralize one another. Hence no current will be -produced along a wire joining the outer surfaces of the masses; since -neutralization will be more readily effected by this return of the -waves through the masses themselves. But, though no external current -arises, the masses will continue in what we call opposite electric -states; as a delicate electrometer shows that they do. And further, -if they are parted, the positive and negative waves which have the -instant before been propagated through them respectively, remaining -unneutralized, the masses will display their opposite electric states -in a more conspicuous way. The residual positive and negative waves -will then neutralize each other along any conductor that is placed -between them, seeing that the _plus_ waves communicated from the one -mass to the conductor, meeting with the _minus_ waves communicated from -the other, and being mutually cancelled as they meet, the conductor -will become a line of least resistance to the waves of each mass. - -Let us pass now to the allied phenomena of thermo-electricity. Suppose -these two masses of metal to be heated at their surfaces of contact: -the forms of the {173} masses being such that their surfaces of -contact can be considerably heated without their remoter parts being -much heated. What will happen? Prof. Tyndall has shown, in the cases -of various gases and liquids, that, other things equal, when molecules -have given to them more of the insensible motion which we call heat, -there is no alteration in their periods of oscillation, but an -increase in the amplitudes of their oscillations: the molecules make -wider excursions in the same times. Assuming that it is the same in -solids, it will follow that, when the two metals are heated at their -surfaces of contact, the result will be the same as before in respect -of the natures and intervals of the differential waves. There will be -a change, however, in the strengths of these waves. For, if the two -orders of molecules have severally given to them increased quantities -of motion, the perturbations which they impress on each other will -also be increased. These stronger positive and negative waves of -differential motion will, as before, travel through either mass away -from the surfaces of contact—that is, toward the cold extremities of -the masses. From these cold extremities they will, as before, rebound -toward the surfaces of contact; and, as before, will tend thus to -equilibriate each other. But they will meet with resistance in thus -travelling back. It is a well-ascertained fact that raising the -temperatures of metals decreases their conducting powers. Hence, if -the two cold ends of the masses be connected by some other mass whose -molecules can take on with facility these differential undulations—that -is, if the two ends be joined by a conductor, the positive and negative -waves will meet and neutralize one another along this conductor, -instead of being reflected back to the surfaces of contact. In other -words, there will be established a current along the wire joining the -two cold ends of the metallic masses. - -Carried a step further, this reasoning affords us an explanation of the -thermo-electric pile. If a number of {174} these bars of different -metals, as antimony and bismuth, are soldered together, end to end, -in alternate order, AB, AB, AB, etc., then, so long as they remain -cold, there is no manifestation of an electric current; or, if all the -joints are equally heated, there is no manifestation of an electric -current beyond that which would arise from any relative coolness of -the two ends of the compound bar. But if alternate joints are heated, -an electric current is produced in a wire joining the two ends of the -compound bar—a current that is intense in proportion to the number of -pairs. What is the cause of this? Clearly, so long as all the joints -are of the same temperature, the differential waves propagated from -each joint toward the two adjacent joints will be equal and opposite to -those from the adjacent joints, and no disturbance will be shown. But -if alternate joints are heated, the positive and negative differential -waves propagated away from them will be stronger than those propagated -from the other joints. Hence, if the joint of bar A with bar B be -heated, the other end of the bar B, which is joined to A2, not being -heated, will receive a stronger differential wave than it sends back. -In addition to the wave which its molecules would otherwise induce in -the molecules of A2, there is an effect which it conducts from A1; -and this extra impulse propagated to the other end of B2 is added to -the impulse which its heated molecules would otherwise give to the -molecules of A3; and so on throughout the series. The waves being added -together, become more violent, and the current through the wire joining -the extremities of the series, more intense. - -This interpretation of the facts of thermo-electricity will probably -be met by the objection that there are, in some cases, thermo-electric -currents developed between masses of metal of the same kind, and even -between different parts of the same mass. It may be urged that, if -unlikeness between the rates of vibration of molecules in contact -{175} is the cause of these electric disturbances; then, heat ought -not to produce any electric disturbances when the molecules are of the -same kind; since heat does not change the periodic times of molecular -vibrations. This objection, which seems at first sight a serious one, -introduces us to a confirmation. For where the masses of molecules -are homogeneous in all other respects, difference of temperature -does _not_ generate any thermo-electric current. The junction of hot -with cold mercury sets up no electric excitement. In all cases where -thermo-electricity is generated between metals of the same kind, there -is evidence of heterogeneity in their molecular structures—either one -has been hammered and the other not, or one is annealed and the other -unannealed. And where the current is between different parts of the -same mass, there are differences in the crystalline states of the -parts, or differences between the ways in which the parts have cooled -after being cast. That is to say, there is proof that the molecules in -the two masses, or in different parts of the same mass, are in unlike -relations to their neighbours—are in unlike states of tension. Now, -however true it may be that molecules of the same kind vibrate at the -same rate, whatever may be their temperature, it is obviously true so -long only as their motions are not modified by restraining forces. If -molecules of the same kind are in one mass arranged into that state -which constitutes crystallization, while in another mass they are not -thus bound together; or if in the one their molecular relations have -been modified by hammering, and in the other not; the differences -in the restraints under which they respectively vibrate will affect -their rates of vibration. And if their rates of vibration are rendered -unequal, then the alleged cause of electrical disturbance comes into -existence. - -To sum up, may it not be said that by some such action alone can the -phenomena of electricity be explained; {176} and that some such -action must inevitably arise under the conditions? On the one hand -electricity, being a mode of motion, implies the transformation of some -preëxisting motion—implies, also, a transformation such that there are -two new kinds of motion simultaneously generated, equal and opposite in -their directions—implies, further, that these differ in being _plus_ -and _minus_, and being therefore capable of neutralizing each other. -On the other hand, in the above cases, molecular motion is the only -source of motion that can be assigned; and this molecular motion seems -calculated, under the circumstances, to produce effects like those -witnessed. Molecules vibrating at different rates cannot be brought in -juxtaposition without affecting one another’s motions. They must affect -one another’s motions by periodically adding to, or deducting from one -another’s motions; and any excess of motion which those of the one -order receive, must be accompanied by an equivalent defect of motion in -those of the other order. When such molecules are units of aggregates -placed in contact, they must pass on these perturbations to their -neighbours. And so, from the surface of contact, there must be waves of -excessive and defective molecular motion, equal in their amounts, and -opposite in their directions—waves which must exactly compensate one -another when brought into relation. - -I have here dealt only with electrical phenomena of the simplest -kind. Hereafter I may possibly endeavour to show how this hypothesis -furnishes interpretations of other forms of Electricity. - - * * * * * - -POSTSCRIPT (1873).—During the nine years which have elapsed since the -foregoing essay was published, I have found myself no nearer to such -allied interpretations of other forms of Electricity. Though, from time -to time, I have recurred to the subject, in the hope of fulfilling the -{177} expectation raised by the closing sentence, yet no clue has -encouraged me to pursue the speculation. Only now, when republication -of the essay in a permanent form once more brings the question before -me, does there occur a thought which appears worth setting down. - -The union of two different ideas, not before placed side by side, has -generated this thought. In the first number of the _Principles of -Biology_, issued in January 1863, and dealing, among other “Data of -Biology,” with organic matter and the effects of forces upon it, I -ventured to speculate about the molecular actions concerned in organic -changes, and, among others, those by which light enables plants to take -the carbon from carbonic acid (§ 13). Pointing out that the ability -of heat to decompose compound molecules, is generally proportionate -to the difference between the atomic weights of their component -elements, and assuming that components having widely-unlike atomic -weights, have widely-unlike motions, and are therefore affected by -widely-unlike undulations; the inference drawn was, that in proportion -as the rhythms of its components differ, a compound molecule will -be unstable in presence of strong etherial undulations acting upon -one component more than on the other or others: their movements thus -being rendered so incongruous that they can no longer hold together. -It was argued, further, that a tolerably-stable compound molecule -may, if exposed to strong etherial undulations especially disturbing -one of its components, be decomposed when in presence of some unlike -molecule having components whose times of oscillation differ less from -those of this disturbed component. And a parallel was drawn between -the de-oxidation of metals by carbon when exposed to the longer -undulations in a furnace, and the de-carbonization of carbonic acid by -hydrogen, &c., when exposed to the shorter undulations in a plant’s -leaves. These ideas I recall chiefly for the purpose of presenting -clearly the conception of a compound molecule as containing {178} -diversely-moving components—components having independent and unlike -oscillations, in addition to the oscillation of the whole molecule -formed by them. The legitimacy of this conception may, I suppose, be -assumed. The beautiful experiments by which Prof. Tyndall has proved -that light decomposes the vapours of certain compounds, illustrates -this ability which the elements of a compound molecule have, severally -to take up etherial undulations corresponding to their own; and thus -to have their individual movements so increased as to cause disruption -of the compound molecule. This, at least, is the interpretation -which Prof. Tyndall puts on the facts; and I presume that he puts a -kindred interpretation upon the facts he has disclosed respecting the -marvellous power possessed by complex-moleculed vapours to absorb -heat—the interpretation, namely, that the thermal undulations are, -in such vapours, taken up in augmenting the movements within each -molecule, rather than in augmenting the movements of the molecules as -wholes. - -But now, assuming this to be a true conception of compound molecules -and the effects produced on them by etherial undulations, there -presents itself the question—What will be the effects produced by -compound molecules on one another? How will the elements of one -compound molecule have their rhythmical motions affected by proximity -to the elements of an unlike compound molecule? May we not suspect -that effects will be produced on one another, not only by the unlike -molecules as wholes, but also certain other, and partially-independent, -effects by their components on one another; and that there will so -be generated some specialized form of molecular motion? Throughout -the speculation set forth in the foregoing essay, the supposition is -that the molecules are those of juxtaposed metals—molecules which, -whether absolutely simple or not, are relatively simple; and these -are regarded as producing on one another’s movements perturbations -of a relatively-simple kind, which admit of being transferred from -molecule {179} to molecule throughout each mass. In trying to carry -further this interpretation, it had not occurred to me until now, -to consider the perturbations produced on one another by compound -molecules: taking into consideration, not merely the capacity each -has for affecting the other as a whole, but the capacity which the -constituents of each individually have for affecting the individual -constituents of the other. If an individual constituent of a compound -molecule can, by the successive impacts of etherial undulations, have -the amplitudes of its oscillations so increased as to detach it; we can -scarcely doubt that an individual constituent of a compound molecule -may affect an individual constituent of an unlike compound molecule -near it: their respective oscillations perturbing one another apart -from the perturbation produced on one another by the compound molecules -as wholes. And it seems inferable that the secondary perturbation thus -arising, will, like the primary perturbation, be such that the action -and reaction, equal and opposite in their amounts, will produce equal -and opposite deviations in the molecular movements. From this there -appear to be several corollaries. - -If a compound molecule, having a slow rhythm as a whole in addition -to the more rapid rhythms of its members, has the power of taking -up much of that motion we call heat in the increase of its internal -movements, and to a corresponding degree takes up less in the increase -of its movements as a whole; then may we not infer that the like will -hold when other kinds of forces are brought to bear on it? May we -not anticipate that when a mass of compound molecules of one kind is -made to act upon a mass of compound molecules of another kind (say by -friction), the molecular effects mutually produced, partly in agitating -the molecules as wholes, and partly in agitating their components -relatively to one another, will become less of the first and more of -the last, in proportion as the molecules progress in compositeness? - -A further implication suggests itself. While much of the {180} force -mutually exercised will thus go to increase the motion within each -of the compound molecules that immediately act on one another, it -appears inferable that relatively little of this intestinal motion -will be communicated to other molecules. The excesses of oscillation -given to individual members of a large cluster, will not be readily -passed on to homologous members of adjacent large clusters; since they -must be relatively far apart. Whatever motion is transferred, must be -transferred by waves of the intervening etherial medium; and the power -of these must decrease rapidly as the distance increases. Obviously -such difficulty of transfer must, for this reason, become great when -the molecules become highly compounded. - -At the same time will it not follow that such augmentations of -movement caused in individual members of a cluster, not being readily -transmissible to homologous members of adjacent clusters, will -accumulate? The more composite molecules become, the more possible -will it be for individual components of them to be violently affected -by individual components of different composite molecules near -them—the more possible will it be for their mutual perturbations to -progressively increase? - -And now let us consider how these inferences bear on the interpretation -of Statical Electricity—the form of Electricity most unlike the form -above dealt with. - -The substances which exhibit most conspicuously the phenomena of -statical electricity are distinguished either by the chemical -complexity of their molecules, or else by the compositeness of their -molecules produced allotropically or isomerically, or else by both. -The simple substances electrically excited by friction, as carbon and -sulphur, are those having several allotropic states—those capable of -forming multiple molecules. The conchoidal fracture of the diamond and -of roll-sulphur, suggest some colloidal form of aggregation, regarded -by Prof. Graham as a form in which the molecules are united into {181} -relatively-large groups.[23] In such compound inorganic substances as -glass, we have, besides the chemical complexity, this same conchoidal -fracture which, along with other evidence, shows glass to be a colloid; -and the colloidal form of molecule is to be similarly inferred as -characterizing resin, amber, &c. That dry animal substances, such as -silk and hair, are formed of extremely-large molecules, we have clear -proof; since these, chemically complex in a high degree, also have -their components united in high multiples. It needs but to name the -fact that non-electric and conducting substances, such as the metals, -acids, water, &c., have relatively-simple molecules, to make it clear -that the capacity for developing statical electricity depends in some -way upon the presence of molecules of highly composite kinds. And -there is even still more conclusive proof than that yielded by the -contrast between these groups—the proof furnished by the fact that -the same substance may be a conductor or a non-conductor, according -to its form of molecular aggregation. Thus selenium when crystalline -is a conductor, but when in that allotropic state called amorphous, -or non-crystalline, it is a good non-conductor. That is, accepting -Prof. Graham’s interpretation of these states, when its molecules are -arranged simply, it is a conductor, but when they are compounded into -large groups it is a non-conductor, and, by implication, an electric. - -So far, then, the _à priori_ inference that a peculiar form of -molecular perturbation will result when two unlike substances, one of -which or each of which consists of {182} highly-compounded molecules, -are made to act on one another, is justified _a posteriori_. And now, -instead of asking generally what will happen, let us ask what may -be inferred to happen in a special case. A piece of glass is rubbed -by silk. The large colloidal molecules forming the surface of each, -are made to disturb one another. This is an inference about which -there will, I suppose, be no dispute; since it is that assumed in -the now-established doctrine of the correlation of heat and motion. -Besides the effect which, as wholes the molecules mutually produce, -there is the effect produced on one another by certain of their -components. Such of these as have times of oscillation which differ, -but not very widely, generate mutual perturbations that are equal and -opposite. Could these perturbations be readily propagated away from -the surface of contact through either mass, the effect would quickly -dissipate, as in the case of metals; but, for the reason given above, -these perturbations cannot be transferred with ease to the homologous -members of the compound molecules behind. Hence the mechanical force -of the friction, transformed into the molecular movements of these -superficial constituent molecules, exists in them as _intense_ mutual -perturbations, which, unable to diffuse, are limited to the surfaces, -and, indeed, to those parts of the surfaces that have acted on one -another. In other words, the two surfaces become charged with two equal -and opposite molecular perturbations—perturbations which, cancelling -one another if the surfaces are kept in contact, cannot do this if -the surfaces are parted; but can then cancel one another only if a -conductor is interposed. - -Let me briefly point out some apparent agreements between the -corollaries from this hypothesis, and the observed phenomena. - -We have, first, an interpretation of the fact, otherwise seeming so -anomalous, that this form of electrical excitement is _superficial_. -That there should be a mode of {183} activity limited to the surface -of a substance, is difficult to understand in the absence of some -conception of the kind suggested. - -We have an explanation of the truth, insisted on by Faraday, that -there can be no charge of one kind of electricity obtained, without -a corresponding charge of the opposite kind. For it is a necessary -implication of the hypothesis above set forth, that no molecular -perturbation of the nature described, can be produced, without there -being simultaneously produced a counter-perturbation exactly equal to -it. - -May we not also say that some insight is afforded into the phenomena -of induction? In the cases thus far considered, the two surfaces -electrified by the mutual perturbations of their molecules, are -supposed to be in contact. Since, however, apparent contact is not -actual contact, we must, even in this case, assume that the mutual -perturbation is effected through an intervening stratum of ether. To -interpret induction, then, we have first to conceive this stratum -of ether to be greatly increased in thickness; and then to ask what -will happen if the molecules of one surface, in this state of extreme -internal perturbation, act on the molecules of a surface near it. -Whether the stratum of ether is so thin as to be inappreciable to our -senses, or whether it is wide enough to be conspicuous, it must still -happen that if through it the mutual perturbations are conveyed in the -one case, they will be conveyed in the other; and hence a surface which -is already the seat of these molecular perturbations of one order, will -induce perturbations of a counter order in the molecules of an adjacent -surface. - -In additional justification of the hypothesis, I will only point out -that voltaic electricity seems to admit of a kindred interpretation. -For any molecular re-arrangement, such as occurs in a chemical -decomposition and recombination, implies that the movements of -the {184} molecules concerned are mutually perturbed; and their -perturbations must conform to the general law already described: the -molecules must derange one another’s motions in equal and opposite -ways, and so must generate _plus_ and _minus_ derangements that cancel -when brought into relation. - -Of course I suggest this view simply as one occurring to an outsider. -Unquestionably it presents difficulties; as, for instance, that no -manifest explanation is yielded by it of electric attractions and -repulsions. And there are doubtless objections not obvious to me that -will at once strike those to whom the facts are more familiar. The -hypothesis must be regarded as speculative; and as set down on the -chance that it may be worth consideration. - - * * * * * - -Since the foregoing postscript was put in type, I have received -criticisms upon it, oral and written, from several leading electricians -and physicists; and I have profited by them to amend parts of the -exposition. While I have remained without endorsements of the -hypothesis, the objections raised have not been such as to make clear -its untenability. - -On one point an addition seems needful to exclude a misconstruction -apt to arise. The description of the mutually-produced molecular -perturbations, opposite in their kinds, as resulting in waves that are -propagated away from the place of disturbance, and that cancel when -brought into relation, is met by the criticism that waves, proceeding -in opposite directions and meeting, do not mutually cancel, but, -passing one another, proceed onwards. There are, however, two respects -in which the parallelism does not hold, between the waves referred -to and the waves I have described, which perhaps cannot rightly be -called waves. The waves referred to, as those on the surface of a -liquid, {185} are such that each consists of two opposite deviations -from a mean state. Each shows excess and defect. A series of them is -a series of _plus_ and _minus_ divergences; and if two such series -meet one another, they do not cancel. But there is no analogy between -this case and a case in which the whole effect propagated in one -direction is a _plus_ motion, and the whole effect propagated in the -opposite direction is a _minus_ motion—that is, _plus_ and _minus_ -changes in other motions. These, if equal in amount, will cancel when -they meet. If one is a continual addition to motion in a certain -direction, and the other a corresponding subtraction from motion in -that direction, the two, when added together, must produce zero. From -another point of view the absence of parallelism between the two -cases may be equally well seen. Waves of the kinds instanced as not -cancelling one another, are waves produced by some force foreign to -the medium exhibiting them—an extrinsic force. Hence, proceeding from -the place of initiation, they are necessarily, considered in their -totalities, _positive_ in whatever directions they travel; and hence, -too, when conducted round so as to meet, an exaggerated perturbation -will result. But in the simplest of the cases here dealt with (that -of contact-electricity) the perturbation is not of extrinsic origin, -but of intrinsic origin. There is no external activity at the expense -of which the quantity of motion in the disturbed matter is positively -increased. The activity, being such only as is internally possessed, -can generate no more motion than already exists; and therefore whatever -gain of motion arises anywhere in the molecules must be at the cost of -an equal loss elsewhere. Here perturbation cannot be a _plus_ motion -in all directions from the place of initiation; but any _plus_ motion -continually generated can result only from an equal and opposite -_minus_ motion continually generated; and the mutual cancelling becomes -a corollary from the mutual genesis. - -In the course of the discussions which I have had, the {186} following -way of presenting the argument has occurred to me. - -1. Two homogeneous bodies are rubbed together and there results heat: -the interpretation being that the molar motion is transformed into -molecular motion. Here motion produces motion—the _form_ only being -changed. - -2. Now of the two bodies one is replaced by a body unlike in nature to -the other, and they are again rubbed. Again a certain amount of heat -is produced: some of the molar motion is, as before, transformed into -molecular motion. But, at the same time, another part of the molar -motion is changed into—what? Surely not a fluid, a substance, a thing. -It cannot be that what in the first case produces a change of _state_, -in the second case produces an _entity_. And in the second case itself, -it cannot be that while part of the original motion becomes changed -into another species of motion, part of it becomes changed into a -species of matter. - -3. Must we not say, then, that if, when the two bodies rubbed are -homogeneous, sensible motion is transformed into insensible motion, -when they are heterogeneous, sensible motion must still be transformed -into insensible motion: such difference of nature as this insensible -motion has, being consequent on the difference of nature between the -two kinds of molecules acting on one another? - -4. If, when the two masses are homogeneous, those molecules which -compose the two rubbed surfaces disturb one another, and increase one -another’s oscillations; then, when the two masses are heterogeneous, -those molecules forming the two rubbed surfaces must also disturb one -another in some way—increase one another’s agitations. - -5. If, when the two sets of molecules are alike in kind, the mutual -disturbance is such that they simply increase the amplitudes of one -another’s oscillations, and do this because their times correspond; -then, must it not be {187} that when they are unlike in kind, the -mutual disturbance will involve a differential action consequent on the -unlikeness of their motions? Must not the discord of the oscillations -produce a result which cannot be produced when the oscillations are -concordant—a compound form of molecular motion? - -6. If masses of relatively-simple molecules, placed in apposition -and made to act on one another, cause such effects; then must we not -say that effects of the same class, but of a different order, will -be caused by the mutual actions, not of the molecules as wholes, -but of their constituents? If the rubbed surfaces severally consist -of highly-compounded molecules—each containing, it may be, several -hundreds of minor molecules, united into a definitely-arranged cluster; -then, while the molecules as wholes affect one another’s motions, -must we not infer that the constituents of the one class will affect -the constituents of the other class in their motions? While the -molecules as wholes increase one another’s oscillations, or derange one -another’s oscillations, or both, the components of them cannot be so -stably arranged that members of the one group are wholly inoperative -on members of the other group. And if they are operative, then there -must be a compound form of molecular motion which arises when masses -of highly-compounded molecules of unlike kinds, are made to act on one -another. - -With this series of propositions and questions, I leave the suggestion -to its fate; merely remarking that, setting out with the principles -of molecular physics now accepted, it seems difficult to avoid the -implication that some actions of the kinds described take place, and -that there result from them some classes of phenomena—phenomena which, -if not those we call electrical, remain to be identified. - - -ENDNOTE TO _WHAT IS ELECTRICITY?_. - -[23] Though conchoidal fracture may not be conclusive proof of -colloidality, yet colloidal substances hard enough for fracture always -display it. Respecting roll-sulphur I may say that though in a few -days after it is made, it changes from its original state to a state -in which it consists of minute crystals of another kind irregularly -massed, yet there is reason for suspecting that these have a matrix -of amorphous sulphur. I learn from Dr. Frankland that, when sublimed, -sulphur aggregates partly into minute crystals and partly into an -amorphous powder distinguished by insolubility. - - - - -{188} - -MILL _versus_ HAMILTON—THE TEST OF TRUTH. - - -[_First published in_ The Fortnightly Review _for July 1865._] - -British speculation, to which, the chief initial ideas and established -truths of Modern Philosophy are due, is no longer dormant. By his -_System of Logic_, Mr. Mill probably did more than any other writer to -re-awaken it. And to the great service he thus rendered some twenty -years ago, he now adds by his _Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s -Philosophy_—a work which, taking the views of Sir William Hamilton -as texts, reconsiders sundry ultimate questions that still remain -unsettled. - -Among these questions is one of much importance which has already -been the subject of controversy between Mr. Mill and others; and this -question I propose to discuss afresh. Before doing so, however, it will -be desirable to glance at two cardinal doctrines of the Hamiltonian -philosophy from which Mr. Mill shows reasons for dissenting—desirable, -because comment on them will elucidate what is to follow. - -In his fifth chapter, Mr. Mill points out that “what is rejected as -knowledge by Sir William Hamilton,” is “brought back by him under the -name of belief.” The quotations justify this description of Sir W. -Hamilton’s position, and warrant the assertion that the relativity -of {189} knowledge was held by him but nominally. His inconsistency -may, I think, be traced to the use of the word “belief” in two quite -different senses. We commonly say we “believe” a thing for which -we can assign preponderating evidence, or concerning which we have -received some indefinable impression. We _believe_ that the next -House of Commons will not abolish Church-rates; or we _believe_ that -a person on whose face we look is good-natured. That is, when we can -give confessedly-inadequate proofs or no proofs at all for the things -we think, we call them “beliefs.” And it is the peculiarity of these -beliefs, as contrasted with cognitions, that their connexions with -antecedent states of consciousness may be easily severed, instead of -being difficult to sever. But, unhappily, the word “belief” is also -applied to each of those temporarily or permanently indissoluble -connexions in consciousness, for the acceptance of which the only -warrant is that it cannot be got rid of. Saying that I feel a pain, -or hear a sound, or see one line to be longer than another, is saying -that there has occurred in me a certain change of state; and it is -impossible for me to give a stronger evidence of this fact than that -it is present to my mind. Every argument, too, is resolvable into -successive affections of consciousness which have no warrants beyond -themselves. When asked why I assert some mediately known truth, as -that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles, I -find that the proof may be decomposed into steps, each of which is an -immediate consciousness that certain two quantities or two relations -are equal or unequal—a consciousness for which no further evidence is -assignable than that it exists in me. Nor, on finally getting down to -some axiom underlying the whole fabric of demonstration, can I say -more than that it is a truth of which I am immediately conscious. -But now observe the confusion that has arisen. The immense majority -of truths which we accept as beyond doubt, and from which our notion -of unquestionable truth is abstracted, {190} have this other trait -in common—they are severally established by affiliation on deeper -truths. These two characters have become so associated, that one -seems to imply the other. For each truth of geometry we are able -to assign some wider truth in which it is involved; for that wider -truth we are able, if required, to assign some still wider; and so -on. This being the general nature of the demonstration by which exact -knowledge is established, there has arisen the illusion that knowledge -so established is knowledge of higher validity than that immediate -knowledge which has nothing deeper to rest on. The habit of asking for -proof, and having proof given, in all these multitudinous cases, has -produced the implication that proof may be asked for those ultimate -dicta of consciousness into which all proof is resolvable. And then, -because no proof of these can be given, there arises the vague feeling -that they are akin to other things of which no proof can be given—that -they are uncertain—that they have unsatisfactory bases. This feeling -is strengthened by the accompanying misuse of words. “Belief” having, -as above pointed out, become the name of an impression for which we -can give only a confessedly-inadequate reason, or no reason at all; it -happens that when pushed hard respecting the warrant for any ultimate -dictum of consciousness, we say, in the absence of all assignable -reason, that we _believe_ it. Thus the two opposite poles of knowledge -go under the same name; and by the reverse connotations of this name, -as used for the most coherent and least coherent relations of thought, -profound misconceptions have been generated. Here, it seems to me, is -the source of Sir William Hamilton’s error. Classing as “beliefs” those -direct, undecomposable dicta of consciousness which transcend proof, -he asserts that these are of higher authority than knowledge (meaning -by knowledge that for which reasons can be given); and in asserting -this he is fully justified. But when he claims equal authority for -those affections of consciousness which {191} go under the same name -of “beliefs,” but differ in being extremely-indirect affections of -consciousness, or not definite affections of consciousness at all, the -claim cannot be admitted. By his own showing, no positive cognition -answering to the word “infinite” exists; while, contrariwise, those -cognitions which he rightly holds to be above question, are not only -positive, but have the peculiarity that they cannot be suppressed. How, -then, can the two be grouped together as of like degrees of validity? - -Nearly allied in nature to this, is another Hamiltonian doctrine, which -Mr. Mill effectively combats. I refer to the corollary respecting -noumenal existence which Sir William Hamilton draws from the law of -the Excluded Middle, or, as it might be more intelligibly called, the -law of the Alternative Necessity. A thing must either exist or not -exist—must have a certain attribute or not have it: there is no third -possibility. This is a postulate of all thought; and in so far as it is -alleged of phenomenal existence, no one calls it in question. But Sir -William Hamilton, applying the formula beyond the limits of thought, -draws from it certain conclusions respecting things as they are, apart -from our consciousness. He says, for example, that though we cannot -conceive Space as infinite or as finite, yet, “on the principle of the -Excluded Middle, one or other must be admitted.” This inference Mr. -Mill shows good reason for rejecting. His argument may be supplemented -by another, which at once suggests itself if from the words of Sir -William Hamilton’s propositions we pass to the thoughts for which -they are supposed to stand. When remembering a certain thing as in -a certain place, the place and the thing are mentally represented -together; while to think of the non-existence of the thing in that -place, implies a consciousness in which the place is represented but -not the thing. Similarly, if, instead of thinking of an object as -colourless, we think of it as having colour, the change consists in the -addition to the {192} concept of an element that was before absent -from it—the object cannot be thought of first as red and then as not -red, without one component of the thought being expelled from the -mind by another. The doctrine of the Excluded Middle, then, is simply -a generalization of the universal experience that some mental states -are directly destructive of other states. It formulates a certain -absolutely-constant law, that no positive mode of consciousness can -occur without excluding a correlative negative mode; and that the -negative mode cannot occur without excluding the correlative positive -mode: the antithesis of positive and negative, being, indeed, merely an -expression of this experience. Hence it follows that if consciousness -is not in one of the two modes, it must be in the other. But now, -under what conditions only can this law of consciousness hold? It can -hold only so long as there are positive states of consciousness which -can exclude the negative states, and which the negative states can in -their turn exclude. If we are not concerned with positive states of -consciousness at all, no such mutual exclusion takes place, and the -law of the Alternative Necessity does not apply. Here, then, is the -flaw in Sir William Hamilton’s proposition. That Space must be infinite -or finite, are alternatives of which we are not obliged to regard one -as necessary; seeing that we have no state of consciousness answering -to either of these words as applied to the totality of Space, and -therefore no exclusion of two antagonist states of consciousness by one -another. Both alternatives being unthinkable, the proposition should be -put thus: Space is either or is ; neither of which can -be conceived, but one of which must be true. In this, as in some other -cases, Sir William Hamilton continues to work out the forms of thought -when they no longer contain any substance; and, of course, reaches -nothing more than verbal conclusions. - -Ending here these comments on doctrines of Sir William {193} Hamilton, -which Mr. Mill rejects on grounds that will be generally recognized -as valid, let me now pass to a doctrine, partly held by Sir William -Hamilton, and held by others in ways variously qualified and variously -extended—a doctrine which, I think, may be successfully defended -against Mr. Mill’s attack. - - * * * * * - -In the fourth and fifth editions of his _Logic_, Mr. Mill treats, at -considerable length, the question—Is inconceivability an evidence -of untruth?—replying to criticisms previously made on his reasons -for asserting that it is not. The chief answers which he there -makes to these criticisms, turn upon the interpretation of the word -_inconceivable_. This word he considers is used as the equivalent of -the word _unbelievable_; and, translating it thus, readily disposes of -sundry arguments brought against him. Whether any others who have used -these words in philosophical discussion, have made them synonymous, I -do not know; but that they are so used in those reasonings of my own -which Mr. Mill combats, I was not conscious, and was surprised to find -alleged. It is now manifest that I had not adequately guarded myself -against the misconstruction which is liable to arise from the double -meaning of the word _belief_—a word which, we have seen, is used for -the most coherent and the least coherent connexions in consciousness, -because they have the common character that no reason is assignable for -them. Throughout the argument to which Mr. Mill replies, the word is -used by me only in the first of these senses. The “invariably existent -beliefs,” the “indestructible beliefs,” are the indissoluble connexions -in consciousness—never the dissoluble ones. But _unbelievable_ implies -the dissoluble ones. By association with the other and more general -meaning of the word _belief_, the word _unbelievable_ suggests cases -in which the proposition admits of being represented in thought, -though it may be with difficulty; and in which, consequently, the -counter-proposition admits of being {194} decomposed. To be quite -sure of our ground, let us define and illustrate the meanings of -_inconceivable_ and _unbelievable._ An inconceivable proposition -is one of which the terms cannot, by any effort, be brought before -consciousness in that relation which the proposition asserts between -them—a proposition of which the subject and the predicate offer -an insurmountable resistance to union in thought. An unbelievable -proposition is one which admits of being framed in thought, but is -so much at variance with experience that its terms cannot be put in -the alleged relation without effort. Thus, it is unbelievable that -a cannon-ball fired from England should reach America; but it is -not inconceivable. Conversely, it is inconceivable that one side of -a triangle is equal to the sum of the other two sides—not simply -unbelievable. The two sides cannot be represented in consciousness -as becoming equal in their joint length to the third side, without -the representation of a triangle being destroyed; and the concept of -a triangle cannot be framed without a simultaneous destruction of -a concept in which these magnitudes are represented as equal. That -is to say, the subject and predicate cannot be united in the same -intuition—the proposition is unthinkable. It is in this sense only that -I have used the word inconceivable; and only when rigorously restricted -to this sense do I regard the test of inconceivableness as having any -value. - -I had concluded that when this explanation was made, Mr. Mill’s reasons -for dissent would be removed. Passages in his recently-published -volume, however, show that, even restricting the use of the word -inconceivable to the meaning here specified, he still denies that -a proposition is proved to be true by the inconceivableness of its -negation. To meet, within any moderate compass, all the issues which -have grown out of the controversy, is difficult. Before passing to the -essential question, however, I will endeavour to clear the ground of -certain minor questions. - -Describing Sir William Hamilton’s doctrine respecting {195} the -ultimate facts of consciousness, or those which are above proof, Mr. -Mill writes: - -“The only condition he requires is that we be not able to ‘reduce it -[a fact of this class] to a generalization from experience.’ This -condition is realized by its possessing the ‘character of necessity.’ -‘It must be impossible not to think it. In fact, by its necessity -alone can we recognize it as an original datum of intelligence, and -distinguish it from any mere result of generalization and custom.’ In -this Sir William Hamilton is at one with the whole of his own section -of the philosophical world; with Reid, with Stewart, with Cousin, with -Whewell, we may add, with Kant, and even with Mr. Herbert Spencer. The -test by which they all decide a belief to be a part of our primitive -consciousness—an original intuition of the mind—is the necessity of -thinking it. Their proof that we must always, from the beginning, have -had the belief, is the impossibility of getting rid of it now. This -argument, applied to any of the disputed questions of philosophy, -is doubly illegitimate: neither the major nor the minor premise is -admissible. For in the first place, the very fact that the question -is disputed, disproves the alleged impossibility. Those against whom -it is needful to defend the belief which is affirmed to be necessary, -are unmistakable examples that it is not necessary . . . . These -philosophers, therefore, and among them Sir William Hamilton, mistake -altogether the true conditions of psychological investigation, when, -instead of proving a belief to be an original fact of consciousness by -showing that it could not have been acquired, they conclude that it -was not acquired, for the reason, often false, and never sufficiently -substantiated, that our consciousness cannot get rid of it now.” - -This representation, in so far as it concerns my own views, has -somewhat puzzled me. Considering that I have avowed a general agreement -with Mr. Mill in the doctrine that all knowledge is from experience, -and have defended {196} the test of inconceivableness on the very -ground that it expresses “the net result of our experiences up to -the present time” (_Principles of Psychology_, § 430)—considering -that, so far from asserting the distinction quoted from Sir William -Hamilton, I have aimed to abolish such distinction—considering that I -have endeavoured to show how all our conceptions, even down to those -of Space and Time, are “acquired”—considering that I have sought -to interpret forms of thought (and by implication all intuitions) -as products of organized and inherited experiences (_Principles of -Psychology_, § 208); I am taken aback at finding myself classed as -in the above paragraph. Leaving the personal question, however, let -me pass to the assertion that the difference of opinion respecting -the test of necessity itself disproves the validity of the test. Two -issues are here involved. First, if a particular proposition is by -some accepted as a necessary belief, but by one or more denied to be -a necessary belief, is the validity of the test of necessity thereby -disproved in respect of that particular proposition? Second, if the -validity of the test is disproved in respect of that particular -proposition, does it therefore follow that the test cannot be depended -on in other cases?—does it follow that there are no beliefs universally -accepted as necessary, and in respect of which the test of necessity is -valid? Each of these questions may, I think, be rightly answered in the -negative. - -In alleging that if a belief is said by some to be necessary, but by -others to be not necessary, the test of necessity is thereby shown -to be no test, Mr. Mill tacitly assumes that all men have powers of -introspection enabling them in all cases to say what consciousness -testifies; whereas a great proportion of men are incapable of correctly -interpreting consciousness in any but its simplest modes, and even -the remainder are liable to mistake for dicta of consciousness what -prove on closer examination not to be its dicta. Take the case of an -arithmetical blunder. {197} A boy adds up a column of figures, and -brings out a wrong total. Again he does it and again errs. His master -asks him to go through the process aloud, and then hears him say “35 -and 9 are 46”—an error which he had repeated on each occasion. Now -without discussing the mental act through which we know that 35 and 9 -are 44, and through which we recognize the necessity of this relation, -it is clear that the boy’s misinterpretation of consciousness, leading -him tacitly to deny this necessity by asserting that “35 and 9 are -46,” cannot be held to prove that the relation is not necessary. This, -and kindred misjudgments daily made by accountants, merely show that -there is a liability to overlook what are necessary connexions in our -thoughts, and to assume as necessary others which are not. In these and -hosts of cases, men do not distinctly translate into their equivalent -states of consciousness the words they use. This negligence is with -many so habitual, that they are unaware that they have not clearly -represented to themselves the propositions they assert; and are then -apt, quite sincerely though erroneously, to assert that they can think -things which it is really impossible to think. - -But supposing it to be true that whenever a particular belief is -alleged to be necessary, the existence of some who profess themselves -able to believe otherwise, proves that this belief is not necessary; -must it be therefore admitted that the test of necessity is invalid? -I think not. Men may mistake for necessary, certain beliefs which are -not necessary; and yet it may remain true that there _are_ necessary -beliefs, and that the necessity of such beliefs is our warrant for -them. Were conclusions thus tested proved to be wrong in a hundred -cases, it would not follow that the test is an invalid one; any more -than it would follow from a hundred errors in the use of a logical -formula, that the logical formula is invalid. If from the premise that -all horned animals ruminate, it were inferred that the rhinoceros, -being a horned animal, ruminates; the error would {198} furnish no -argument against the worth of syllogisms in general—whatever their -worth may be. Daily there are thousands of erroneous deductions which, -by those who draw them, are supposed to be warranted by the data -from which they draw them; but no multiplication of such erroneous -deductions is regarded as proving that there are no deductions truly -drawn, and that the drawing of deductions is illegitimate. In these -cases, as in the case to which they are here paralleled, the only thing -shown is the need for verification of data and criticism of the acts of -consciousness. - -“This argument,” says Mr. Mill, referring to the argument of necessity, -“applied to any of the disputed questions of philosophy, is doubly -illegitimate; . . . the very fact that the question is disputed, -disproves the alleged impossibility.” Besides the foregoing replies -to this, there is another. Granting that there have been appeals -illegitimately made to this test—granting that there are many questions -too complex to be settled by it, which men have nevertheless proposed -to settle by it, and have consequently got into controversy; it may -yet be truly asserted that in respect of all, or almost all, questions -legitimately brought to judgment by this test, there is _no_ dispute -about the answer. From the earliest times on record down to our own, -men have not changed their beliefs concerning the truths of number. The -axiom that if equals be added to unequals the sums are unequal, was -held by the Greeks no less than by ourselves, as a direct verdict of -consciousness, from which there is no escape and no appeal. Each of the -propositions of Euclid appears to us absolutely beyond doubt as it did -to them. Each step in each demonstration we accept, as they accepted -it, because we immediately see that the alleged relation is as alleged, -and that it is impossible to conceive it otherwise. - -[Illustration] - -But how are legitimate appeals to the test to be distinguished? The -answer is not difficult to find. Mr. Mill {199} cites the belief -in the antipodes as having been rejected by the Greeks because -inconceivable, but as being held by ourselves to be both conceivable -and true. He has before given this instance, and I have before objected -to it (_Principles of Psychology_, § 428), for the reason that the -states of consciousness involved in the judgment are too complex to -admit of any trustworthy verdict being given. An illustration will -show the difference between a legitimate appeal to the test and an -illegitimate appeal to it. A and B are two lines. How is it decided -that they are equal or not equal? No way is open but that of comparing -the two impressions they make on consciousness. I know them to be -unequal by an immediate act, if the difference is great, or if, though -only moderately different, they are close together; and supposing the -difference is but slight, I decide the question by putting the lines -in apposition when they are movable, or by carrying a movable line -from one to the other if they are fixed. But in any case, I obtain -in consciousness the testimony that the impression produced by the -one line differs from that produced by the other. Of this difference -I can give no further evidence than that I am conscious of it, and -find it impossible, while contemplating the lines, to get rid of -the consciousness. The proposition that the lines are unequal is a -proposition of which the negation is inconceivable. But now suppose it -is asked whether B and C are equal; or whether C and D are equal. No -positive answer is possible. Instead of its being {200} inconceivable -that B is longer than C, or equal to it, or shorter, it is conceivable -that it is any one of the three. Here an appeal to the direct verdict -of consciousness is illegitimate, because on transferring the -attention from B to C, or C to D, the changes in the other elements -of the impressions so entangle the elements to be compared, as to -prevent them from being put in apposition. If the question of relative -length is to be determined, it must be by rectification of the bent -line; and this is done through a series of steps, each one of which -involves an immediate judgment akin to that by which A and B are -compared. Now as here, so in other cases, it is only simple percepts -or concepts respecting the relations of which immediate consciousness -can satisfactorily testify; and as here, so in other cases, it is by -resolution into such simple percepts and concepts, that true judgments -respecting complex percepts and concepts are reached. That things which -are equal to the same thing are equal to one another, is a fact which -can be known by direct comparison of actual or ideal relations, and can -be known in no other way: the proposition is one of which the negation -is inconceivable, and is rightly asserted on that warrant. But that -the square of the hypothenuse of a right-angled triangle equals the -sum of the squares of the other two sides, cannot be known immediately -by comparison of two states of consciousness. Here the truth can be -reached only mediately, through a series of simple judgments respecting -the likenesses or unlikenesses of certain relations: each of which -judgments is essentially of the same kind as that by which the above -axiom is known, and has the same warrant. Thus it becomes apparent -that the fallacious result of the test of necessity which Mr. Mill -instances, is due to a misapplication of the test. - -These preliminary explanations have served to make clear the question -at issue. Let us now pass to the essence of it. - - * * * * * - -Metaphysical reasoning is usually vitiated by some covert {201} -_petitio principii_. Either the thing to be proved or the thing to be -disproved, is tacitly assumed to be true in the course of the proof -or disproof. It is thus with the argument of Idealism. Though the -conclusion reached is that Mind and Ideas are the only existences; yet -the steps by which this conclusion is reached, take for granted that -external objects have just the kind of independent existence which is -eventually denied. If that extension which the Idealist contends is -merely an affection of consciousness, has nothing out of consciousness -answering to it; then, in each of his propositions concerning -extension, the word should always mean an affection of consciousness -and nothing more. But if wherever he speaks of distances and dimensions -we write ideas of distances and dimensions, his propositions are -reduced to nonsense. So, too, is it with Scepticism. The resolution -of all knowledge into “impressions” and “ideas,” is effected by an -analysis which assumes at every step an objective reality producing -the impressions and the subjective reality receiving them. The -reasoning becomes impossible if the existence of object and subject -be not admitted at the outset. Agree with the Sceptic’s doubt, and -then propose to revise his argument so that it may harmonize with his -doubt. Of the two alternatives between which he halts, assume, first, -the reality of object and subject. His argument is practicable; whether -valid or not. Now assume that object and subject do not exist. He -cannot stir a step toward his conclusion—nay, he cannot even state his -conclusion; for the word “impression” cannot be translated into thought -without assuming a thing impressing and a thing impressed. - -Though Empiricism, as at present understood, is not thus suicidal, it -is open to an analogous criticism on its method, similarly telling -against the validity of its inference. It proposes to account for our -so-called necessary beliefs, as well as all our other beliefs; and to -do this without postulating any one belief as necessary. Bringing {202} -forward abundant evidence that the connexions among our states of -consciousness are determined by our experiences—that two experiences -frequently recurring together in consciousness, become so coherent -that one strongly suggests the other, and that when their joint -recurrence is perpetual and invariable, the connexion between them -becomes indissoluble; it argues that the indissolubility, so produced, -is all that we mean by necessity. And then it seeks to explain each -of our so-called necessary beliefs as thus originated. Now could pure -Empiricism reach this analysis and its subsequent synthesis without -taking any thing for granted, its arguments would be unobjectionable. -But it cannot do this. Examine its phraseology, and there arises the -question, Experiences of _what_? Translate the word into thought, -and it clearly involves something more than states of mind and the -connexions among them. For if it does not, then the hypothesis is that -states of mind are generated by the experiences of states of mind; -and if the inquiry be pursued, this ends with initial states of mind -which are not accounted for—the hypothesis fails. Evidently, there is -tacitly assumed something beyond the mind by which the “experiences” -are produced—something in which exist the objective relations to -which the subjective relations correspond—an external world. Refuse -thus to explain the word “experiences,” and the hypothesis becomes -meaningless. But now, having thus postulated an external reality as -the indispensable foundation of its reasonings, pure Empiricism can -subsequently neither prove nor disprove its postulate. An attempt to -disprove it, or to give it any other meaning than that originally -involved, is suicidal; and an attempt to establish it by inference is -reasoning in a circle. What then are we to say of this proposition -on which Empiricism rests? Is it a necessary belief, or is it not? -If necessary, the hypothesis in its pure form is abandoned. If not -necessary—if not posited {203} _à priori_ as absolutely certain—then -the hypothesis rests on an uncertainty; and the whole fabric of its -argument is unstable. More than this is true. Besides the insecurity -implied by building on a foundation that is confessedly not beyond -question, there is the much greater insecurity implied by raising -proposition upon proposition of which each is confessedly not beyond -question. For to say that there are no necessary truths, is to say -that each successive inference is not necessarily involved in its -premises—is an empirical judgment—a judgment not certainly true. Hence, -applying rigorously its own doctrine, we find that pure Empiricism, -starting from an uncertainty and progressing through a series of -uncertainties, cannot claim much certainty for its conclusions. - -Doubtless, it may be replied that any theory of human knowledge -must set out with assumptions—either permanent or provisional; and -that the validity of these assumptions is to be determined by the -results reached through them. But that such assumptions may be made -legitimately, two things are required. In the first place they must -not be multiplied step after step as occasion requires; otherwise -the conclusion reached might as well be assumed at once. And in the -second place, the fact that they _are_ assumptions must not be lost -sight of: the conclusions drawn must not be put forward as though they -have a certainty which the premises have not. Now pure Empiricism, in -common with other theories of knowledge, is open to the criticism, that -it neglects thus avowedly to recognize the nature of those primary -assumptions which it lays down as provisionally valid, if it denies -that they can be necessarily valid. And it is open to the further -criticism, that it goes on at every step in its argument making -assumptions which it neglects to specify as provisional; since they, -too, cannot be known as necessary. Until it has assigned some warrant -for its original datum and for each of its subsequent inferences, or -else has {204} acknowledged them all to be but hypothetical, it may be -stopped either at the outset or at any stage in its argument. Against -every “because” and every “therefore,” an opponent may enter a caveat, -until he is told why it is asserted: contending, as he may, that if -this inference is not necessary he is not bound to accept it; and that -if it is necessary it must be openly declared to be necessary, and some -test must be assigned by which it is distinguished from propositions -that are not necessary. - -These considerations will, I think, make it obvious that the first step -in a metaphysical argument, rightly carried on, must be an examination -of propositions for the purpose of ascertaining what character is -common to those which we call unquestionably true, and is implied by -asserting their unquestionable truth. Further, to carry on this inquiry -legitimately, we must restrict our analysis rigorously to states of -consciousness considered in their relations to one another: wholly -ignoring any thing beyond consciousness to which these states and their -relations may be supposed to refer. For if, before we have ascertained -by comparing propositions what is the trait that leads us to class some -of them as certainly true, we avowedly or tacitly take for granted -the existence of something beyond consciousness; then, a particular -proposition is assumed to be certainly true before we have ascertained -what is the distinctive character of the propositions which we call -certainly true, and the analysis is vitiated. If we cannot transcend -consciousness—if, therefore, what we know as truth must be some mental -state, or some combination of mental states; it must be possible for -us to say in what way we distinguish this state or these states. The -definition of truth must be expressible in terms of consciousness; -and, indeed, cannot otherwise be expressed if consciousness cannot be -transcended. Clearly, then, the metaphysician’s first step must be to -shut out from his investigation every thing but what is subjective; -not taking for granted the {205} existence of any thing objective -corresponding to his ideas, until he has ascertained what property of -his ideas it is which he predicates by calling them true. Let us note -the result if he does this. - - * * * * * - -The words of a proposition are the signs of certain states of -consciousness; and the thing alleged by a proposition is the connexion -or disconnexion of the states of consciousness signified. When thinking -is carried on with precision—when the mental states which we call -words, are translated into the mental states they symbolize (which -they very frequently are not)—thinking a proposition consists in the -occurrence together in consciousness of the subject and predicate. “The -bird was brown,” is a proposition which implies the union in thought -of a particular attribute with a group of other attributes. When the -inquirer compares various propositions thus rendered into states of -consciousness, he finds that they differ very greatly in respect of -the facility with which the states of consciousness are connected and -disconnected. The mental state known as _brown_ may be united with -those mental states which make up the figure known as _bird_, without -appreciable effort, or may be separated from them without appreciable -effort: the bird may easily be thought of as black, or green, or -yellow. Contrariwise, such an assertion as “The ice was hot,” is one -to which he finds much difficulty in making his mind respond. The -elements of the proposition cannot be put together in thought without -great resistance. Between those other states of consciousness which -the word _ice_ connotes, and the state of consciousness named _cold_, -there is an extremely strong cohesion—a cohesion measured by the -resistance to be overcome in thinking of the ice as _hot_. Further, he -finds that in many cases the states of consciousness grouped together -cannot be separated at all. The idea of pressure cannot be disconnected -from the idea of something occupying space. Motion cannot be thought -{206} of without an object that moves being at the same time thought -of. And then, besides these connexions in consciousness which remain -absolute under all circumstances, there are others which remain -absolute under special circumstances. Between the elements of those -more vivid states of consciousness which the inquirer distinguishes -as perceptions, he finds that there is a temporarily-indissoluble -cohesion. Though when there arises in him that comparatively faint -state of consciousness which he calls the idea of a book, he can easily -think of the book as red, or brown, or green; yet when he has that much -stronger consciousness which he calls seeing a book, he finds that so -long as there continue certain accompanying states of consciousness -which he calls the conditions to perception, those several states of -consciousness which make up the perception cannot be disunited—he -cannot think of the book as red, or green, or brown; but finds that, -along with a certain figure, there absolutely coheres a certain colour. - -Still shutting himself up within these limits, let us suppose the -inquirer to ask himself what he thinks about these various degrees -of cohesion among his states of consciousness—how he names them, and -how he behaves toward them. If there comes, no matter whence, the -proposition—“The bird was brown,” subject and predicate answering -to these words spring up together in consciousness; and if there -is no opposing proposition, he unites the specified and implied -attributes without effort, and believes the proposition. If, however, -the proposition is—“The bird was necessarily brown,” he makes an -experiment like those above described, and finding that he can separate -the attribute of brownness, and can think of the bird as green or -yellow, he does not admit that the bird was necessarily brown. When -such a proposition as “The ice was cold” arises in him, the elements -of the thought behave as before; and so long as no test is applied, -the union of the consciousness of cold with the {207} accompanying -states of consciousness, seems to be of the same nature as the union -between those answering to the words _brown_ and _bird_. But should -the proposition be changed into—“The ice was necessarily cold,” -quite a different result happens from that which happened in the -previous case. The ideas answering to subject and predicate are here -so coherent, that in the absence of careful examination they might -pass as inseparable, and the proposition be accepted. But suppose -the proposition is deliberately tested by trying whether ice can be -thought of as not cold. Great resistance is offered in consciousness -to this. Still, by an effort, he can imagine water to have its -temperature of congelation higher than blood heat; and can so think -of congealed water as hot instead of cold. Now the extremely strong -cohesion of states of consciousness, thus experimentally proved by -the difficulty of separating them, he finds to be what he calls a -strong belief. Once more, in response to the words—“Along with motion -there is something that moves,” he represents to himself a moving -body; and, until he tries an experiment upon it, he may suppose the -elements of the representation to be united in the same way as those -of the representations instanced above. But supposing the proposition -is modified into—“Along with motion there is necessarily something -that moves,” the response made in thought to these words, discloses -the fact that the states of consciousness called up in this case are -indissolubly connected in the way alleged. He discovers this by trying -to conceive the negation of the proposition—by trying to think of -motion as _not_ having along with it something that moves; and his -inability to conceive this negation is the obverse of his inability -to tear asunder the states of consciousness which constitute the -affirmation. Those propositions which survive this strain, are the -propositions he distinguishes as necessary. Whether or not he means any -thing else by this word, he evidently means that in his consciousness -the connexions {208} they predicate are, so far as he can ascertain, -unalterable. The bare fact is that he submits to them because he has -no choice. They rule his thoughts whether he will or not. Leaving out -all questions concerning the origin of these connexions—all theories -concerning their significations, there remains in the inquirer the -consciousness that certain of his states of consciousness are so welded -together that all other links in the chain of consciousness yield -before these give way. - -Continuing rigorously to exclude everything beyond consciousness, let -him now ask himself what he means by reasoning? what is the essential -nature of an argument? what is the peculiarity of a conclusion? -Analysis soon shows him that reasoning is the formation of a coherent -series of states of consciousness. He has found that the thoughts -expressed by propositions, vary in the cohesions of their subjects and -predicates; and he finds that at every step in an argument, carefully -carried on, he tests the strengths of all the connexions asserted and -implied. He considers whether the object named really does belong to -the class in which it is included—tries whether he can think of it as -_not_ like the things it is said to be like. He considers whether the -attribute alleged is really possessed by all members of the class—tries -to think of some member of the class that has _not_ the attribute—And -he admits the proposition only on finding, by this criticism, that -there is a greater degree of cohesion in thought between its elements, -than between the elements of the counter-proposition. Thus testing -the strength of each link in the argument, he at length reaches the -conclusion, which he tests in the same way. If he accepts it, he does -so because the argument has established in him an indirect cohesion -between states of consciousness that were not directly coherent, -or not so coherent directly as the argument makes them indirectly. -But he accepts it only supposing that the connexion between the two -states of consciousness {209} composing it, is not resisted by -some stronger counter-connexion. If there happens to be an opposing -argument, of which the component thoughts are felt, when tested, to be -more coherent; or if, in the absence of an opposing argument, there -exists an apposing conclusion, of which the elements have some direct -cohesion greater than that which the proffered argument indirectly -gives; then the conclusion reached by this argument is not admitted. -Thus, a discussion in consciousness proves to be simply a trial of -strength between different connexions in consciousness—a systematized -struggle serving to determine which are the least coherent states -of consciousness. And the result of the struggle is, that the least -coherent states of consciousness separate, while the most coherent -remain together—form a proposition of which the predicate persists in -rising up in the mind along with its subject—constitute one of the -connexions in thought which is distinguished as something known, or as -something believed, according to its strength. - -What corollary may the inquirer draw, or rather what corollary must -he draw, on pushing the analysis to its limit? If there are any -indissoluble connexions, he is compelled to accept them. If certain -states of consciousness absolutely cohere in certain ways, he is -obliged to think them in those ways. The proposition is an identical -one. To say that they are necessities of thought is merely another way -of saying that their elements cannot be torn asunder. No reasoning -can give to these absolute cohesions in thought any better warrant; -since all reasoning, being a process of testing cohesions, is itself -carried on by accepting the absolute cohesions; and can, in the last -resort, do nothing more than present some absolute cohesions in -justification of others—an act which unwarrantably assumes in the -absolute cohesions it offers, a greater value than is allowed to the -absolute cohesions it would justify. Here, then, the inquirer comes -down to an {210} ultimate mental uniformity—a universal law of his -thinking. How completely his thought is subordinated to this law, -is shown by the fact that he cannot even represent to himself the -possibility of any other law. To suppose the connexions among his -states of consciousness to be otherwise determined, is to suppose a -smaller force overcoming a greater—a proposition which may be expressed -in words but cannot be rendered into ideas. No matter what he calls -these indestructible relations, no matter what he supposes to be their -meanings, he is completely fettered by them. Their indestructibility -is the proof to him that his consciousness is imprisoned within them; -and supposing any of them to be in some way destroyed, he perceives -that indestructibility would still be the distinctive character of the -bounds that remained—the test of those which he must continue to think. - -These results the inquirer arrives at without assuming any other -existence than that of his own consciousness. They postulate nothing -about mind or matter, subject or object. They leave wholly untouched -the questions—what does consciousness imply? and how is thought -generated? There is not involved in the analysis any hypothesis -respecting the origin of these relations between thoughts—how there -come to be feeble cohesions, strong cohesions, and absolute cohesions. -Whatever some of the terms used may have seemed to connote, it will be -found, on examining each step, that nothing is essentially involved -beyond states of mind and the connexions among them, which are -themselves other states of mind. Thus far, the argument is not vitiated -by any _petitio principii_. - -Should the inquirer enter upon the question, How are these facts to -be explained? he must consider how any further investigation is to -be conducted, and what is the possible degree of validity of its -conclusions. Remembering that he cannot transcend consciousness, he -sees that anything in the shape of an interpretation must be {211} -subordinate to the laws of consciousness. Every hypothesis he -entertains in trying to explain himself to himself, being an hypothesis -which can be dealt with by him only in terms of his mental states, it -follows that any process of explanation must itself be carried on by -testing the cohesions among mental states, and accepting the absolute -cohesions. His conclusions, therefore, reached only by repeated -recognitions of this test of absolute cohesion, can never have any -higher validity than this test. It matters not what name he gives to a -conclusion—whether he calls it a belief, a theory, a fact, or a truth. -These words can be themselves only names for certain relations among -his states of consciousness. Any secondary meanings which he ascribes -to them must also be meanings expressed in terms of consciousness, and -therefore subordinate to the laws of consciousness. Hence he has no -appeal from this ultimate dictum; and seeing this, he sees that the -only possible further achievement is the reconciliation of the dicta -of consciousness with one another—the bringing all other dicta of -consciousness into harmony with this ultimate dictum. - - * * * * * - -Here, then, the inquirer discovers a warrant higher than that -which any argument can give, for asserting an objective existence. -Mysterious as seems the consciousness of something which is yet out of -consciousness, he finds that he alleges the reality of this something -in virtue of the ultimate law—he is obliged to think it. There is -an indissoluble cohesion between each of those vivid and definite -states of consciousness which he calls a sensation, and an indefinable -consciousness which stands for a mode of being beyond sensation, and -separate from himself. When grasping his fork and putting food into -his mouth, he is wholly unable to expel from his mind the notion of -something which resists the force he is conscious of using; and he -cannot suppress the nascent thought of an independent existence keeping -apart his tongue and palate, and giving {212} him that sensation -of taste which he is unable to generate in consciousness by his own -activity. Though self-criticism shows him that he cannot know what -this is which lies outside of him; and though he may infer that not -being able to say what it is, it is a fiction; he discovers that such -self-criticism utterly fails to extinguish the consciousness of it as -a reality. Any conclusion into which he argues himself, that there -is no objective existence connected with these subjective states, -proves to be a mere verbal conclusion to which his thoughts will not -respond. The relation survives every effort to destroy it—is proved -by experiment, repeated no matter how often, to be one of which the -negation is inconceivable; and therefore one having supreme authority. -In vain he endeavours to give it any greater authority by reasoning; -for whichever of the two alternatives he sets out with, leaves him at -the end just where he started. If, knowing nothing more than his own -states of consciousness, he declines to acknowledge any thing beyond -consciousness until it is proved, he may go on reasoning for ever -without getting any further; since the perpetual elaboration of states -of consciousness out of states of consciousness, can never produce -anything more than states of consciousness. If, contrariwise, he -postulates external existence, and considers it as merely postulated, -then the whole fabric of his argument, standing upon this postulate, -has no greater validity than the postulate gives it, _minus_ the -possible invalidity of the argument itself. The case must not be -confounded with those cases in which an hypothesis, or provisional -assumption, is eventually proved true by its agreement with facts; for -in these cases the facts with which it is found to agree, are facts -known in some other way than through the hypothesis: a calculated -eclipse of the moon serves as a verification of the hypothesis of -gravitation, because its occurrence is observable without taking for -granted the hypothesis of gravitation. But when the external world -{213} is postulated, and it is supposed that the validity of the -postulate may be shown by the explanation of mental phenomena which -it furnishes, the vice is, that the process of verification is itself -possible only by assuming the thing to be proved. - -But now, recognizing the indissoluble cohesion between the -consciousness of _self_ and an unknown _not-self_, as constituting a -dictum of consciousness which he is both compelled to accept and is -justified by analysis in accepting, it is competent for the inquirer -to consider whether, setting out with this dictum, he can base on -it a satisfactory explanation of what he calls knowledge. He finds -such an explanation possible. The hypothesis that the more or less -coherent relations among his states of consciousness, are generated -by experience of the more or less constant relations in something -beyond his consciousness, furnishes him with solutions of numerous -facts of consciousness: not, however, of all, if he assumes that -this adjustment of inner to outer relations has resulted from his -own experiences alone. Nevertheless, if he allows himself to suppose -that this moulding of thoughts into correspondence with things, has -been going on through countless preceding generations; and that the -effects of experiences have been inherited in the shape of modified -organic structures; then he is able to interpret all the phenomena. It -becomes possible to understand how these persistent cohesions among -states of consciousness, are themselves the products of often-repeated -experiences; and that even what are known as “forms of thought,” -are but the absolute internal uniformities generated by infinite -repetitions of absolute external uniformities. It becomes possible also -to understand how, in the course of organizing of these multiplying -and widening experiences, there may arise partially-wrong connexions -in thought, answering to limited converse with things; and that these -connexions in thought, temporarily taken for indissoluble ones, may -afterwards be made dissoluble by presentation {214} of external -relations at variance with them. But even when this occurs, it can -afford no ground for questioning the test of indissolubility; since the -process by which some connexion previously accepted as indissoluble, -is broken, is simply the establishment of some antagonistic connexion, -which proves, on a trial of strength, to be the stronger—which remains -indissoluble when pitted against the other, while the other gives way. -And this leaves the test just where it was; showing only that there is -a liability to error as to what _are_ indissoluble connexions. From -the very beginning, therefore, to the very end of the explanation, -even down to the criticism of its conclusions and the discovery of its -errors, the validity of this test must be postulated. Whence it is -manifest, as before said, that the whole business of explanation can -be nothing more than that of bringing all other dicta of consciousness -into harmony with this ultimate dictum. - - * * * * * - -To the positive justification of a proposition, may be added that -negative justification which is derived from the untenability of the -counter-proposition. When describing the attitude of pure Empiricism, -some indications that its counter-proposition is untenable were given; -but it will be well here to state, more specifically, the fundamental -objections to which it is open. - -If the ultimate test of truth is not that here alleged, then what -is the ultimate test of truth? And if there is no ultimate test of -truth, then what is the warrant for accepting certain propositions -and rejecting others? An opponent who denies the validity of this -test, may legitimately decline to furnish any test himself, so long -as he does not affirm any thing to be true; but if he affirms some -things to be true and others to be not true, his warrant for doing -so may fairly be demanded. Let us glance at the possible response to -the demand. If asked why he holds it to be unquestionably true that -two quantities which differ {215} in unequal degrees from a third -quantity are themselves unequal, two replies seem open to him: he may -say that this is an ultimate fact of consciousness, or that it is an -induction from personal experiences. The reply that it is an ultimate -fact of consciousness, raises the question, How is an ultimate fact -of consciousness distinguished? All beliefs, all conclusions, all -imaginations even, are facts of consciousness; and if some are to -be accepted as beyond question because ultimate, while others are -not to be accepted as beyond question because not ultimate, there -comes the inevitable inquiry respecting the test of ultimacy. On the -other hand, the reply that this truth is known only by induction from -personal experiences, suggests the query—On what warrant are personal -experiences asserted? The testimony of experience is given only through -memory; and its worth depends wholly on the trustworthiness of memory. -Is it, then, that the trustworthiness of memory is less open to doubt -than the immediate consciousness that two quantities must be unequal if -they differ from a third quantity in unequal degrees? This can scarcely -be alleged. Memory is notoriously uncertain. We sometimes suppose -ourselves to have said things which it turns out we did not say; and -we often forget seeing things which it is proved we did see. We speak -of many passages of our lives as seeming like dreams; and can vaguely -imagine the whole past to be an illusion. We can go much further toward -conceiving that our recollections do not answer to any actualities, -than we can go toward conceiving the non-existence of Space. But even -supposing the deliverances of memory to be above criticism, the most -that can be said for the experiences to which memory testifies, is that -we are obliged to think we have had them—cannot conceive the negation -of the proposition that we have had them; and to say this is to assign -the warrant which is repudiated. - -A further counter-criticism may be made. Throughout the argument -of pure Empiricism, it is tacitly assumed that {216} there may be -a Philosophy in which nothing is asserted but what is proved. It -proposes to admit into the coherent fabric of its conclusions, no -conclusion that is incapable of being established by evidence; and -it thus takes for granted that not only may all derivative truths be -proved, but also that proof may be given of the truths from which -they are derived, down to the very deepest. The result of thus -refusing to recognize some fundamental unproved truth, is simply to -leave its fabric of conclusions without a base. The giving proof of -any special proposition, is the assimilation of it to some class of -propositions known to be true. If any doubt arises respecting the -general proposition which is cited in justification of this special -proposition, the course is to show that this general proposition -is deducible from a proposition or propositions of still greater -generality; and if pressed for proof of each such still more general -proposition, the only resource is to repeat the process. Is this -process endless? If so, nothing can be proved—the whole series of -propositions depends on some unassignable proposition. Has the -process an end? If so, there must eventually be reached a widest -proposition—one which cannot be justified by showing that it is -included by any wider—one which cannot be proved. Or to put the -argument otherwise: Every inference depends on premises; every premise, -if it admits of proof, depends on other premises; and if the proof of -the proof be continually demanded, it must either end in an unproved -premise, or in the acknowledgment that there cannot be reached any -premise on which the entire series of proofs depends. Hence Philosophy, -if it does not avowedly stand on some datum underlying reason, must -acknowledge that it has nothing on which to stand. - - * * * * * - -The expression of divergence from Mr. Mill on this fundamental -question, I have undertaken with reluctance, only on finding it -needful, both on personal and on general {217} grounds, that his -statements and arguments should be met. For two reasons, especially, -I regret having thus to contend against the doctrine of one whose -agreement I should value more than that of any other thinker. In the -first place, the difference is, I believe, superficial rather than -substantial; for it is in the interests of the Experience-Hypothesis -that Mr. Mill opposes the alleged criterion of truth; while it is as -harmonizing with the Experience-Hypothesis, and reconciling it with -all the facts, that I defend this criterion. In the second place, this -lengthened exposition of a single point of difference, unaccompanied -by an exposition of the numerous points of concurrence, unavoidably -produces an appearance of dissent very far greater than that which -exists. Mr. Mill, however, whose unswerving allegiance to truth is on -all occasions so conspicuously displayed, will fully recognize the -justification for this utterance of disagreement on a matter of such -profound importance, philosophically considered; and will not require -any apology for the entire freedom with which I have criticised his -views while seeking to substantiate my own. - - - - -{218} - -REPLIES TO CRITICISMS. - - -[_First published in_ The Fortnightly Review _for November and December -1873._] - -When made by a competent reader, an objection usually implies one -of two things. Either the statement to which he demurs is wholly or -partially untrue; or, if true, it is presented in such a way as to -permit misapprehension. A need for some change or addition is in any -case shown. - -Not recognizing the errors alleged, but thinking rather that -misapprehensions cause the dissent of those who have attacked the -metaphysico-theological doctrines held by me, I propose here to meet, -by explanations and arguments, the chief objections urged: partly with -the view of justifying these doctrines, and partly with the view of -guarding against the wrong interpretations which it appears are apt to -be made. - -The pages of a periodical intended for general reading may be thought -scarcely fitted for the treatment of these highly abstract questions. -There is now, however, so considerable a class interested in them, -and they are so deeply involved with the great changes of opinion in -progress, that I have ventured to hope for readers outside the circle -of those who occupy themselves with philosophy. - -Of course the criticisms to be noticed I have selected, {219} either -because of their intrinsic force, or because they come from men whose -positions or reputations give them weight. To meet more than a few of -my opponents is out of the question. - - * * * * * - -Let me begin with a criticism contained in the sermon preached by the -Rev. Principal Caird before the British Association, on the occasion -of its meeting in Edinburgh, in August, 1871. Expressed with a -courtesy which, happily, is now less rare than of yore in theological -controversy, Dr. Caird’s objection might, I think, be admitted without -involving essential change in the conclusion demurred to; while it -might be shown to tell with greater force against the conclusions of -thinkers classed as orthodox, Sir W. Hamilton and Dean Mansel, than -against my own. Describing this as set forth by me, Dr. Caird says:― - - “His thesis is that the provinces of science and religion are - distinguished from each other as the known from the unknown and - unknowable. This thesis is maintained mainly on a critical examination - of the nature of human intelligence, in which the writer adopts and - carries to its extreme logical results the doctrine of the relativity - of human knowledge which, propounded by Kant, has been reproduced with - special application to theology by a famous school of philosophers - in this country. From the very nature of human intelligence, it - is attempted to be shown that it can only know what is finite and - relative, and that therefore the absolute and infinite the human mind - is, by an inherent and insuperable disability, debarred from knowing. - . . . . May it not be asked, for one thing, whether in the assertion, - as the result of an examination of the human intellect, that it - is incapable of knowing what lies beyond the finite, there is not - involved an obvious self-contradiction? The examination of the mind - can be conducted only by the mind, and if the instrument be, as is - alleged, limited and defective, the result of the inquiry must partake - of that defectiveness. Again, does not the knowledge of a limit imply - already the power to transcend it? In affirming that human science - is incapable of crossing the bounds of the finite world, is it not a - necessary presupposition that you who so affirm have crossed these - bounds?” - -That this objection is one I am not disinclined to recognize, will -be inferred when I state that it is one I have myself raised. While -preparing the second edition of the {220} _Principles of Psychology_, -I found, among my memoranda, a note which still bore the wafers by -which it had been attached to the original manuscript (unless, indeed, -it had been transferred from the MS. of _First Principles_, which its -allusion seems to imply). It was this:― - - “I may here remark in passing that the several reasonings, - including the one above quoted, by which Sir William Hamilton would - demonstrate the pure relativity of our knowledge—reasonings which - clearly establish many important truths, and with which in the - main I agree—are yet capable of being turned against himself, when - he definitely concludes that it is impossible for us to know the - absolute. For to positively assert that the absolute cannot be known, - is in a certain sense to assert a _knowledge_ of it—is to _know_ it - as _unknowable_. To affirm that human intelligence is confined to the - conditioned, is to put an _absolute limit_ to human intelligence, - and implies _absolute knowledge_. It seems to me that the ‘learned - ignorance’ with which philosophy ends, must be carried a step further; - and instead of positively saying that the absolute is unknowable, we - must say that we cannot tell whether it is knowable or not.” - -Why I omitted this note I cannot now remember. Possibly it was because -re-consideration disclosed a reply to the contained objection. For -while it is true that the intellect cannot prove its own competence, -since it must postulate its own competence in the course of the -proof, and so beg the question; yet it does not follow that it cannot -prove its own incompetence respecting questions of certain kinds. Its -inability in respect of such questions has two conceivable causes. -It may be that the deliverances of Reason in general are invalid, in -which case the incompetence of Reason to solve questions of a certain -class is implied by its general incompetence; or it may be that the -deliverances of Reason, valid within a certain range, themselves end -in the conclusion that Reason is incapable beyond that range. So that -while there can be no proof of competence, because competence is -postulated in each step of the demonstration, there may be proof of -incompetence either (1) if the successive deliverances forming the -steps of the demonstration, by severally evolving contradictions, show -their untrustworthiness, or (2) if, being trustworthy, {221} they -lead to the result that on certain questions Reason cannot give any -deliverance. - -Reason leads both inductively and deductively to the conclusion -that the sphere of Reason is limited. Inductively, this conclusion -expresses the result of countless futile attempts to transcend -this sphere—attempts to understand Matter, Motion, Space, Time, -Force, in their ultimate natures—attempts which, bringing us always -to alternative impossibilities of thought, warrant the inference -that such attempts will continue to fail, as they have hitherto -failed. Deductively, this conclusion expresses the result of mental -analysis, which shows us that the product of thought is in all cases -a relation, identified as such or such; that the process of thought -is the identification and classing of relations; that therefore Being -in itself, out of relation, is unthinkable, as not admitting of -being brought within the form of thought. That is to say, deduction -explains that failure of Reason established as an induction from many -experiments. And to call in question the ability of Reason to give this -verdict against itself in respect of these transcendent problems, is to -call in question its ability to draw valid conclusions from premises; -which is to assert a general incompetence necessarily inclusive of the -special incompetence. - - * * * * * - -Closely connected with the foregoing, is a criticism from Dr. Mansel, -on which I may here make some comments. In a note to his _Philosophy of -the Conditioned_ p. 39, he says:― - - “Mr. Herbert Spencer, in his work on _First Principles_, endeavours - to press Sir W. Hamilton into the service of Pantheism and Positivism - together” [a somewhat strange assertion, by the way, considering that - I reject them both], “by adopting the negative portion only of his - philosophy—in which, in common with many other writers, he declares - the absolute to be inconceivable by the mere intellect,—and rejecting - the positive portions, in which he most emphatically maintains that - the belief in a personal God is imperatively demanded by the facts - of our moral and emotional consciousness. . . . . Sir W. Hamilton’s - fundamental principle is, that consciousness {222} must be accepted - entire, and that the moral and religious feelings, which are the - primary source of our belief in a personal God, are in no way - invalidated by the merely negative inferences which have deluded men - into the assumption of an impersonal absolute. . . . . Mr. Spencer, on - the other hand, takes these negative inferences as the only basis of - religion, and abandons Hamilton’s great principle of the distinction - between knowledge and belief.” - -Putting these statements in the order most convenient for discussion, I -will deal first with the last of them. Instead of saying what he does, -Dr. Mansel should have said that I decline to follow Sir W. Hamilton -in confounding two distinct, and indeed radically-opposed, meanings -of the word _belief_. This word “is habitually applied to dicta of -consciousness for which no proof can be assigned: both those which -are unprovable because they underlie all proof, and those which are -unprovable because of the absence of evidence.”[24] In the pages of the -_Fortnightly Review_ for July, 1865, I exhibited this distinction as -follows:― - - “We commonly say we ‘believe’ a thing for which we can assign some - preponderating evidence, or concerning which we have received some - indefinable impression. We _believe_ that the next House of Commons - will not abolish Church-rates; or we _believe_ that a person on - whose face we look is good-natured. That is, when we can give - confessedly-inadequate proofs, or no proofs at all, for the things - we think, we call them ‘beliefs.’ And it is the peculiarity of these - beliefs, as contrasted with cognitions, that their connexions with - antecedent states of consciousness may be easily severed, instead of - being difficult to sever. But unhappily, the word ‘belief’ is also - applied to each of those temporarily or permanently indissoluble - connexions in consciousness, for the acceptance of which the only - warrant is that it cannot be got rid of. Saying that I feel a pain, - or hear a sound, or see one line to be longer than another, is saying - that there has occurred in me a certain change of state; and it is - impossible for me to give a stronger evidence of this fact than that - it is present to my mind. . . . . ‘Belief’ having, as above pointed - out, become the name of an impression for which we can give only a - confessedly-inadequate reason, or no reason at all; it happens that - when pushed hard respecting the warrant for any ultimate dictum of - consciousness, we say, in the absence of all assignable reason, that - we _believe_ it. Thus the two opposite poles of knowledge go under the - same name; and by the reverse connotations of this name, as used for - the most coherent and least coherent relations of thought, profound - misconceptions have been generated.” - -Now that the belief which the moral and religious {223} feelings are -said to yield of a personal God, is not one of the beliefs which are -unprovable because they underlie all proof, is obvious. It needs but to -remember that in works on Natural Theology, the existence of a personal -God is _inferred_ from these moral and religious feelings, to show that -it is not contained in these feelings themselves, or joined with them -as an inseparable intuition. It is not a belief like the beliefs which -I now have that this is daylight, and that there is open space before -me—beliefs which cannot be proved because they are of equal simplicity -with, and of no less certainty than, each step in a demonstration. Were -it a belief of this most certain kind, argument would be superfluous: -all races of men and every individual would have the belief in an -inexpugnable form. Hence it is manifest that, confusing the two very -different states of consciousness called beliefs, Sir W. Hamilton -ascribes to the second a certainty that belongs only to the first. - -Again, neither Sir W. Hamilton nor Dr. Mansel has enabled us to -distinguish those “facts of our moral and emotional consciousness” -which imperatively demand the belief in a personal God, from those -facts of our (or of men’s) “moral and emotional consciousness” which, -in those having them, imperatively demand beliefs that Sir W. Hamilton -would regard as untrue. A New Zealand chief, discovering his wife -in an infidelity, killed the man; the wife then killed herself that -she might join her lover in the other world; and the chief thereupon -killed himself that he might go after them to defeat this intention. -These two acts of suicide furnish tolerably strong evidence that these -New Zealanders believed in another world to which, they could go at -will, and fulfil their desires as they did here. If they were asked -the justification for this belief, and if the arguments by which they -sought to establish it were not admitted, they might still fall back -on emotional {224} consciousness as yielding them an unshakeable -foundation for it. I do not see why a Fiji Islander, adopting the -Hamiltonian argument, should not justify by it his conviction that -after being buried alive, his life in the other world, forthwith -commencing at the age he has reached in this, will similarly supply -him with the joys of conquest and the gratifications of cannibalism. -That he has a conviction to this effect stronger than the religious -convictions current among civilized people, is proved by the fact that -he goes to be buried alive quite willingly. And as we may presume that -his conviction is not the outcome of a demonstration, it must be the -outcome of some state of feeling—some “emotional consciousness.” Why, -then, should he not assign the “facts” of his “emotional consciousness” -as “imperatively demanding” this belief? Manifestly, this principle -that “consciousness must be accepted entire,” either obliges us to -accept as true the superstitions of all mankind, or else obliges us to -say that the consciousness of a certain limited class of cultivated -people is alone meant. If things are to be believed simply because -the facts of emotional consciousness imperatively demand the beliefs, -I do not see why the actual existence of a ghost in a house, is not -inevitably implied by the intense fear of it that is aroused in the -child or the servant. - -Lastly, and chiefly, I have to deal with Dr. Mansel’s statement that -“Mr. Spencer, on the other hand, takes these negative inferences as -the only basis of religion.” This statement is exactly the reverse -of the truth; since I have contended, against Hamilton and against -him, that the consciousness of that which is manifested to us through -phenomena is _positive_, and not _negative_, as they allege, and that -this positive consciousness supplies an indestructible basis for the -religious sentiment (_First Principles_, § 26). Instead of giving here -passages to show this, I may fitly quote the statement and opinion of a -{225} foreign theologian. M. le pasteur Grotz, of the Reformed Church -at Nismes, writes thus:― - - “La science serait-elle done par nature ennemie de la religion? pour - être religieux, faut-il proscrire la science?—C’est la science, - la science expérimentale qui va maintenant parler en faveur de la - religion; c’est elle qui, par la bouche de l’un des penseurs . . . de - notre époque, M. Herbert Spencer, va répondre à la fois à M. Vacherot - et à M. Comte.” - - * * * * * - - “Ici, M. Spencer discute la théorie de l’_inconditionné_; entendez - par ce mot: Dieu. Le philosophie écossais, Hamilton, et son disciple, - M. Mansel, disent comme nos positivistes français: ‘Nous ne pouvons - affirmer l’existence positive de quoi que ce soit au delà des - phénomènes.’ Seulement, Hamilton et son disciple se séparent de nos - compatriotes en faisant intervenir une ‘révélation merveilleuse’ qui - nous fait croire à l’existence de l’inconditionné, et grâce à cette - révélation vraiment merveilleuse, toute l’orthodoxie revient. Est-il - vrai que nous ne puissions rien affirmer au delà des phénomènes? M. - Spencer déclare qu’il y a dans cette assertion une grave erreur. Le - côté logique, dit-il fort justement, n’est pas le seul; il y a aussi - le côté psychologique, et, selon nous, il prouve que l’existence - positive de l’absolu est une donnée nécessaire de la conscience.” - - “Là est la base de l’accord entre la religion et la science. Dans un - chapitre . . . . intitulé _Réconciliation_, M. Spencer etablit et - développe cet accord sur son véritable terrain.” - - * * * * * - - “M. Spencer, en restant sur le terrain de la logique et de la - psychologie, et sans recourir à une intervention surnaturelle, a - établi la legitimité, la nécessité et l’eternelle durée du sentiment - religieux et de la religion.”[25] - -I turn next to what has been said by Dr. Shadworth H. Hodgson, in his -essay on “The Future of Metaphysic,” published in the _Contemporary -Review_ for November, 1872. Remarking only, with respect to the -agreements he expresses in certain views of mine, that I value them -as coming from a thinker of subtlety and independence, I will confine -myself here to his disagreements. Dr. Hodgson, before giving his own -view, briefly describes and criticizes the views of Hegel and Comte, -with both of whom he partly agrees and partly disagrees, and then {226} -proceeds to criticize the view set forth by me. After a preliminary -brief statement of my position, to the wording of which I demur, he -goes on to say:― - - “In his _First Principles_, Part I, second ed., there is a chapter - headed ‘Ultimate Scientific Ideas,’ in which he enumerates six such - ideas or groups of ideas, and attempts to show that they are entirely - incomprehensible. The six are:—1. Space and Time. 2. Matter. 3. Rest - and Motion. 4. Force. 5. Consciousness. 6. The Soul, or the Ego. Now - to enter at length into all of these would be an undertaking too large - for the present occasion; but I will take the first of the six, and - endeavour to show in its case the entire untenability of Mr. Spencer’s - view; and since the same arguments may be employed against the rest, I - shall be content that my case against them should be held to fail if - my case should fail in respect to Space and Time.” - -I willingly join issue with Dr. Hodgson on these terms; and proceed -to examine, one by one, the several arguments he uses to show the -invalidity of my conclusions. Following his criticisms in the order -he has chosen, I begin with the sentence following that which I have -just quoted. The first part of it runs thus:—“The metaphysical view of -Space and Time is, that they are elements in all phenomena, whether the -phenomena are presentations or representations.” - -Whether, by “the metaphysical view,” is here meant the view of Kant, -whether it means Dr. Hodgson’s own view, or whether the expression has -a more general meaning, I have simply to reply that the metaphysical -view is incorrect. Dealing with the Kantian version of this doctrine, -that Space is a form of intuition, I have pointed out that only with -certain classes of phenomena is Space united indissolubly; that Kant -habitually considers phenomena belonging to the visual and tactual -groups, with which the consciousness of space is inseparably joined, -and overlooks groups with which it is not inseparably joined. Though -in the adult, perception of sound has certain space-implications, -mostly, if not wholly, acquired by individual experience; and though it -would seem from the instructive experiments of Mr. Spalding, that in -creatures born with nervous systems much more organized than our own -are at birth, {227} there is some innate perception of the side from -which a sound comes; yet it is demonstrable that the space-implications -of sound are not originally given with the sensation as its form -of intuition. Bearing in mind the Kantian doctrine, that Space is -the form of sensuous intuitions not only as _presented_ but also as -_represented_, let us examine critically our musical ideas. As I have -elsewhere suggested to the reader― - - “Let him observe what happens when some melody takes possession of - his imagination. Its tones and cadences go on repeating themselves - apart from any space-consciousness—they are not localized. He may or - may not be reminded of the place where he heard them—this association - is incidental only. Having observed this, he will see that such - space-implications as sounds have, are learnt in the course of - individual experience, and are not given with the sounds themselves. - Indeed, if we refer to the Kantian definition of form, we get a simple - and conclusive proof of this. Kant says form is ‘that which effects - that the content of the phænomenon can be arranged under certain - relations.’ How then can the content of the phenomenon we call sound - be arranged? Its parts can be arranged in order of sequence—that is, - in Time. But there is no possibility of arranging its parts in order - of coexistence—that is, in Space. And it is just the same with odour. - Whoever thinks that sound and odour have Space for their form of - intuition, may convince himself to the contrary by trying to find the - right and left sides of a sound, or to imagine an odour turned the - other way upwards.”—_Principles of Psychology_, § 399.—Note. - -As I thus dissent, not I think without good reason, from “the -metaphysical view of Space and Time” as “elements in all phenomena,” -it will naturally be expected that I dissent from the first criticism -which Dr. Hodgson proceeds to deduce from it. Dealing first with the -arguments I have used to show the incomprehensibility of Space and -Time, if we consider them as objective, and stating in other words the -conclusion I draw, that “as Space and Time cannot be either nonentities -nor the attributes of entities, we have no choice but to consider them -as entities.” Dr. Hodgson continues:― - - “So far good. Secondly, he argues that they cannot be represented - in thought as such real existences, because ‘to be conceived at - all, a thing must be conceived as having attributes.’ Now here the - metaphysical doctrine enables us to conceive them as real existences, - and rebuts the argument for {228} their inconceivability; for the - other element, the material element, the feeling or quality occupying - Space and Time stands in the place and performs the function of the - required attributes, composing together with the space and time which - is occupied the empirical phenomena of perception. So far as this - argument of Mr. Spencer goes, then, we are entitled to say that his - case for the inconceivability of Space and Time as real existences is - not made out.” - -Whether the fault is in me or not I cannot say, but I fail to see -that my argument is thus rebutted. On the contrary, it appears to me -substantially conceded. What kind of entity is that which can exist -only when occupied by something else? Dr. Hodgson’s own argument is -a tacit assertion that Space _by itself_ cannot be conceived as an -existence; and this is all that I have alleged. - -Dr. Hodgson deals next with the further argument, familiar to all -readers, which I have added as showing the insurmountable difficulty -in the way of conceiving Space and Time as objective entities; namely, -that “all entities which we actually know as such are limited. . . . -But of Space and Time we cannot assert either limitation, or the -absence of limitation.” Without quoting at length the reasons Dr. -Hodgson gives for distinguishing between Space as _per_ceived and Space -as _con_ceived, it will suffice if I quote his own statement of the -result to which they bring him: “So that Space and Time as perceived -are not finite, but infinite, as conceived are not infinite, but -finite.” - -Most readers will, I think, be startled by the assertion that -conception is less extensive in range than perception; but, without -dwelling on this, I will content myself by asking in what case Space -is perceived as infinite? Surely Dr. Hodgson does not mean to say that -he can perceive the whole surrounding Space at once—that the Space -behind is united in perception with the Space in front. Yet this is -the necessary implication of his words. Taking his statement less -literally, however, and not dwelling on the fact that in perception -Space is habitually bounded by objects more or less distant, let -us test his {229} assertion under the most favourable conditions. -Supposing the eye directed upwards towards a clear sky; is not the -space then perceived, laterally limited? The visual area, restricted -by the visual apertures, cannot include in perception even 180° from -side to side, and is still more confined in a direction at right angles -to this. Even in the third direction, to which alone Dr. Hodgson -evidently refers, it cannot properly be said that it is infinite in -perception. Look at a position in the sky a thousand miles off. Now -look at a position a million miles off. What is the difference in -perception? Nothing. How then can an infinite distance be perceived -when these immensely-unlike finite distances cannot be perceived as -differing from one another, or from an infinite distance? Dr. Hodgson -has used the wrong word. Instead of saying that Space as perceived is -infinite, he should have said that, in perception, Space is finite in -two dimensions, and becomes _indefinite_ in the third when this becomes -great. - -I now come to the paragraph beginning “Mr. Spencer then turns to -the second or subjective hypothesis, that of Kant.” This paragraph -is somewhat difficult to deal with, because in it my reasoning is -criticized both from the Kantian point of view and from Dr. Hodgson’s -own point of view. Dissenting from Kant’s view, Dr. Hodgson says, “I -hold that both Space and Time and Feeling, or the material element, are -equally and alike subjective, equally and alike objective.” As I cannot -understand this, I am unable to deal with those arguments against me -which Dr. Hodgson bases upon it, and must limit myself to that which he -urges on behalf of Kant. He says:― - - “But I think that Mr. Spencer’s representation of Kant’s view is - very incorrect; he seems to be misled by the large term non-ego. Kant - held that Space and Time were _in their origin_ subjective, but when - applied to the non-ego resulted in phenomena, and were the formal - element in those phenomena, among which some were phenomena of the - internal sense or ego, others of the external sense or non-ego. The - non-ego to which the forms of Space and Time did not apply and did not - belong, was the Ding-an-sich, not the {230} phenomenal non-ego. Hence - the objective existence of Space and Time in phenomena, but not in the - Ding-an-sich, is a consistent and necessary consequence of Kant’s view - of their subjective origin.” - -If I have misunderstood Kant, as thus alleged, then my comment must be -that I credited him with an hypothesis less objectionable than that -which he held. I supposed his view to be that Space, as a form of -intuition belonging to the _ego_, is imposed by it on the _non-ego_ -(by which I understood the thing in itself) in the act of intuition. -But now the Kantian doctrine is said to be that Space, originating in -the _ego_, when applied to the _non-ego_, results in phenomena (the -_non-ego_ meant being, in that case, necessarily the Ding-an-sich, or -thing in itself); and that the phenomena so resulting become objective -existences along with the Space given to them by the subject. The -subject having imposed Space as a form on the primordial object, -or thing in itself, and so created phenomena, this Space thereupon -becomes an objective existence, independent of both the subject and the -original thing in itself! To Dr. Hodgson this may seem a more tenable -position than that which I ascribed to Kant; but to me it seems only a -multiplication of inconceivabilities. I am content to leave it as it -stands: not feeling my reasons for rejecting the Kantian hypothesis -much weakened.[26] - -The remaining reply which Dr. Hodgson makes runs thus:― - - “But Mr. Spencer has a second argument to prove this - inconceivability. It is this:—‘If Space and Time are forms of - thought, they can never be {231} thought of; since it is impossible - for anything to be at once the _form_ of thought and the _matter_ of - thought.’ . . . . An instance will show the fallacy best. Syllogism is - usually held to be a form of thought. Would it be any argument for the - inconceivability of syllogisms to say, they cannot be at once the form - and the matter of thought? Can we not syllogize about syllogism? Or, - more plainly still,—no dog can bite himself, for it is impossible to - be at once the thing that bites and the thing that is bitten.” - -Had Dr. Hodgson quoted the whole of the passage from which he takes -the above sentence; or had he considered it in conjunction with the -Kantian doctrine to which it refers (namely, that Space survives in -consciousness when all contents are expelled, which implies that -then Space is the thing with which consciousness is occupied, or the -_object_ of consciousness), he would have seen that his reply has none -of the cogency he supposes. If, taking his first illustration, he will -ask himself whether it is possible to “syllogize about syllogism,” when -syllogism has no content whatever, symbolic or other—has nonentity to -serve for major, nonentity for minor, and nonentity for conclusion; -he will, I think, see that syllogism, considered as surviving terms -of every kind, cannot be syllogized about: the “pure form” of reason -(supposing it to be syllogism, which it is not) if absolutely -discharged of all it contains, cannot be represented in thought, and -therefore cannot be reasoned about. Following Dr. Hodgson to his second -illustration, I must express my surprise that a metaphysician of his -acuteness should have used it. For an illustration to have any value, -the relation between the terms of the analogous case {232} must have -some parallelism to the relation between the terms of the case with -which it is compared. Does Dr. Hodgson really think that the relation -between a dog and the part of himself which he bites, is like the -relation between _matter_ and _form_? Suppose the dog bites his tail. -Now the dog, as biting, stands, according to Dr. Hodgson, for the form -as the containing mental faculty; and the tail, as bitten, stands for -this mental faculty as contained. Now suppose the dog loses his tail. -Can the faculty as containing and the faculty as contained be separated -in the same way? Does the mental form when deprived of all content, -even itself (granting that it can be its own content), continue to -exist in the same way that a dog continues to exist when he has lost -his tail? Even had this illustration been applicable, I should scarcely -have expected Dr. Hodgson to remain satisfied with it. I should have -thought he would prefer to meet my argument directly, rather than -indirectly. Why has he not shown the invalidity of the reasoning used -in the _Principles of Psychology_ (§ 399, 2nd ed.)? Having there quoted -the statement of Kant, that “Space and Time are not merely forms of -sensuous intuition, but _intuitions_ themselves;” I have written― - - “If we inquire more closely, this irreconcilability becomes still - clearer. Kant says:—‘That which in the phænomenon corresponds to - the sensation, I term its _matter_; but that which effects that the - content of the phenomenon can be arranged under certain relations, I - call its _form_.’ Carrying with us this definition of form, as ‘that - which effects that the content . . . . can be arranged under certain - relations,’ let us return to the case in which the intuition of Space - is the intuition which occupies consciousness. Can the content of this - intuition ‘be arranged under certain relations’ or not? It can be so - arranged, or rather, it _is_ so arranged. Space cannot be thought of - save as having parts, near and remote, in this direction or the other. - Hence, if that is the form of a thing ‘which effects that the content - . . . . can be arranged under certain relations,’ it follows that - when the content of consciousness is the intuition of Space, which - has ‘parts that can be arranged under certain relations,’ there must - be a form of that intuition. What is it? Kant does not tell us—does - not appear to perceive that there must be such a form; and could - not have perceived this without abandoning his hypothesis that the - space-intuition is primordial.” - -Now when Dr. Hodgson has shown me how that “which {233} effects that -the content . . . . can be arranged under certain relations,” may also -be that which effects its own arrangement under the same relations, I -shall be ready to surrender my position; but until then, no analogy -drawn from the ability of a dog to bite himself will weigh much with me. - -Having, as he considers, disposed of the reasons given by me for -concluding that, considered in themselves, “Space and Time are -wholly incomprehensible” (he continually uses on my behalf the word -“inconceivable,” which, by its unfit connotations, gives a wrong aspect -to my position), Dr. Hodgson goes on to say:- - - “Yet Mr. Spencer proceeds to use these inconceivable ideas as the - basis of his philosophy. For mark, it is Space and Time as we know - them, the actual and phenomenal Space and Time, to which all these - inconceivabilities attach. Mr. Spencer’s result, ought, therefore, - logically to be—Scepticism. What is his actual result? Ontology. And - how so? Why, instead of rejecting Space and Time as the inconceivable - things he has tried to demonstrate them to be, he substitutes for them - an Unknowable, a something which they really are, though we cannot - know it, and rejects that, instead of them, from knowledge.” - -This statement has caused me no little astonishment. That having -before him the volume from which he quotes, so competent a reader -should have so completely missed the meaning of the passages (§ 26) -already referred to, in which I have contended against Hamilton and -Mansel, makes me almost despair of being understood by any ordinary -reader. In that section I have, in the first place, contended that -the consciousness of an Ultimate Reality, though not capable of being -made a thought, properly so called, because not capable of being -brought within limits, nevertheless remains as a consciousness that is -_positive_: is not rendered _negative_ by the negations of limits. I -have pointed out that― - - “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 {234} - destroyed”—something which “ever persists in us as the body of a - thought to which we can give no shape.” - -This _positive_ element of consciousness it is which, “at once -necessarily indefinite and necessarily indestructible,” I regard as -the consciousness of the Unknowable Reality. Yet Dr. Hodgson says “Mr. -Spencer proceeds to use these inconceivable ideas as the basis of his -philosophy:” implying that such basis consists of negations, instead -of consisting of that which persists _notwithstanding the negation of -limits_. And then, beyond this perversion, or almost inversion, of -meaning, he conveys the notion that I take as the basis of philosophy, -the “inconceivable ideas” “or self-contradictory notions” which result -when we endeavour to comprehend Space and Time. He speaks of me as -proposing to evolve substance out of form, or rather, out of the -negations of forms—gives his readers no conception that the _Power_ -manifested to us is that which I regard as the Unknowable, while -what we call Space and Time answer to the unknowable _nexus_ of its -manifestations. And yet the chapter from which I quote, and still more -the chapter which follows it, makes this clear—as clear, at least, as I -can make it by carefully-worded statements and re-statements. - - * * * * * - -Philosophical systems, like theological ones, following the law of -evolution in general, severally become in course of time more rigid, -while becoming more complex and more definite; and they similarly -become less alterable—resist all compromise, and have to be replaced by -the more plastic systems that descend from them. - -It is thus with pure Empiricism and pure Transcendentalism. Down to -the present time disciples of Locke have continued to hold that all -mental phenomena are interpretable as results of accumulated individual -experiences; and, by criticism, have been led simply to elaborate -their interpretations—ignoring the proofs of inadequacy. On the other -hand, disciples of Kant, {235} asserting this inadequacy, and led -by perception of it to adopt an antagonist theory, have persisted in -defending that theory under a form presenting fatal inconsistencies. -And then, when there is offered a mode of reconciliation, the spirit -of no-compromise is displayed: each side continuing to claim the whole -truth. After it has been pointed out that all the obstacles in the way -of the experiential doctrine disappear if the effects of ancestral -experiences are joined with the effects of individual experiences, the -old form of the doctrine is still adhered to. And meanwhile Kantists -persist in asserting that the _ego_ is born with intuitional forms -which are wholly independent of anything in the _non-ego_, after it -has been shown that the innateness of these intuitional forms may be -so understood as to escape the insurmountable difficulties of the -hypothesis as originally expressed. - -I am led to say this by reading the remarks concerning my own views, -made with an urbanity I hope to imitate, by Professor Max Müller, in a -lecture delivered at the Royal Institution in March, 1873.[27] Before -dealing with the criticisms contained in this lecture, I must enter a -demurrer against that interpretation of my views by which Professor Max -Müller makes it appear that they are more allied to those of Kant than -to those of Locke. He says:― - - “Whether the pre-historic genesis of these congenital dispositions - or inherited necessities of thought, as suggested by Mr. Herbert - Spencer, be right or wrong, does not signify for the purpose which - Kant had in view. In admitting that there is something in our mind, - which is not the result of our own _à posteriori_ experience, Mr. - Herbert Spencer is a thorough Kantian, and we shall see that he is - a Kantian in other respects too. If it could be proved that nervous - modifications, accumulated from generation to generation, could result - in nervous structures that are fixed in proportion as the outer - relations to which they answer are fixed, we, as followers of Kant, - should only have to put in the place of Kant’s intuitions of Space - and Time ‘the constant space-relations expressed in definite nervous - structures, congenitally framed to act in definite ways, and incapable - of acting in any other {236} way.’ If Mr. Herbert Spencer had not - misunderstood the exact meaning of what Kant calls the intuitions of - Space and Time, he would have perceived that, barring his theory of - the pre-historic origin of these intuitions, he was quite at one with - Kant.” - -On this passage let me remark, first, that the word “pre-historic,” -ordinarily employed only in respect to human history, is misleading -when applied to the history of Life in general; and his use of it -leaves me in some doubt whether Professor Max Müller has rightly -conceived the hypothesis he refers to. - -My second comment is, that the description of me as “quite at one with -Kant,” “_barring_” the “theory of the prehistoric origin of these -intuitions,” curiously implies that it is a matter of comparative -indifference whether the forms of thought are held to be _naturally -generated_ by intercourse between the organism and its environing -relations, during the evolution of the lowest into the highest types, -or whether such forms are held to be _supernaturally given_ to the -human mind, and are independent both of environing relations and of -ancestral minds. But now, addressing myself to the essential point, I -must meet the statement that I have “misunderstood the exact meaning -of what Kant calls the intuitions of Space and Time,” by saying that -I think Professor Max Müller has overlooked certain passages which -justify my interpretation, and render his interpretation untenable. -For Kant says “Space is _nothing else_ than the form of all phenomena -of the external sense;” further, he says that “Time is _nothing but_ -the form of our internal intuition;” and, to repeat words I have used -elsewhere, “He distinctly shuts out the supposition that there are -forms of the _non-ego_ to which these forms of the _ego_ correspond, -by saying that ‘Space is not a conception which has been derived from -outward experiences.’” Now so far from being in harmony with, these -statements are in direct contradiction to, the view which I hold; and -seem to me absolutely irreconcilable with it. How can it be said that, -“barring” a difference represented as trivial, I am {237} “quite at -one with Kant,” when I contend that these subjective forms of intuition -are moulded into correspondence with, and therefore derived from, some -objective form or _nexus_, and therefore dependent upon it; while the -Kantian hypothesis is that these subjective forms are not derived from -the object, but pre-exist in the subject—are imposed by the _ego_ on -the _non-ego_. It seems to me that not only do Kant’s words, as above -given, exclude the view which I hold, but also that Kant could not -consistently have held any such view. Rightly recognizing, as he did, -these forms of intuition as innate, he was, from his stand-point, -_obliged_ to regard them as imposed on the matter of intuition in the -act of intuition. In the absence of the hypothesis that intelligence -has been evolved, it was _not possible_ for him to regard these -subjective forms as having been derived from objective forms. - -A disciple of Locke might, I think, say that the Evolution-view of -our consciousness of Space and Time is essentially Lockian, with -more truth than Professor Max Müller can represent it as essentially -Kantian. The Evolution-view is completely experiential. It differs -from the original view of the experientialists by containing a great -extension of that view. With the relatively-small effects of individual -experiences, it joins the relatively-vast effects of the experiences of -antecedent individuals. But the view of Kant is avowedly and absolutely -unexperiential. Surely this makes the predominance of kinship manifest. - -In Professor Max Müller’s replies to my criticisms on Kant, I cannot -see greater validity than in this affiliation to which I have demurred. -One of his arguments is that which Dr. Hodgson has used, and which I -have already answered; and I think that the others, when compared with -the passages of the _Principles of Psychology_ which they concern, will -not be found adequate. I refer to them here {238} chiefly for the -purpose of pointing out that when he speaks of me as bringing “three -arguments against Kant’s view,” he understates the number. Let me close -what I have to say on this disputed question, by quoting the summary of -reasons I have given for rejecting the Kantian hypothesis:― - - “Kant tells us that Space is the form of all external intuition; which - is not true. He tells us that the consciousness of Space continues - when the consciousness of all things contained in it is suppressed; - which is also not true. From these alleged facts he _infers_ that - Space is an _à priori_ form of intuition. I say _infers_, because this - conclusion is not presented in necessary union with the premises, - in the same way that the consciousness of duality is necessarily - presented along with the consciousness of inequality; but it is a - conclusion voluntarily drawn for the purpose of explaining the alleged - facts. And then that we may accept this conclusion, which is not - necessarily presented along with these alleged facts which are not - true, we are obliged to affirm several propositions which cannot be - rendered into thought. When Space is itself contemplated, we have - to conceive it as at once the form of intuition and the matter of - intuition; which is impossible. We have to unite that which we are - conscious of as Space with that which we are conscious of as the - _ego_, and contemplate the one as a property of the other; which is - impossible. We have at the same time to disunite that which we are - conscious of as Space, from that which we are conscious of as the - _non-ego,_ and contemplate the one as separate from the other; which - is also impossible. Further, this hypothesis that Space is “nothing - else” than a form of intuition belonging wholly to the _ego_, commits - us to one of the two alternatives, that the _non-ego_ is formless or - that its form produces absolutely no effect upon the _ego_; both of - which alternatives involve us in impossibilities of thought.”—_Prin. - of Psy.,_ § 399. - -Objections of another, though allied, class have been made in a review -of the _Principles of Psychology_ by Mr. H. Sidgwick—a critic whose -remarks on questions of mental philosophy always deserve respectful -consideration. - -Mr. Sidgwick’s chief aim is to show what he calls “the mazy -inconsistency of his [my] metaphysical results.” More specifically, he -expresses thus the proposition he seeks to justify—“His view of the -subject appears to have a fundamental incoherence, which shows itself -in various ways on the surface of his exposition, but of which the root -lies {239} much deeper, in his inability to harmonise different lines -of thought.” - -Before dealing with the reasons given for this judgment, let me say -that, in addition to the value which candid criticisms have as showing -where more explanation is needed, they are almost indispensable as -revealing to a writer incongruities he had not perceived. Especially -where, as in this case, the subject-matter has many aspects, and -where the words supplied by our language are so inadequate in number -that, to avoid cumbrous circumlocution, they have to be used in -senses that vary according to the context, it is extremely difficult -to avoid imperfections of statement. But while I acknowledge sundry -such imperfections and the resulting incongruities, I cannot see -that these are, as Mr. Sidgwick says, fundamental. Contrariwise, -their superficiality seems to me proved by the fact that they may be -rectified without otherwise altering the expositions in which they -occur. Here is an instance. - -Mr. Sidgwick points out that, when treating of the “Data of -Psychology,” I have said (in § 56) that, though we reach inferentially -“the belief that mind and nervous action are the subjective and -objective faces of the same thing, we remain utterly incapable of -seeing, and even of imagining, how the two are related” (I quote -the passage more fully than he does). He then goes on to show that -in the “Special Synthesis,” where I have sketched the evolution of -Intelligence under its objective aspect, as displayed in the processes -by which beings of various grades adjust themselves to surrounding -actions, I “speak as if” we could see how consciousness “naturally -arises at a particular stage” of nervous action. The chapter he here -refers to is one describing that “differentiation of the psychical -from the physical life” which accompanies advancing organization, and -more especially advancing development of the nervous system. In it I -have shown {240} that, while the changes constituting physical life -continue to be characterized by the _simultaneity_ with which all -kinds of them go on throughout the organism, the changes constituting -psychical life, arising as the nervous system develops, become -gradually more distinguished by their _seriality_. And I have said that -as nervous integration advances, “there must result an unbroken series -of these changes—there must arise a consciousness.” Now I admit that -here is an apparent inconsistency. I ought to have said that “there -must result an unbroken series of these changes,” which, taking place -in the nervous system of a highly-organized creature, gives coherence -to its conduct; and along with which we assume a consciousness, -because consciousness goes along with coherent conduct in ourselves. -If Mr. Sidgwick will substitute this statement for the statement as it -stands, he will see that the arguments and conclusions remain intact. -A survey of the chapter as a whole, proves that its aim is not in the -least to explain how nervous changes, considered as waves of molecular -motion, become the feelings constituting consciousness; but that, -contemplating the facts objectively in living creatures at large, it -points out the cardinal distinction between vital actions in general, -and those particular vital actions which, in a creature displaying -them, lead us to speak of it as intelligent. It is shown that the rise -of such actions becomes marked in proportion as the changes taking -place in the part called the nervous system, are made more and more -distinctly serial, by union in a supreme centre of co-ordination. The -introduction of the word consciousness, arises in the effort to show -what fundamental character there is in these particular physiological -changes which is _parallel to_ a fundamental character in the -psychological changes. - -Another instance of the way in which Mr. Sidgwick evolves an -incongruity which he considers fundamental, out of what I should have -thought he would see is a {241} defective expression, I will give in -his own words. Speaking of a certain view of mine, he says:― - - “He tells us that ‘logic . . . contemplates in its propositions - certain connexions predicated, which are necessarily involved with - certain other connexions given: _regarding all these connexions as - existing in the non-ego_—not, it may be, under the form in which - we know them, but in some form.’ But in § 473, where Mr. Spencer - illustrates by a diagram his ‘Transfigured Realism,’ the view seems - to be this: although we cannot say that the real non-ego resembles - our notion of it in ‘its elements, relations, or laws,’ we can say - that ‘a change in the objective reality causes in the subjective state - a change exactly answering to it—so answering as to _constitute a - cognition of it_.’ Here the ‘something beyond consciousness’ is no - longer said to be unknown, as its effect in consciousness ‘constitutes - a cognition of it.’” - -This apparent inconsistency, marked by the italics, would not -have existed if, instead of “a cognition of it,” I had said, as I -ought to have said, “_what we call_ a cognition of it”—that is, a -relative cognition as distinguished from an absolute cognition. In -ordinary language we speak of as cognitions, those connexions in -thought which so guide us in our dealings with things, that actual -experience verifies ideal anticipation: marking off, by opposed words, -those connexions in thought which _mis_-guide us. The difference -between accepting a cognition as relatively true and accepting -it as absolutely true, will be clearly shown by an illustration. -There is no direct resemblance whatever between the sizes, forms, -colours, and arrangements, of the figures in an account-book, and the -moneys or goods, debts or credits, represented by them; and yet the -forms and arrangements of the written symbols, are such as answer -in a perfectly-exact way to stocks of various commodities and to -various kinds of transactions. Hence we say, figuratively, that the -account-book will “tell us” all about these stocks and transactions. -Similarly, the diagram Mr. Sidgwick refers to, suggests a way in which -symbols, registered in us by objects, may have forms and arrangements -wholly unlike their objective causes and the _nexus_ among those -causes, while yet they are so related as to guide us correctly in -our transactions {242} with those objective causes, and, _in that -sense_, constitute cognitions of them; though they no more constitute -cognitions in the absolute sense, than do the guiding symbols in the -account-book constitute cognitions of the things to which they refer. -So repeatedly is this view implied throughout the _Principles of -Psychology_, that I am surprised to find a laxity of expression raising -the suspicion that I entertain any other. - -To follow Mr. Sidgwick through sundry criticisms of like kind, -which may be similarly met, would take more space than I can here -afford. I must restrict myself now to the alleged “fundamental -incoherence” of which he thinks these inconsistencies are signs. I -refer to that reconciliation of Realism and Idealism considered by -him as an impossible compromise. A difficulty is habitually felt in -accepting a coalition after long conflict. Whoever has espoused one -of two antagonist views, and, in defending it, has gained a certain -comprehension of the opposite view, becomes accustomed to regard these -as the only alternatives, and is puzzled by an hypothesis which is at -once both and neither. Yet, since it turns out in nearly all cases -that, of conflicting doctrines, each contains an element of truth, and -that controversy ends by combination of their respective half-truths, -there is _a priori_ probability on the side of an hypothesis which -qualifies Realism by Idealism. - -Mr. Sidgwick expresses his astonishment, or rather bespeaks that of his -readers, because, while I accept Idealistic criticisms, I nevertheless -defend the fundamental intuition of Common Sense; and, as he puts -it, “fires his [my] argument full in the face of Kant, Mill, and -‘metaphysicians’ generally.” - - “He tells us that ‘metaphysicians’ illegitimately assume that - ‘beliefs reached through complex intellectual processes,’ are more - valid than ‘beliefs reached through simple intellectual processes;’ - that the common language they use refuses to express their hypotheses, - and thus their reasoning inevitably implies the common notions which - they repudiate; that the belief of Realism has the advantage of - ‘priority,’ ‘simplicity,’ ‘distinctness.’ {243} But surely this prior, - simple, distinctly affirmed belief is that of what Mr. Spencer terms - ‘crude Realism’, the belief that the non-ego is _per se_ extended, - solid, even coloured (if not resonant and odorous). This is what - common language implies; and the argument by which Mr. Spencer proves - the relativity of feelings and relations, still more the subtle and - complicated analysis by which he resolves our notion of extension into - an aggregate of feelings and transitions of feeling, lead us away from - our original simple belief—that (_e.g._) the green grass we see exists - out of consciousness as we see it—just as much as the reasonings of - Idealism, Scepticism, or Kantism.” - -On the face of it the anomaly seems great; but I should have thought -that after reading the chapter on “Transfigured Realism,” a critic of -Mr. Sidgwick’s acuteness would have seen the solution of it. He has -overlooked an essential distinction. All which my argument implies is -that the direct intuition of Realism must be held of superior authority -to the arguments of Anti-Realism, _where their deliverances cannot -be reconciled_. The one point on which their deliverances cannot be -reconciled, is the existence of an objective reality. But while, -against this intuition of Realism, I hold the arguments of Anti-Realism -to be powerless, because they cannot be carried on without postulating -that which they end by denying; yet, having admitted objective -existence as a necessary postulate, it is possible to make valid -criticisms upon all those judgments which Crude Realism joins with -this primordial judgment: it is possible to show that a transfigured -interpretation of properties and relations, is more tenable than the -original interpretation. - -To elucidate the matter, let us take the most familiar case in which -the indirect judgments of Reason correct the direct judgments of Common -Sense. The direct judgment of Common Sense is that the Sun moves round -the Earth. In course of time, Reason, finding some facts at variance -with this, begins to doubt; and, eventually, hits upon an hypothesis -which explains the anomalies, but which denies this apparently-certain -_dictum_ of Common Sense. What is the reconciliation? It consists in -showing {244} to Common Sense that the new interpretation equally -well corresponds with direct intuition, while it avoids all the -difficulties. Common Sense is reminded that the apparent motion of -an object may be due either to its actual motion or to the motion of -the observer; and that there are terrestrial experiences in which the -observer thinks an object he looks at is moving, when the motion is in -himself. Extending the conception thus given, Reason shows that if the -Earth revolves on its axis, there will result that apparent motion of -the Sun which Common Sense interpreted into an actual motion of the -Sun; and the common-sense observer thereupon becomes able to think -of sunrise and sunset as due to his position as spectator on a vast -revolving globe. Now if the astronomer, setting out by recognizing -these celestial appearances, and proceeding to evolve the various -anomalies following from the common-sense interpretation of them, had -drawn the conclusion that there externally exist no Sun and no motion -at all, he would have done what Idealists do; and his arguments would -have been equally powerless against the intuition of Common Sense. But -he does nothing of the kind. He accepts the intuition of Common Sense -respecting the reality of the Sun and of the motion; but replaces the -old interpretation of the motion by a new interpretation reconcilable -with all the facts. - -Everyone must see that here, acceptance of the inexpugnable element -in the common-sense judgment, by no means involves acceptance of the -accompanying judgments; and I contend that the like discrimination must -be made in the case we are considering. It does not follow that while, -against the consciousness which Crude Realism has of an objective -reality, the arguments of Anti-Realism are futile, they are therefore -futile against the conceptions which Crude Realism forms of the -objective reality. If Anti-Realism can show that, granting an objective -reality, the interpretation of Crude Realism contains insuperable {245} -difficulties, the process is quite legitimate. And, its primordial -intuition remaining unshaken, Realism may, on reconsideration, be -enabled to frame a new conception which harmonizes all the facts. - -To show that there is not here the “mazy inconsistency” alleged, let -us take the case of sound as interpreted by Crude Realism, and as -re-interpreted by Transfigured Realism. Crude Realism assumes the -sound present in consciousness to exist as such beyond consciousness. -Anti-Realism proves the inadmissibility of this assumption in sundry -ways (all of which, however, set out by talking of sounding bodies -beyond consciousness, just as Realism talks of them); and then -Anti-Realism concludes that we know of no existence save the sound as a -mode of consciousness: which conclusion, and all kindred conclusions, -I contend are vicious—first, because all the words used connote an -objective activity; second, because the arguments are impossible -without postulating at the outset an objective activity; and third, -because no one of the intuitions out of which the arguments are built, -is of equal validity with the single intuition of Realism that an -objective activity exists. But now the Transfigured Realism which -Mr. Sidgwick thinks “has all the serious incongruity of an intense -metaphysical dream,” neither affirms the untenable conception of Crude -Realism, nor, like Anti-Realism, draws unthinkable conclusions by -suicidal arguments; but, accepting that which is essential in Crude -Realism, and admitting the difficulties which Anti-Realism insists -upon, reconciles matters by a re-interpretation analogous to that -which an astronomer makes of the solar motion. Continuing all along -to recognize an objective activity which Crude Realism calls sound, -it shows that the answering sensation is produced by a succession of -separate impacts which, if made slowly, may be separately identified, -and which will, if progressively increased in rapidity, produce tones -higher and higher in pitch. It {246} shows by other experiments that -sounding bodies are in states of vibration, and that the vibrations -may be made visible. And it concludes that the objective activity -is not what it subjectively seems, but is proximately interpretable -as a succession of aërial waves. Thus Crude Realism is shown that -while there unquestionably exists an objective activity corresponding -to the sensation known as sound, yet the facts are not explicable -on the original supposition that this is like the sensation; while -they are explicable by conceiving it as a rhythmical mechanical -action. Eventually this re-interpretation, joined with kindred -reinterpretations of other sensations, comes to be itself further -transfigured by analysis of its terms, and re-expression of them in -terms of molecular motion; but, however abstract the interpretation -ultimately reached, the objective activity continues to be postulated: -the primordial judgment of Crude Realism remains unchanged, though it -has to change the rest of its judgments. - -In another part of his argument, however, Mr. Sidgwick implies that -I have no right to use those conceptions of objective existence by -which this compromise is effected. Quoting sundry passages to show -that while I hold the criticisms of the Idealist to be impossible -without “tacitly or avowedly postulating an unknown something beyond -consciousness,” I yet admit that “our states of consciousness are the -only things we can know;” he goes on to argue that I am radically -inconsistent, because, in interpreting the phenomena of consciousness, -I continually postulate, not an unknown something, but a something -of which I speak in ordinary terms, as though its ascribed physical -characters really exist as such, instead of being, as I admit they are, -synthetic states of my consciousness. His objection, if I understand -it, is that for the purposes of Objective Psychology I apparently -profess to know Matter and Motion in the ordinary realistic way; while, -as a result of subjective analysis, I reach the conclusion that {247} -it is impossible to have that knowledge of objective existence which -Realism supposes we have. Doubtless there seems here to be what he -calls “a fundamental incoherence.” But I think it exists, not between -my two expositions, but between the two consciousnesses of subjective -and objective existence, which we cannot suppress and yet cannot put -into definite forms. The alleged incoherence I take to be but another -name for the inscrutability of the relation between subjective feeling -and its objective correlate which is not feeling—an inscrutability -which meets us at the bottom of all our analyses. An exposition of this -inscrutability I have elsewhere summed up thus:― - - “See, then, our predicament. We can think of Matter only in terms - of Mind. We can think of Mind only in terms of Matter. When we have - pushed our explorations of the first to the uttermost limit, we are - referred to the second for a final answer; and when we have got the - final answer of the second, we are referred back to the first for an - interpretation of it. We find the value of _x_ in terms of _y_; then - we find the value of _y_ in terms of _x_; and so on we may continue - for ever without coming nearer to a solution.”—_Prin. of Psy._ § 272. - -Carrying a little further this simile, will, I think, show where lies -the insuperable difficulty felt by Mr. Sidgwick. Taking _x_ and _y_ -as the subjective and objective activities, unknown in their natures -and known only as phenomenally manifested; and recognizing the fact -that every state of consciousness implies, immediately or remotely, -the action of object on subject or subject on object, or both; we -may say that every state of consciousness will be symbolized by some -modification of xy—the phenomenally-known product of the two unknown -factors. In other words, _xy′_, _x′y_, _x′y′_, _x″y′_, _x′y″_, &c., -&c., will represent all perceptions and thoughts. Suppose, now, -that these are thoughts about the object; composing some hypothesis -respecting its characters as analyzed by physicists. Clearly, all -such thoughts, be they about shapes, resistances, momenta, molecules, -molecular motions, or what not, will contain forms of the subjective -activity _x_. Now let the thoughts {248} be concerning mental -processes. It must similarly happen that some mode of the unknown -objective activity _y_, will be in every case a component. Now suppose -that the problem is the genesis of mental phenomena; and that, in -the course of the inquiry, bodily organization and the functions of -the nervous system are brought into the explanation. It will happen, -as before, that these, considered as objective, have to be described -and thought about in modes of _xy_. And when by the actions of such -a nervous system, conceived objectively in modes of _xy_, and acted -upon by physical forces which are conceived in other modes of _xy_, we -endeavour to explain the genesis of sensations, perceptions, and ideas, -which we can think of only in other modes of _xy,_ we find that all our -factors, and therefore all our interpretations, contain the two unknown -terms, and that no interpretation is imaginable that will not contain -the two unknown terms. - -What is the defence for this apparently-circular process? Simply that -it is a process of establishing _congruity_ among our symbols. It is -finding a mode of so symbolizing the unknown activities, subjective -and objective, and so operating with our symbols, that all our acts -may be rightly guided—guided, that is, in such ways that we can -anticipate, when, where, and in what quantity some one of our symbols, -or some combination of our symbols, will be found. Mr. Sidgwick’s -difficulty arises, I think, from having insufficiently borne in mind -the statements made at the outset, in “The Data of Philosophy,” that -such conceptions as “are vital, or cannot be separated from the rest -without mental dissolution, must be assumed as true _provisionally_;” -that “there is no mode of establishing the validity of any belief -except that of showing its entire _congruity_ with all other beliefs;” -and that “Philosophy, compelled to make those fundamental assumptions -without which thought is impossible, has to justify them by showing -their _congruity_ with all other dicta of consciousness.” In {249} -pursuance of this distinctly-avowed mode of procedure, I assume -provisionally, an objective activity and a subjective activity, and -certain general forms and modes (Space, Time, Matter, Motion, Force), -which the subjective activity, operated on by the objective activity, -ascribes to it, and which I suppose to correspond in some way to -unknown forms and modes of the objective activity. These provisional -assumptions, having been carried out to all their consequences, and -these consequences proved to be congruous with one another and with -the original assumptions, these original assumptions are justified. -And if, finally, I assert, as I have repeatedly asserted, that the -terms in which I express my assumptions and carry on my operations -are but symbolic, and that all I have done is to show that by certain -ways of symbolizing, perfect harmony results—invariable agreement -between the symbols in which I frame my expectations, and the symbols -which occur in experience—I cannot be blamed for incoherence. On the -contrary, it seems to me that my method is the most coherent that -can be devised. Lastly, should it be said that this regarding of -everything constituting experience and thought as symbolic, has a very -shadowy aspect; I reply that these which I speak of as symbols, are -real relatively to our consciousness; and are symbolic only in their -relation to the Ultimate Reality. - -That these explanations will make clear the coherence of views -which before seemed “fundamentally incoherent,” I feel by no means -certain; since, as I did not perceive the difficulties presented by -the exposition as at first made, I may similarly fail to perceive -the difficulties in this explanation. Originally, I had intended to -complete the _Principles of Psychology_ by a division showing how -the results reached in the preceding divisions, physiological and -psychological, analytic and synthetic, subjective and objective, -harmonize with one another, and are but different aspects of the same -aggregate of phenomena. But the work was already {250} bulky; and -I concluded that this division might be dispensed with, because the -congruities to be pointed out were sufficiently obvious. So little was -I conscious of the alleged “inability to harmonize different lines of -thought.” Mr. Sidgwick’s perplexities, however, show me that such an -exposition of concords is needful. - - * * * * * - -I have reserved to the last, one of the first objections made to the -metaphysico-theological doctrine set forth in _First Principles_, and -implied in the several volumes that have succeeded it. It was urged by -an able metaphysician, the Rev. James Martineau, in an essay entitled -“Science, Nescience, and Faith;” and, effective against my argument as -it stands, shows the need for some development of my argument. That -Mr. Martineau’s criticism may be understood, I must quote the passages -it concerns. Continuing the reasoning employed against Hamilton and -Mansel, to show that our consciousness of that which transcends -knowledge is _positive_, and not, as they allege, _negative_, I have -said:― - - “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. {251} 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.”—_First - Principles_, § 26. - -On this argument Mr. Martineau comments as follows; first re-stating it -in other words:― - - “Take away its antithetic term, and the relative, thrown into - isolation, is set up as absolute, and disappears from thought. It - is indispensable therefore to uphold the Absolute in existence, - as condition of the relative sphere which constitutes our whole - intellectual domain. Be it so: but when saved on this plea,—to - preserve the balance and interdependence of two _co_-relatives,—the - ‘Absolute’ is absolute no more; it is reduced to a term of relation: - it loses therefore its exile from thought: its disqualification is - cancelled: and the alleged nescience is discharged. - - “So, the same law of thought which warrants the existence, dissolves - the inscrutableness, of the Absolute.”—_Essays, Philosophical and_ - _Theological_ pp. 186–7. - -I admit this to be a telling rejoinder; and one which can be met only -when the meanings of the words, as I have used them, are carefully -discriminated, and the implications of the doctrine fully traced out. -We will begin by clearing the ground of minor misconceptions. - -First, let it be observed that though I have used the word Absolute -as the equivalent of Non-relative, because it is used in the passages -quoted from the writers I am contending against; yet I have myself -chosen for the purposes of my argument, the name Non-relative, and I -do not necessarily commit myself to any propositions respecting the -Absolute, considered as that which includes both Subject and Object. -The Non-relative as spoken of by me, is to be understood rather as -the totality of Being _minus_ that which constitutes the individual -consciousness, present to us under forms of Relation. Did I use the -word in some Hegelian sense, as comprehensive of that which thinks and -that which is thought about, and did I propose to treat of the order of -things, not as phenomenally manifested but as noumenally proceeding, -the objection would be fatal. But the aim being simply to formulate -the order of things as present under relative forms, the antithetical -Non-relative here named as {252} implied by the conception of the -Relative, is that which, in any act of thought, is outside of and -beyond it, rather than that which is inclusive of it. Further, it -should be observed that this Non-relative, spoken of as a necessary -complement to the Relative, is not spoken of as a conception but as a -_consciousness_; and I have in sundry passages distinguished between -those modes of consciousness which, having limits, and constituting -thought proper, are subject to the laws of thought, and the mode of -consciousness which persists when the removal of limits is carried to -the uttermost, and when distinct thought consequently ceases. - -This opens the way to the reply here to be made to Mr. Martineau’s -criticism—namely, that while by the necessities of thought the Relative -implies a Non-relative; and while, to think of this antithesis -completely, requires that the Non-relative shall be made a conception -proper; yet, for the vague thought which is alone in this case -possible, it suffices that the Non-relative shall be present as a -consciousness which though undefined is positive. Let us observe what -necessarily happens when thought is employed on this ultimate question. - -In a preceding part of the argument criticized, I have, in various -ways, aimed to show that, alike when we analyze the product of -thought and when we analyze the process of thought, we are brought -to the conclusion that invariably “a thought involves _relation_, -_difference_, _likeness_;” and that even from the very nature of Life -itself, we may evolve the conclusion that “thinking being relationing, -no thought can ever express more than relations.” What, now, must -happen if thought, having this law, occupies itself with the final -mystery? Always implying terms in relation, thought implies that -both terms shall be more or less defined; and as fast as one of them -becomes indefinite, the relation also becomes indefinite, and thought -becomes indistinct. Take the {253} case of magnitudes. I think of an -inch; I think of a foot; and having tolerably-definite ideas of the -two, I have a tolerably-definite idea of the relation between them. -I substitute for the foot a mile; and being able to represent a mile -much less definitely, I cannot so definitely think of the relation -between an inch and a mile—cannot distinguish it in thought from the -relation between an inch and two miles, as clearly as I can distinguish -in thought the relation between an inch and one foot from the relation -between an inch and two feet. And now if I endeavour to think of the -relation between an inch and the 240,000 miles from here to the Moon, -or the relation between an inch and the 93,000,000 miles from here to -the Sun, I find that while these distances, practically inconceivable, -have become little more than numbers to which I frame no answering -ideas, so, too, has the relation between an inch and either of them -become practically inconceivable. Evidently then this partial failure -in the process of forming thought-relations, which happens even with -finite magnitudes when one of them is immense, passes into complete -failure when one of them cannot be brought within any limits. The -relation itself becomes unrepresentable at the same time that one of -its terms becomes unrepresentable. Nevertheless, in this case it is to -be observed that the almost-blank form of relation preserves a certain -qualitative character. It is still distinguishable as belonging to the -consciousness of extensions, not to the consciousnesses of forces or -durations; and in so far remains a vaguely-identifiable relation. But -now suppose we ask what happens when one term of the relation has not -simply magnitude having no known limits, and duration of which neither -beginning nor end is cognizable, but is also an existence not to be -defined? In other words, what must happen if one term of the relation -is not only quantitatively but also qualitatively unrepresentable? -Clearly in this case the {254} relation does not simply cease to -be thinkable except as a relation of a certain class, but it lapses -completely. When one of the terms becomes wholly unknowable, the -law of thought can no longer be conformed to; both because one term -cannot be present, and because relation itself cannot be framed. That -is to say, the law of thought that contradictories can be known only -in relation to each other, no longer holds when thought attempts to -transcend the Relative; and yet, when it attempts to transcend the -Relative, it must make the attempt in conformity with its law—must -in some dim mode of consciousness posit a Non-relative, and, in some -similarly dim mode of consciousness, a relation between it and the -Relative. In brief then, to Mr. Martineau’s objection I reply, that -the insoluble difficulties he indicates arise here, as elsewhere, when -thought is applied to that which transcends the sphere of thought; -and that just as when we try to pass beyond phenomenal manifestations -to the Ultimate Reality manifested, we have to symbolize it out of -such materials as the phenomenal manifestations give us; so we have -simultaneously to symbolize the connexion between this Ultimate Reality -and its manifestations, as somehow allied to the connexions among -the phenomenal manifestations themselves. The truth Mr. Martineau’s -criticism adumbrates, is that the law of thought fails where the -elements of thought fail; and this is a conclusion quite conformable -to the general view I defend. Still holding the validity of my -argument against Hamilton and Mansel, that in pursuance of their own -principle the Relative is not at all thinkable _as such_, unless in -contradistinction to some existence posited, however vaguely, as -the other term of a relation, conceived however indefinitely; it -is consistent on my part to hold that in this effort which thought -inevitably makes to pass beyond its sphere, not only does the product -of thought become a dim symbol of a product, but the process of thought -becomes a dim {255} symbol of a process; and hence any predicament -inferable from the law of thought cannot be asserted. - -I may fitly close this reply by a counter-criticism. To the direct -defence of a proposition, may be added the indirect defence which -results from showing the untenability of an alternative proposition. -This criticism on the doctrine of an Unknowable Existence manifested -to us in phenomena, Mr. Martineau makes in the interests of the -doctrine held by him, that this existence is, to a considerable -degree, knowable. We are quite at one in holding that there is an -indestructible consciousness of Power behind Appearance; but whereas -I contend that this Power cannot be brought within the forms of -thought, Mr. Martineau contends that there can be consistently ascribed -certain attributes of personality—not, indeed, human characteristics -so concrete as were ascribed in past times; but still, human -characteristics of the more abstract and higher class. His general -doctrine is this:—Regarding Matter as independently existing; regarding -as also independently existing, those primary qualities of Body “which -are inseparable from the very idea of Body, and may be evolved _a -priori_ from the consideration of it as solid extension or extended -solidity;” and saying that to this class “belong Triple Dimension, -Divisibility, Incompressibility;” he goes on to assert that as these― - - “cannot absent themselves from Body, they have a reality coeval with - it, and belong eternally to the material datum objective to God: and - his mode of activity with regard to them must be similar to that which - alone we can think of his directing upon the relations of Space, viz. - not Volitional, to cause them, but Intellectual, to think them out. - The Secondary Qualities, on the other hand, having no logical tie to - the Primary, but being appended to them as contingent facts, cannot - be referred to any deductive thought, but remain over as products of - pure Inventive Reason and Determining Will. This sphere of cognition, - _a posteriori_ to us,—where we cannot move a step alone but have - submissively to wait upon experience, is precisely the realm of Divine - originality: and we are most sequacious where He is most free. 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 {256} _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.”—_Essays, Philosophical and Theological_, pp. - 163–4. - -Before the major criticism which I propose to make on this hypothesis, -let me make a minor one. Not only of space-relations, but also of -primary physical properties, Mr. Martineau asserts the necessity: not -a necessity to our minds simply, but an ontological necessity. What -is true for human thought, is, in respect of these, true absolutely: -“the laws of curvature, measure, and proportion,” as we know them, are -unchangeable even by Divine power; as are also the Divisibility and -Incompressibility of Matter. But if, in these cases, Mr. Martineau -holds that a necessity in thought implies an answering necessity in -things, why does he refrain from saying the like in other cases? -Why, if he tacitly asserts it in respect of space-relations and the -statical attributes of Body, does he not also assert it in respect of -the dynamical attributes of Body? The laws conformed to by that mode -of force now distinguished as “energy,” are as much necessary to our -thought as are the laws of space-relations. The axioms of Mechanics -lie on the same plane with the axioms of pure Mathematics. Now if -Mr. Martineau admits this—if he admits, as he must, the corollary -that there can be no such manifestation of energy as that displayed -in the motion of a planet, save at the expense of equivalent energy -which pre-existed—if he draws the further necessary corollary that -the direction of a motion cannot be changed by any action, without an -equal reaction in an opposite direction on something acting—if he bears -in mind that this holds not only of all visible motions, celestial -and terrestrial, but that those activities of Body which affect us as -secondary properties, are also known only through other forms of {257} -energy, which are equivalents of mechanical energy and conform to -these same laws—and if, lastly, he infers that none of these derivative -energies can have given to them their characters and directions, -save by pre-existing forces, statical and dynamical, conditioned in -special ways; what becomes of that “realm of Divine originality” which -Mr. Martineau describes as remaining within the realm of necessity? -Consistently carried out, his argument implies a universally-inevitable -order, in which volition can have no such place as that he alleges. - -Not pushing Mr. Martineau’s reasoning to this conclusion, so entirely -at variance with the one he draws, but accepting his statement just -as it stands, let us consider the solution it offers us. We are left -by it without any explanation of Space and Time; we are not helped -in conceiving the origin of Matter; and there is afforded us no -idea how Matter came to have its primary attributes. All these are -tacitly assumed to exist uncreated. Creative activity is represented -as under the restrictions imposed by mathematical necessities, and -as having for _datum_ (mark the word) a substance which, in respect -of certain characters, defies modification. But surely this is not -an interpretation of the mystery of things. The mystery is simply -relegated to a remoter region, respecting which no inquiry is to be -made. But the inquiry _must_ be made. After every such solution there -arises afresh the question—what is the origin and nature of that which -imposes these limits on creative power? what is the primary God which -dominates over this secondary God? For, clearly, if the “Omnipotent -Architect himself” (to use Mr. Martineau’s somewhat inconsistent name) -is powerless to change the “material datum objective” to him, and -powerless to change the conditions under which it exists, and under -which he works, there is obviously implied a power to which he is -subject. So that in Mr. Martineau’s doctrine also, there is an Ultimate -{258} Unknowable; and it differs from the doctrine he opposes, only by -intercalating a partially Knowable between this and the wholly Knowable. - -Finding, as explained above, that this interpretation is not consistent -with itself; and finding, as just shown, that it leaves the essential -mystery unsolved; I do not see that it has an advantage over the -doctrine of the Unknowable in its unqualified shape. There cannot, -I think, be more than temporary rest in a proximate solution which -takes for its basis the ultimately insoluble. Just as thought cannot -be prevented from passing beyond Appearance, and trying to conceive -the Cause behind; so, following out the interpretation Mr. Martineau -offers, thought cannot be prevented from asking what Cause it is -which restricts the Cause he assigns. And if we must admit that the -question under this eventual form cannot be answered, may we not as -well confess that the question under its immediate form cannot be -answered? Is it not better candidly to acknowledge the incompetence of -our intelligence, rather than to persist in calling that an explanation -which does but disguise the inexplicable? Whatever answer each may -give to this question, he cannot rightly blame those who, finding in -themselves an indestructible consciousness of an ultimate Cause, whence -proceed alike what we call the Material Universe and what we call Mind, -refrain from affirming anything respecting it; because they find it as -inscrutable in nature as it is inconceivable in extent and duration. - - -POSTSCRIPT.—With the concluding paragraph of the foregoing article, I -had hoped to end, for a long time, all controversial writing; and, if -the article had been published entire in the November number of the -_Fortnightly_, as originally intended, the need for any addition would -not have been pressing. But while it was in the printer’s {259} hands, -two criticisms, more elaborate than those dealt with above, made their -appearance; and now that the postponed publication of this latter half -of the article affords the opportunity, I cannot, without risking -misinterpretations, leave these criticisms unnoticed. - -Especially do I feel called upon by courtesy to make some response -to one who, in the _Quarterly Review_ for October, 1873, has dealt -with me in a spirit which, though largely antagonistic, is not wholly -unsympathetic; and who manifestly aims to estimate justly the views he -opposes. In the space at my disposal, I cannot of course follow him -through all the objections he has urged. I must content myself with -brief comments on the two propositions he undertakes to establish. His -enunciation of these runs thus:― - - “We would especially direct attention to two points, to both of which - we are confident objections may be made; and although Mr. Spencer has - himself doubtless considered such objections (and they may well have - struck many of his readers also), we nevertheless do not observe that - he has anywhere noticed or provided for them. - - “The two points we so select are:― - - “(1) _That his system involves the denial of all truth._ - - “(2) _That it is radically and necessarily opposed to all sound - principles of morals._” - -On this passage, ending in these two startling assertions, let me -first remark that I am wholly without this consciousness the reviewer -ascribes to me. Remembering that I have expended some little labour in -developing what I conceive to be a system of truths, I am surprised -by the supposition that “the denial of all truth” is an implication -which I am “doubtless” aware may be alleged against this system. -Remembering, too, that by its programme this system is shown to close -with two volumes on _The Principles of Morality_, the statement that it -is “necessarily opposed to all sound principles of morals,” naturally -astonishes me; and still more the statement that I am doubtless -conscious it may be so regarded. Saying thus much by way of repudiating -that latent scepticism {260} attributed to me by the reviewer, I -proceed to consider what he says in proof of these propositions. - -On those seeming incongruities of Transfigured Realism commented on -by him, I need say no more than I have already said in reply to Mr. -Sidgwick; by whom also they have been alleged. I will limit myself -to the corollary he draws from the doctrine of the Relativity of -Knowledge, as held by me. Rightly pointing out that I hold this in -common with “Messrs. Mill, Lewes, Bain, and Huxley;” but not adding, as -he should have done, that I hold it in common with Hamilton, Mansel, -and the long list of predecessors through whom Hamilton traced it; -the reviewer proceeds to infer from this doctrine of relativity that -no absolute truth of any kind can be asserted—not even the absolute -truth of the doctrine of relativity itself. And then he leaves it to be -supposed by his readers, that this inference tells especially against -the system he is criticizing. If, however, the reviewer’s inference is -valid, this “denial of all truth” must be charged against the doctrines -of thinkers called orthodox, as well as against the doctrines of those -many philosophers, from Aristotle down to Kant, who have said the same -thing. But now I go further, and reply that against that form of the -doctrine of relativity held by me, this allegation cannot be made with -the same effect as it can against preceding forms of the doctrine. For -I diverge from other relativists in asserting that the existence of a -non-relative is not only a positive deliverance of consciousness, but a -deliverance transcending in certainty all others whatever; and is one -without which the doctrine of relativity cannot be framed in thought. I -have urged that “unless a real Non-relative or Absolute be postulated, -the Relative itself becomes absolute; and so brings the argument to a -contradiction;”[28] and elsewhere I have described this consciousness -of a Non-relative manifested to us through the Relative as {261} -“deeper than demonstration—deeper even than definite cognition—deep -as the very nature of mind;”[29] which seems to me to be saying as -emphatically as possible that, while all other truths may be held as -relative, this truth must be held as absolute. Yet, strangely enough, -though contending thus against the pure relativists, and holding -with the reviewer, that “every asserter of such a [purely-relative] -philosophy must be in the position of a man who saws across the branch -of a tree on which he actually sits, at a point between himself -and the trunk,”[30] I am singled out by him as though this were my -own predicament! So far, then, from admitting that the view I hold -“involves the denial of all truth,” I assert that, having at the outset -posited the co-existence of subject and object as a deliverance of -consciousness which precedes all reasoning;[31] having subsequently -shown, analytically, that this postulate is in every way verified,[32] -and that in its absence the proof of relativity is impossible; my view -is distinguished by an exactly-opposite trait. - -The justification of his second proposition the reviewer commences by -saying that—“In the first place the process of Evolution, as understood -by Mr. Spencer, compels him to be at one with Mr. Darwin in his denial -of the existence of any fundamental and essential distinction between -Duty and Pleasure.” Following this by a statement respecting the -genesis of moral sentiments as understood by me (which is extremely -unlike the one I have given in the _Principles of Psychology_, § 215, -§§ 503–512, and §§ 524–532), the reviewer goes on to say that “We yield -with much reluctance to the necessity of affirming that Mr. Spencer -gives no evidence of ever having acquired a knowledge of the meaning of -the term ‘morality,’ according to the true sense of the word.” - -Just noting that, as shown by the context, the assertion {262} thus -made is made against all those who hold the Doctrine of Evolution in -its unqualified form, I reply that in so far as it concerns me, it -is one the reviewer would scarcely have made had he more carefully -examined the evidence: not limiting himself to those works of mine -named at the head of his article. And I cannot but think that had the -spirit of fairness which he evidently strives to maintain, been fully -awake when these passages were written, he would have seen that, before -making so serious an allegation, wider inquiry was needful. If he had -simply said that, given the doctrine of mental evolution as held by me, -he failed to see how moral principles are to be established, I should -not have objected; provided he had also said that I believe they can be -established, and had pointed out what I hold to be their bases. As it -is, however, he has so presented his own inference from my premises, -as to make it seem an inference which I also must draw from my -premises. Quite a different and much more secure foundation for moral -principles is alleged by me, than that afforded by moral sentiments and -conceptions; which he refers to as though they formed the sole basis of -the ethical conclusions I hold. While the reviewer contends that “Mr. -Spencer’s moral system is even yet more profoundly defective, as it -denies any objective distinction between right and wrong in any being, -whether men are or are not responsible for their actions;” I contend, -contrariwise, that it is distinguished from other moral systems by -asserting the objectivity of the distinction, and by endeavouring to -show that the subjective distinction is derived from the objective -distinction. In my first work, _Social Statics_, published twenty-three -years ago, the essential thesis is that, apart from their warrant as -alleged Divine injunctions, and apart from their authority as moral -intuitions, the principles of justice are primarily deducible from the -laws of life as carried on under social conditions. I argued throughout -that these principles so derived have {263} a supreme authority, to -which considerations of immediate expediency must yield; and I was for -this reason classed by Mr. Mill as an anti-utilitarian. More recently, -in a letter drawn from me by this misapprehension of Mr. Mill, and -afterwards published by Professor Bain in his _Mental and Moral -Science_, I have re-stated this position. Already, in an explanatory -article entitled _Morals and Moral Sentiments_, published in the -_Fortnightly Review_ for April, 1871, I have quoted passages from that -letter; and here, considering the gravity of the assertions made by the -_Quarterly_ reviewer, I hope to be excused for re-quoting them:― - - “Morality, properly so called—the science of right conduct—has for - its object to determine _how_ and _why_ certain modes of conduct are - detrimental, and certain other modes beneficial. These good and bad - results cannot be accidental, but must be necessary consequences of - the constitution of things; and I conceive it to be the business of - Moral Science to deduce from the laws of life and the conditions - of existence, what kinds of action necessarily tend to produce - happiness, and what kinds to produce unhappiness. Having done this, - its deductions are to be recognized as laws of conduct; and are to - be conformed to irrespective of a direct estimation of happiness or - misery.” - - * * * * * - - “If it is true that pure rectitude prescribes a system of things - far too good for men as they are, it is not less true that mere - expediency does not of itself tend to establish a system of things - any better than that which exists. While absolute morality owes to - expediency the checks which prevent it from rushing into Utopian - absurdities, expediency is indebted to absolute morality for all - stimulus to improvement. Granted that we are chiefly interested in - ascertaining what is _relatively right_, it still follows that we must - first consider what is _absolutely right_; since the one conception - presupposes the other.” - -And the comment I then made on these passages I may make now, that -“I do not see how there could well be a more emphatic assertion that -there exists a primary basis of morals independent of, and in a sense -antecedent to, that which is furnished by experiences of utility; and -consequently independent of, and in a sense antecedent to, those moral -sentiments which I conceive to be generated by such experiences.” I -will only add that, had my beliefs been directly opposite to those I -have enunciated, {264} the reviewer might, I think, have found good -reasons for his assertion. If, instead of demurring to the doctrine -“that greatest happiness should be the _immediate_ aim of man,”[33] I -had endorsed that doctrine—if, instead of explaining and justifying “a -belief in the special sacredness of these highest principles, and a -sense of the supreme authority of the altruistic sentiments answering -to them,”[34] I had denied the sacredness and the supreme authority—if, -instead of saying of the wise man that “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,”[35] I had said that the wise -man will _not_ do this; the reviewer might with truth have described me -as not understanding “the term ‘morality’ according to the true sense -of the word.” And he might then have inferred that the Doctrine of -Evolution as I hold it, implies denial of the “distinction between Duty -and Pleasure.” But as it is, I think the evidence will not generally be -held to warrant his assertion. - -I quite agree with the reviewer that the prevalence of a philosophy -“is no mere question of speculative interest, but is one of the -highest practical importance.” I join him, too, in the belief that -“calamitous social and political changes” may be the outcome of a -mistaken philosophy. Moreover, writing as he does under the conviction -that there can be no standard of right and wrong save one derived from -a Revelation interpreted by an Infallible Authority, I can conceive -the alarm with which he regards so radically opposed a system. Though -I could have wished that the sense of justice he generally displays -had prevented him from ignoring the evidence I have above given, I can -understand how, from his point of view, the Doctrine of Evolution, -as I understand it, “seems absolutely fatal {265} to every germ of -morality,” and “entirely negatives every form of religion.” But I am -unable to understand that modified Doctrine of Evolution which the -reviewer hints at as an alternative. For, little as the reader would -anticipate it after these expressions of profound dissent, the reviewer -displays such an amount of agreement as to suggest that the system he -is criticizing might be converted, “rapidly and without violence, into -an ‘allotropic state,’ in which its conspicuous characters would be -startlingly diverse from those that it exhibits at present.” May I, -using a different figure, suggest a different transformation, having a -subjective instead of an objective character? As in a stereoscope, the -two views representing diverse aspects, often yield at first a jumble -of conflicting impressions, but, after a time, suddenly combine into a -single whole which stands out quite clearly; so, may it not be that the -seemingly-inconsistent Idealism and Realism dwelt on by the reviewer, -as well as the other seemingly-fundamental incongruities he is struck -by, will, under more persistent contemplation, unite as complementary -sides of the same thing? - - * * * * * - -My excuse for devoting some space to a criticism of so entirely -different a kind as that contained in the _British Quarterly Review_ -for October, 1873, must be that, under the circumstances, I cannot let -it pass unnoticed without seeming to admit its validity. - -Saying that my books should be dealt with by specialists, and tacitly -announcing himself as an expert in Physics, the reviewer takes me to -task both for errors in the statement of physical principles and for -erroneous reasoning in physics. That he discovers no mistakes I do not -say. It would be marvellous if in such a multitude of propositions, -averaging a dozen per page, I had made all criticism-proof. Some -are inadvertencies which I should have been obliged to the reviewer -for pointing out as such, but which he prefers to {266} instance -as proving my ignorance. In other cases, taking advantage of an -imperfection of statement, he proceeds to instruct me about matters -which either the context, or passages in the same volume, show to be -quite familiar to me. Here is a sample of his criticisms belonging to -this class:― - - “Nor should we counsel a man to venture upon physical speculations - who converts the proposition ‘_heat is insensible motion_’ into - ‘_insensible motion is heat_,’ and hence concludes that when a force - is applied to a mass so large that no motion is seen to result from - it, or when, as in the case of sound, motion gets so dispersed that it - becomes insensible, it turns to heat.” - -Respecting the first of the two statements contained in this sentence, -I will observe that the reader, if not misled by the quotation-marks -into the supposition that I have made, in so many words, the assertion -that “insensible motion is heat,” will at any rate infer that this -assertion is distinctly involved in the passage named. And he will -infer that the reviewer would never have charged me with such an absurd -belief, if there was before him evidence proving that I have no such -belief. What will the reader say, then, when he learns, not simply that -there is no such statement, and not simply that on the page referred -to, which I have ascertained to be the one intended, there is no such -implication visible, even to an expert (and I have put the question to -one); but when he further learns that in other passages, the fact that -heat is one only of the modes of insensible motion is distinctly stated -(see _First Prin_. §§ 66, 68, 171); and when he learns that elsewhere I -have specified the several forms of insensible motion? If the reviewer, -who looks so diligently for flaws as to search an essay in a volume he -is not reviewing to find one term of an incongruity, had sought with -equal diligence to learn what I thought about insensible motion, he -would have found in the _Classification of the Sciences_, Table II., -that insensible motion is described by me as having the forms of Heat, -Light, Electricity, Magnetism. Even had there been in {267} the place -he names, an unquestionable implication of the belief which he ascribes -to me, fairness might have led him to regard it as an oversight when -he found it at variance with statements I have elsewhere made. What -then is to be thought of him when, in the place named, no such belief -is manifest; either to an ordinary reader or to a specially-instructed -reader? - -No less significant is the state of mind betrayed in the second clause -of the reviewer’s sentence. By representing me as saying that when -the motion constituting sound “gets so dispersed that it becomes -insensible, it turns to heat,” does he intend to represent me as -thinking that when sound-undulations become too weak to be audible, -they become heat-undulations? If so, I reply that the passage he refers -to has no such meaning. Does he then allege that some part of the force -diffused in sound-waves is expended in generating electricity, by -the friction of heterogeneous substances (which, however, eventually -lapses from this special form of molecular motion in that general -form constituting heat); and that I ought to have thus qualified my -statement? If so, he would have had me commit a piece of scientific -pedantry hindering the argument. If he does not mean either of these -things, what does he mean? Does he contest the truth of the hypothesis -which enabled Laplace to correct Newton’s estimate of the velocity -of sound—the hypothesis that heat is evolved by the compression each -sound-wave produces in the air? Does he deny that the heat so generated -is at the expense of so much wave-motion lost? Does he question the -inference that some of the motion embodied in each wave is from instant -to instant dissipated, partly in this way and partly in the heat -evolved by fluid friction? Can he show any reason for doubting that -when the sound-waves have become too feeble to affect our senses, their -motion still continues to undergo this transformation and diminution -until it is all lost? If not, why does he implicitly deny that {268} -the molar motion constituting sound, eventually disappears in -producing the molecular motion constituting heat?[36] - -I will dwell no longer on the exclusively-personal questions raised -by the reviewer’s statements; but, leaving the reader to judge of the -rest of my “stupendous mistakes” by the one I have dealt with, I will -turn to a question worthy to occupy some space, as having an impersonal -interest—the question, namely, respecting the nature of the warrant we -have for asserting ultimate physical truths. The contempt which, as a -physicist, the reviewer expresses for the metaphysical exploration of -physical ideas, I will pass over with the remark that every physical -question, probed to the bottom, opens into a metaphysical one; and that -I should have thought the controversy now going on among chemists, -respecting the legitimacy of the atomic hypothesis, might have -shown him as much. On his erroneous statement that I use the phrase -“Persistence of Force” as an equivalent for the now-generally-accepted -phrase “Conservation of Energy,” I will observe only that, had he not -been in so great a hurry to find inconsistencies, he would have seen -why, for the purposes of my argument, {269} I intentionally use the -word Force: Force being the generic word, including both that species -known as Energy, and that species by which Matter occupies space and -maintains its integrity—a species which, whatever may be its relation -to Energy, and however clearly recognized as a necessary _datum_ by -the theory of Energy, is not otherwise considered in that theory. I -will confine myself to the proposition, disputed at great length by the -reviewer, that our cognition of the Persistence of Force is _a priori_. -He relies much on the authority of Professor Tait, whom he twice quotes -to the effect that― - - “Natural philosophy is an experimental, and not an intuitive science. - No _à priori_ reasoning can conduct us demonstratively to a single - physical truth.” - -Were I to take a hypercritical attitude, I might dwell on the fact that -Professor Tait leaves the extent of his proposition somewhat doubtful, -by speaking of “Natural philosophy” as _one_ science. Were I to follow -further the reviewer’s example, I might point out that “Natural -philosophy,” in that Newtonian acceptation adopted by Professor -Tait, includes Astronomy; and, going on to ask what astronomical -“experiments” those are which conduct us to astronomical truths, I -might then “counsel” the reviewer not to depend on the authority of one -who (to use the reviewer’s polite language) “blunders” by confounding -experiment and observation. I will not, however, thus infer from -Professor Tait’s imperfection of statement that he is unaware of the -difference between the two; and shall rate his authority as of no less -value than I should, had he been more accurate in his expression. -Respecting that authority I shall simply remark that, if the question -had to be settled by the authority of any physicist, the authority of -Mayer, who is diametrically opposed to Prof. Tait on this point, and -who has been specially honoured, both by the Royal Society and by the -French Institute, might well counter-weigh his, if not out-weigh it. -I am not aware, {270} however, that the question is one in Physics. -It seems to me a question respecting the nature of proof. And, without -doubting Professor Tait’s competence in Logic and Psychology, I should -decline to abide by his judgment on such a question, even were there no -opposite judgment given by a physicist, certainly of not less eminence. - -Authority aside, however, let us discuss the matter on its merits. -In the _Treatise on Natural Philosophy_, by Profs. Thomson and Tait, -§ 243 (1st ed.), I read that “as we shall show in our chapter on -‘Experience,’ physical axioms are axiomatic to those only who have -sufficient knowledge of the action of physical causes to enable them -to see at once their necessary truth.” In this I agree entirely. -It is in Physics, as it is in Mathematics, that before necessary -truths can be grasped, there must be gained by individual experience, -such familiarity with the elements of the thoughts to be framed, -that propositions about those elements may be mentally represented -with distinctness. Tell a child that things which are equal to -the same thing are equal to one another, and the child, lacking a -sufficiently-abstract notion of equality, and lacking, too, the -needful practice in comparing relations, will fail to grasp the axiom. -Similarly, a rustic, never having thought much about forces and their -results, cannot form a definite conception answering to the axiom that -action and reaction are equal and opposite. In the last case as in -the first, ideas of the terms and their relations require to be made, -by practice in thinking, so vivid that the involved truths may be -mentally seen. But when the individual experiences have been multiplied -enough to produce distinctness in the representations of the elements -dealt with; then, in the one case as in the other, those mental forms -generated by ancestral experiences, cannot be occupied by the elements -of one of these ultimate truths without perception of its necessity. -If Professor Tait does not admit this, what {271} does he mean by -speaking of “physical _axioms_,” and by saying that the cultured are -enabled “to see _at once_ their _necessary_ truth?” - -Again, if there are no physical truths which must be classed as _a -priori_, I ask why Professor Tait joins Sir W. Thomson in accepting -as bases for Physics, Newton’s Laws of Motion? Though Newton gives -illustrations of prolonged motion in bodies that are little resisted, -he gives no _proof_ that a body in motion will continue moving, if -uninterfered with, in the same direction at the same velocity; nor, -on turning to the enunciation of this law quoted in the above-named -work, do I find that Professor Tait does more than exemplify it by -facts which can themselves be asserted only by taking the law for -granted. Does Professor Tait deny that the first law of motion is a -physical truth? If so, what does he call it? Does he admit it to be -a physical truth, and, denying that it is _a priori_, assert that it -is established _a posteriori_—that is, by conscious induction from -observation and experiment? If so, what is the inductive reasoning -which can establish it? Let us glance at the several conceivable -arguments which we must suppose him to rely on. - -A body set in motion soon ceases to move if it encounters much -friction, or much resistance from the bodies struck. If less of its -energy is expended in moving, or otherwise affecting, other bodies, or -in overcoming friction, its motion continues longer. And it continues -longest when, as over smooth ice, it meets with the smallest amount -of obstruction. May we then, proceeding by the method of concomitant -variations, infer that were it wholly unobstructed its motion would -continue undiminished? If so, we assume that the diminution of its -motion observed in experience, is proportionate to the amount of -energy abstracted from it in producing other motion, either molar or -molecular. We assume that no variation has taken place in its rate, -save that caused by deductions in moving other matter; for if {272} -its motion be supposed to have otherwise varied, the conclusion that -the differences in the distances travelled result from differences -in the obstructions met with, is vitiated. Thus the truth to be -established is already taken for granted in the premises. Nor is the -question begged in this way only. In every case where it is remarked -that a body stops the sooner, the more it is obstructed by other bodies -or media, the law of inertia is assumed to hold in the obstructing -bodies or media. The very conception of greater or less retardation -so caused, implies the belief that there can be no retardations -without proportionate retarding causes; which is itself the assumption -otherwise expressed in the first law of motion. - -Again, let us suppose that instead of inexact observations made on the -movements occurring in daily experience, we make exact experiments on -movements specially arranged to yield measured results; what is the -postulate underlying every experiment? Uniform velocity is defined as -motion through equal spaces in equal times. How do we measure equal -times? By an instrument which can be inferred to mark equal times -only if the oscillations of the pendulum are isochronous; which they -can be proved to be only if the first and second laws of motion are -granted. That is to say, the proposed experimental proof of the first -law, assumes not only the truth of the first law, but of that which -Professor Tait agrees with Newton in regarding as a second law. Is it -said that the ultimate time-measure referred to is the motion of the -Earth round its axis, through equal angles in equal times? Then the -obvious rejoinder is that the assertion of this, similarly involves an -assertion of the truth to be proved; since the undiminished rotatory -movement of the Earth is itself a corollary from the first law of -motion. Is it alleged that this axial movement of the Earth through -equal angles in equal times, is ascertainable by reference to the -stars? I answer that a developed system of Astronomy, leading through -complex {273} reasonings to the conclusion that the Earth rotates, is, -in that case, supposed to be needful before there can be established -a law of motion which this system of Astronomy itself postulates. For -even should it be said that the Newtonian theory of the Solar System is -not necessarily pre-supposed, but only the Copernican; still, the proof -of this assumes that a body at rest (a star being taken as such) will -continue at rest; which is a part of the first law of motion, regarded -by Newton as not more self-evident than the remaining part. - -Not a little remarkable, indeed, is the oversight made by Professor -Tait, in asserting that “no _a priori_ reasoning can conduct us -demonstratively to a single physical truth,” when he has before him -the fact that the system of physical truths constituting Newton’s -_Principia_, which he has joined Sir William Thomson in editing, is -established by _a priori_ reasoning. That there can be no change -without a cause, or, in the words of Mayer, that “a force cannot become -nothing, and just as little can a force be produced from nothing,” is -that ultimate dictum of consciousness on which all physical science -rests. It is involved alike in the assertion that a body at rest will -continue at rest, in the assertion that a body in motion must continue -to move at the same velocity in the same line if no force acts on it, -and in the assertion that any divergent motion given to it must be -proportionate to the deflecting force; and it is also involved in the -axiom that action and reaction are equal and opposite. - -The reviewer’s doctrine, in support of which he cites against me the -authority of Professor Tait, illustrates in Physics that same error -of the inductive philosophy which, in Metaphysics, I have pointed out -elsewhere (_Principles of Psychology_, Part VII.). It is a doctrine -implying that we can go on for ever asking the proof of the proof, -without finally coming to any deepest cognition which is unproved -and unprovable. That this is an untenable doctrine, I need {274} -not say more to show. Nor, indeed, would saying more to show it be -likely to have any effect, in so far at least as the reviewer is -concerned; seeing that he thinks I am “ignorant of the very nature of -the principles” of which I am speaking, and seeing that my notions of -scientific reasoning “remind” him “of the Ptolemists,” who argued that -the heavenly bodies must move in circles because the circle is the most -perfect figure.[37] - -Not to try the reader’s patience further, I will end by pointing out -that, even were the reviewer’s criticisms all valid, they would leave -unshaken the theory he contends against. Though one of his sentences -(p. 480) raises the expectation that he is about to assault, and -greatly to damage, the bases of the system contained in the second part -of _First Principles_, yet all those propositions which constitute the -bases, he leaves, not only uninjured, but even untouched,—contenting -himself with trying to show (with what success we have seen) that the -fundamental one is an _a posteriori_ truth and not an _a priori_ truth. -Against the general Doctrine of Evolution, considered as an induction -from all classes of concrete phenomena, he utters not a word; nor does -he utter a word to disprove any one of those laws of the redistribution -of matter and motion, by {275} which the process of Evolution is -deductively interpreted. Respecting the law of the Instability of -the Homogeneous, he says no more than to quarrel with one of the -illustrations. He makes no criticism on the law of the Multiplication -of Effects. The law of Segregation he does not even mention. Nor does -he mention the law of Equilibration. Further, he urges nothing against -the statement that these general laws are severally deducible from the -ultimate law of the Persistence of Force. Lastly, he does not deny the -Persistence of Force; but only differs respecting the nature of our -warrant for asserting it. Beyond pointing out, here a cracked brick and -there a quoin set askew, he merely makes a futile attempt to show that -the foundation is not natural rock, but concrete. - -From his objections I may, indeed, derive much satisfaction. That a -competent critic, obviously anxious to do all the mischief he can, and -not over-scrupulous about the means he uses, has done so little, may be -taken as evidence that the fabric of conclusions attacked will not be -readily overthrown. - - * * * * * - -In the _British Quarterly Review_ for January, 1874, the writer of the -article I have dealt with above, makes a rejoinder. It is of the kind -which might have been anticipated. There are men to whom the discovery -that they have done injustice is painful. After proof of having wrongly -ascribed to another such a nonsensical belief as that insensible -motion is heat because heat is insensible motion, some would express -regret. Not so my reviewer. Having by forced interpretations debited -me with an absurdity, he makes no apology; but, with an air implying -that he had all along done this, he attacks the allegation I had -really made—an allegation which is at least so far from an absurdity, -that he describes it only as not justified by “the present state -of science.” And here, having incidentally referred to this point, -I may as well, before {276} proceeding, deal with his substituted -charge at the same time that I further exemplify his method. Probably -most of those who see the _British Quarterly_, will be favourably -impressed by the confidence of his assertion; but those who compare -my statement with his travesty of it, and who compare both with some -authoritative exposition, will be otherwise impressed. To his statement -that I conclude “that friction must ultimately transform _all_ [the -italics are his] the energy of a sound into heat,” I reply that it is -glaringly untrue: I have named friction as a second cause only. And -when he pooh-poohs the effect of compression because it is “merely -momentary,” is he aware of the meaning of his words? Will he deny that, -from first to last, during the interval of condensation, heat is being -generated? Will he deny to the air the power of radiating such heat? He -will not venture to do so. Take then the interval of condensation as -one-thousandth of a second. I ask him to inform those whom he professes -to instruct, what is the probable number of heat-waves which have -escaped in this interval. Must they not be numbered by thousands of -millions? In fact, by his “merely momentary,” he actually assumes that -what is momentary in relation to our time-measures, is momentary in -relation to the escape of ethereal undulations! - -Let me now proceed more systematically, and examine his rejoinder point -by point. It sets out thus:― - - “In the notice of Mr. Spencer’s works that appeared in the last number - of this _Review_, we had occasion to point out that he held mistaken - notions of the most fundamental generalizations of dynamics; that he - had shown an ignorance of the nature of proof in his treatment of the - Newtonian Law; that he had used phrases such as the Persistence of - Force in various and inconsistent significations; and more especially - that he had put forth proofs logically faulty in his endeavour to - demonstrate certain physical propositions by _à priori_ methods, and - to show that such proofs must exist. To this article Mr. Spencer has - replied in the December number of the _Fortnightly Review_. His reply - leaves every one of the above positions unassailed.” - -In my “Replies to Criticisms,” which, as it was, trespassed unduly on -the pages of the _Fortnightly Review_, I singled {277} out from those -of his allegations which touched me personally, one that might be -briefly dealt with as an example; and I stated that, passing over other -personal questions, as not interesting to the general reader, I should -devote the small space available to an impersonal one. Notwithstanding -this, the reviewer, in the foregoing paragraph, enumerates his chief -positions; asserts that I have not assailed any of them (which is -untrue); and then leads his readers to the belief that I have not -assailed them because they are unassailable. - -Leaving this misbelief to be dealt with presently, I continue my -comments on his rejoinder. After referring to the passage I have quoted -from Prof. Tait’s statement about physical axioms, and after indicating -the nature of my criticism, the reviewer says:― - - “Had Mr. Spencer, however, read the sentence that follows it, we - doubt whether we should have heard aught of this quotation. It is - ‘Without further remark we shall give Newton’s Three Laws; it being - remembered that as the properties of matter might have been such as - to render a totally different set of laws axiomatic, _these laws must - be considered as resting on convictions drawn from observation and - experiment and not on intuitive perception_.’ This not only shows that - the term ‘axiomatic’ is used in the previous sentence in a sense that - does not exclude an inductive origin, but it leaves us indebted to - Mr. Spencer for the discovery of the clearest and most authoritative - expression of disapproval of his views respecting the nature of the - Laws of Motion.” - -Let us analyze this “authoritative expression.” It contains several -startling implications, the disclosure of which the reader will find -not uninteresting. Consider, first, what is implied by framing the -thought that “the properties of matter might have been such as to -render a totally different set of laws axiomatic.” I will not stop to -make the inquiry whether matter having properties fundamentally unlike -its present ones, can be conceived; though such an inquiry, leading -to the conclusion that no conception of the kind is possible, would -show that the proposition is merely a verbal one. It will suffice if -I examine the nature of this proposition that “the properties of -matter _might have been_” {278} other than they are. Does it express -an experimentally-ascertained truth? If so, I invite Prof. Tait to -describe the experiments. Is it an intuition? If so, then along with -doubt of an intuitive belief concerning things _as they are_, there -goes confidence in an intuitive belief concerning things _as they are -not_. Is it an hypothesis? If so, the implication is that a cognition -of which the negation is inconceivable (for an axiom is such) may be -discredited by inference from that which is not a cognition at all, -but simply a supposition. Does the reviewer admit that no conclusion -can have a validity greater than is possessed by its premises? or -will he say that the trustworthiness of cognitions increases in -proportion as they are the more inferential? Be his answer what it -may, I shall take it as unquestionable that nothing concluded can -have a warrant higher than that from which it is concluded, though -it may have a lower. Now the elements of the proposition before us -are these:—_As_ “the properties of matter might have been such as -to render a totally different set of laws axiomatic” [_therefore_] -“these laws [now in force] must be considered as resting . . . not on -intuitive perception:” that is, the intuitions in which these laws -are recognized, must not be held authoritative. Here the cognition -posited as premiss, is that the properties of matter might have been -other than they are; and the conclusion is that our intuitions relative -to existing properties are uncertain. Hence, if this conclusion is -valid, it is valid because the cognition or intuition respecting -what might have been, is more trustworthy than the cognition or -intuition respecting what is! Scepticism respecting the deliverances -of consciousness about things as they are, is based upon faith in a -deliverance of consciousness about things as they are not! - -I go on to remark that this “authoritative expression of disapproval” -by which I am supposed to be silenced, even were its allegation as -valid as it is fallacious, would leave {279} wholly untouched the real -issue. I pointed out how Prof. Tait’s denial that any physical truths -could be reached _a priori_, was contradicted by his own statement -respecting physical axioms. The question thus raised the reviewer -evades, and substitutes another with which I have just dealt. Now I -bring forward again the evaded question. - -In the passage I quoted, Prof. Tait, besides speaking of physical -“_axioms_,” says of them that due familiarity with physical phenomena -gives the power of seeing “_at once_” “their _necessary_ truth.” These -last words, which express his conception of an axiom, express also the -usual conception. An axiom is defined as a “self-evident truth,” or a -truth that is seen _at once_; and the definition otherwise worded is—a -“truth so evident _at first sight_, that no process of reasoning or -demonstration can make it plainer.” Now I contend that Prof. Tait, by -thus committing himself to a definition of physical axioms identical -with that which is given of mathematical axioms, tacitly admits that -they have the same _a priori_ character; and I further contend that no -such nature as that which he describes physical axioms to have, can be -acquired by experiment or observation during the life of an individual. -Axioms, if defined as truths of which the _necessity_ is at once seen, -are thereby defined as truths of which the negation is inconceivable; -and the familiar contrast between them and the truths established by -individual experiences, is that these last never become such that their -negations are inconceivable, however multitudinous the experiences may -be. Thousands of times has the sportsman heard the report that follows -the flash from his gun, but still he can imagine the flash as occurring -silently; and countless daily experiments on the burning of coal, leave -him able to conceive coal as remaining in the fire without ignition. -So that the “convictions drawn from observation and experiment” during -a single life, can never acquire that character which Prof. Tait -admits physical axioms to have: in other words, physical axioms cannot -be {280} derived from personal observation and experiment. Thus, -otherwise applying the reviewer’s words, I “doubt whether we should -have heard aught of this quotation” to which he calls my attention, -had he studied the matter more closely; and he “leaves us indebted to” -him “for the discovery of” a passage which serves to make clearer the -untenability of the doctrine he so dogmatically affirms. - -I turn now to what the reviewer says concerning the special arguments -I used to show that the first law of motion cannot be proved -experimentally. After a bare enunciation of my positions, he says:― - - “On the utterly erroneous character of these statements we do not - care to dwell, we wish simply to call our reader’s attention to the - conclusion arrived at. Is that a disproof of the possibility of an - inductive proof? We thought that every tolerably educated man was - aware that the proof of a scientific law _consisted in_ showing that - _by_ assuming its truth, we could explain the observed phenomena.” - -Probably the reviewer expects his readers to conclude that he could -easily dispose of the statements referred to if he tried. Among -scientific men, however, this cavalier passing over of my arguments -will perhaps be ascribed to another cause. I will give him my reason -for saying this. Those arguments, read in proof by one of the most -eminent physicists, and by a specially-honoured mathematician, -had their entire concurrence; and I have since had from another -mathematician, standing among the very first, such qualified agreement -as is implied in saying that the first law of motion cannot be -proved by terrestrial observations (which is in large measure what -I undertook to show in the paragraphs which the reviewer passes -over so contemptuously). But his last sentence, telling us what he -thought “every tolerably educated man was aware” of, is the one which -chiefly demands attention. In it he uses the word _law_—a word which, -conveniently wide in meaning, suits his purpose remarkably well. But -we are here speaking of physical _axioms_. The question is whether -the justification of a physical {281} axiom consists in showing that -by assuming its truth, we can explain the observed phenomena. If it -does, then all distinction between hypothesis and axiom disappears. -Mathematical axioms, for which there is no other definition than -that which Prof. Tait gives of physical axioms, must stand on the -same footing. Henceforth we must hold that our warrant for asserting -that “things which are equal to the same thing are equal to one -another,” consists in the observed truth of the geometrical and other -propositions deducible from it and the associated axioms—the _observed_ -truth, mind; for the fabric of deductions yields none of the required -warrant until these deductions have been tested by measurement. When we -have described squares on the three sides of a right-angled triangle, -cut them out in paper, and, by weighing them, have found that the one -on the hypothenuse balances the other two; then we have got a fact -which, joined with other facts similarly ascertained, justifies us in -asserting that things which are equal to the same thing are equal to -one another! Even as it stands, this implication will not, I think, be -readily accepted; but we shall find that its unacceptability becomes -still more conspicuous when the analysis is pursued to the end. - -Continuing his argument to show that the laws of motion have no _a -priori_ warrant, the reviewer says:― - - “Mr. Spencer asserts that Newton gave no proof of the Laws of Motion. - The whole of the _Principia_ was the proof, and the fact that, taken - as a system, these laws account for the lunar and planetary motions, - is the warrant on which they chiefly rest to this day.” - -I have first to point out that here, as before, the reviewer escapes -by raising a new issue. I did not ask what he thinks about the -_Principia_, and the proof of the laws of motion by it; nor did I ask -whether others at this day, hold the assertion of these laws to be -justified mainly by the evidence the Solar System affords. I asked what -Newton thought. The reviewer had represented the belief that the second -law of motion is knowable _a priori_, as too {282} absurd even for -me openly to enunciate. I pointed out that since Newton enunciates it -openly under the title of an axiom, and offers no proof whatever of it, -he did explicitly what I am blamed for doing implicitly. And thereupon -I invited the reviewer to say what he thought of Newton. Instead of -answering, he gives me his opinion to the effect that the laws of -motion are proved true by the truth of the _Principia_ deduced from -them. Of this hereafter. My present purpose is to show that Newton did -not say this, and gave every indication of thinking the contrary. He -does not call the laws of motion “hypotheses;” he calls them “axioms.” -He does not say that he assumes them to be true _provisionally_; and -that the warrant for accepting them as actually true, will be found in -the astronomically-proved truth of the deductions. He lays them down -just as mathematical axioms are laid down—posits them as truths to be -accepted _a priori_, from which follow consequences that must therefore -be accepted. And though the reviewer thinks this an untenable position, -I am quite content to range myself with Newton in thinking it a tenable -one—if, indeed, I may say so without undervaluing the reviewer’s -judgment. But now, having shown that the reviewer evaded the issue I -raised, which it was inconvenient for him to meet, I pass to the issue -he substitutes for it. I will first deal with it after the methods of -ordinary logic, before dealing with it after the methods of what may be -called transcendental logic. - -To establish the truth of a proposition postulated, by showing that -the deductions from it are true, requires that the truth of the -deductions shall be shown in some way that does not directly or -indirectly assume the truth of the proposition postulated. If, setting -out with the axioms of Euclid, we deduce the truths that “the angle -in a semi-circle is a right angle,” and that “the opposite angles of -any quadrilateral figure described in a circle, are together equal -to two right angles,” and so forth; and if, because {283} these -propositions are true, we say that the axioms are true, we are guilty -of a _petitio principii_. I do not mean simply that if these various -propositions are taken as true on the strength of the demonstrations -given, the reasoning is circular, because the demonstrations assume the -axioms; but I mean more—I mean that any supposed _experimental_ proof -of these propositions by measurement, itself assumes the axioms to be -justified. For even when the supposed experimental proof consists in -showing that some two lines demonstrated by reason to be equal, are -equal when tested in perception, the axiom that things which are equal -to the same thing are equal to one another, is taken for granted. The -equality of the two lines can be ascertained only by carrying from -the one to the other, some measure (either a moveable marked line -or the space between the points of compasses), and by assuming that -the two lines are equal to one another, because they are severally -equal to this measure. The ultimate truths of mathematics, then, -cannot be established by any experimental proof that the deductions -from them are true; since the supposed experimental proof takes them -for granted. The same thing holds of ultimate physical truths. For -the alleged _a posteriori_ proof of these truths, has a vice exactly -analogous to the vice I have just indicated. Every evidence yielded -by astronomy that the axioms called “the laws of motion” are true, -resolves itself into a fulfilled prevision that some celestial body or -bodies, will be seen in a specified place, or in specified places, in -the heavens, at some assigned time. Now the day, hour, and minute of -this verifying observation, can be fixed only on the assumption that -the Earth’s motion in its orbit and its motion round its axis, continue -undiminished. Mark, then, the parallelism. One who chose to deny that -things which are equal to the same thing are equal to one another, -could never have it proved to him by showing the truth of deduced -propositions; since the testing process would in {284} every case -assume that which he denied. Similarly, one who refused to admit that -motion, uninterfered with, continues in the same straight line at the -same velocity, could not have it proved to him by the fulfilment of an -astronomical prediction; because he would say that both the spectator’s -position in space, and the position of the event in time, were those -alleged, only if the Earth’s motions of translation and rotation -were undiminished, which was the very thing he called in question. -Evidently such a sceptic might object that the seeming fulfilment of -the prediction, say a transit of Venus, may be effected by various -combinations of the changing positions of Venus, of the Earth, and of -the spectator on the Earth. The appearances may occur as anticipated, -though Venus is at some other place than the calculated one; provided -the Earth also is at some other place, and the spectator’s position on -the Earth is different. And if the first law of motion is not assumed, -it must be admitted that the Earth and the spectator _may_ occupy these -other places at the predicted time: supposing that in the absence of -the first law, this predicted time can be ascertained, which it cannot. -Thus the testing process inevitably begs the question. - -That the perfect congruity of all astronomical observations with all -deductions from “the laws of motion,” gives coherence to this group -of intuitions and perceptions, and so furnishes a warrant for the -entire aggregate of them which it would not have were any of them at -variance, is unquestionable. But it does not therefore follow that -astronomical observations can furnish a test for _each individual -assumption_, out of the many which are simultaneously made. I will not -dwell on the fact that the process of verification assumes the validity -of the assumptions on which acts of reasoning proceed; for the reply -may be that these are shown to be valid apart from astronomy. Nor will -I insist that the assumptions underlying mathematical inferences, -geometrical and {285} numerical, are involved; since it may be said -that these are justifiable separately by our terrestrial experiences. -But, passing over all else that is taken for granted, it suffices to -point out that, in making every astronomical prediction, the three -laws of motion and the law of gravitation are _all_ assumed; that if -the first law of motion is to be held proved by the fulfilment of -the prediction, it can be so only by taking for granted that the two -other laws of motion and the law of gravitation are true; and that -non-fulfilment of the prediction would not disprove the first law of -motion, since the error might be in one or other of the three remaining -assumptions. Similarly with the second law: the astronomical proof of -it depends on the truth of the accompanying assumptions. So that the -warrants for the assumptions A, B, C, and D, are respectively such -that A, B, and C being taken as trustworthy, prove the validity of D; -D being thus proved valid, joins C, and B, in giving a character to -A; and so throughout. The result is that everything comes out right -if they happen to be all true; but if one of them is false, it may -destroy the characters of the other three, though these are in reality -exact. Clearly, then, astronomical prediction and observation can never -test any one of the premises by itself. They can only justify the -entire aggregate of premises, mathematical and physical, joined with -the entire aggregate of reasoning processes leading from premises to -conclusions. - -I now recall the reviewer’s “thought,” uttered in his habitual manner, -“that every tolerably educated man was aware that the proof of a -scientific law _consisted in_ showing that _by_ assuming its truth, -we could explain the observed phenomena.” Having from the point of -view of ordinary logic dealt with this theory of proof as applied by -the reviewer, I proceed to deal with it from the point of view of -transcendental logic, as I have myself applied it. And here I have to -charge the reviewer with either being ignorant of, or else deliberately -ignoring, a cardinal {286} doctrine of the System of Philosophy he -professes to review—a doctrine set forth not in those four volumes of -it which he seems never to have looked into; but in the one volume of -it he has partially dealt with. For this principle which, in respect -to scientific belief, he enunciates for my instruction, is one which, -in _First Principles_, I have enunciated in respect to all beliefs -whatever. In the chapter on the “Data of Philosophy,” where I have -inquired into the legitimacy of our modes of procedure, and where I -have pointed out that there are certain ultimate conceptions without -which the intellect can no more stir “than the body can stir without -help of its limbs,” I have inquired how their validity or invalidity is -to be shown; and I have gone on to reply that― - - “Those of them which are vital, or cannot be severed from the rest - without mental dissolution, must be assumed as true _provisionally_ - . . . . leaving the assumption of their unquestionableness to be - justified by the results. - - “§ 40. How is it to be justified by the results? As any other - assumption is justified—by ascertaining that all the conclusions - deducible from it, correspond with the facts as directly observed—by - showing the agreement between the experiences it leads us to - anticipate, and the actual experiences. There is no mode of - establishing the validity of any belief, except that of showing its - entire congruity with all other beliefs.” - -Proceeding avowedly and rigorously on this principle, I have next -inquired what is the fundamental _process_ of thought by which this -congruity is to be determined, and what is the fundamental _product_ of -thought yielded by this process. This fundamental product I have shown -to be the coexistence of subject and object; and then, describing this -as a postulate to be justified by “its subsequently-proved congruity -with every result of experience, direct and indirect,” I have gone on -to say that “the two divisions of self and not-self, are re-divisible -into certain most general forms, the reality of which Science, as -well as Common Sense, from moment to moment assumes.” Nor is this -all. Having thus assumed, _only provisionally_, this deepest of all -intuitions, far transcending an axiom in self-evidence, I {287} have, -after drawing deductions occupying four volumes, deliberately gone -back to the assumption (_Prin. of Psy.,_ § 386). After quoting the -passage in which the principle was laid down, and after reminding the -reader that the deductions drawn had been found congruous with one -another; I have pointed out that it still remained to ascertain whether -this primordial assumption was congruous with all the deductions; -and have thereupon proceeded, throughout eighteen chapters, to show -the congruity. And yet having before him the volumes in which this -principle is set forth with a distinctness, and acted upon with a -deliberation, which I believe are nowhere paralleled, the reviewer -enunciates for my benefit this principle of which he “thought that -every tolerably educated man was aware”! He enunciates it as applying -to limited groups of beliefs, to which it does not apply; and shuts his -eyes to the fact that I have avowedly and systematically acted upon it -in respect to the entire aggregate of our beliefs (axioms included) for -which it furnishes the ultimate justification! - -Here I must add another elucidatory statement, which would have been -needless had the reviewer read that which he criticizes. His argument -proceeds throughout on the assumption that I understand _a priori_ -truths after the ancient manner, as truths independent of experience; -and he shows this more tacitly, where he “trusts” that he is “attacking -one of the last attempts to deduce the laws of nature from our inner -consciousness.” Manifestly, a leading thesis of one of the works -he professes to review, is entirely unknown to him—the thesis that -forms of thought, and consequently the intuitions which those forms -of thought involve, result entirely from the effects of experiences, -organized and inherited. With the _Principles of Psychology_ before -him, not only does he seem unaware that it contains this doctrine, but -though this doctrine, set forth in its first edition published nearly -twenty years ago, has gained {288} considerable currency, he seems -never to have heard of it. The implication of this doctrine is, not -that the “laws of nature” are deducible from “our inner consciousness,” -but that our consciousness has a pre-established correspondence -with such of those laws (simple, perpetually presented, and never -negatived) as have, in the course of practically-infinite ancestral -experiences, registered themselves in our nervous structure. Had he -taken the trouble to acquaint himself with this doctrine, he would -have learned that the intuitions of axiomatic truths are regarded by -me as latent in the inherited brain, just as bodily reflex actions are -latent in the inherited nervous centres of a lower order; that such -latent intuitions are made potentially more distinct by the greater -definiteness of structure due to individual action and culture; and -that thus, axiomatic truths, having a warrant entirely _a posteriori_ -for the race, have for the individual a warrant which, substantially -_a priori_, is made complete _a posteriori_. And he would then have -learned that as, during evolution, Thought has been moulded into -increasing correspondence with Things; and as such correspondence, -tolerably complete in respect of the simple, ever-present, and -invariable relations, as those of space, has made considerable advance -in respect of the primary dynamical relations; the assertion that -the resulting intuitions are authoritative, is the assertion that -the simplest uniformities of nature, as experienced throughout an -immeasurable past, are better known than they are as experienced during -an individual life. All which conceptions, however, being, as it seems, -unheard of by the reviewer, he regards my trust in these primordial -intuitions as like that of the Ptolemists in their fancies about -perfection! - - * * * * * - -Thus far my chief antagonists, passive if not active, have been Prof. -Tait and, by implication, Sir William Thomson, {289} his coadjutor -in the work quoted against me—men of standing, and the last of them -of world-wide reputation as a mathematician and physicist. Partly -because the opinions of such men demand attention, I have dealt with -the questions raised at some length; and partly, also, because the -origin and consequent warrant of physical axioms are questions of -general and permanent interest. The reviewer, who by citing against me -these authorities has gained for some of his criticisms consideration -they would otherwise not deserve, I must, in respect of his other -criticisms, deal with very briefly. Because, for reasons sufficiently -indicated, I did not assail sundry of his statements, he has reiterated -them as unassailable. I will here add no more than is needful to show -how groundless is his assumption. - -What the reviewer says on the metaphysical aspects of the propositions -we distinguish as physical, need not detain us long. His account of my -exposition of “Ultimate Scientific Ideas,” he closes by saying of me -that “he is not content with less than showing that all our fundamental -conceptions are inconceivable.” Whether the reviewer knows what he -means by an inconceivable conception, I cannot tell. It will suffice to -say that I have attempted no such remarkable feat as that described. My -attempt has been to show that objective activities, together with their -objective forms, are inconceivable by us—that such symbolic conceptions -of them as we frame, and are obliged to use, are proved, by the -alternative contradictions which a final analysis of them discloses, to -have no likeness to the realities. But the proposition that objective -existence cannot be rendered in terms of subjective existence, the -reviewer thinks adequately expressed by saying that “our fundamental -conceptions” (subjective products) “are inconceivable” (cannot be -framed by subjective processes)! Giving this as a sample from which -may be judged his fitness for discussing these ultimate questions, I -pass over his physico-metaphysical criticisms, and proceed at once to -{290} those which his special discipline may be assumed to render more -worthy of attention. - -Quoting a passage relative to the law that “all central forces vary -inversely as the squares of the distances,” he derides the assertion -that “this law is not simply an empirical one, but one deducible -mathematically from the relations of space—one of which the negation -is inconceivable.” Now whether this statement can or cannot be fully -justified, it has at any rate none of that absurdity alleged by the -reviewer. When he puts the question—“Whence does he [do I] get this?” -he invites the suspicion that his mind is not characterized by much -excursiveness. It seems never to have occurred to him that, if rays -like those of light radiate in straight lines from a centre, the number -of them falling on any given area of a sphere described from that -centre, will diminish as the square of the distance increases, because -the surfaces of spheres vary as the squares of their radii. For, if -this has occurred to him, why does he ask whence I get the inference? -The inference is so simple a one as naturally to be recognized by those -whose thoughts go a little beyond their lessons in geometry.[38] If the -reviewer means to ask, whence I get the implied assumption that central -forces act only in straight lines, I reply that this assumption has a -warrant akin to that of Newton’s first axiom, that a moving body will -continue moving in a straight line unless interfered with. For that the -force exerted by one centre on another should act in a curved line, -implies the conception of some second force, complicating the direct -effect of the first. And, even could a central force be truly conceived -as acting in lines not straight, the _average_ {291} distribution of -its effects upon the inner surface of the surrounding sphere, would -still follow the same law. Thus, whether or not the law be accepted on -_a priori_ grounds, the assumed absurdity of representing it to have _a -priori_ grounds, is not very obvious. Respecting this statement of mine -the reviewer goes on to say― - - “This is a wisdom far higher than that possessed by the discoverer - of the great law of attraction, who was led to consider it from no - cogitations on the relations of space, but from observations of the - movements of the planets; and who was so far from rising to that - clearness of view of the truth of his great discovery, which is - expressed by the phrase, ‘its negation is inconceivable,’ that he - actually abandoned it for a time, because (through an error in his - estimate of the earth’s diameter) it did not seem fully to account for - the motion of the moon.” - -To the first clause in this sentence, I have simply to give a direct -denial; and to assert that neither Newton’s “observations of the -movements of the planets” nor other such observations continued by all -astronomers for all time, would yield “the great law of attraction.” -Contrariwise, I contend that when the reviewer says, by implication, -that Newton had no antecedent hypothesis respecting the cause of the -planetary motions, he (the reviewer) is not only going beyond his -possible knowledge, but he is asserting that which even a rudimentary -acquaintance with the process of discovery, might have shown him was -impossible. Without framing, beforehand, the supposition that there -was at work an attractive force varying inversely as the square of the -distance, no such comparison of observations as that which led to the -establishment of the theory of gravitation could have been made. On the -second clause of the sentence, in which the reviewer volunteers for my -benefit the information that Newton “actually abandoned” his hypothesis -for a while because it did not bring out right results, I have first -to tell him that, in an early number of the very periodical containing -his article,[39] I cited this fact {292} (using these same words) -at a time when he was at school, or before he went there.[40] I have -next to assert that this fact is irrelevant; and that Newton, while -probably seeing it to be a necessary implication of geometrical laws -that central forces vary inversely as the squares of the distances, -did not see it to be a necessary implication of any laws, geometrical -or dynamical, that there exists a force by which the celestial bodies -affect one another; and therefore doubtless saw that there was no _a -priori_ warrant for the doctrine of gravitation. The reviewer, however, -aiming to substitute for my “confused notions” his own clear ones, -wishes me to identify the proposition—Central forces vary inversely -as the squares of the distances—with the proposition—There exists a -cosmical attractive force which varies inversely as the squares of -the distances. But I decline to identify them; and I suspect that a -considerable distinction between them was recognized by Newton. Lastly, -apart from all this, I have to point out that even had Newton thought -the existence of an attractive force throughout space was an _a priori_ -truth, as well as the law of variation of such a force if it existed; -he would still, naturally enough, pause before asserting gravitation -and its law, when he found his deductions did not correspond with the -facts. To suppose otherwise, is to ascribe to him a rashness which no -disciplined man of science could be guilty of. - -See, then, the critical capacity variously exhibited in the space -of a single sentence. The reviewer, quite erroneously, thinks that -observations unguided by hypotheses suffice for physical discoveries. -He seems unaware that, on _a priori_ grounds, the law of the inverse -square had been suspected as the law of some cosmical force, before -Newton. He asserts, without warrant, that no such _a priori_ conception -preceded, in Newton’s mind, his observations and {293} calculations. -He confounds the law of variation of a force, with the existence of a -force varying according to that law. And he concludes that Newton could -have had no _a priori_ conception of the law of variation, because he -did not assert the existence of a force varying according to this law -in defiance of the evidence as then presented to him! - -Now that I have analyzed, with these results, the first of his -criticisms, the reader will neither expect me to waste time in -similarly dealing with the rest _seriatim_, nor will he wish to have -his own time occupied in following the analysis. To the evidence thus -furnished of the reviewer’s fitness for the task he undertakes, it will -suffice if I add an illustration or two of the _animus_ which leads -him to make grave imputations on trivial grounds, and to ignore the -evidence which contradicts his interpretations. - -Because I have spoken of a balanced system, like that formed by the sun -and planets, as having the “peculiarity, that though the constituents -of the system have relative movements, the system, as a whole, has no -movement,” he unhesitatingly assumes me to be unaware that in a system -of bodies whose movements are not balanced, it is equally true that the -centre of gravity remains constant. Ignorance of a general principle in -dynamics is alleged against me solely because of this colloquial use -of the word “peculiarity,” where I should have used a word (and there -is no word perfectly fit) free from the implication of exclusiveness. -If the reviewer were to assert that arrogance is a “peculiarity” of -critics; and if I were thereupon to charge him with entire ignorance of -mankind, many of whom besides critics are arrogant, he would rightly -say that my conclusion was a very large one to draw from so small a -premise. - -To this example of strained inference I will join an example of what -seems like deliberate misconstruction. From one of my essays (not among -the works he professes to deal with) the reviewer, to strengthen his -attack, brings {294} a strange mistake; which, even without inquiry, -any fair-minded reader would see must be an oversight. A statement true -of a single body acted on by a tractive force, I have inadvertently -pluralized: being so possessed by another aspect of the question, as to -overlook the obvious fact that with a plurality of bodies the statement -became untrue. Not only, however, does the reviewer ignore various -evidences furnished by the works before him, that I could not really -think what I had there said, but he ignores a direct contradiction -contained in the paragraph succeeding that from which he quotes. So -that the case stands thus:—On two adjacent pages I have made two -opposite statements, both of which I cannot be supposed to believe. One -of them is right; and this the reviewer assumes I do not believe. One -of them is glaringly wrong; and this the reviewer assumes I do believe. -Why he made this choice no one who reads his criticism will fail to see. - -Even had his judgments more authority than is given to them by his -mathematical honours, this brief characterization would, I think, -suffice. Perhaps already, in rebutting the assumption that I did not -answer his allegations because they were unanswerable, I have ascribed -to them an unmerited importance. For the rest, suggesting that their -value may be measured by the value of that above dealt with as a -sample, I leave them to be answered by the works they are directed -against. - -Here I end. The foregoing pages, while serving, I think, the more -important purpose of making clearer the relations of physical axioms -to physical knowledge, incidentally justify the assertion that the -reviewer’s charges of fallacious reasoning and ignorance of the -nature of proof, recoil on himself. When, in his confident way, he -undertakes to teach me the nature of our warrant for scientific -beliefs, ignoring absolutely the inquiry contained in _Principles of -Psychology_, concerning the relative values of direct intuitions and -reasoned conclusions, he lays himself open to {295} a sarcasm which -is sufficiently obvious. And when a certain ultimate principle of -justification for our beliefs, set forth and acted upon in the _System -of Synthetic Philosophy_ more distinctly than in any other work, is -enunciated by him for my instruction, as one which he “thought that -every tolerably educated man was aware” of, his course is one for -which I find no fit epithet in the vocabulary I permit myself to -use. That in some cases he has shown eagerness to found charges on -misinterpretations little less than deliberate, has been sufficiently -shown; as also that, in other cases, his own failure to discriminate -is made the ground for ascribing to me beliefs that are manifestly -untenable. Save in the single case of a statement respecting collisions -of bodies, made by me without the needful qualification, I am not -aware of any errors he detects, except errors of oversight or those -arising from imperfect expression and inadequate exposition. When he -unhesitatingly puts the worst constructions on these, it cannot be -because his own exactness is such that no other constructions occur -to him; for he displays an unusual capacity for inadvertencies, and -must have had many experiences showing him how much he might be -wronged by illiberal interpretations of them. One who in twenty-three -professed extracts makes fifteen mistakes—words omitted, or added, -or substituted—should not need reminding how largely mere oversight -may raise suspicion of something worse. One who shows his notions of -accurate statement by asserting that as I substitute “persistence” -for “conservation,” I therefore identify Persistence of _Force_ -with Conservation of _Energy_, and debits me with the resulting -incongruities—one who, in pursuance of this error, confounds a -special principle with the general principle it is said to imply, and -thereupon describes a wider principle as being included in a narrower -(p. 481)—one who speaks of our “inner consciousness” (p. 488), so -asserting, by implication, that we have an outer consciousness—one -who {296} talks of an inconceivable conception; ought surely to be -aware how readily lax expressions may be turned into proofs of absurd -opinions. And one who, in the space of a few pages, falls into so many -solecisms, ought to be vividly conscious that a whole volume thus -written would furnish multitudinous statements from which a critic, -moved by a spirit like his own, might evolve abundant absurdities; -supplying ample occasion for blazoning the tops of pages with insulting -words. - - * * * * * - -[_A letter, drawn from_ Prof. Tait _by the foregoing criticisms, and -published by him in_ Nature, _initiated a controversy carried on in -that periodical between March 26th and June 18th, 1874. Partly in -justification of my position, and partly as tending to make clearer the -nature and origin of physical axioms, I append certain portions of the -correspondence, with some additional explanations and comments. For the -purpose of elucidation I prefix the theses I have maintained._] {297} - - -THESES. - -1. _If A produces B, then 2 A will produce 2 B._ - - This is the blank form of causal relation quantitatively considered, - when the causes and effects are simple—that is, are unimpeded by other - causes and uncomplicated by other effects; and whenever two or more - causes co-operate, there is no possibility of determining the relation - between the compound cause and the compound effect except by assuming - that between each co-operating cause and its separate effect there - exists this same quantitative relation. - -2. _This truth holds whatever the natures of the simple causes and -simple effects; and is an_ a priori _assumption made in conducting every -experiment and in reasoning from it._ - - Every process of weighing, every chemical analysis, every physical - investigation, proceeds on this truth without assigning warrant for - it; and in allowing for the effect of any minor cause that interferes - with the major cause, this same truth is assumed. - -3. _When A is an impressed force and B the produced motion, then the -general truth that if A produces B, 2 A will produce 2 B, becomes the -more special truth called the Second Law of Motion._ - - Newton’s amplified statement of this Law is:—“If any force generates - a motion, a double force will generate double the motion, a triple - force triple the motion, whether that force be impressed altogether - and at once, or gradually and successively.” And his further clause, - asserting that this law holds whether the directions of the forces - are or are not the same, asserts a proportionality between each - force and its produced motion, such as we have seen to be invariably - assumed between each cause and its separate effect, when there are - co-operating causes. - -4. _This Law may be affirmed, without specification of the modes in -which the impressed force and the resulting motion are to be estimated._ - - Newton’s statement is abstract. Taking for granted right modes of - measurement, it asserts that the alteration of motion (rightly - measured) is proportional to the impressed force (rightly measured). - -5. _No_ a posteriori _proof of the general ultimate physical truth (or -of this more special truth it includes) is possible; because every -supposed process of verification assumes it._ - -These, cleared from entanglements, are the theses held by me, and -defended in the following pages. {298} - - -APPENDIX A. - -(_From_ Nature, _April 16, 1874._) - -Absence from town has delayed what further remarks I have to make -respecting the disputed origin of physical axioms. - -The particular physical axiom in connection with which the general -question was raised, was the Second Law of Motion. It stands in the -_Principia_ as follows:― - - “_The alteration of motion is ever proportional to the motive force - impressed; and is made in the direction of the right line in which - that force is impressed._ - - “If any force generates a motion, a double force will generate double - the motion, a triple force triple the motion, whether that force be - impressed altogether and at once, or gradually and successively. And - this motion (being always directed the same way with the generating - force), if the body moved before, is added to or subducted from - the former motion, according as they directly conspire with or are - directly contrary to each other; or obliquely joined, when they - are oblique, so as to produce a new motion compounded from the - determination of both.” - -As this, like each of the other Laws of Motion, is called an axiom;[41] -as the paragraph appended to it is simply an amplification, or -re-statement in a more concrete form; as there are no facts named -as bases of induction, nor any justifying experiment; and as Newton -proceeds forthwith to draw deductions; it was a legitimate inference -that he regarded this truth as _a priori_. My statement to this effect -was based on the contents of the _Principia_ itself; and I think I -was warranted in assuming that the nature of the Laws of Motion, as -conceived by Newton, was to be thence inferred. - -The passages quoted by the _British Quarterly_ Reviewer from Newton’s -correspondence, which were unknown to me, show that this was not -Newton’s conception of them. Thus far, then, my opponent has the best -of the {299} argument. Several qualifying considerations have to be -set down, however. - -(1) Clearly, the statements contained in the _Principia_ do not convey -Newton’s conception; otherwise there would have been no need for his -explanations. The passages quoted prove that he wished to exclude these -cardinal truths from the class of hypotheses, which he said he did not -make; and to do this he had to define them. - -(2) By calling them “axioms,” and by yet describing them as principles -“_deduced_ from phenomena,” he makes it manifest that he gives the word -“axiom” a sense widely unlike the sense in which it is usually accepted. - -(3) Further, the quotations fail to warrant the statement that the -Laws of Motion are proved true by the truth of the _Principia_. For -if the fulfilment of astronomical predictions made in pursuance of -the _Principia_, is held to be the evidence “on which they chiefly -rest to this day,” then, until thus justified, they are unquestionably -hypotheses. Yet Newton says they are not hypotheses. - -Newton’s view may be found without seeking for it in his letters: it -is contained in the _Principia_ itself. The scholium to Corollary VI. -begins thus:― - - “Hitherto I have laid down such principles as have been received by - mathematicians, and are _confirmed_ by abundance of experiments. By - the two first Laws and the two first Corollaries, Galileo discovered - that the descent of bodies observed the duplicate ratio of the time, - and that the motion of projectiles was in the curve of a parabola; - experience _agreeing_ with both,” &c. - -Now as this passage precedes the deductions constituting the -_Principia_, it shows conclusively, in the first place, that Newton did -not think “the whole of the _Principia_ was the proof” of the Laws of -Motion, though the Reviewer asserts that it is. Further, by the words I -have italicised, Newton implicitly describes Galileo as having asserted -these Laws of Motion, if not as gratuitous hypotheses (which he says -they are not), then as _a priori_ intuitions. For a proposition which -is _confirmed_ by {300} experiment, and which is said to _agree_ with -experience, must have been entertained before the alleged verifications -could be reached. And as before he made his experiments on falling -bodies and projectiles, Galileo had no facts serving as an inductive -basis for the Second Law of Motion, the law could not have been arrived -at by induction. - -Let me end what I have to say on this vexed question by adding -a further reason to those I have already given, for saying that -physical axioms cannot be established experimentally. The belief in -their experimental establishment rests on the tacit assumption that -experiments can be made, and conclusions drawn from them, without any -truths being postulated. It is forgotten that there is a foundation -of pre-conceptions without which the perceptions and inferences of -the physicist cannot stand—_pre-conceptions which are the products -of simpler experiences than those yielded by consciously-made -experiments_. Passing over the many which do not immediately concern -us, I will name only that which does,—the exact quantitative relation -[of proportionality] between cause and effect. It is taken by the -chemist as a truth needing no proof, that if two volumes of hydrogen -unite with one volume of oxygen to form a certain quantity of water, -four volumes of hydrogen uniting with two volumes of oxygen will -form double the quantity of water. If a cubic foot of ice at 32° -is liquefied by a specified quantity of heat, it is taken to be -unquestionable that three times the quantity of heat will liquefy three -cubic feet. And similarly with mechanical forces, the unhesitating -assumption is that if one unit of force acting in a given direction -produces a certain result, two units will produce twice the result. -Every process of measurement in a physical experiment takes this for -granted; as we see in one of the simplest of them—the process of -weighing. If a measured quantity of metal, gravitating towards the -Earth, counterbalances a quantity of some other substance, the truth -postulated in every act {301} of weighing is, that any multiple of -such weight will counterbalance an equi-multiple of such substance. -That is to say, each unit of force is assumed to work its equivalent -of effect in the direction in which it acts. Now this is nothing else -than the assumption which the Second Law of Motion expresses in respect -to effects of another kind. “If any force generates a motion, a double -force will generate a double motion,” &c., &c.; and when carried on -to the composition of motions, the law is, similarly, the assertion -that any other force, acting in any other direction, will similarly -produce in that direction a proportionate motion. So that the law -simply asserts the exact equivalence [or proportionality] of causes -and effects of this particular class, while all physical experiments -_assume_ this exact equivalence [or proportionality] among causes and -effects of all classes. Hence, the proposal to prove the Laws of Motion -experimentally, is the proposal to make a wider assumption for the -purpose of justifying one of the narrower assumptions included in it. - -Reduced to its briefest form, the argument is this:—If definite -quantitative relations [of proportionality] between causes and effects -be assumed _a priori_, then, the Second Law of Motion is an immediate -corollary. If there are not definite quantitative relations [of -proportionality] between causes and effects, all the conclusions drawn -from physical experiments are invalid. And further, in the absence of -this _a priori_ assumption of equivalence, the quantified conclusion -from any experiment may be denied, and any other quantification of the -conclusion asserted.[42] - - HERBERT SPENCER. - - * * * * * - -Entire misconstruction of the view expressed above, {302} having been -shown by a new assailant, who announced himself as also “A Senior -Wrangler,” Mr. James Collier [my secretary at that time] wrote on my -behalf an explanatory letter, published in _Nature_ for May 21, 1874, -from which the following passages are extracts:― - -“The cue may be taken from an experience described in Mr. Spencer’s -_Principles of Psychology_ (§ 468, note), where it is shown that -when with one hand we pull the other, we have in the feeling of -tension produced in the limb pulled, a measure of the reaction that -is equivalent to the action of the other limb. Both terms of the -relation of cause and effect are in this case present to consciousness -as muscular tensions, which are our symbols of forces in general. -While no motion is produced they are felt to be equal, so far as the -sensations can serve to measure equality; and when excess of tension is -felt in the one arm, motion is experienced in the other. Here, as in -the examples about to be given, the relation between cause and effect, -though numerically indefinite, is definite in the respect that every -additional increment of cause produces an additional increment of -effect; and it is out of this and similar experiences that the idea of -the relation of proportionality grows and becomes organic. - -“A child, when biting his food, discovers that the harder he bites the -deeper is the indentation; in other words, that the more force applied, -the greater the effect. If he tears an object with his teeth, he finds -that the more he pulls the more the thing yields. Let him press against -something soft, as his own person, or his clothes, or a lump of clay, -and he sees that the part or object pressed yields little or much, -according to the amount of the muscular strain. He can bend a stick -the more completely the more force he applies. Any elastic object, as -a piece of india-rubber or a catapult, can be stretched the farther -the harder he pulls. If he tries to push a small body, there is little -resistance and it is easy to move; but he finds that a {303} big body -presents greater resistance and is harder to move. The experience -is precisely similar if he attempts to lift a big body and a little -one; or if he raises a limb, with or without any object attached to -it. He throws a stone: if it is light, little exertion propels it a -considerable distance; if very heavy, great exertion only a short -distance. So, also, if he jumps, a slight effort raises him to a short -height, a greater effort to a greater height. By blowing with his mouth -he sees that he can move small objects, or the surface of his morning’s -milk, gently or violently according as the blast is weak or strong. And -it is the same with sounds: with a slight strain on the vocal organs he -produces a murmur; with great strain he can raise a shout. - -“The experiences these propositions record all implicate the same -consciousness—the notion of proportionality between force applied and -result produced; and it is out of this latent consciousness that the -axiom of the perfect quantitative equivalence of the relations between -cause and effect is evolved. To show how rigorous, how irreversible, -this consciousness becomes, take a boy and suggest to him the following -statements:—Can he not break a string he has, by pulling? tell him -to double it, and then he will break it. He cannot bend or break a -particular stick: let him make less effort and he will succeed. He is -unable to raise a heavy weight: tell him he errs by using too much -force. He can’t push over a small chest: he will find it easier to -upset a larger one. By blowing hard he cannot move a given object: if -he blows lightly, he will move it. By great exertion he cannot make -himself audible at a distance: but he will make himself heard with -less exertion at a greater distance. Tell him to do all or any of -these, and of course he fails. The propositions are unthinkable, and -their unthinkableness shows that the consciousness which yields them -is irreversible. These, then, are preconceptions, properly so called, -which have {304} grown unconsciously out of the earliest experiences, -beginning with those of the sucking infant, which are perpetually -confirmed by fresh experiences, and which have at last become organized -in the mental structure. - - * * * * * - -“Mr. Spencer’s argument appears to be briefly this:—1. There are -numberless experiences unconsciously acquired and unconsciously -accumulated during the early life of the individual (in harmony -with the acquisitions of all ancestral individuals) which yield the -preconception, long anteceding anything like conscious physical -experiments, that physical causes and effects vary together -quantitatively. This is gained from all orders of physical experiences, -and forms a universal preconception respecting them, which the -physicist or other man of Science brings with him to his experiments. - -“2. Mr. Spencer showed in three cases—chemical, physical, and -mechanical—that this preconception, so brought, was tacitly involved -in the conception which the experimenter drew from the results of his -experiments. - -“3. Having indicated this universal preconception, and illustrated -its presence in these special conceptions, Mr. Spencer goes on to say -that it is involved also in the special conception of the relation -between force and motion, as formulated in the ‘Second Law of Motion.’ -He asserts that this is simply one case out of the numberless cases -in which all these consciously-reasoned conclusions rest upon the -unconsciously-formed conclusions that precede reasoning. Mr. Spencer -alleges that as it has become impossible for a boy to think that -by a smaller effort he can jump higher, and for a shopman to think -that smaller weights will outbalance greater quantities, and for the -physicist to think that he will get increased effects from diminished -causes, so it is impossible to think that ‘alteration of motion’ is not -‘proportional to the motive force impressed.’ And he maintains that -this is, in fact, a {305} latent implication of unconsciously-organized -experiences, just as much as those which the experimenter necessarily -postulates.” - - * * * * * - -To meet further misinterpretations, a second letter was written by Mr. -Collier and published in _Nature_ for June 4, 1874. The following are -passages from it:― - -“Having but limited space, and assuming that the requisite -qualifications would be made by unbiased readers, I passed over all -those details of the child’s experiences which would have been required -in a full exposition. Of course I was aware that in the bending of a -stick the visible effect does not increase in the same ratio as the -force applied; and hardly needed the ‘Senior Wrangler’ to tell me -that the resistance to a body moving through a fluid increases in a -higher ratio than the velocity. It was taken for granted that he, and -those who think with him, would see that out of all these experiences, -in some of which the causes and effects are simple, and in others -of which they are complex, there grows the consciousness that the -proportionality is the more distinct the simpler the antecedents and -consequents. This is part of the preconception which the physicist -brings with him and acts upon. Perhaps it is within the ‘Senior -Wrangler’s’ knowledge of physical exploration, that when the physicist -finds a result not bearing that ratio to its assigned cause which the -two were ascertained in other cases to have, he immediately assumes the -presence of some perturbing cause or causes, which modify the ratio. -There is, in fact, no physical determination made by any experimenter -which does not assume, as an _a priori_ necessity, that there cannot -be a deviation from proportion without the presence of such additional -cause. - -“Returning to the general issue, perhaps the ‘Senior Wrangler’ will -pay some respect to the judgment of one {306} who was a Senior -Wrangler too, and a great deal more—who was distinguished not only -as a mathematician but as an astronomer, a physicist, and also as an -inquirer into the methods of science: I mean Sir John Herschel. In his -_Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy_, he says:― - - “‘When we would lay down general rules for guiding and facilitating - our search, among a great mass of assembled facts, for their common - cause, we must have regard to the characters of that relation which we - intend by cause and effect.’ - -“Of these ‘characters’ he sets down the third and fourth in the -following terms:― - - “‘Increase or diminution of the effect, with the increased or - diminished intensity of the cause, in cases which admit of increase - and diminution.’ - - “‘Proportionality of the effect to its cause in all cases of _direct - unimpeded_ action.’ - -“Observe that, in Sir J. Herschel’s view, these are ‘characters’ of -the relation of cause and effect to be accepted as ‘general rules for -_guiding_ and facilitating our search’ among physical phenomena—truths -that must be taken for granted _before_ the search, not truths derived -_from_ the search. Clearly, the ‘proportionality of the effect to its -cause in all cases of direct and unimpeded action’ is here taken as -_a priori_. Sir J. Herschel would, therefore, have asserted, with Mr. -Spencer, that the Second Law of Motion is _a priori_; since this is one -of the cases of the ‘proportionality of the effect to its cause.’ - -“And now let the ‘Senior Wrangler’ do what Sir J. Herschel has not done -or thought of doing—_prove_ the proportionality of cause and effect. -Neither he, nor any other of Mr. Spencer’s opponents, has made the -smallest attempt to deal with this main issue. Mr. Spencer alleges -that this cognition of proportionality is _a priori_: not in the old -sense, but in the sense that it grows out of experiences that precede -reasoning. His opponents, following Prof. Tait in the assertion that -Physics is a purely experimental science, containing, therefore, no _a -priori_ truths, affirm that this {307} cognition is _a posteriori_—a -product of conscious induction. Let us hear what are the experiments. -It is required to establish the truth that there is proportionality -between causes and effects, _by a process which nowhere assumes_ that -if one unit of force produces a certain unit of effect, two units of -such force will produce two units of such effect. Until the ‘Senior -Wrangler’ has done this he has left Mr. Spencer’s position untouched.” - - -APPENDIX B. - -[After publication of the letters from which the foregoing are -reproduced, there appeared in _Nature_ certain rejoinders containing -misrepresentations even more extreme than those preceding them. -There resulted a direct correspondence with two of the writers—Mr. -Robert B. Hayward, of Harrow, and Mr. J. F. Moulton, my original -assailant, the author of the article in the _British Quarterly Review_. -This correspondence, in which I demanded from these gentlemen the -justifications for their statements, formed part of this Appendix in -its pamphlet form, as distributed among those who are competent to -judge of the questions at issue. It is needless to give permanence -to the replies and rejoinders. The character of Mr. Moulton’s -allegations, quite congruous with those I have exposed in the “Replies -to Criticisms,” may be inferred from one of the sentences closing my -reply—“Wonderful to relate, my inductive proof that proportionality [of -cause and effect] is taken for granted, he cites as my inductive proof -of proportionality itself!” The result of the interchange of letters -with Mr. Hayward, was to make it clear that “the thing I assert is not -really disputed; and the thing disputed, I have nowhere asserted.” -While, however, the controversial part of the correspondence may fitly -disappear, {308} I retain an expository part embodied in the following -letter to Mr. Hayward.] - - - 38, Queen’s Gardens, Bayswater, - June 21st, 1874. - -SIR,—Herewith I send you a copy of your letter with my interposed -comments. I think those comments will make it clear to you that I -have not committed myself to three different definitions of our -consciousness of the Second Law of Motion. - -As others may still feel a difficulty such as you seem to have felt, -in understanding that which familiarity has made me regard as simple, -I will endeavour, by a synthetic exposition, to make clear the way in -which these later and more complex products of organized experiences -stand related to earlier and simpler products. To make this exposition -easier to follow, I will take first our Space-consciousness and the -derived conceptions. - -On the hypothesis of Evolution, the Space-consciousness results from -organized motor, tactual, and visual experiences. In the _Principles -of Psychology_, §§ 326–346, I have described in detail what I conceive -to have been its genesis. Such Space-consciousness so generated, -is one possessed in greater or less degree by all creatures of any -intelligence; becoming wider, and more definite, according to the -degree of mental evolution which converse with the environment has -produced. How deeply registered the external relations have become in -the internal structure, is shown by the facts that the decapitated -frog pushes away with one or both legs the scalpel applied to the hind -part of its body, and that the chick, as soon as it has recovered from -the exhaustion of escaping from the egg, performs correctly-guided -actions (accompanied by consciousness of distance and direction) in -picking up grains. Ascending at once to such organized and inherited -Space-consciousness as exists in the child, and which from moment -to moment {309} it is making more complete by its own experiences -(aiding the development of its nervous system into the finished -type of the adult, by the same exercises which similarly aid the -development of its muscular system), we have to observe that, along -with increasingly-definite ideas of distance and direction, it gains -unawares certain more special ideas of geometrical relations. Take -one group of these. Every time it spreads open its fingers it sees -increase of the angles between them, going along with increase of the -distances between the finger-tips. In opening wide apart its own legs, -and in seeing others walk, it has continually before it the relation -between increase or decrease of base in a triangle having equal sides, -and increase or decrease of the angle included by those sides. [The -relation impressed on it being simply that of _concomitant variation_: -I do not speak of any more definite relation, which, indeed, is -unthinkable by the young.] It does not observe these facts in such way -as to be conscious that it has observed them; but they are so impressed -upon it as to establish a rigid association between certain mental -states. Various of its activities disclose space-relations of this -class more definitely. The drawing of a bow exhibits them in another -way and with somewhat greater precision; and when, instead of the ends -of a bow, capable of approaching one another, the points of attachment -are fixed and the string elastic, the connexion between increasing -length in the sides of an isosceles triangle and increasing acuteness -of the included angle, is still more forced upon the attention; though -it still does not rise into a conscious cognition. This is what I -mean by an “unconsciously-formed preconception.” When, in course of -time, the child, growing into the boy, draws diagrams on paper, and, -among other things, draws isosceles triangles, the truth that, the -base being the same, the angle at the apex becomes more acute as the -sides lengthen, is still more definitely displayed to him; and when -his attention is drawn to this relation he finds that he {310} cannot -think of it as being otherwise. If he imagines the lengths of the sides -to change, he cannot exclude the consciousness of the correlative -change in the angle; and presently, when his mental power is -sufficiently developed, he perceives that if he continues to lengthen -the sides in imagination, the lines approach parallelism as the angle -approaches zero: yielding a conception of the relations of parallel -lines. Here the consciousness has risen into the stage of definite -conception. But, manifestly, the definite conception so reached is -but a finishing of the preconceptions previously reached, and would -have been impossible in their absence; and these unconsciously-formed -preconceptions would similarly have been impossible in the absence of -the still earlier consciousnesses of distance, direction, relative -position, embodied in the consciousness of Space. The whole evolution -is one; the arrival at the distinct conception is the growing up to an -ultimate definiteness and complexity; and it can no more be reached -without passing through the earlier stages of indefinite consciousness, -than the adult bodily structure can be reached without passing through -the structures of the embryo, the infant, and the child.[43] - -Through a parallel evolution arises, first the vague {311} -consciousness of forces as exerted by self and surrounding things; -presently, some discrimination in respect of their amounts as related -to their effects; later, an association formed unawares between -greatness of quantity in the two, and between smallness of quantity in -the two; later still, a tacit assumption of proportionality, though -without a distinct consciousness that the assumption has been made; -and, finally, a rising of this assumption into definite recognition, -as a truth necessarily holding where the forces are simple. Throughout -its life every creature has, _within the actions of its moving parts_, -forces and motions conforming to the Laws of Motion. {312} If it has -a nervous system, the differences among the muscular tensions and the -movements initiated, register themselves in a vague way in that nervous -system. As the nervous system develops, along with more developed -limbs, there are at once more numerous different experiences . . . -of momentum generated, of connected actions and reactions (as when -an animal tears the food which it holds with its paws); and, at the -same time, there are, in its more developed nervous system, increased -powers of appreciating and registering these differences. All the -resulting connexions in consciousness, though unknowingly formed and -unknowingly entertained, are ever present as guides to action: witness -the proportion between the effort an animal makes and the distance -it means to spring; or witness the delicate adjustments of muscular -strains to changes of motion, made by a swallow catching flies or a -hawk swooping on its quarry. Manifestly, then, these experiences, -organized during the earlier stages of mental evolution, form a body of -consciousnesses, not formulated into cognitions, nor present even as -preconceptions, but nevertheless present as a mass of associations _in -which the truths of relation between force and motion are potentially -present_. On ascending to human beings of the uncultured sort, we reach -a stage at which some nascent generalization of these experiences -occur. The savage has not expressed to himself the truth that if he -wants to propel his spear further he must use more force; nor does -the rustic put into a distinct thought the truth that to raise double -the weight he must put forth twice the effort; but in each there is -a tacit assumption to this effect, as becomes manifest on calling it -in question. So that, in respect of these and other simple mechanical -actions, there exist unconsciously-formed preconceptions. And just as -the geometrical truths presented in a rude way by the relations among -surrounding objects, are not overtly recognized until there is some -familiarity with straight lines, and diagrams made of them; {313} -so, until linear measures, long used, have led to the equal-armed -lever, or scales, and thus to the notion of equal units of force, this -mechanical preconception cannot rise into definiteness. Nor after it -has risen into definiteness does it for a long time reach the form of -a consciously-held cognition; for neither the village huxter nor the -more cultivated druggist in the town, recognizes the general abstract -truth that, when uninterfered with, equi-multiples of causes and their -effects are necessarily connected. But now observe that this truth, -acted upon with more or less distinct consciousness of it by the man -of science, and perfected by him through analysis and abstraction, -is thus perfected only as the last step in its evolution. This -definite cognition is but the finished form of a consciousness long in -preparation—a consciousness the body of which is present in the brute, -takes some shape in the primitive man, reaches greater definiteness in -the semi-civilized, becomes afterwards an assumption distinct though -not formulated, and takes its final development only as it rises into -a consciously-accepted axiom. Just as there is a continuous evolution -of the nervous system, so is there a continuous evolution of the -consciousness accompanying its action. Just as the one grows in volume, -complexity, and definiteness, so does the other. And just as necessary -as the earlier stages are to the later in the one case, are they in -the other. To suppose that the finished conceptions of science can -exist without the unfinished common knowledge which precedes them, -or this without still earlier mental acquisitions, is the same thing -as to suppose that we can have the correct judgments of the adult -without passing through the crude judgments of the youth, the narrow, -incoherent ones of the child, and the vague, feeble ones of the infant. -So far is it from being true that the view of physical axioms held by -me, is one which bases cognitions on some other source than experience, -it asserts experience to be the only possible source of these, as of -other cognitions; but it asserts, further, that {314} not simply is -the consciously-acquired experience of present actions needful, but -that _for the very possibility of gaining this_ we are indebted to the -accumulated experiences of all past actions. Not I, but my antagonists, -are really chargeable with accepting the ancient _a priori_ view; -since, without any explanation of them or justification of them, they -posit as unquestionable the assumptions underlying every experiment -and the conclusion drawn from it. The belief in physical causation, -assumed from moment to moment as necessary in every experiment and -in all reasoning from it, is a belief which, if not justified by the -hypothesis above set forth, is tacitly asserted as an _a priori_ -belief. Contrariwise, my own position is one which affiliates all such -beliefs upon experiences acquired during the whole past; which alleges -those experiences as the only warrant for them; which asserts that -during the converse between the mind and its environment, necessary -connexions in Thought, such as those concerning Space, have resulted -from infinite experiences of corresponding necessary connexions in -Things; and that, similarly, out of perpetual converse with the Forces -manifested to us in Space, there has been a progressive establishment -of internal relations answering to external relations, in such wise -that there finally emerge as physical axioms, certain necessities of -Thought which answer to necessities in Things. - -I need scarcely say that I have taken the trouble of making my comments -on your letter, and of writing this further exposition, with a view to -their ulterior use. - - I am, &c., - HERBERT SPENCER. - - -APPENDIX C. - -SUMMARY OF RESULTS. - -Those who deny a general doctrine enunciated by Mayer as the basis -of his reasonings, habitually assumed by Faraday {315} as a guiding -principle in drawing his conclusions, distinctly held by Helmholtz, -and tacitly implied by Sir John Herschel—those, I say, who deny this -general doctrine and even deride it, should be prepared with clear -and strong reasons for doing this. Having been attacked, not in the -most temperate manner, for enunciating this doctrine and its necessary -implications in a specific form, I have demanded such reasons. Observe -the responses to the demand. - - 1. The _British Quarterly_ Reviewer - quoted for my instruction the _dictum_ of - Professor Tait, that “Natural Philosophy - is an experimental, and not an intuitive - science. No _à priori_ reasoning can - conduct us demonstratively to a single - physical truth.” Thereupon I inquired - what Professor Tait meant “by speaking of - ‘physical _axioms_,’ and by saying that - the cultured are enabled ‘to see _at once_ - their _necessary_ truth?’” . . . No reply. - - 2. Instead of an answer to the question, - how this intuition of necessity can be - alleged by Professor Tait consistently with - his other doctrine, the Reviewer quotes, - as though it disposed of my question, - Professor Tait’s statement that “as the - properties of matter might have been - such as to render a totally different - set of laws axiomatic, _these laws_ [of - motion] _must be considered as resting_ - _on convictions drawn from observation_ - _and experiment, and not on intuitive_ - _perception._” Whereupon I inquired how - Professor Tait knows that “the properties - of matter _might have been_” other {316} - than they are. I asked how it happened - that his intuition concerning things - _as they are not_, is so certain that, - by inference from it, he discredits our - intuitions concerning things _as they_ - _are_ . . . No reply: Professor - Tait told, _à propos_ - of my question, a - story of which no one - could discover the - application; but, - otherwise, declined to - answer. Nor was any - answer given by his - disciple. - - 3. Further, I asked how it happened - that Professor Tait accepted as bases - for Physics, Newton’s Laws of Motion; - which were illustrated but not _proved_ - by Newton, and of which no _proofs_ - are supplied by Professor Tait, in the - _Treatise on Natural Philosophy_. I went on - to examine what conceivable _a posteriori_ - warrant there can be if there is no warrant - _a priori_; and I pointed out that neither - from terrestrial nor from celestial - phenomena can the First Law of Motion be - deduced without a _petitio principii_ . . . No reply: the Reviewer - characterized my - reasoning as “utterly - erroneous” (therein - differing entirely from - two {317} eminent - authorities who read it - in proof); but beyond - so characterizing it he - said nothing. - - 4. To my assertion that Newton gave no - proof of the Laws of Motion, the Reviewer - rejoined that “the whole of the _Principia_ - was the proof.” On which my comment was - that Newton called them “axioms,” and that - axioms are not commonly supposed to be - proved by deductions from them . . . The Reviewer quotes - from one of Newton’s - letters a passage - showing that though - he called the Laws - of Motion “axioms,” - he regarded them as - principles “made - general by induction;” - and that therefore he - could not have regarded - them as _a priori_. - - 5. In rejoinder, I pointed out that - whatever conception Newton may have had - of these “axioms,” he explicitly and - distinctly excluded them from the class - of “hypotheses.” Hence I inferred that - he did not regard the whole of the {318} - _Principia_ as the proof, which the - Reviewer says it is; since an assumption - made at the outset, to be afterwards - justified by the results of assuming it, is - an “hypothesis” . . . No reply. - - 6. Authority aside, I examined on its - merits the assertion that the Laws of - Motion are, or can be, proved true by - the ascertained truth of astronomical - predictions; and showed that the process of - verification itself assumed those Laws. No reply. - - 7. To make still clearer the fact that - ultimate physical truths are, and must - be, accepted as _a priori_, I pointed out - that in every experiment the physicist - tacitly assumes a relation between cause - and effect, such that, if one unit of cause - produces its unit of effect, two units of - the cause will produce two units of the - effect; and I argued that this general - assumption included the special assumption - asserted in the Second Law of Motion. . . . No reply: that is to - say, no endeavour to - show the untruth of - this statement, but a - quibble based on my - omission of the word - “proportionality” in - places where it was - implied, though not - stated. - - 8. Attention was drawn to a passage {319} - from Sir John Herschel’s _Discourse on the_ - _Study of Natural Philosophy_, in which the - “proportionality of the effect to its cause - in all cases of _direct unimpeded_ action” - is included by him among “the characters - of that relation which we intend by cause - and effect;” and in which this assumption - of proportionality is set down as one - _preceding_ physical exploration, and not - as one to be established by it . . . No reply. - - 9. Lastly, a challenge to prove this - proportionality. “It is required to - establish the truth that there is - proportionality between causes and effects, - _by a process which nowhere assumes_ - that if one unit of force produces a - certain unit of effect, two units of such - force will produce two units of such - effect.” . . . No reply. - -Thus on all these essential points my three mathematical opponents -allow judgment to go against them by default. The attention of readers -has been drawn off from the main issues by the discussion of side -issues. Fundamental questions have been evaded, and new questions of -subordinate kinds raised. - -What is the implication? One who is able to reach and to carry the -central position of his antagonist, does not spend his strength on -small outposts. If he declines to assault the stronghold, it must be -because he sees it to be impregnable. - - * * * * * - -The trouble I have thus taken to meet criticisms and dissipate -misapprehensions, I have taken because the attack {320} made on -the special doctrine defended, is part of an attack on the ultimate -doctrine underlying the deductive part of _First Principles_—the -doctrine that the quantity of existence is unchangeable. I agree with -Sir W. Hamilton that our consciousness of the necessity of causation, -results from the impossibility of conceiving the totality of Being to -increase or decrease. The proportionality of cause and effect is an -implication: denial of it involves the assertion that some quantity -of cause has disappeared without effect, or some quantity of effect -has arisen without cause. I have asserted the _a priori_ character -of the Second Law of Motion, _under the abstract form in which it is -expressed_, simply because this, too, is an implication, somewhat more -remote, of the same ultimate truth. And my sole reason for insisting -on the validity of these intuitions, is that, on the hypothesis of -Evolution, absolute uniformities in things have produced absolute -uniformities in thoughts; and that necessary thoughts represent -infinitely-larger accumulations of experiences than are formed by the -observations, experiments, and reasonings of any single life. - - -ENDNOTES TO _REPLIES TO CRITICISMS_. - -[24] _Principles of Psychology_, Second Edition, § 425, note. - -[25] _Le Sentiment Religieux_, par A. Grotz. Paris, J. Cherbuliez, 1870. - -[26] Instead of describing me as misunderstanding Kant on this point, -Dr. Hodgson should have described Kant as having, in successive -sentences, so changed the meanings of the words he uses, as to make -either interpretation possible. At the outset of his _Critique of -Pure Reason_, he says:—“The effect of an object upon the faculty of -representation, so far as we are affected by the said object, is -sensation. That sort of intuition which relates to an object by means -of sensation, is called an empirical intuition. The undetermined -object of an empirical intuition, is called _phænomenon_. That which -in the phænomenon corresponds to the sensation, I term its _matter_;” -[here, remembering the definition just given of phenomenon, objective -existence is manifestly referred to] “but that which effects that the -content of the phænomenon can be arranged under certain relations, I -call its _form_” [so that _form_, as here applied, refers to objective -existence]. “But that in which our sensations are merely arranged, and -by which they are susceptible of assuming a certain form, cannot be -itself sensation.” [In which sentence the word _form_ obviously refers -to subjective existence.] At the outset, the ‘phenomenon’ and the -‘sensation’ are distinguished as objective and subjective respectively; -and then, in the closing sentences, the _form_ is spoken of in -connexion first with the one and then with the other, as though they -were the same. - -[27] See _Fraser’s Magazine_ for May, 1873. - -[28] _First Principles_, § 26. - -[29] _Ibid._ § 76 (1st ed.) - -[30] Compare _Principles of Psychology_, §§ 88, 95, 391, 401, 406. - -[31] _First Principles_, §§ 39–45. - -[32] _Principles of Psychology_, part vii. - -[33] _Social Statics_, chap. iii. - -[34] _Principles of Psychology_, § 531. - -[35] _First Principles_, § 34. - -[36] Only after the foregoing paragraphs were written, did the remark -of a distinguished friend show me how certain words were misconstrued -by the reviewer in a way that had never occurred to me as possible. In -the passage referred to, I have said that sound-waves “finally die away -in generating thermal undulations that radiate into space;” meaning, -of course, that the force embodied in the sound-waves is finally -_exhausted_ in generating thermal undulations. In common speech, the -dying-away of a prolonged sound, as that of a church-bell, includes -its gradual diminution as well as its final cessation. But rather -than suppose I gave to the words this ordinary meaning, the reviewer -supposes me to believe, not simply that the _longitudinal_ waves of -air can pass, _without discontinuity_, into the _transverse_ waves -of ether, but he also debits me with the belief that the one order -of waves, having lengths measurable in feet, and rates expressed in -hundreds per second, can, _by mere enfeeblement_, pass into the other -order of waves, having lengths of some fifty thousand to the inch, and -rates expressed in many billions per second! Why he preferred so to -interpret my words, and that, too, in the face of contrary implications -elsewhere (instance § 100), will, however, be manifest to every one who -reads his criticisms. - -[37] Other examples of these amenities of controversy, in which I -decline to imitate my reviewer, have already been given. What occasions -he supplies me for imitation, were I minded to take advantage of -them, an instance will show. Pointing out an implication of certain -reasonings of mine, he suggests that it is too absurd even for me to -avow explicitly; saying:—“We scarcely think that even Mr. Spencer -will venture to claim as a datum of consciousness the Second Law of -Motion, with its attendant complexities of component velocities, &c.” -Now any one who turns to Newton’s _Principia,_ will find that to the -enunciation of the Second Law of Motion, nothing whatever is appended -but an amplified re-statement—there is not even an illustration, much -less a proof. And from this law, this axiom, this immediate intuition -or “datum of consciousness,” Newton proceeds forthwith to draw those -corollaries respecting the composition of forces which underlie all -dynamics. What, then, must be thought of Newton, who explicitly assumes -that which the reviewer thinks it absurd to assume implicitly? - -[38] That I am certainly not singular in this view, is shown to me, -even while I write, by the just-issued work of Prof. Jevons on the -_Principles of Science: a Treatise on Logic and Scientific Method_. In -vol. ii., p. 141, Prof. Jevons remarks respecting the law of variation -of the attractive force, that it “is doubtless connected at this point -with the primary properties of space itself, and is so far conformable -to our necessary ideas.” - -[39] See Essay on “The Genesis of Science,” in the _British Quarterly -Review_ for July, 1854, p. 127. - -[40] I do not say this at random. The reviewer, who has sought rather -to make known than to conceal his identity, took his degree in 1868. - -[41] It is true that in Newton’s time, “axiom” had not the same -rigorously defined meaning as now; but it suffices for my argument -that, _standing unproved_ as a basis for physical deductions, it bears -just the same relation to them that a mathematical axiom does to -mathematical deductions. - -[42] The above letter, written after absence at Easter had involved a -week’s delay, and written somewhat hurriedly to prevent the delay of -a second week, was less carefully revised than it should have been. -The words in square brackets, obviously implied by the reasoning, and -specifically implied by the illustrations, were not in the letter as -originally published. - -[43] Here, in explaining the genesis of special space-intuitions, I -have singled out a group of experiences which, in _Nature_, May 28, Mr. -Hayward had chosen as illustrating the absurdity of supposing that the -scientific conception of proportionality could be reached as alleged. -He said:― - - “It is hardly a parody of Mr. Collier’s remarks to say:—‘A child - discovers that the greater the angle between his legs the greater the - distance between his feet, an experience which implicates the notion - of proportionality between the angle of a triangle and its opposite - side;’ a preconception, as it appears to me, with just as good a basis - as that whose formation Mr. Collier illustrates, but one which, as I - need hardly add, is soon corrected by a conscious study of geometry or - by actual measurement.” - -I am indebted to Mr. Hayward for giving this instance. It conveniently -serves two purposes. It serves to exemplify the connexion between the -crude preconceptions unconsciously formed by earlier experiences, and -the conceptions consciously evolved out of them by the help of later -experiences, when the requisite powers of analysis and abstraction -have been reached. And at the same time it serves to show the failure -of my opponents to understand how, in the genesis of intelligence, -the scientific conception of exact proportionality develops from the -crude, vague, and inaccurate preconception. For while the notion of -proportionality acquired by the child in Mr. Hayward’s example, is -not true, it is an approximation towards one which _is_ true, and -one which is reached when its more developed intelligence is brought -critically to bear on the facts. Eventually it is discovered that the -angle is not proportional to the subtending side, but to the subtending -arc; and this is discovered _in the process of disentangling a simple -relation from other relations which complicate and disguise it_. -Between the angle and the arc there is exact proportionality, for -the reason that only one set of directly-connected space-relations -are concerned: the distance of the subtending arc from the subtended -angle, remains constant—there is no change in the relation between the -increasing angle and the increasing arc; and therefore the two vary -together in direct proportion. But it is otherwise with the subtending -side. The parts of this stand in different relations of distance from -the subtended angle; and as the line is lengthened, each added part -differs from the preceding parts in its distance from the angle. That -is to say, one set of simple directly-connected geometrical relations, -is here involved with another set; and the relation between the side -and the angle is such that the law of relative increase involves the -co-operation of two sets of factors. Now the distinguishing the true -proportionality (between the angle and the arc) from the relation -which simulates proportionality (between the angle and the side) is -just that process of final development of exact conceptions, which -I assert to be the finishing step of all the preceding development; -and to be impossible in its absence. And the truth to which my -assailants shut their eyes, is that, just as among these conceptions of -space-relations, the conception of exact proportionality can be reached -only by evolution from the crude notion of proportionality, formed -before reasoning begins; so, among the force-relations, the conception -of proportionality finally reached, when simple causes and their -effects are disentangled by analytical intelligence, can be reached -only by evolution of the crude notion of proportionality, established -as a preconception by early experiences which reinforce ancestral -experiences. - - - - -{321} - -PROF. GREEN’S EXPLANATIONS. - - -[_From the_ Contemporary Review _for Feb. 1881. It would not have -occurred to me to reproduce this essay, had it not been that there has -lately been a reproduction of the essay to which it replies. But as -Mr. Nettleship, in his editorial capacity, has given a permanent shape -to Professor Green’s unscrupulous criticism, I am obliged to give a -permanent shape to the pages which show its unscrupulousness._] - -Dreary at best, metaphysical controversy becomes especially dreary -when it runs into rejoinders and re-rejoinders; and hence I feel some -hesitation in inflicting, even upon those readers of the _Contemporary_ -who are interested in metaphysical questions, anything further -concerning Prof. Green’s criticism, Mr. Hodgson’s reply to it, and -Prof. Green’s explanations. Still, it appears to me that I can now -hardly let the matter pass without saying something in justification -of the views attacked by Prof. Green; or, rather, in disproof of the -allegations he makes against them. - -I did not, when Prof. Green’s two articles appeared, think it needful -to notice them: my wish to avoid hindrance to my work, being supported -partly by the thought that very few would read a discussion so -difficult to follow, and partly by the thought that, of the few who -did read it, most would be those whose knowledge of _The Principles -of Psychology_ enabled them to see how unlike the argument {322} I -have used is the representation of it given by Prof. Green, and how -inapplicable his animadversions therefore are. This last belief was, I -find, quite erroneous; and I ought to have known better than to form -it. Experience might have shown me that readers habitually assume a -critic’s version of an author’s statement to be the true version, and -that they rarely take the trouble to see whether the meaning ascribed -to a detached passage is the meaning which it bears when taken with -the context. Moreover, I should have remembered that in the absence of -disproofs it is habitually assumed that criticisms are valid; and that -inability rather than pre-occupation prevents the author from replying. -I ought not, therefore, to have been surprised to learn, as I did -from the first paragraph of Mr. Hodgson’s article, that Prof. Green’s -criticisms had met with considerable acceptance. - -I am much indebted to Mr. Hodgson for undertaking the defence of my -views; and after reading Prof. Green’s rejoinder, it seems to me that -Mr. Hodgson’s chief allegations remain outstanding. I cannot here, of -course, follow the controversy point by point. I propose to deal simply -with the main issues. - - * * * * * - -At the close of his answer, Prof. Green refers to “two other -misapprehensions of a more general nature, which he [Mr. Hodgson] -alleges against me at the outset of his article.” Not admitting these, -Prof. Green postpones replies for the present; though by what replies -he can show his apprehensions to be true ones, I do not see. Further -misapprehensions of a general nature, which stand as preliminaries to -his criticisms, may here be instanced, as serving, I think, to show -that those criticisms are misdirected. - -From _The Principles of Psychology_ Prof. Green quotes the following -sentences:― - - “The relation between these, as antithetically opposed divisions of - the {323} entire assemblage of manifestations of the Unknowable, was - our datum. The fabric of conclusions built upon it must be unstable - if this datum can be proved either untrue or doubtful. Should the - idealist be right, the doctrine of evolution is a dream.” - -And on these sentences he comments thus:― - - “To those who have humbly accepted the doctrine of evolution as a - valuable formulation of our knowledge of animal life, but at the same - time think of themselves as ‘idealists,’ this statement may at first - cause some uneasiness. On examination, however, they will find in the - first place that when Mr. Spencer in such a connection speaks of the - doctrine of evolution, he is thinking chiefly of its application to - the explanation of knowledge—an application at least not necessarily - admitted in the acceptance of it as a theory of animal life.”[44] - -From which it appears that Prof. Green’s conception of Evolution is -that popular conception in which it is identified with that set forth -in _The Origin of Species_. That my conception of Evolution, referred -to in the passage he quotes, is a widely different one, would have been -perceived by him had he referred to the exposition of it contained in -_First Principles_. My meaning in the passage he quotes is, that since -Evolution, as I conceive it, is, under certain conditions, the result -of that universal redistribution of matter and motion which is, and -ever has been, going on; and since, during those phases of it which are -distinguishable as astronomic and geologic, the implication is that no -life, still less consciousness (under any such form as is known to us), -existed; there is necessarily implied by the theory of Evolution, a -mode of Being independent of, and antecedent to, the mode of Being we -now call consciousness. And I implied that, consequently, this theory -must be a dream, if either ideas are the only existences, or if, as -Prof. Green appears to think, the object exists only by correlation -with the subject. How necessary is this more general view as a basis -for my psychological view, and how erroneous is a criticism which -ignores it, will be seen on observing that by ignoring it, I am made -to appear profoundly inconsistent where {324} otherwise there is no -inconsistency. Prof. Green says that my doctrine― - - “ascribes to the object, which in truth is nothing without the - subject, an independent reality, and then supposes it gradually to - produce certain qualities in the subject, of which the existence is in - truth necessary to the possibility of those qualities in the object - which are supposed to produce them.”[45] - -On which my comment is that, ascribing, as I do, “an independent -reality” to the object, and denying that the object is “nothing without -the subject,” my doctrine, though wholly inconsistent with that of -Professor Green, is wholly consistent with itself. Had he rightly -conceived the doctrine of Transfigured Realism (_Prin. of Psy._ § -473), Prof. Green would have seen that while I hold that the qualities -of object and subject, as present to consciousness, being resultants -of the co-operation of object and subject, exist only through their -co-operation, and, in common with all resultants, must be unlike their -factors; yet that there pre-exist those factors, and that without them -no resultants can exist. - -Equally fundamental is another preliminary misconception which Prof. -Green exhibits. He says― - - “We should be sorry to believe that Mr. Spencer and Mr. Lewes regard - the relation between consciousness and the world as corresponding to - that between two bodies, of which one is inside the other; but apart - from some such crude imagination it does not appear, &c.” - -Now since I deliberately accept, and have expounded at great -length, this view which Professor Green does not ascribe to me, -because he would be “sorry to believe” I entertain such a “crude -imagination”—since this view is everywhere posited by the doctrine -of Psychological Evolution as I have set it forth; I am astonished -at finding it supposed that I hold some other view. Considering that -Parts II. III. and IV. of the _Principles of Psychology_ are occupied -with tracing out mental Evolution as a result of converse between -organism and environment; and {325} considering that throughout Part -V. the interpretations, analytical instead of synthetical, pre-suppose -from moment to moment a surrounding world and an included organism; -I cannot imagine a stranger assumption than that I do not believe -the relationship between consciousness and the world to be that of -inclusion of the one by the other. I am aware that Prof. Green does -not regard me as a coherent thinker; but I scarcely expected he would -ascribe to me an incoherence so extreme that in Part VI. I abandon the -fundamental assumption on which all the preceding parts stand, and -adopt some other. And I should the less have expected so extreme an -incoherence to be ascribed to me, considering that throughout Part VI. -this same belief is tacitly implied as part of that realistic belief -which it is the aim of its argument to explain and justify. Here, -however, the fact of chief significance is, that as Professor Green -would be “sorry to believe” I hold the view named, and refrains from -ascribing to me so “crude an imagination,” it is to be concluded that -his arguments are directed against some other view which he supposes -me to hold. If so, one of two conclusions is inevitable. Either his -criticisms are valid against this other view which he tacitly ascribes -to me, or they are not. If he admits them to be invalid on the -assumption that I hold this other view, the matter ends. If he holds -them to be valid on the assumption that I hold this other view, then -they must be invalid against the absolutely-different view which I -actually hold; and again the matter ends. - -Even were I to leave off here, I might, I think, say that the -inapplicability of Prof. Green’s arguments is sufficiently shown; -but it may be desirable to point out that beyond these general -misapprehensions, by which they are vitiated, there are special -misapprehensions. Much to my surprise, considering the careful -preliminary explanation I have given, he has failed to understand -the mental attitude assumed by me when describing the synthesis -of experiences {326} against which he more especially urges his -objections. In chapters entitled “Partial Differentiation of Subject -and Object,” “Completed Differentiation of Subject and Object,” and -“Developed Conception of the Object,” I have endeavoured, as these -titles imply, to trace up the gradual establishment of this fundamental -antithesis in a developing intelligence. It appeared to me, and still -appears, that for coherent thinking there must be excluded at the -outset, not only whatever implies acquired knowledge of objective -existence, but also whatever implies acquired knowledge of subjective -existence. At the close of the chapter preceding those just named, as -well as in _First Principles_, where this process of differentiation -was more briefly indicated, I recognized, and emphatically enlarged -upon, the difficulty of carrying out such an inquiry: pointing out that -in any attempts we make to observe the way in which subject and object -become distinguished, we inevitably use those faculties and conceptions -which have grown up while the differentiation of the two has been going -on. In trying to discern the initial stages of the process, we carry -with us all the products which belong to the final stage, and cannot -free ourselves from them. In _First Principles_ (§ 43) I have pointed -out that the words _impressions_ and _ideas_, the term _sensation_, the -phrase _state of consciousness,_ severally involve large systems of -beliefs; and that if we allow ourselves to recognize their connotations -we inevitably reason circularly. And in the closing sentence of the -chapter preceding those above named, I have said― - - “Though in every illustration taken we shall have tacitly to posit an - external existence, and in every reference to states of consciousness - we shall have to posit an internal existence which has these states; - yet, as before, we must ignore these implications.” - -I should have thought that, with all these cautions before him, Prof. -Green would not have fallen into the error of supposing that in the -argument thereupon commenced, the phrase “states of consciousness” is -used with all its ordinary implications. I should have thought that, -as in {327} a note appended to the outset of the argument I have -referred to the parallel argument in _First Principles_, where I have -used the phrase “manifestations of existence” instead of “states of -consciousness,” as the least objectionable; and as the argument in the -_Psychology_ is definitely described in this note as a re-statement in -a different form of the argument in _First Principles_; he would have -seen that in the phrase “states of consciousness,” as used throughout -this chapter, was to be included no more meaning than was included in -the phrase “manifestations of existence.”[46] I should have thought -he would have seen that the purpose of the chapter was passively to -watch, with no greater intelligence than is implied in watching, how -the manifestations or states, vivid and faint, comport themselves: -excluding all thought of their meanings—all interpretations of them. -Nevertheless, Prof. Green charges me with having, at the outset of the -examination, invalidated my argument by implying, in the terms I use, -certain products of developed consciousness.[47] He contends that my -division of the “states of consciousness,” or, as I elsewhere term -them, “manifestations of existence,” into vivid and faint, is vitiated -from the first by including along with the vivid ones those faint ones -needful to constitute them perceptions, in the ordinary sense of the -word. Because, describing all I passively watch, I speak of a distant -{328} head-land, of waves, of boats, &c, he actually supposes me to be -speaking of those developed cognitions under which these are classed as -such and such objects. What would he have me do? It is impossible to -give any such account of the process as I have attempted, without using -names for things and actions. The various manifestations, vivid and -faint, which in the case described impose themselves on my receptivity, -must be indicated in some way; and the words indicating them inevitably -carry with them their respective connotations. What more can I do than -warn the reader that all these connotations must be ignored, and that -attention must be paid exclusively to the manifestations themselves, -and the modes in which they comport themselves. At the stage described -in this “partial differentiation,” while I suppose myself as yet -unconscious of my own individuality and of a world as separate from it, -the obvious implication is, that what I name “states of consciousness,” -because this is the current term for them, are to have no -interpretations whatever put upon them; but that their characters and -modes of behaviour are to be observed, as they might be while yet there -had been none of that organization of experiences which makes things -known in the ordinary sense. It is true that, thus misinterpreting me -in December, Prof. Green, writing again in March, puts into the mouth -of an imagined advocate the true statement of my view;[48] though he -(Prof. Green) then proceeds to deny that I can mean what this imagined -advocate rightly says I mean: taking occasion to allege that I use the -phrase “states of consciousness” “to give a philosophical character” to -what would else seem “written too much after the fashion of a newspaper -correspondent.”[49] Even, however, had he admitted that intended -meaning which he sees, but denies, the rectification would have been -somewhat unsatisfactory, coming three months after various {329} -absurdities, based on his misinterpretation, had been ascribed to me. - -But the most serious allegation made by Mr. Hodgson against Prof. -Green, and which I here repeat, is that he habitually says I regard -the object as constituted by “the aggregate of vivid states of -consciousness,” in face of the conspicuous fact that I identify the -object with the _nexus_ of this aggregate. In his defence Prof. Green -says― - - “If I had made any attempt to show that Mr. Spencer believes - the object to be no more than an aggregate of vivid states of - consciousness, Mr. Hodgson’s complaint, that I ignore certain passages - in which a contrary persuasion is stated, would have been to the - purpose.” - -Let us look at the facts. Treating of the relation between my view and -the idealistic and sceptical views, he imagines addresses made to me by -Berkeley and Hume. “‘You agree with me,’ Berkeley might say, ‘that when -we speak of the external world we are speaking of certain lively ideas -connected in a certain manner;’”[50] and this identification of the -world with ideas, I am tacitly represented as accepting. Again, Hume is -supposed to say to me—“You agree with me that what we call the world -is a series of impressions;”[51] and here, as before, I am supposed -silently to acquiesce in this as a true statement of my view. Similarly -throughout his argument, Prof. Green continually states or implies that -the object is, in my belief, constituted by the vivid aggregate of -states of consciousness. At the outset of his second article,[52] he -says of me:—“He there” [in the _Principles of Psychology_] “identifies -the object with a certain aggregate of vivid states of consciousness, -which he makes out to be independent of another aggregate, consisting -of faint states, and identified with the subject.” And admitting that -he thus describes my view, he nevertheless alleges that he does not -misrepresent me, because, as he says,[53] “there is scarcely a page of -my article in {330} which Mr. Spencer’s conviction of the externality -and independence of the object, in the various forms in which it is -stated by him, is not referred to.” But what if it is referred to -in the process of showing that the externality and independence of -the object is utterly inconsistent with the conception of it as an -aggregate of vivid states of consciousness? What if I am continually -made to seem thus absolutely inconsistent, by omitting the fact that -not the aggregate of vivid states itself is conceived by me as the -object, but the _nexus_ binding it together? - -A single brief example will typify Prof. Green’s general method of -procedure. On page 40 of his first article he says—“And in the sequel -the ‘separation of themselves’ on the part of states of consciousness -‘into two great aggregates, vivid and faint,’ is spoken of as a -‘differentiation between the antithetical existences we call object and -subject.’ If words mean anything, then, Mr. Spencer plainly makes the -‘object’ an aggregate of conscious states.” But in the entire passage -from which these words of mine are quoted, which he gives at the bottom -of the page, a careful reader will observe a word (_omitted_ from Prof. -Green’s quotation in the text), which quite changes the meaning. I have -described the result, not as “a differentiation,” but as “a _partial_ -differentiation.” Now, to use Prof. Green’s expression, “if words mean -anything,” a partial differentiation cannot have the same sense as a -complete differentiation. If the ‘’object’ has been already constituted -by this partial differentiation, what does the ‘object’ become when the -differentiation is completed? Clearly, “if words mean anything,” then, -had Prof. Green not omitted the word “partial,” it would have been -manifest that the aggregate of vivid states was _not_ alleged to be the -object. The mode of treatment which we here see in little, exemplifies -Prof. Green’s mode of treatment at large. Throughout his two articles -he criticizes detached portions, and ascribes to them meanings {331} -quite different from those which they have when joined with the rest. - -With the simplicity of “a raw undergraduate” (to some of whose views -Prof. Green compares some of mine) I had assumed that an argument -running through three chapters would not be supposed to have its -conclusion expressed in the first; but now, after the professorial -lesson I have received, my simplicity will be decreased, and I shall -be aware that a critic may deal with that which is avowedly partial, -as though it were entire, and may treat as though it were already -developed, a conception which the titles of the chapters before him -show is yet but incipient. - -Here I leave the matter, and if anything more is said, shall let it -pass. Controversy must be cut short, or work must be left undone. I can -but suggest that metaphysical readers will do well to make their own -interpretations of my views, rather than to accept without inquiry all -the interpretations offered them. - - -POSTSCRIPT.—From a note appended by Mr. Nettleship to his republished -versions of Prof. Green’s articles, it appears that, after the -foregoing pages were published by me, Prof. Green wrote to the editor -of the _Contemporary Review_, saying:― - - “While I cannot honestly retract anything in the substance of what I - then wrote, there are expressions in the article which I very much - regret, so far as they might be taken to imply want of personal - respect for Mr. Spencer. For reasons sufficiently given in my reply to - Mr. Hodgson, I cannot plead guilty to the charge of misrepresentation - which Mr. Spencer repeats; but on reading my first article again in - cold blood I found that I had allowed controversial heat to betray - me into the use of language which was unbecoming—especially on the - part of an unknown writer (not even then a ‘professor’) assailing a - veteran philosopher. I make this acknowledgment merely for my own - satisfaction, not under the impression that it can at all concern Mr. - Spencer” (vol. i., p. 541). - -Possibly some of Prof. Green’s adherents will ask how, after he -has stated that he cannot honestly retract, and that {332} he is -not guilty of misrepresentation, I can describe his criticism as -unscrupulous. My reply is that a critic who persists in saying that -which, on the face of it, is dishonest, and then avers that he cannot -honestly do otherwise, does not thereby prove his honesty, but -contrariwise. One who deliberately omits from his quotation the word -“partial,” and then treats, as though it were complete, that which -is avowedly incomplete—one who, in dealing with an argument which -runs through three chapters, recognizes only the first of them—one -who persists in thinking it proper to do this after the consequent -distortions of statement have been pointed out to him; is one who, -if not knowingly dishonest, is lacking in due perception of right -and wrong in controversy. The only other possible supposition which -occurs to me, is that such a proceeding is a natural sequence of the -philosophy to which he adheres. Of course, if Being and non-Being are -the same, then representation and misrepresentation are the same. - -I may add that there is a curious kinship between the ideas implied by -the letter above quoted and its implied sentiments. Prof. Green says -that his apology for unbecoming language he makes merely for his “own -satisfaction.” He does not calm his qualms of conscience by indicating -his regret to those who read this unbecoming language; nor does he -express his regret to me, against whom it was vented; but he expresses -his regret to the editor of the _Contemporary Review_! So that a public -insult to A is supposed to be cancelled by a private apology to B! -Here is more Hegelian thinking; or rather, here is Hegelian feeling -congruous with Hegelian thinking. - - -ENDNOTES TO _PROF. GREEN’S EXPLANATIONS_. - -[44] _Contemporary Review_, December, 1877, p. 35. - -[45] _Contemporary Review_, December, 1877, p. 37 - -[46] If I am asked why here I used the phrase “states of consciousness” -rather than “manifestations of existence,” though I had previously -preferred the last to the first, I give as my reason the desire -to maintain continuity of language with the preceding chapter, -“The Dynamics of Consciousness.” In that chapter an examination -of consciousness had been made with the view of ascertaining what -principle of cohesion determines our beliefs, as preliminary to -observing how this principle operates in establishing the beliefs -in subject and object. But on proceeding to do this, the phrase -“state of consciousness” was supposed, like the phrase “manifestation -of existence,” not to be used as anything more than a name by -which to distinguish this or that form of being, as an undeveloped -receptivity would become aware of it, while yet self and not-self were -undistinguished. - -[47] _Contemporary Review_, December, 1877, pp. 49, 50. - -[48] _Contemporary Review_, March, 1878, p. 753. - -[49] _Ibid._, March, 1878, p. 755. - -[50] _Contemporary Review_, December, 1877, p. 44. - -[51] _Ibid._, December, 1877, p. 44. - -[52] _Ibid._, March, 1878, p. 745. - -[53] _Ibid._, January, 1881, p. 115. - - - - -{333} - -THE PHILOSOPHY OF STYLE. - - -[_First published in_ The Westminster Review _for October 1852._] - -Commenting on the seeming incongruity between his father’s -argumentative powers and his ignorance of formal logic, Tristram -Shandy says:—“It was a matter of just wonder with my worthy tutor, -and two or three fellows of that learned society, that a man who knew -not so much as the names of his tools, should be able to work after -that fashion with them.” Sterne’s implied conclusion that a knowledge -of the principles of reasoning neither makes, nor is essential to, -a good reasoner, is doubtless true. Thus, too, is it with grammar. -As Dr. Latham, condemning the usual school-drill in Lindley Murray, -rightly remarks:—“Gross vulgarity is a fault to be prevented; but the -proper prevention is to be got from habit—not rules.” Similarly, good -composition is far less dependent on acquaintance with its laws, than -on practice and natural aptitude. A clear head, a quick imagination, -and a sensitive ear, will go far towards making all rhetorical precepts -needless. And where there exists any mental flaw—where there is a -deficient verbal memory, or an inadequate sense of logical dependence, -or but little perception of order, or a lack of constructive ingenuity; -no amount of instruction will insure good writing. Nevertheless, _some_ -result may be expected from a familiarity {334} with the principles of -style. The endeavour to conform to laws may tell, though slowly. And -if in no other way, yet, as facilitating revision, a knowledge of the -thing to be achieved—a clear idea of what constitutes a beauty, and -what a blemish—cannot fail to be of service. - - * * * * * - -No general theory of expression seems yet to have been enunciated. The -maxims contained in works on composition and rhetoric, are presented -in an unorganized form. Standing as isolated dogmas—as empirical -generalizations, they are neither so clearly apprehended, nor so much -respected, as they would be were they deduced from some simple first -principle. We are told that “brevity is the soul of wit.” We hear -styles condemned as verbose or involved. Blair says that every needless -part of a sentence “interrupts the description and clogs the image;” -and again, that “long sentences fatigue the reader’s attention.” It is -remarked by Lord Kaimes that, “to give the utmost force to a period, -it ought, if possible, to be closed with the word that makes the -greatest figure.” Avoidance of parentheses, and the use of Saxon words -in preference to those of Latin origin, are often insisted upon. But, -however influential the precepts thus dogmatically expressed, they -would be much more influential if reduced to something like scientific -ordination. In this as in other cases, conviction is strengthened when -we understand the _why_. And we may be sure that recognition of the -general principle from which the rules of composition result, will not -only bring them home to us with greater force, but will disclose other -rules of like origin. - -On seeking for some clue to the law underlying these current maxims, -we may see implied in many of them, the importance of economizing the -reader’s or hearer’s attention. To so present ideas that they may be -apprehended with the least possible mental effort, is the desideratum -towards which most of the rules above quoted point. When we {335} -condemn writing that is wordy, or confused, or intricate—when we -praise this style as easy, and blame that as fatiguing, we consciously -or unconsciously assume this desideratum as our standard of judgment. -Regarding language as an apparatus of symbols for conveying thought, -we may say that, as in a mechanical apparatus, the more simple and the -better arranged its parts, the greater will be the effect produced. -In either case, whatever force is absorbed by the machine is deducted -from the result. A reader or listener has at each moment but a limited -amount of mental power available. To recognize and interpret the -symbols presented to him, requires part of this power; to arrange and -combine the images suggested by them requires a further part; and only -that part which remains can be used for framing the thought expressed. -Hence, the more time and attention it takes to receive and understand -each sentence, the less time and attention can be given to the -contained idea; and the less vividly will that idea be conceived. How -truly language must be regarded as a hindrance to thought, though the -necessary instrument of it, we shall clearly perceive on remembering -the comparative force with which simple ideas are communicated by -signs. To say, “Leave the room,” is less expressive than to point -to the door. Placing a finger on the lips is more forcible than -whispering, “Do not speak.” A beck of the hand is better than, “Come -here.” No phrase can convey the idea of surprise so vividly as opening -the eyes and raising the eyebrows. A shrug of the shoulders would -lose much by translation into words. Again, it may be remarked that -when oral language is employed, the strongest effects are produced by -interjections, which condense entire sentences into syllables. And -in other cases, where custom allows us to express thoughts by single -words, as in _Beware_, _Heigho_, _Fudge_, much force would be lost by -expanding them into specific propositions. Hence, carrying out the -metaphor that {336} language is the vehicle of thought, we may say -that in all cases the friction and inertia of the vehicle deduct from -its efficiency; and that in composition, the chief thing to be done, -is, to reduce the friction and inertia to the smallest amounts. Let -us then inquire whether economy of the recipient’s attention is not -the secret of effect, alike in the right choice and collocation of -words, in the best arrangement of clauses in a sentence, in the proper -order of its principal and subordinate propositions, in the judicious -use of simile, metaphor, and other figures of speech, and even in the -rhythmical sequence of syllables. - -The greater forcibleness of Saxon English, or rather non-Latin English, -first claims our attention. The several special reasons assignable -for this may all be reduced to the general reason—economy. The most -important of them is early association. A child’s vocabulary is -almost wholly Saxon. He says, _I have_, not _I possess_—_I wish_, -not _I desire_; he does not _reflect_, he _thinks_; he does not beg -for _amusement_, but for _play_; he calls things _nice_ or _nasty_, -not _pleasant_ or _disagreeable_. The synonyms learned in after -years, never become so closely, so organically, connected with the -ideas signified, as do these original words used in childhood; the -association remains less strong. But in what does a strong association -between a word and an idea differ from a weak one? Essentially in the -greater ease and rapidity of the suggestive action. Both of two words, -if they be strictly synonymous, eventually call up the same image. -The expression—It is _acid_, must in the end give rise to the same -thought as—It is _sour_; but because the term _acid_ was learnt later -in life, and has not been so often followed by the ideal sensation -symbolized, it does not so readily arouse that ideal sensation as the -term _sour_. If we remember how slowly the meanings follow unfamiliar -words in another language, and how increasing familiarity with them -brings greater rapidity and ease of comprehension; and if we consider -that the {337} like effect must have resulted from using the words of -our mother tongue from childhood upwards; we shall clearly see that the -earliest learnt and oftenest used words, will, other things equal, call -up images with less loss of time and energy than their later learnt -equivalents. - -The further superiority possessed by Saxon English in its comparative -brevity, obviously comes under the same generalization. If it be an -advantage to express an idea in the smallest number of words, then -it must be an advantage to express it in the smallest number of -syllables. If circuitous phrases and needless expletives distract -the attention and diminish the strength of the impression produced, -then so, too, must surplus articulations. A certain effort, though -commonly an inappreciable one, is required to recognize every vowel -and consonant. If, as all know, it is tiresome to listen to an -indistinct speaker, or to read an ill-written manuscript; and if, as -we cannot doubt, the fatigue is a cumulative result of the attention -needed to catch successive syllables; it follows that attention is -in such cases absorbed by each syllable. And this being so when the -syllables are difficult of recognition, it will be so too, though -in a less degree, when the recognition of them is easy. Hence, the -shortness of Saxon words becomes a reason for their greater force. One -qualification, however, must not be overlooked. A word which embodies -the most important part of the idea to be conveyed, especially when -emotion is to be produced, may often with advantage be a polysyllabic -word. Thus it seems more forcible to say—“It is _magnificent_,” -than—“It is _grand_.” The word _vast_ is not so powerful a one as -_stupendous_. Calling a thing _nasty_ is not so effective as calling -it _disgusting_. There seem to be several causes for this exceptional -superiority of certain long words. We may ascribe it partly to the -fact that a voluminous, mouth-filling epithet is, by its very size, -suggestive of largeness or strength, as is shown by the pomposity of -sesquipedalian verbiage; and when great power or {338} intensity has -to be suggested, this association of ideas aids the effect. A further -cause may be that a word of several syllables admits of more emphatic -articulation; and as emphatic articulation is a sign of emotion, -the unusual impressiveness of the thing named is implied by it. Yet -another cause is that a long word (of which the latter syllables -are generally inferred as soon as the first are spoken) allows the -hearer’s consciousness more time to dwell on the quality predicated; -and where, as in the above cases, it is to this predicated quality that -the entire attention is called, an advantage results from keeping it -before the mind for an appreciable interval. To make our generalization -quite correct we must therefore say, that while in certain sentences -expressing feeling, the word which more especially implies that -feeling may often with advantage be a many-syllabled one; in the -immense majority of cases, each word, serving but as a step to the -idea embodied by the whole sentence, should, if possible, be a single -syllable. - -Once more, that frequent cause of strength in Saxon and other primitive -words—their onomatopœia, may be similarly resolved into the more -general cause. Both those directly imitative, as _splash_,_bang_, -_whiz_, _roar_, &c., and those analogically imitative, as _rough_, -_smooth_, _keen_, _blunt_, _thin_, _hard_, _crag_, &c., have a greater -or less likeness to the things symbolized; and by making on the ears -impressions allied to the ideas to be called up, they save part of the -effort needed to call up such ideas, and leave more attention for the -ideas themselves. - -Economy of the recipient’s mental energy may be assigned, too, as a -manifest cause for the superiority of specific over generic words. -That concrete terms produce more vivid impressions than abstract -ones, and should, when possible, be used instead, is a current maxim -of composition. As Dr. Campbell says, “The more general the terms -are, the picture is the fainter; the more special {339} they are, the -brighter.” When aiming at effect we should avoid such a sentence as: - -―― When the manners, customs, and amusements of a nation are cruel and -barbarous, the regulations of their penal code will be severe. - -And in place of it we should write: - -―― When men delight in battles, bull-fights, and combats of gladiators, -will they punish by hanging, burning, and the rack. - -This superiority of specific expressions is clearly due to a saving -of the effort required to translate words into thoughts. As we do not -think in generals but in particulars—as, whenever any class of things -is named, we represent it to ourselves by calling to mind individual -members of the class; it follows that when a general word is used, the -hearer or reader has to choose from his stock of images, one or more, -by which he may figure to himself the whole group. In doing this, -some delay must arise—some force be expended; and if, by employing -a specific term, an appropriate image can be at once suggested, an -economy is achieved, and a more vivid impression produced. - -Turning now from the choice of words to their sequence, we find the -same principle hold good. We have _a priori_ reasons for believing that -there is some one order of words by which every proposition may be more -effectively expressed than by any other; and that this order is the -one which presents the elements of the proposition in the succession -in which they may be most readily put together. As in a narrative, the -events should be stated in such sequence that the mind may not have to -go backwards and forwards in order to rightly connect them; as in a -group of sentences, the arrangement should be such that each of them -may be understood as it comes, without waiting for subsequent ones; so -in every sentence, the sequence of words should be that which suggests -the constituents of the thought in the order most convenient for -building it {340} up. Duly to enforce this truth, and to prepare the -way for applications of it, we must analyze the mental act by which the -meaning of a series of words is apprehended. - -We cannot more simply do this than by considering the proper -collocation of substantive and adjective. Is it better to place the -adjective before the substantive, or the substantive before the -adjective? Ought we to say with the French—_un cheval noir_; or to say -as we do—a black horse? Probably, most persons of culture will say -that one order is as good as the other. Alive to the bias produced by -habit, they will ascribe to that the preference they feel for our own -form of expression. They will expect those educated in the use of the -opposite form to have an equal preference for that. And thus they will -conclude that neither of these instinctive judgments is of any worth. -There is, however, a psychological ground for deciding in favour of the -English custom. If “a horse black” be the arrangement, then immediately -on the utterance of the word “horse,” there arises, or tends to arise, -in the mind, an idea answering to that word; and as there has been -nothing to indicate what _kind_ of horse, any image of a horse suggests -itself. Very likely, however, the image will be that of a brown horse: -brown horses being the most familiar. The result is that when the word -“black” is added, a check is given to the process of thought. Either -the picture of a brown horse already present to the imagination has to -be suppressed, and the picture of a black one summoned in its place; -or else, if the picture of a brown horse be yet unformed, the tendency -to form it has to be stopped. Whichever is the case, some hindrance -results. But if, on the other hand, “a black horse” be the expression -used, no mistake can be made. The word “black,” indicating an abstract -quality, arouses no definite idea. It simply prepares the mind for -conceiving some object of that colour; and the attention is kept -suspended until that object is known. If, then, by {341} precedence of -the adjective, the idea is always conveyed rightly, whereas precedence -of the substantive is apt to produce a misconception; it follows that -the one gives the mind less trouble than the other, and is therefore -more forcible. - -Possibly it will be objected that the adjective and substantive come -so close together, that practically they may be considered as uttered -at the same moment; and that on hearing the phrase, “a horse black,” -there is not time to imagine a wrongly coloured horse before the word -“black” follows to prevent it. It must be owned that it is not easy -to decide by introspection whether this is so or not. But there are -facts collaterally implying that it is not. Our ability to anticipate -the words yet unspoken is one of them. If the ideas of the hearer -lingered behind the expressions of the speaker, as the objection -assumes, he could hardly foresee the end of a sentence by the time it -was half delivered; yet this constantly happens. Were the supposition -true, the mind, instead of anticipating, would fall more and more -in arrear. If the meanings of words are not realized as fast as the -words are uttered, then the loss of time over each word must entail an -accumulation of delays and leave a hearer entirely behind. But whether -the force of these replies be or be not admitted, it will scarcely be -denied that the right formation of a picture must be facilitated by -presenting its elements in the order in which they are wanted; even -though the mind should do nothing until it has received them all. - -What is here said respecting the succession of the adjective and -substantive is applicable, by change of terms, to the adverb and verb. -And without further explanation, it will be manifest, that in the use -of prepositions and other particles, most languages spontaneously -conform with more or less completeness to this law. - -On similarly analyzing sentence considered as vehicles for entire -propositions, we find not only that the same principle holds good, -but that the advantage of respecting {342} it becomes marked. In the -arrangement of predicate and subject, for example, we are at once shown -that as the predicate determines the aspect under which the subject is -to be conceived, it should be placed first; and the striking effect -produced by so placing it becomes comprehensible. Take the often-quoted -contrast between—“Great is Diana of the Ephesians,” and—“Diana of -the Ephesians is great.” When the first arrangement is used, the -utterance of the word “great,” arousing vague associations of an -imposing nature prepares the imagination to clothe with high attributes -whatever follows; and when the words, “Diana of the Ephesians” are -heard, appropriate imagery already nascent in thought, is used in the -formation of the picture: the mind being thus led directly, and without -error, to the intended impression. But when the reverse order is -followed, the idea, “Diana of the Ephesians,” is formed with no special -reference to greatness; and when the words, “is great,” are added, -it has to be formed afresh; whence arises a loss of mental energy, -and a corresponding diminution of effect. The following verse from -Coleridge’s “Ancient Mariner,” though incomplete as a sentence, well -illustrates the same truth. - - “_Alone, alone, all, all alone,_ - _Alone on a wide wide sea!_ - _And never a saint took pity on_ - _My soul in agony.”_ - -Of course the principle equally applies when the predicate is a -verb or a participle. And as effect is gained by placing first all -words indicating the quality, conduct, or condition of the subject, -it follows that the copula also should have precedence. It is true, -that the general habit of our language resists this arrangement of -predicate, copula, and subject; but we may readily find instances of -the additional force gained by conforming to it. Thus in the line from -“Julius Cæsar”― - - “Then _burst_ his mighty heart,” - -priority is given to a word embodying both predicate and {343} copula. -In a passage contained in Sir W. Scott’s “Marmion,” the like order is -systematically employed with great effect: - - “The Border slogan rent the sky! - _A Home! a Gordon! was_ the cry; - _Loud were_ the clanging blows; - _Advanced,—forced back,—now low, now high,_ - The pennon sunk and rose; - As _bends_ the bark’s mast in the gale - When _rent are_ rigging, shrouds, and sail, - It waver’d ’mid the foes.” - -Pursuing the principle further, it is obvious that for producing the -greatest effect, not only should the main divisions of a sentence -observe this sequence, but the sub-divisions of these should have -their parts similarly arranged. In nearly all cases, the predicate -is accompanied by some limit or qualification called its complement. -Commonly, also, the circumstances of the subject, which form its -complement, have to be specified. And as these qualifications and -circumstances must determine the mode in which the acts and things -they belong to are conceived, precedence should be given to them. Lord -Kaimes notices the fact that this order is preferable; though without -giving the reason. He says:—“When a circumstance is placed at the -beginning of the period, or near the beginning, the transition from -it to the principal subject is agreeable: is like ascending or going -upward.” A sentence arranged in illustration of this will be desirable. -Here is one: - -―― Whatever it may be in theory, it is clear that in practice the -French idea of liberty is—the right of every man to be master of the -rest. - -In this case, were the first two clauses, up to the word “practice” -inclusive, which qualify the subject, to be placed at the end instead -of the beginning, much of the force would be lost; as thus: - -―― The French idea of liberty is—the right of every man to be master of -the rest; in practice at least, if not in theory. - -Similarly with respect to the conditions under which any {344} fact is -predicated. Observe in the following example the effect of putting them -last: - -―― How immense would be the stimulus to progress, were the honour now -given to wealth and title given exclusively to high achievements and -intrinsic worth! - -And then observe the superior effect of putting them first: - -―― Were the honour now given to wealth and title given exclusively -to high achievements and intrinsic worth, how immense would be the -stimulus to progress! - -The effect of giving priority to the complement of the predicate, as -well as the predicate itself, is finely displayed in the opening of -“Hyperion:” - - “_Deep in the shady sadness of a vale_ - _Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,_ - _Far from the fiery noon, and eve’s one star,_ - _Sat_ grey-haired Saturn, quiet as a stone.” - -Here we see, not only that the predicate “sat” precedes the subject -“Saturn,” and that the three lines in italics, constituting the -complement of the predicate, come before it; but that in the structure -of this complement also, the same order is followed: each line being -so composed that the qualifying words are placed before the words -suggesting concrete images. - -The right succession of the principal and subordinate propositions -in a sentence depends on the same law. Regard for economy of the -recipient’s attention, which, as we find, determines the best order -for the subject, copula, predicate, and their complements, dictates -that the subordinate proposition shall precede the principal one, when -the sentence includes two. Containing, as the subordinate proposition -does, some qualifying or explanatory idea, its priority prevents -misconception of the principal one; and therefore saves the mental -effort needed to correct such misconception. This will be seen in the -annexed example. - -―― The secrecy once maintained in respect to the parliamentary debates, -is still thought needful in diplomacy; and diplomacy being secret, -England may any day be {345} unawares betrayed by its ministers into -a war costing a hundred thousand lives, and hundreds of millions of -treasure: yet the English pique themselves on being a self-governed -people. - -The two subordinate propositions, ending with the semicolon and colon -respectively, almost wholly determine the meaning of the principal -proposition with which the sentence concludes; and the effect would be -lost were they placed last instead of first. - -From this general principle of right arrangement may also be inferred -the proper order of those minor divisions into which the major -divisions of sentences may be decomposed. In every sentence of any -complexity the complement to the subject contains several clauses, -and that to the predicate several others; and these may be arranged -in greater or less conformity to the law of easy apprehension. Of -course with these, as with the larger members, the succession should be -from the less specific to the more specific—from the abstract to the -concrete. - -Now however we must notice a further condition to be fulfilled in the -proper construction of a sentence; but still a condition dictated by -the same general principle with the other: the condition, namely, -that the words or the expressions which refer to the most nearly -connected thoughts shall be brought the closest together. Evidently -the single words, the minor clauses, and the leading divisions of -every proposition, severally qualify each other. The longer the time -that elapses between the mention of any qualifying member and the -member qualified, the longer must the mind be exerted in carrying -forward the qualifying member ready for use. And the more numerous the -qualifications to be simultaneously remembered and rightly applied, -the greater will be the mental power expended, and the smaller the -effect produced. Hence, other things equal, force will be gained by -so arranging the members of a sentence that these suspensions shall -at any moment be the fewest in {346} number; and shall also be of -the shortest duration. The following is an instance of defective -combination. - -―― A modern newspaper-statement, though probably true, would be laughed -at, if quoted in a book as testimony; but the letter of a court gossip -is thought good historical evidence, if written some centuries ago. - -A re-arrangement of this, in accordance with the principle indicated -above, will be found to increase the effect. Thus: - -―― Though probably true, a modern newspaper-statement quoted in a book -as testimony, would be laughed at; but the letter of a court gossip, if -written some centuries ago, is thought good historical evidence. - -By making this change, some of the suspensions are avoided and -others shortened; while there is less liability to produce premature -conceptions. The passage quoted below from “Paradise Lost” affords a -fine instance of a sentence well arranged; alike in the priority of the -subordinate members, in the avoidance of long and numerous suspensions, -and in the correspondence between the sequence of the clauses and the -sequence of the phenomena described, which, by the way, is a further -prerequisite to easy apprehension, and therefore to effect. - - “As when a prowling wolf, - Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, - Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eve, - In hurdled cotes amid the field secure, - Leaps o’er the fence with ease into the fold: - Or as a thief, bent to unhoard the cash - Of some rich burgher, whose substantial doors, - Cross-barr’d and bolted fast, fear no assault, - In at the window climbs, or o’er the tiles: - So clomb the first grand Thief into God’s fold; - So since into his Church lewd hirelings climb.” - -The habitual use of sentences in which all or most of the descriptive -and limiting elements precede those described and limited, gives rise -to what is called the inverted style: a title which is, however, by no -means confined to this {347} structure, but is often used where the -order of the words is simply unusual. A more appropriate title would be -the _direct style_, as contrasted with the other, or _indirect style_: -the peculiarity of the one being, that it conveys each thought step by -step with little liability to error; and of the other, that it conveys -each thought by a series of approximations, which successively correct -the erroneous preconceptions that have been raised. - -The superiority of the direct over the indirect form of sentence, -implied by the several conclusions above drawn, must not, however, be -affirmed without reservation. Though, up to a certain point, it is well -for the qualifying clauses of a proposition to precede those qualified; -yet, as carrying forward each qualifying clause costs some mental -effort, it follows that when the number of them and the time they are -carried become great, we reach a limit beyond which more is lost than -is gained. Other things equal, the arrangement should be such that no -concrete image shall be suggested until the materials out of which it -is to be framed have been presented. And yet, as lately pointed out, -other things equal, the fewer the materials to be held at once, and the -shorter the distance they have to be borne, the better. Hence in some -cases it becomes a question whether most mental effort will be entailed -by the many and long suspensions, or by the correction of successive -misconceptions. - -This question may sometimes be decided by considering the capacity -of the persons addressed. A greater grasp of mind is required for -the ready apprehension of thoughts expressed in the direct manner, -where the sentences are anywise intricate. To recollect a number of -preliminaries stated in elucidation of a coming idea, and to apply -them all to the formation of it when suggested, demands a good memory -and considerable power of concentration. To one possessing these, the -direct method will mostly seem the best; while to one deficient in -them it will seem the worst. {348} Just as it may cost a strong man -less effort to carry a hundred-weight from place to place at once, -than by a stone at a time; so, to an active mind it may be easier to -bear along all the qualifications of an idea and at once rightly form -it when named, than to first imperfectly conceive such idea, and then -carry back to it, one by one, the details and limitations afterwards -mentioned. While conversely, as for a boy the only possible mode of -transferring a hundred-weight, is that of taking it in portions; -so, for a weak mind, the only possible mode of forming a compound -conception may be that of building it up by carrying separately its -several parts. - -That the indirect method—the method of conveying the meaning by -a series of approximations—is best fitted for the uncultivated, -may indeed be inferred from their habitual use of it. The form -of expression adopted by the savage, as in—“Water, give me,” is -the simplest type of this arrangement. In pleonasms, which are -comparatively prevalent among the uneducated, the same essential -structure is seen; as, for instance in—“The men, they were there.” -Again, the old possessive case—“The king, his crown,” conforms to -the like order of thought. Moreover, the fact that the indirect mode -is called the natural one, implies that it is the one spontaneously -employed by the common people; that is—the one easiest for -undisciplined minds. - -There are many cases, however, in which neither the direct nor the -indirect mode is the best; but in which an intermediate mode is -preferable to both. When the number of circumstances and qualifications -to be included in the sentence is great, the judicious course is -neither to enumerate them all before introducing the idea to which they -belong, nor to put this idea first and let it be remodelled to agree -with the particulars afterwards mentioned; but to do a little of each. -It is desirable to avoid so extremely indirect an arrangement as the -following:― - -―― “We came to our journey’s end, at last, with no {349} small -difficulty, after much fatigue, through deep roads, and bad weather.” - -Yet to transform this into an entirely direct sentence would be -unadvisable; as witness:― - -―― At last, with no small difficulty, after much fatigue, through deep -roads, and bad weather, we came to our journey’s end. - -Dr. Whately, from whom we quote the first of these two arrangements, -proposes this construction:― - -―― “At last, after much fatigue, through deep roads and bad weather, we -came, with no small difficulty, to our journey’s end.” - -Here by introducing the words “we came” a little earlier in the -sentence, the labour of carrying forward so many particulars is -diminished, and the subsequent qualification “with no small difficulty” -entails an addition to the thought that is easily made. But a -further improvement may be effected by putting the words “we came” -still earlier; especially if at the same time the qualifications be -rearranged in conformity with the principle already explained, that -the more abstract elements of the thought should come before the more -concrete. Observe the result of making these two changes: - -―― At last, with no small difficulty, and after much fatigue, we came, -through deep roads and bad weather, to our journey’s end. - -This reads with comparative smoothness; that is—with less hindrance -from suspensions and reconstructions of thought. - -It should be further remarked, that even when addressing vigorous -intellects, the direct mode is unfit for communicating ideas of a -complex or abstract character. So long as the mind has not much to -do, it may be well able to grasp all the preparatory clauses of a -sentence, and to use them effectively; but if some subtlety in the -argument absorb the attention it may happen that the mind, doubly {350} -strained, will break down, and allow the elements of the thought to -lapse into confusion. - - * * * * * - -Let us pass now to figures of speech. In them we may equally discern -the same general law of effect. Implied in rules given for the -choice and right use of them, we shall find the same fundamental -requirement—economy of attention. It is indeed chiefly because they so -well subserve this requirement, that figures of speech are employed. - -Let us begin with the figure called Synecdoche. The advantage sometimes -gained by putting a part for the whole, is due to the more convenient, -or more vivid, presentation of the idea. If, instead of writing “a -fleet of ten ships,” we write “a fleet of ten _sail_,” the picture -of a group of vessels at sea is more readily suggested; and is so -because the sails constitute the most conspicuous parts of vessels so -circumstanced. To say, “All _hands_ to the pumps,” is better than to -say, “All _men_ to the pumps;” as it calls up a picture of the men in -the special attitude intended, and so saves effort. Bringing “_grey -hairs_ with sorrow to the grave,” is another expression, the effect of -which has the same cause. - -The effectiveness of Metonymy may be similarly accounted for. “The low -morality of _the bar_,” is a phrase both more brief and significant -than the literal one it stands for. A belief in the ultimate supremacy -of intelligence over brute force, is conveyed in a more concrete form, -and therefore more representable form, if we substitute _the pen_ and -_the sword_ for the two abstract terms. To say, “Beware of drinking!” -is less effective than to say, “Beware of _the bottle_!” and is so, -clearly because it calls up a less specific image. - -The Simile is in many cases used chiefly with a view to ornament; but -whenever it increases the _force_ of a passage, it does so by being an -economy. Here is an instance. - -―― The illusion that great men and great events came {351} oftener -in early times than they come now, is due partly to historical -perspective. As in a range of equidistant columns, the furthest off -seem the closest; so, the conspicuous objects of the past seem more -thickly clustered the more remote they are. - -To express literally the thought thus conveyed, would take many -sentences; and the first elements of the picture would become faint -while the imagination was busy in adding the others. But by the help of -a comparison much of the effort otherwise required is saved. - -Concerning the position of the Simile,[54] it needs only to -remark, that what has been said about the order of the adjective -and substantive, predicate and subject, principal and subordinate -propositions, &c., is applicable here. As whatever qualifies should -precede whatever is qualified, force will generally be gained by -placing the simile before the object or act to which it is applied. -That this arrangement is the best, may be seen in the following passage -from the “Lady of the Lake:”― - - “As wreath of snow, on mountain breast, - Slides from the rock that gave it rest, - Poor Ellen glided from her stay, - And at the monarch’s feet she lay.” - -Inverting these couplets will be found to diminish the effect -considerably. There are cases, however, even where the simile is a -simple one, in which it may with advantage be placed last; as in these -lines from Alexander Smith’s “Life Drama:”― - - “I see the future stretch - All dark and barren as a rainy sea.” - -The reason for this seems to be, that so abstract an idea as that -attaching to the word “future,” does not present {352} itself to the -mind in any definite form; and hence the subsequent arrival at the -simile entails no reconstruction of the thought. - -Such however are not the only cases in which this order is the more -forcible. As putting the simile first is advantageous only when it is -carried forward in the mind to assist in forming an image of the object -or act; it must happen that if, from length or complexity, it cannot be -so carried forward, the advantage is not gained. The annexed sonnet, by -Coleridge, is defective from this cause. - - “As when a child, on some long winter’s night, - Affrighted, clinging to its grandam’s knees, - With eager wond’ring and perturb’d delight - Listens strange tales of fearful dark decrees, - Mutter’d to wretch by necromantic spell; - Or of those hags who at the witching time - Of murky midnight, ride the air sublime, - And mingle foul embrace with fiends of hell; - Cold horror drinks its blood! Anon the tear - More gentle starts, to hear the beldame tell - Of pretty babes, that lov’d each other dear, - Murder’d by cruel uncle’s mandate fell: - Ev’n such the shiv’ring joys thy tones impart, - Ev’n so, thou, Siddons, meltest my sad heart.” - -Here, from the lapse of time and accumulation of circumstances, -the first member of the comparison is forgotten before the second -is reached; and requires re-reading. Had the main idea been first -mentioned, less effort would have been required to retain it, and to -modify the conception of it into harmony with the illustrative ideas, -than to remember the illustrative ideas, and refer back to them for -help in forming the final image. - -The superiority of the Metaphor to the Simile is ascribed by Dr. -Whately to the fact that “all men are more gratified at catching the -resemblance for themselves, than in having it pointed out to them.” But -after what has been said, the great economy it achieves will seem the -more probable cause. Lear’s exclamation― - - “Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,” {353} - -would lose part of its effect were it changed into― - - “Ingratitude! thou fiend with heart like marble;” - -and the loss would result partly from the position of the simile and -partly from the extra number of words required. When the comparison is -an involved one, the greater force of the metaphor, due to its relative -brevity, becomes much more conspicuous. If, drawing an analogy between -mental and physical phenomena, we say, - -―― As, in passing through a crystal, beams of white light are -decomposed into the colours of the rainbow; so, in traversing the -soul of the poet, the colourless rays of truth are transformed into -brightly-tinted poetry;―― it is clear that in receiving the two sets -of words expressing the two halves of the comparison, and in carrying -the meaning of the one to help in interpreting the other, considerable -attention is absorbed. Most of this is saved by putting the comparison -in a metaphorical form, thus:― - -―― The white light of truth, in traversing the many-sided transparent -soul of the poet, is refracted into iris-hued poetry. How much is -conveyed in a few words by using Metaphor, and how vivid the effect -consequently produced, is everywhere shown. From “A Life Drama” may be -quoted the phrase, - - “I spear’d him with a jest,” - -as a fine instance among the many which that poem contains. A passage -in the “Prometheus Unbound,” of Shelley, displays the power of the -metaphor to great advantage. - - “Methought among the lawns together - We wandered, underneath the young gray dawn, - And multitudes of dense white fleecy clouds - Were wandering in thick flocks along the mountains - _Shepherded_ by the slow unwilling wind.” - -This last expression is remarkable for the distinctness with which it -calls up the features of the scene; bringing the mind by a bound to the -desired conception. - -But a limit is put to the advantageous use of Metaphor, {354} by the -condition that it must be simple enough to be understood from a hint. -Evidently, if there be any obscurity in the meaning or application of -it, no economy of attention will be achieved; but rather the reverse. -Hence, when the comparison is complex, it is better to put it in the -form of a Simile. There is, however, a species of figure, sometimes -classed under Allegory, but which might well be called Compound -Metaphor, that enables us to retain the brevity of the metaphorical -form even where the analogy is intricate. This is done by indicating -the application of the figure at the outset, and then leaving the -reader or hearer to continue the parallel. Emerson has employed it with -great effect in the first of his _Lectures on the Times_. - - “The main interest which any aspects of the Times can have for us, is - the great spirit which gazes through them, the light which they can - shed on the wonderful questions, What are we? and Whither do we tend? - We do not wish to be deceived. Here we drift, like white sail across - the wild ocean, now bright on the wave, now darkling in the trough of - the sea; but from what port did we sail? Who knows? Or to what port - are we bound? Who knows? There is no one to tell us but such poor - weather-tossed mariners as ourselves, whom we speak as we pass, or who - have hoisted some signal, or floated to us some letter in a bottle - from afar. But what know they more than we? They also found themselves - on this wondrous sea. No; from the older sailors nothing. Over all - their speaking-trumpets the gray sea and the loud winds answer—Not in - us; not in Time.” - -The division of Simile from Metaphor is by no means definite. Between -the one extreme in which the two elements of the comparison are -detailed at full length and the analogy pointed out, and the other -extreme in which the comparison is implied instead of stated, come -intermediate forms, in which the comparison is partly stated and partly -implied. For instance:― - -―― Astonished at the performances of the English plough, the Hindoos -paint it, set it up, and worship it; thus turning a tool into an idol. -Linguists do the same with language.—Here there is an evident advantage -in leaving the reader or hearer to complete the figure. And generally -these {355} intermediate forms are good in proportion as they do this; -provided the mode of completion be obvious. - -Passing over much that may be said of like purport on Hyperbole, -Personification, Apostrophe, &c., let us close our remarks on -construction by a typical example of effective expression. The general -principle which has been enunciated is that, other things equal, the -force of a verbal form or arrangement is great, in proportion as the -mental effort demanded from the recipient is small. The corollaries -from this general principle have been severally illustrated. But -though conformity now to this and now to that requirement has been -exemplified, no case of entire conformity has yet been quoted. It is -indeed difficult to find one; for the English idiom does not commonly -permit the order which theory dictates. A few, however, occur in -Ossian. Here is one:― - - “Like autumn’s dark storms pouring from two echoing hills, towards - each other approached the heroes. Like two deep streams from high - rocks meeting, mixing, roaring on the plain: loud, rough, and dark in - battle meet Lochlin and Inisfail. * * * As the noise of the troubled - ocean when roll the waves on high; as the last peal of the thunder of - heaven; such is the din of war.” - -Except in the position of the verb in the first two similes, the -theoretically best arrangement is fully carried out in each of these -sentences. The simile comes before the qualified image, the adjectives -before the substantives, the predicate and copula before the subject, -and their respective complements before them. That the passage is -bombastic proves nothing; or rather, proves our case. For what is -bombast but a force of expression too great for the magnitude of the -ideas embodied? All that may rightly be inferred is, that only in rare -cases should _all_ the conditions to effective expression be fulfilled. - - * * * * * - -A more complex application of the theory may now be {356} made. Not -only in the structures of sentences, and the uses of figures of speech, -may we trace economy of the recipient’s mental energy as the cause of -force; but we may trace this same cause in the successful choice and -arrangement of the minor images out of which some large thought is to -be built. To select from a scene or event described, those elements -which carry many others with them; and so, by saying a few things but -suggesting many, to abridge the description; is the secret of producing -a vivid impression. An extract from Tennyson’s “Mariana” will well -illustrate this. - - “All day within the dreamy house, - The doors upon their hinges creaked, - The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse - Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek’d, - Or from the crevice peer’d about.” - -The several circumstances here specified bring with them many -appropriate associations. When alone the creaking of a distant door -is much more obtrusive than when talking to friends. Our attention -is rarely drawn by the buzzing of a fly in the window, save when -everything is still. While the inmates are moving about the house, -mice usually keep silence; and it is only when extreme quietness -reigns that they peep from their retreats. Hence each of the facts -mentioned, presupposing various others, calls up these with more or -less distinctness; and revives the feeling of dull solitude with -which they are connected in our experience. Were all of them detailed -instead of suggested, the mental energies would be so frittered away -in attending that little impression of dreariness would be produced. -Similarly in other cases. In the choice of component ideas, as in the -choice of expressions, the aim must be to convey the greatest quantity -of thoughts with the smallest quantity of words. - -The same principle may sometimes be advantageously carried yet further, -by indirectly suggesting some entirely {357} distinct thought in -addition to the one expressed. Thus if we say, - -―― The head of a good classic is as full of ancient myths, as that of -a servant-girl of ghost stories; it is manifest that besides the fact -asserted, there is an implied opinion respecting the small value of -much that passes as classical learning; and as this implied opinion -is recognized much sooner than it can be put into words, there is -gain in omitting it. In other cases, again, great effect is produced -by an overt omission; provided the nature of the idea left out is -obvious. A good instance occurs in _Heroes and Hero-worship_. After -describing the way in which Burns was sacrificed to the idle curiosity -of lion-hunters—people who sought to amuse themselves, and who got -their amusement while “the Hero’s life went for it!” Carlyle suggests a -parallel thus:― - -“Richter says, in the Island of Sumatra there is a kind of -‘Light-chafers,’ large Fire-flies, which people stick upon spits, and -illuminate the ways with at night. Persons of condition can thus travel -with a pleasant radiance, which they much admire. Great honour to the -Fire-flies! But—!—” - - * * * * * - -Before inquiring whether the law of effect thus far traced, explains -the impressiveness of poetry as compared with prose, it will be needful -to notice some causes of force in expression which had not yet been -mentioned. These are not, properly speaking, additional causes; but -rather secondary ones, originating from those already specified. -One is that mental excitement spontaneously prompts those forms of -speech which have been pointed out as the most effective. “Out with -him!” “Away with him!” are the cries of angry citizens at a disturbed -meeting. A voyager, describing a terrible storm he had witnessed, would -rise to some such climax as—“Crack went the ropes, and down came the -mast.” Astonishment {358} may be heard expressed in the phrase—“Never -was there such a sight!” All of which sentences are constructed after -the direct type. Again, there is the fact that excited persons are -given to figures of speech. The vituperation of the vulgar abounds with -them. “Beast,” “brute,” “gallows rogue,” “cut-throat villain,” these, -and like metaphors or metaphorical epithets, call to mind a street -quarrel. Further, it may be noticed that extreme brevity is a trait -of passionate language. The sentences are generally incomplete; and -frequently important words are left to be gathered from the context. -Great admiration does not vent itself in a precise proposition, as—“It -is beautiful;” but in the simple exclamation,—“Beautiful!” He who, when -reading a lawyer’s letter, should say, “Vile rascal!” would be thought -angry; while, “He is a vile rascal,” would imply comparative coolness. -Thus alike in the order of the words, in the frequent use of figures, -and in extreme conciseness, the natural utterances of excitement -conform to the theoretical conditions to forcible expression. - -Hence such forms of speech acquire a secondary strength from -association. Having, in daily intercourse, heard them in connection -with vivid mental impressions; and having been accustomed to meet with -them in writing of unusual power; they come to have in themselves -a species of force. The emotions that have from time to time been -produced by the strong thoughts wrapped up in these forms, are -partially aroused by the forms themselves. These create a preparatory -sympathy; and when the striking ideas looked for are reached, they are -the more vividly pictured. - -The continuous use of words and forms that are alike forcible in -themselves and forcible from their associations, produces the -impressive species of composition which we call poetry. The poet -habitually adopts those symbols of thought, and those methods of -using them, which instinct {359} and analysis agree in choosing as -most effective. On turning back to the various specimens which have -been quoted, it will be seen that the direct or inverted form of -sentence predominates in them; and that to a degree inadmissible in -prose. Not only in the frequency, but in what is termed the violence -of the inversions, may this distinction be remarked. The abundant -use of figures, again, exhibits the same truth. Metaphors, similes, -hyperboles, and personifications, are the poet’s colours, which he has -liberty to employ almost without limit. We characterize as “poetical” -the prose which uses these appliances of language with frequency; -and condemn it as “over florid” or “affected” long before they occur -with the profusion allowed in verse. Once more, in brevity—the other -requisite of forcible expression which theory points out and emotion -spontaneously fulfils—poetical phraseology differs from ordinary -phraseology. Imperfect periods are frequent; elisions are perpetual; -and many minor words which would be deemed essential in prose, are -dispensed with. - -Thus poetry is especially impressive partly because it conforms to -all the laws of effective speech, and partly because in so doing -it imitates the natural utterances of excitement. While the matter -embodied is idealized emotion, the vehicle is the idealized language -of emotion. As the musical composer catches the cadences in which our -feelings of joy and sympathy, grief and despair, vent themselves, -and out of these germs evolves melodies suggesting higher phases of -these feelings; so, the poet develops from the typical expressions in -which men utter passion and sentiment, those choice forms of verbal -combination in which concentrated passion and sentiment may be fitly -presented. - -There is one peculiarity of poetry conducing much to its effect—the -peculiarity which is indeed usually thought its characteristic -one—still remaining to be considered: we {360} mean its rhythmical -structure. This, improbable though it seems, will be found to come -under the same generalization with the others. Like each of them, it -is an idealization of the natural language of emotion, which is not -uncommonly more or less metrical if the emotion be not too violent; and -like each of them it economizes the reader’s or hearer’s attention. In -the peculiar tone and manner we adopt in uttering versified language, -may be discerned its relationship to the feelings; and the pleasure -which its measured movement gives, is ascribable to the comparative -ease with which words metrically arranged can be recognized. This last -position will not be at once admitted; but explanation will justify it. -If, as we have seen, there is an expenditure of mental energy in so -listening to verbal articulations as to identify the words, or in that -silent repetition of them which goes on in reading, then, any mode of -so combining words as to present a regular recurrence of certain traits -which can be anticipated, will diminish that strain on the attention -entailed by the total irregularity of prose. Just as the body, when -receiving a series of varying concussions, must keep its muscles ready -to meet the most violent of them, as not knowing when such may come; -so, the mind when receiving unarranged articulations, must keep its -perceptive faculties active enough to recognize the least easily caught -sounds. And as, if the concussions recur in a definite order, the body -may husband its forces by adjusting the resistance needful for each -concussion; so, if the syllables be rhythmically arranged, the mind may -economize its energies by anticipating the attention required for each -syllable. Far-fetched though this idea will be thought, introspection -countenances it. That we _do_ take advantage of metrical language to -adjust our perceptive faculties to the expected articulations, is clear -from the fact that we are balked by halting versification. Much as at -the bottom of a flight of stairs, a step more or less than we counted -upon gives us a {361} shock; so, too, does a misplaced accent or a -supernumerary syllable. In the one case, we _know_ that there is an -erroneous pre-adjustment; and we can scarcely doubt that there is one -in the other. But if we habitually pre-adjust our perceptions to the -measured movement of verse, the physical analogy above given renders -it probable that by so doing we economize attention; and hence that -metrical language is more effective than prose, because it enables us -to do this. - -Were there space, it might be worth while to inquire whether the -pleasure we take in rhyme, and also that which we take in euphony, are -not partly ascribable to the same general cause. - - * * * * * - -A few paragraphs only, can be devoted to a second division of our -subject. To pursue in detail the laws of effect, as applying to the -larger features of composition, would carry us beyond our limits. But -we may briefly indicate a further aspect of the general principle -hitherto traced, and hint a few of its wider applications. - -Thus far, we have considered only those causes of force in language -which depend on economy of the mental _energies_. We have now to -glance at those which depend on economy of the mental _sensibilities_. -Questionable though this division may be as a psychological one, it -will serve roughly to indicate the remaining field of investigation. -It will suggest that besides considering the extent to which any -faculty or group of faculties is tasked in receiving a form of words -and constructing its contained idea, we have to consider the state -in which this faculty or group of faculties is left; and how the -reception of subsequent sentences and images will be influenced by -that state. Without going fully into so wide a topic as the action -of faculties and its reactive effects, it will suffice to recall -the fact that every faculty is exhausted by exercise. {362} This -generalization, which our bodily experiences force upon us, and which -in daily speech is recognized as true of the mind as a whole, is true -of each mental power, from the simplest of the senses to the most -complex of the sentiments. If we hold a flower to the nose for long, -we become insensible to its scent. We say of a brilliant flash of -lightning that it blinds us; which means that our eyes have for a time -lost their ability to appreciate light. After eating honey, we are -apt to think our tea is without sugar. The phrase “a deafening roar,” -implies that men find a very loud sound temporarily incapacitates them -for hearing faint sounds. To a hand which has for some time carried -a heavy body, small bodies afterwards lifted seem to have lost their -weight. Now, the truth thus exemplified, may be traced throughout. -Alike of the reflective faculties, the imagination, the perceptions -of the beautiful, the ludicrous, the sublime, it may be shown that -action exhausts; and that in proportion as the action is violent the -subsequent prostration is great. - -Equally throughout the whole nature, may be traced the law that -exercised faculties are ever tending to resume their original states. -Not only after continued rest, do they regain their full powers—not -only are brief cessations in the demands on them followed by partial -re-invigoration; but even while they are in action, the resulting -exhaustion is ever being neutralized. The processes of waste and -repair go on together. Hence with faculties habitually exercised—as -the senses of all persons, or the muscles of any one who is strong—it -happens that, during moderate activity, the repair is so nearly equal -to the waste, that the diminution of power is scarcely appreciable. -It is only when effort has been long continued, or has been violent, -that repair becomes so far in arrear of waste as to cause a perceptible -enfeeblement. In all cases, however, when, by the action of a faculty, -waste has been incurred, _some_ lapse {363} of time must take place -before full efficiency can be reacquired; and this time must be long in -proportion as the waste has been great. - -Keeping in mind these general truths, we shall be in a condition -to understand certain causes of effect in composition now to be -considered. Every perception received, and every conception framed, -entailing some amount of waste in the nervous system, and the -efficiency of the faculties employed being for a time, though often -but momentarily, diminished; the resulting partial inability affects -the acts of perception and conception that immediately succeed. Hence -the vividness with which images are pictured must, in many cases, -depend on the order of their presentation; even when one order is as -convenient to the understanding as the other. Sundry facts illustrate -this truth, and are explained by it: instance climax and anti-climax. -The marked effect obtained by placing last the most striking of any -series of ideas, and the weakness—often the ludicrous weakness—produced -by reversing this arrangement, depends on the general law indicated. -As immediately after looking at the sun we cannot perceive the light -of a fire, while by looking at the fire first and the sun afterwards -we can perceive both; so, after receiving a brilliant, or weighty, or -terrible thought, we cannot properly appreciate a less brilliant, less -weighty, or less terrible one, though by reversing the order, we can -appreciate each. In Antithesis, again, the like truth is exemplified. -The opposition of two thoughts which are the reverse of each other in -some prominent trait, insures an impressive effect; and does this by -giving a momentary relaxation to the faculties addressed. If, after a -series of ordinary images exciting in a moderate degree to the emotion -of reverence, or approbation, or beauty, the mind has presented to -it an insignificant, or unworthy, or ugly image; the structure which -yields the emotion of reverence, or approbation, or beauty, having for -the time nothing to do, tends to resume {364} its full power; and -will immediately afterwards appreciate anything vast, admirable, or -beautiful better than it would otherwise do. Conversely, where the idea -of absurdity due to extreme insignificance is to be produced, it may be -intensified by placing it after something impressive; especially if the -form of phrase implies that something still more impressive is coming. -A good illustration of the effect gained by thus presenting a petty -idea to a consciousness which has not yet recovered from the shock of -an exciting one, occurs in a sketch by Balzac. His hero writes to a -mistress who has cooled towards him, the following letter:― - - “Madame,—Votre conduite m’étonne autant qu’elle m’afflige. Non - contente de me déchirer le cœur par vos dédains, vous avez - l’indélicatesse de me retenir une brosse à dents, que mes moyens - ne me permettent pas de remplacer, mes propriétés étant grevées - d’hypothèques au delà de leur valeur. - - “Adieu, trop belle et trop ingrate amie! Puissions-nous nous revoir - dans un monde meilleur! - “CHARLES-EDOUARD.” - -Thus the phenomena of Climax, Antithesis, and Anticlimax, alike result -from this general principle. Improbable as these momentary variations -in susceptibility may seem, we cannot doubt their occurrence when we -contemplate the analogous variations in the susceptibility of the -senses. Every one knows that a patch of black on a white ground looks -blacker, and a patch of white on a black ground looks whiter, than -elsewhere. As the blackness and the whiteness are really the same, -the only assignable cause, is a difference in their actions upon us, -dependent on the different states of our faculties. The effect is due -to a visual antithesis. - -But this extension of the general principle of economy—this further -condition to effective composition, that the sensitiveness of the -faculties must be husbanded—includes much more than has been yet -hinted. Not only does it follow that certain arrangements and certain -juxtapositions of connected ideas are best; but also that some modes -of dividing and presenting a subject will be more striking {365} than -others, irrespective of logical cohesion. We are shown why we must -progress from the less interesting to the more interesting; alike in -the composition as a whole, and in each successive portion. At the -same time, the indicated requirement negatives long continuity of -the same kind of thought, or repeated production of like effects. -It warns us against the error committed by Pope in his poems and by -Bacon in his essays—the error of constantly employing forcible forms -of expression. As the easiest posture by and by becomes fatiguing, -and is with pleasure exchanged for one less easy; so, the most -perfectly-constructed sentences unceasingly used must cause weariness, -and relief will be given by using those of inferior kinds. Further, -we may infer not only that we ought to avoid generally combining our -words in one manner, however good, or working out our figures and -illustrations in one way, however telling; but that we ought to avoid -anything like uniform adherence to the wider conditions of effect. We -should not make every division of our subject progress in interest; we -should not always rise to a climax. As we saw that in single sentences -it is but rarely allowable to fulfil all the conditions to strength; -so, in the larger sections of a composition we must not often conform -entirely to the principles indicated. We must subordinate the component -effects to the total effect. - -The species of composition which the law we have traced out indicates -as the perfect one, is the one which genius tends naturally to produce. -As we found that the kinds of sentence which are theoretically best, -are those commonly employed by superior minds, and by inferior minds -when temporarily exalted; so, we shall find that the ideal form for a -poem, essay, or fiction, is that which the ideal writer would evolve -spontaneously. One in whom the powers of expression fully responded -to the state of feeling, would unconsciously use that variety in the -mode {366} of presenting his thoughts, which Art demands. Constant -employment of one species of phraseology implies an undeveloped -linguistic faculty. To have a specific style is to be poor in speech. -If we remember that in the far past, men had only nouns and verbs to -convey their ideas with, and that from then to now the progress has -been towards more numerous implements of thought, and towards greater -complexity and variety in their combinations; we may infer that, in the -use of sentences, we are at present much what the primitive man was -in the use of words; and that a continuance of the process which has -hitherto gone on, must produce increasing heterogeneity in our modes -of expression. As now, in a fine nature, the play of the features, the -tones of the voice and its cadences, vary in harmony with every thought -uttered; so, in one possessed of fully-developed powers of language, -the mould in which each combination of words is cast will vary with, -and be appropriate to, the mental state. That a perfectly-endowed man -must unconsciously write in all styles, we may infer from considering -how styles originate. Why is Johnson pompous, Goldsmith simple? Why is -one author abrupt, another involved, another concise? Evidently in each -case the habitual mode of utterance depends on the habitual balance of -the nature. The dominant feelings have by use trained the intellect to -represent them. But while long habit has made it do this efficiently, -it remains, from lack of practice, unable to do the like for the less -active feelings; and when these are excited, the usual verbal forms -undergo but slight modifications. But let the ability of the intellect -to represent the mental state be complete, and this fixity of style -will disappear. The perfect writer will be now rhythmical and now -irregular; here his language will be plain and there ornate; sometimes -his sentences will be balanced and at other times unsymmetrical; for -a while there will be considerable sameness, and then again great -variety. His mode of {367} expression naturally responding to his -thought and emotion, there will flow from his pen a composition -changing as the aspects of his subject change. He will thus without -effort conform to what we have seen to be the laws of effect. And -while his work presents to the reader that variety needful to prevent -continuous exertion of the same faculties, it will also answer to the -description of all highly-organized products both of man and nature. It -will be, not a series of like parts simply placed in juxtaposition, but -one whole made up of unlike parts that are mutually dependent. - - -POSTSCRIPT.—The conclusion that because of their comparative brevity -and because of those stronger associations formed by more frequent -use, words of Old-English origin are preferable to words derived from -Latin or Greek, should be taken with two qualifications, which it seems -needful to add here. - -In some cases the word furnished by our original tongue, and the -corresponding word directly or indirectly derived from Latin, though -nominally equivalents, are not actually such; and the word of Latin -origin, by certain extra connotations it has acquired, may be the more -expressive. For instance, we have no word of native origin which can -be advantageously substituted for the word “grand.” No such words as -“big” or “great,” which connote little more than superiority in size -or quantity, can be used instead: they do not imply that qualitative -superiority which is associated with the idea of grandeur. As adopted -into our own language, the word “grand” has been differentiated from -“great” by habitual use in those cases where the greatness has an -æsthetic superiority. In this case, then, a word of Latin origin -is better than its nearest equivalent of native origin, because by -use it has acquired an additional meaning. And here, too, we may -conveniently {368} note the fact that the greater brevity of a word -does not invariably conduce to greater force. Where the word, instead -of being one conveying a subordinate component of the idea the sentence -expresses, is one conveying the central element of the idea, on -which the attention may with advantage rest a moment, a longer word -is sometimes better than a shorter word. Thus it may be held that -the sentence—“It is grand” is not so effective as the sentence—“It -is magnificent.” Besides the fact that here greater length of the -word favours a longer dwelling on the essential part of the thought, -there is the fact that its greater length, aided by its division -into syllables, gives opportunity for a cadence appropriate to the -feeling produced by the thing characterized. By an ascent of the voice -on the syllable “nif,” and an utterance of this syllable, not only -in a higher note, but with greater emphasis than the preceding or -succeeding syllables, there is implied that emotion which contemplation -of the object produces; and the emotion thus implied is, by sympathy, -communicated. One may say that in the case of these two words, if the -imposingness is alone to be considered, the word “magnificent” may with -advantage be employed; but if the sentence expresses a proposition -in which, not the imposingness itself, but something _about_ the -imposingness, is to be expressed, then the word “grand” is preferable. - -The second qualification above referred to, concerns the superiority -of words derived from Latin or Greek, in cases where more or less -abstract ideas have to be expressed. In such cases it is undesirable -to use words having concrete associations; for such words, by the very -vividness with which they call up thoughts of particular objects or -particular actions, impede the formation of conceptions which refer, -not to particular objects and actions, but to general truths concerning -objects or actions of kinds that are more or less various. Thus, such -an expression as “the colligation of facts” is better for philosophical -purposes than such {369} an expression as “the tying together of -facts.” This last expression cannot be used without suggesting the -thought of a bundle of material things bound up by a string or cord—a -thought which, in so far as the materiality of its components is -concerned, conflicts with the conception to be suggested. Though it is -true that when its derivation is remembered, “colligation” raises the -same thought, yet, as the thought is not so promptly or irresistibly -raised, it stands less in the way of the abstract conception with which -attention should be exclusively occupied. - - -ENDNOTE TO _THE PHILOSOPHY OF STYLE_. - -[54] Properly the term “simile” is applicable only to the entire -figure, including the two things compared and the comparison drawn -between them. But as there exists no name for the illustrative member -of the figure, there seems no alternative but to employ “simile” to -express this also. The context will in each case show in which sense -the word is used. - - - - -{370} - -USE AND BEAUTY. - - -[_First published in_ The Leader _for January 3, 1852._] - -In one of his essays, Emerson remarks, that what Nature at one time -provides for use, she afterwards turns to ornament; and he cites in -illustration the structure of a sea-shell, in which the parts that have -for a while formed the mouth are at the next season of growth left -behind, and become decorative nodes and spines. - -Ignoring the implied teleology, which does not here concern us, it has -often occurred to me that this same remark might be extended to the -progress of Humanity. Here, too, the appliances of one era serve as -embellishments to the next. Equally in institutions, creeds, customs, -and superstitions, we may trace this evolution of beauty out of what -was once purely utilitarian. - -The contrast between the feeling with which we regard portions of the -Earth’s surface still left in their original state, and the feeling -with which the savage regarded them, is an instance that comes first -in order of time. If any one walking over Hampstead Heath, will note -how strongly its picturesqueness is brought out by contrast with -the surrounding cultivated fields and the masses of houses lying -in the distance; and will further reflect that, had this irregular -gorse-covered surface extended on all sides to the horizon, it {371} -would have looked dreary and prosaic rather than pleasing; he will -see that to the primitive man a country so clothed presented no beauty -at all. To him it was merely a haunt of wild animals, and a ground -out of which roots might be dug. What have become for us places of -relaxation and enjoyment—places for afternoon strolls and for gathering -flowers—were his places for labour and food, probably arousing in his -mind none but utilitarian associations. - -Ruined castles afford obvious instances of this metamorphosis of the -useful into the beautiful. To feudal barons and their retainers, -security was the chief, if not the only end, sought in choosing the -sites and styles of their strongholds. Probably they aimed as little at -the picturesque as do the builders of cheap brick houses in our modern -towns. Yet what were erected for shelter and safety, and what in those -early days fulfilled an important function in the social economy, have -now assumed a purely ornamental character. They serve as scenes for -picnics; pictures of them decorate our drawing-rooms; and each supplies -its surrounding districts with legends for Christmas Eve. - -On following out the train of thought suggested by this last -illustration, we may see that not only do the material exuviæ of past -social states become the ornaments of our landscapes; but that past -habits, manners, and arrangements, serve as ornamental elements in -our literature. The tyrannies which, to the serfs who bore them, were -harsh and dreary facts; the feuds which, to those who took part in -them, were very practical life-and-death affairs; the mailed, moated, -sentinelled security which was irksome to the nobles who needed it; the -imprisonments, and tortures, and escapes, which were stern and quite -prosaic realities to all concerned in them; have become to us material -for romantic tales—material which, when woven into Ivanhoes and -Marmions, serves for amusement in leisure hours, and becomes poetical -by contrast with our daily lives. - -Thus, also, is it with extinct creeds. Stonehenge, which {372} in the -hands of the Druids had a governmental influence over men, is in our -day a place for antiquarian excursions; and its attendant priests are -worked up into an opera. Greek sculptures, preserved for their beauty -in our galleries of art, and copied for the decoration of pleasure -grounds and entrance halls, once lived in men’s minds as gods demanding -obedience; as did also the grotesque idols that now amuse the visitors -to our museums. - -Equally marked is this change of function in the case of minor -superstitions. The fairy lore, which in past times was matter of -grave belief, and held sway over people’s conduct, have since been -transformed into ornament for _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_, _The -Tempest_, _The Fairy Queen,_ and endless small tales and poems; and -still affords subjects for children’s story-books, themes for ballets, -and plots for Planché’s burlesques. Gnomes, and genii, and afrits, -losing their terrors, give piquancy to the woodcuts in our illustrated -edition of the _Arabian Nights_. While ghost-stories, and tales -of magic and witchcraft, after serving to amuse boys and girls in -their leisure hours, become matter for jocose allusions that enliven -tea-table conversation. - -Even our serious literature and our speeches are relieved by ornaments -drawn from such sources. A Greek myth is often used as a parallel by -which to vary the monotony of some grave argument. The lecturer breaks -the dead level of his practical discourse by illustrations drawn from -bygone customs, events, or beliefs. And metaphors, similarly derived, -give brilliancy to political orations, and to _Times_ leading articles. - -Indeed, on careful inquiry, I think it will be found that we turn to -purposes of beauty most byegone phenomena which are at all conspicuous. -The busts of great men in our libraries, and their tombs in our -churches; the once useful but now purely ornamental heraldic symbols; -the monks, nuns, and convents, which give interest to a certain class -of novels; the bronze mediæval soldiers used for {373} embellishing -drawing-rooms; the gilt Apollos which recline on time-pieces; the -narratives that serve as plots for our great dramas; and the events -that afford subjects for historical pictures;—these and such like -illustrations of the metamorphosis of the useful into the beautiful, -are so numerous as to suggest that, did we search diligently enough, -we should find that in some place, or under some circumstance, nearly -every notable product of the past has assumed a decorative character. - -And here the mention of historical pictures reminds me that an -inference may be drawn from all this, bearing directly on the practice -of art. It has of late years been a frequent criticism upon our -historical painters, that they err in choosing their subjects from -the past; and that, would they found a genuine and vital school, they -must render on canvas the life and deeds and aims of our own time. If, -however, there be any significance in the foregoing facts, it seems -doubtful whether this criticism is a just one. For if it be the course -of things that what has performed some active function in society -during one era, becomes available for ornament in a subsequent one; it -almost follows that, conversely, whatever is performing some active -function now, or has very recently performed one, does not possess the -ornamental character; and is, consequently, inapplicable to any purpose -of which beauty is the aim, or of which it is a needful ingredient. - -Still more reasonable will this conclusion appear, when we consider -the nature of this process by which the useful is changed into the -ornamental. An essential pre-requisite to all beauty is _contrast_. -To obtain artistic effect, light must be put in juxtaposition with -shade, bright colours with dull colours, a fretted surface with a plain -one. _Forte_ passages in music must have _piano_ passages to relieve -them; concerted pieces need interspersing with solos; and rich chords -must not be continuously repeated. In the drama we demand contrast -of characters, of scenes, of sentiment, of {374} style. In prose -composition an eloquent passage should have a comparatively plain -setting; and in poems great effect is obtained by occasional change -of versification. This general principle will, I think, explain the -transformation of the bygone useful into the present beautiful. It -is by virtue of their contrast with our present modes of life, that -past modes of life look interesting and romantic. Just as a picnic, -which is a temporary return to an aboriginal condition, derives, from -its unfamiliarity, a certain poetry which it would not have were it -habitual; so, everything ancient gains, from its relative novelty to -us, an element of interest. Gradually as, by the growth of society, we -leave behind the customs, manners, arrangements, and all the products, -material and mental, of a bygone age—gradually as we recede from these -so far that there arises a conspicuous difference between them and -those we are familiar with; so gradually do they begin to assume to us -a poetical aspect, and become applicable for ornament. And hence it -follows that things and events which are close to us, and which are -accompanied by associations of ideas not markedly contrasted with our -ordinary associations, are _relatively_ inappropriate for purposes -of art. I say relatively because an incident of modern life or even -of daily life may acquire adequate fitness for art purposes by an -unusualness of some other kind than that due to unlikeness between past -and present. - - - - -{375} - -THE SOURCES OF ARCHITECTURAL TYPES. - - -[_First published in_ The Leader _for October 23, 1852._] - -When lately looking through the gallery of the Old Water-Colour -Society, I was struck with the incongruity produced by putting regular -architecture into irregular scenery. In one case, where the artist had -introduced a symmetrical Grecian edifice into a mountainous and wild -landscape, the discordant effect was particularly marked. “How very -unpicturesque,” said a lady to her friend, as they passed; showing that -I was not alone in my opinion. Her phrase, however, set me speculating. -Why unpicturesque? Picturesque means, like a picture—like what men -choose for pictures. Why then should this be not fit for a picture? - -Thinking the matter over, it seemed to me that the artist had sinned -against that harmony of sentiment which is essential to a good picture. -When the other constituents of a landscape have irregular forms, any -artificial structure introduced should have an irregular form, that -it may seem _part_ of the landscape. The same general character must -pervade it and the surrounding objects; otherwise it, and the scene -amid which it stands, become not _one_ thing but _two_ things; and -we say that it looks out of place. Or, speaking psychologically, -the associated ideas called {376} up by a building with its wings, -windows, columns, and all its parts symmetrically disposed, differ -widely from the ideas associated with an unsymmetrical landscape; and -the one set of ideas tends to banish the other. - -Pursuing the train of thought, sundry illustrative facts came to mind. -I remembered that a castle, which is usually more irregular in outline -than any other kind of building, pleases us most when seated amid -crags and precipices; while a castle on a plain seems incongruous. -The partly-regular and partly-irregular forms of our old farm-houses, -and our gabled gothic manors and abbeys, appear quite in harmony -with an undulating, wooded country. In towns we prefer symmetrical -architecture; and in towns it produces in us no feeling of incongruity, -because all surrounding things—men, horses, vehicles—are symmetrical -also. - -And here I was reminded of a notion that has frequently recurred to me; -namely, that there is some relationship between the several kinds of -architecture and the several classes of natural objects. Buildings in -the Greek and Roman styles seem, in virtue of their symmetry, to take -their type from animal life. In the partially-irregular Gothic, ideas -derived from the vegetable world appear to predominate. And wholly -irregular buildings, such as castles, may be considered as having -inorganic forms for their basis. - -Whimsical as this speculation looks at first sight, it is countenanced -by numerous facts. The connexion between symmetrical architecture and -animal forms, may be inferred from the _kind_ of symmetry we expect, -and are satisfied with, in regular buildings. In a Greek temple we -require that the front shall be symmetrical in itself, and that the two -flanks shall be alike; but we do not look for uniformity between the -flanks and the front, nor between the front and the back. The identity -of this symmetry with that found in animals is obvious. Again, why is -it that a {377} building making any pretensions to symmetry displeases -us if not quite symmetrical? Probably the reply will be—Because we -see that the designer’s idea is not fully carried out; and that -hence our love of completeness is offended. But then there come the -further questions—How do we know that the architect’s conception was -symmetrical? Whence comes this notion of symmetry which we have, and -which we attribute to him? Unless we fall back upon the old doctrine -of innate ideas, we must admit that the idea of bi-lateral symmetry is -derived from without; and to admit this is to admit that it is derived -from the higher animals. - -That there is some relationship between Gothic architecture and vegetal -forms is generally admitted. The often-remarked similarity between a -groined nave and an avenue of trees with interlacing branches, shows -that the fact has forced itself on observation. It is not only in -this, however, that the kinship is seen. It is seen still better in -the essential characteristic of Gothic; namely, what is termed its -_aspiring_ tendency. That predominance of vertical lines which so -strongly distinguishes Gothic from other styles, is the most marked -peculiarity of trees, when compared with animals or rocks. A tall -Gothic tower, with its elongated apertures and clusters of thin -projections running from bottom to top, suggests a vague idea of growth. - -Of the alleged connexion between inorganic forms and the wholly -irregular and the castellated styles of building, we have, I think, -some proof in the fact that when an edifice is irregular, the _more_ -irregular it is the more it pleases us. I see no way of accounting for -this fact, save by supposing that the greater the irregularity the more -strongly are we reminded of the inorganic forms typified, and the more -vividly are aroused the agreeable ideas of rugged and romantic scenery -associated with those forms. - -Further evidence of these relationships of styles of {378} -architecture to classes of natural objects, is supplied by the -kinds of decoration they respectively present. The public buildings -of Greece, while characterized in their outlines by the bi-lateral -symmetry seen in the higher animals, have their pediments and -entablatures covered with sculptured men and beasts. Egyptian temples -and Assyrian palaces, similarly symmetrical in their general plan, are -similarly ornamented on their walls and at their doors. In Gothic, -again, with its grove-like ranges of clustered columns, we find rich -foliated ornaments abundantly employed. And accompanying the totally -irregular, inorganic outlines of old castles, we see neither vegetal -nor animal decorations. The bare, rock-like walls are surmounted by -battlements, consisting of almost plain blocks, which remind us of the -projections on the edge of a rugged cliff. - -But perhaps the most significant fact is the harmony observable between -each type of architecture and the scenes in which it is indigenous. -For what is the explanation of this harmony, unless it be that -the predominant character of surrounding things has, in some way, -determined the mode of building adopted? - -That the harmony exists is clear. Equally in the cases of Egypt, -Assyria, Greece, and Rome, town life preceded the construction of the -symmetrical buildings that have come down to us. And town life is one -in which, as already observed, the majority of familiar objects are -symmetrical. We habitually feel the naturalness of this association. -Amid the fields, a formal house, with a central door flanked by equal -numbers of windows to right and left, strikes us as unrural—looks as -though transplanted from a street; and we cannot look at one of those -stuccoed villas, with mock-windows arranged to balance the real ones, -without being reminded of the suburban residence of a retired tradesman. - -In styles indigenous in the country, we not only find {379} the -general irregularity characteristic of surrounding things, but we may -trace some kinship between each kind of irregularity and the local -circumstances. We see the broken rocky masses amid which castles are -often placed, mirrored in their stern, inorganic forms. In abbeys, and -such-like buildings, which are commonly found in sheltered districts, -we find no such violent dislocations of masses and outlines; and the -nakedness appropriate to the fortress is replaced by decorations -reflecting the neighbouring woods. Between a Swiss cottage and a Swiss -view there is an evident relationship. The angular roof, so bold and -so disproportionately large when compared to other roofs, reminds one -of the adjacent mountain peaks; and the broad overhanging eaves have -a sweep and inclination like those of the lower branches of a pine -tree. Consider, too, the apparent kinship between the flat roofs that -prevail in Eastern cities, interspersed with occasional minarets, and -the plains that commonly surround them, dotted here and there by palm -trees. Contemplate a picture of one of these places, and you are struck -by the predominance of horizontal lines, and their harmony with the -wide stretch of the landscape. - -That the congruity here pointed out should hold in every case must -not be expected. The Pyramids, for example, do not seem to come -under this generalization. Their repeated horizontal lines do indeed -conform to the flatness of the neighbouring desert; but their general -contour seems to have no adjacent analogue. Considering, however, -that migrating races, carrying their architectural systems with them, -would naturally produce buildings having no relationship to their new -localities; and that it is not always possible to distinguish styles -which are indigenous, from those which are naturalized; numerous -anomalies must be looked for. - -The general idea above illustrated will perhaps be somewhat -misinterpreted. Possibly some will take the {380} proposition to -be that men _intentionally_ gave to their buildings the leading -characteristics of neighbouring objects. But this is not what is -meant. I do not suppose that they did so in times past, any more -than they do so now. The hypothesis is, that in their choice of -forms men are unconsciously influenced by the forms encircling them. -That flat-roofed, symmetrical architecture should have originated -in the East, among pastoral tribes surrounded by their herds and by -wide plains, seems to imply that the builders were swayed by the -horizontality and symmetry to which they were habituated. And the -harmony which we have found to exist in other cases between indigenous -styles and their localities, implies the general action of like -influences. Indeed, on considering the matter psychologically, I do -not see how it could well be otherwise. For as all conceptions must be -made up of images, and parts of images, received through the senses; -and as imagination will most readily run in the direction of habitual -perceptions; it follows that the characteristic which predominates in -habitual perceptions must impress itself on designs. - - - - -{381} - -GRACEFULNESS. - - -[_First published in_ The Leader _for December 25, 1852._] - -We do not ascribe gracefulness to cart-horses, tortoises, and -hippopotami, in all of which the powers of movement are relatively -inferior; but we ascribe it to greyhounds, antelopes, race-horses, all -of which have highly efficient locomotive organs. What, then, is this -distinctive peculiarity of structure and action which we call Grace? - -One night while watching a dancer, and inwardly condemning her _tours -de force_ as barbarisms which would be hissed, were not people such -cowards as always to applaud what they think it the fashion to applaud, -I remarked that the truly graceful motions occasionally introduced, -were those performed with comparatively little effort. After calling to -mind sundry confirmatory facts, I presently concluded that grace, as -applied to motion, describes motion that is effected with economy of -force; grace, as applied to animal forms, describes forms capable of -this economy; grace, as applied to postures, describes postures which -may be maintained with this economy; and grace, as applied to inanimate -objects, describes such as exhibit certain analogies to these attitudes -and forms. - -That this generalization, if not the whole truth, contains at least a -large part of it, will, I think, become obvious, on {382} considering -how habitually we couple the words _easy_ and _graceful_; and still -more, on calling to mind some of the facts on which this association -is based. The attitude of a soldier, drawing himself bolt upright when -his serjeant shouts “attention,” is more remote from gracefulness than -when he relaxes at the words “stand at ease.” The _gauche_ visitor -sitting stiffly on the edge of his chair, and his self-possessed host, -whose limbs and body dispose themselves as convenience dictates, are -contrasts as much in effort as in elegance. When standing, we commonly -economise power by throwing the weight chiefly on one leg, which we -straighten to make it serve as a column, while we relax the other; and -to the same end, we allow the head to lean somewhat on one side. Both -these attitudes are imitated in sculpture as elements of grace. - -Turning from attitudes to movements, current remarks will be found to -imply the same relationship. No one praises as graceful, a walk that -is irregular or jerking, and so displays waste of power; no one sees -any beauty in the waddle of a fat man, or the trembling steps of an -invalid, in both of which effort is visible. But the style of walking -we admire is moderate in velocity, perfectly rhythmical, unaccompanied -by violent swinging of the arms, and giving us the impression that -there is no conscious exertion, while there is no force thrown away. -In dancing, again, the prevailing difficulty—the proper disposal of -the arms—well illustrates the same truth. Those who fail in overcoming -this difficulty give the spectator the impression that their arms are -a trouble to them; they are held stiffly in some meaningless attitude, -at an obvious expense of power; they are checked from swinging in the -directions in which they would naturally swing; or they are so moved -that, instead of helping to maintain the equilibrium, they endanger it. -A good dancer, on the contrary, makes us feel that, so far from the -arms being in the way, they are of great use. Each {383} motion of -them, while it seems naturally to result from a previous motion of the -body, is turned to some advantage. We perceive that it has facilitated -instead of hindered the general action; or, in other words—that an -economy of effort has been achieved. Any one wishing to distinctly -realize this fact, may readily do so by studying the action of the -arms in walking. Let him place his arms close to his sides, and there -keep them, while walking with some rapidity. He will unavoidably fall -into a backward and forward motion of the shoulders, of a wriggling, -ungraceful character. After persevering in this for a space, until he -finds that the action is not only ungraceful but fatiguing, let him -allow his arms to swing as usual. The wriggling of the shoulders will -cease; the body will move equably forward; and comparative ease will -be felt. On analyzing this fact, he may perceive that the backward -motion of each arm is simultaneous with the forward motion of the -corresponding leg. If he will attend to his muscular sensations, he -will find that this backward swing of the arm is a counterbalance to -the forward swing of the leg; and that it is easier to produce this -counterbalance by moving the arm than by contorting the body, as he -otherwise must do.[55] - -The action of the arms in walking being thus understood, it will be -manifest that the graceful employment of them in dancing is simply a -complication of the same thing; and that a good dancer is one having so -acute a muscular perception as at once to feel in what direction the -arms {384} should be moved to counterbalance any motion of the body or -legs. - -This connexion between gracefulness and economy of force, will be -most clearly recognized by those who skate. They will remember that -all early attempts, and especially the first timid experiments -in figure-skating, are alike awkward and fatiguing; and that the -acquirement of skill is also the acquirement of ease. The requisite -confidence, and a due command of the feet having been obtained, those -twistings of the trunk and gyrations of the arms, previously used to -maintain the balance, are found needless. The body is allowed to follow -without control the impulse given to it; the arms to swing where they -will; and it is clearly felt that the graceful way of performing any -evolution is the way that costs least effort. Spectators can scarcely -fail to see the same fact, if they look for it. - -The reference to skating suggests that graceful motion might be defined -as motion in curved lines. Certainly, straight and zig-zag movements -are excluded from the conception. The sudden stoppages which angular -movements imply, are its antithesis; for a leading trait of grace is -continuity, flowingness. It will be found, however, that this is merely -another aspect of the same truth; and that motion in curved lines is -economical motion. Given certain successive positions to be assumed by -a limb, then if it be moved in a straight line to the first of these -positions, suddenly arrested, and then moved in another direction -straight to the second position, and so on, it is clear that at each -arrest, the momentum previously given to the limb must be destroyed at -a certain cost of force, {385} and a new momentum given to it at a -further cost of force; whereas, if, instead of arresting the limb at -its first position, its motion be allowed to continue, and a lateral -force be impressed to make it diverge towards the second position, a -curvilinear motion is the necessary result; and by making use of the -original momentum, force is economized. - -If the truth of these conclusions respecting graceful movements be -admitted, it cannot, I think, be doubted, that graceful form is that -kind of form which implies relatively small effort required for -self-support, and relatively small effort required for movement. Were -it otherwise, there would arise the incongruity that graceful form -would either not be associated at all with graceful movement, or that -the one would habitually occur in the absence of the other; both which -alternatives being at variance with our experience, we must conclude -that there exists the relationship indicated. Any one hesitating to -admit this, will, I think, do so no longer on remembering that the -animals which we consider graceful, are those so slight in build as -not to be burdened by their own weight, and those noted for fleetness -and agility; while those we class as ungraceful, are those which are -alike cumbrous and have the faculty of locomotion but little developed. -In the case of the greyhound, especially, we see that the particular -modification of the canine type in which economy of weight is the most -conspicuous, and in which the facility of muscular motion has been -brought to the greatest perfection, is the one which we call most -graceful. - -How trees and inanimate objects should come to have this epithet -applied to them, seems less obvious. But remembrance of the fact -that we commonly, and perhaps unavoidably, regard all objects under -a certain anthropomorphic aspect, will help us to understand it. The -stiff branch of an oak tree standing out at right angles to the trunk, -gives us a vague notion of great force expended to {386} keep it in -that position; and we call it ungraceful, under the same feeling that -we call the holding out an arm at right angles to the body ungraceful. -Conversely, the lax drooping boughs of a weeping-willow are vaguely -associated with limbs in attitudes requiring little effort to maintain -them; and the term graceful, by which we describe these, we apply by -metaphor to the boughs of the willow. - -I may as well here venture the hypothesis, that the idea of Grace as -displayed by other beings, has its subjective basis in Sympathy. The -same faculty which makes us shudder on seeing another in danger—which -sometimes causes motions of our own limbs on seeing another struggle -or fall, gives us a vague participation in all the muscular sensations -which those around us are experiencing. When their motions are violent -or awkward, we feel in a slight degree the disagreeable sensations -which we should have were they our own. When they are easy, we -sympathize with the pleasant sensations they imply in those exhibiting -them. - - -ENDNOTE TO _GRACEFULNESS_. - -[55] A parallel fact, further elucidating this, is supplied by a -locomotive engine. On looking at the driving wheel, there will be -found, besides the boss to which the connecting rod is attached, a -corresponding mass of metal on the opposite side of the wheel, and -equidistant from the centre; or, if the engine be one having inside -cylinders, then, on looking between the spokes of the driving-wheel, -it will be seen that against each crank is a block of iron, similar -to it in size, but projecting from the axle in the reverse direction. -Evidently, being placed on opposite sides of the centre of motion, each -crank and its counterbalance move in opposite directions relatively to -the axle; and by so doing, neutralize each other’s perturbing effects, -and permit a smooth rotation. This relationship which exists between -the motions of the counterbalance and the crank, is analogous to that -which exists between the motions of the arms and legs in walking; and -in the early days of railway-locomotion, before these counterbalance -weights were used, locomotive driving-wheels were subject to violent -oscillations, analogous to those jerkings of the shoulders which arise -when we walk fast without moving our arms. - - - - -{387} - -PERSONAL BEAUTY. - - -[_First published in_ The Leader _for April 15, and May 13, 1854._] - - -It is a common opinion that beauty of character and beauty of aspect -are unrelated. I have never been able to reconcile myself to this -opinion. Indeed, even those who hold it do so in an incomplete sense; -for notwithstanding their theory they continue to manifest surprise -when they find a mean deed committed by one of noble countenance—a fact -implying that underneath their professed induction lies a still living -conviction at variance with it. - -Whence this conviction? How is it that a belief in the connexion -between worth and beauty primarily exists in all? It cannot be innate. -Must it not, then, be from early experiences? And must it not be that -in those who continue to believe in this connexion, spite of their -reasonings, the early and wide experiences outweigh the later and -exceptional ones? - -Those who do not admit the relationship between mental and facial -beauty, usually remark that the true connexion is between character -and expression. While they doubt, or rather deny, that the _permanent_ -forms of the features are {388} in any way indices of the forms of -the mind, they assert that the _transitory_ forms of the features are -such indices. These positions seem scarcely consistent. For may we -not say that the transitory forms, by perpetual repetition, register -themselves on the face, and _produce_ permanent forms? Does not an -habitual frown by-and-by leave ineffaceable marks on the brow? Is not -a chronic scornfulness presently followed by a modified set in the -angles of the mouth? Does not that compression of the lips significant -of great determination, often stereotype itself; and so give a changed -form to the lower part of the face? And if there be any truth in the -doctrine of hereditary transmission, must there not be a tendency to -the re-appearance of these modifications as new types of feature in the -offspring? In brief, may we not say that _expression is feature in the -making_; and that if expression means something, the form of feature -produced by it means something? - -Possibly it will be urged, in reply, that changes of expression affect -only the muscles and skin of the face; that the permanent marks they -produce can extend but to these; that, nevertheless, the beauty of -a face is mainly dependent upon the form of its bony framework; -that hence, in this chief respect, there cannot take place such -modifications as those described; and that, therefore, the relationship -of aspect to character, while it may hold in the details, does not hold -in the generals. - -The rejoinder is, that the framework of the face _is_ modified by -modifications in the tissues which cover it. It is an established -doctrine in physiology, that throughout the skeleton the greater -or less development of bones is dependent on the greater or less -development of the attached muscles; that is, on the exercise of them. -Hence, permanent changes in the muscular adjustments of the face will -be followed by permanent changes in its osseous structure. - -Not to dwell in general statements, however, let me cite cases in which -the connexion between organic ugliness and {389} mental inferiority, -and the converse connexion between organic beauty and comparative -perfection of mind, are distinctly traceable. - -It will be admitted that the projecting jaw, characteristic of the -lower human races, is a facial defect—is a trait which no sculptor -would give to an ideal bust. At the same time, it is a fact that -prominence of jaw is associated in the mammalia generally with -comparative lack of intelligence. This relationship, it is true, does -not hold uniformly. It is not a direct but an indirect one; and is thus -liable to be disturbed. Nevertheless, it holds among the higher tribes; -and on inquiry we shall see why it holds. In conformity with the law -that organs develop in proportion as they are exercised, the jaws are -relatively large where the demands made on them are great; and diminish -in size as their functions become less numerous and less onerous. Now, -in the lower mammals the jaws are the sole organs of manipulation—are -used not only for mastication, but for seizing, carrying, gnawing, and, -indeed, for everything save locomotion, which is the solitary office -performed by the limbs. Advancing upwards, we find that the fore-limbs -begin to aid the jaws, and gradually to relieve them of part of their -duties. Some creatures use them for burrowing; some, as the felines, -for striking; many, to keep steady the prey they are tearing; and -when we arrive at the monkeys, whose fore-limbs possess such power -of prehension that objects can not only be seized, but carried and -pulled to pieces by them, we see that the jaws have fewer functions. -Accompanying this series of changes, we see a double change in the form -of the head. The increased complexity of the limbs, the greater variety -of actions they perform, and the more numerous perceptions they give, -imply a greater development of the brain and of its bony envelope. At -the same time, the size of the jaws has diminished in correspondence -with the diminution of their functions. And by this simultaneous -protrusion of the upper part of the cranium {390} and recession of its -lower part, what is called the _facial angle_ has increased. - -Well, these co-ordinate changes in functions and forms have continued -during the civilization of the human race. On contrasting the European -and the Papuan, we see that what the one cuts in two with knife and -fork, the other tears with his jaws; what the one softens by cooking, -the other eats in its hard, raw state; the bones which the one -utilises by stewing, the other gnaws; and for sundry of the mechanical -manipulations which the one has tools for, the other uses his teeth. -From the Bushman state upwards, there has been a gradual increase -in the complexity of our appliances. We not only use our hands to -save our jaws, but we make implements to save our hands; and in our -engine-factories may be found implements for the making of implements. -This progression in the arts of life has had intellectual progression -for its necessary correlative. Each new complication requires a new -increment of intelligence for its production; and the daily use of -it develops the intelligence still further. Thus that simultaneous -protrusion of the brain and recession of the jaws, which among lower -animals has accompanied increase of skill and sagacity, has continued -during the advance of Humanity from barbarism to civilization; and has -been, throughout, the result of a discipline involving increase of -mental power. And so it becomes manifest that there exists an organic -relationship between that protuberance of the jaws which we consider -ugly, and a certain inferiority of nature. - -Again, that lateral jutting-out of the cheek-bones, which similarly -characterizes the lower races of men, and which is similarly thought -by us a detraction from beauty, is similarly related to lower habits -and lower intelligence. The chief agents in closing the jaws are the -temporal muscles; and these are consequently the chief active agents -in biting and mastication. In proportion as the jaws have much work, -and correspondingly large size, must the temporal muscles {391} be -massive. But the temporal muscles pass between the skull and the -zygomatic arches, or lateral parts of the cheek-bones. Consequently, -where the temporal muscles are massive, the spaces between the -zygomatic arches and the skull must be great; and the lateral -projection of the zygomatic arches great also, as we see it in the -uncivilized and partially civilized races. Like large jaws, therefore, -of which it is an accompaniment, excessive size of the cheek-bones is -both an ugliness and an index of imperfection. - -Certain other defects of feature, between which and mental defects it -is not thus easy to trace the connexion, may yet be fairly presumed -to have such connexion in virtue of their constant co-existence with -the foregoing ones: alike in the uncivilized races and in the young -of the civilized races. Peculiarities of face which we find regularly -associated with those just shown to be significant of intellectual -inferiority, and which like them disappear as barbarism grows into -civilization, may reasonably be concluded to have like them a -psychological meaning. Thus is it with depression of the bridge of the -nose; which is a characteristic both of barbarians and of our babes, -possessed by them in common with the higher quadrumana. Thus, also, -is it with that forward opening of the nostrils, which renders them -conspicuous in a front view of the face—a trait alike of infants, -savages, and apes. And the same may be said of wide-spread alæ to -the nose, of great width between the eyes, of long mouth, of large -mouth,—indeed of all those leading peculiarities of feature which are -by general consent called ugly. - -And then mark how, conversely, the type of face usually admitted to -be the most beautiful, is one that possesses opposite peculiarities. -In the ideal Greek head, the forehead projects so much, and the jaws -recede so much, as to render the facial angle larger than we ever find -it in fact. The cheek-bones are so small as scarcely to be traceable. -The bridge of the nose is so high as to be almost or quite in {392} -a line with the forehead. The alæ of the nose join the face with but -little obliquity. In the front view the nostrils are almost invisible. -The mouth is small, and the upper lip short and deeply concave. The -outer angles of the eyes, instead of keeping the horizontal line, as -is usual, or being directed upwards, as in the Mongolian type, are -directed slightly downwards. And the form of the brow indicates an -unusually large frontal sinus—a characteristic entirely absent in -children, in the lowest of the human races, and in the allied genera of -the _primates_. - -If, then, recession of the forehead, protuberance of the jaws, and -largeness of the cheek-bones, three leading elements of ugliness, -are demonstrably indicative of mental inferiority—if such other -facial defects as great width between the eyes, flatness of the nose, -spreading of its alæ, frontward opening of the nostrils, length of -the mouth, and largeness of the lips, are habitually associated with -these, and disappear along with them as intelligence increases, both -in the race and in the individual; is it not a fair inference that -all such faulty traits of feature signify deficiencies of mind? If, -further, our ideal of human beauty is characterized not simply by the -absence of these traits, but by the presence of opposite ones—if this -ideal, as found in sculptures of the Greek gods, has been used to -represent superhuman power and intelligence—and if the race so using -it were themselves distinguished by a mental superiority, which, if -we consider their disadvantages, produced results unparalleled; have -we not yet stronger reasons for concluding that the chief components -of beauty and ugliness are severally connected with perfection and -imperfection of mental nature? And when, lastly, we remember that -the variations of feature constituting expression are confessedly -significant of character—when we remember that these tend by repetition -to organize themselves, to affect not only the skin and muscles -but the bones of the face, and to be transmitted to offspring—when -we thus find that there is a {393} psychological meaning alike in -each passing adjustment of the features, in the marks that habitual -adjustments leave, in the marks inherited from ancestors, and in -those main outlines of the facial bones and integuments indicating -the type or race; are we not almost forced to the conclusion that all -forms of feature are related to forms of mind, and that we consider -them admirable or otherwise according as the traits of nature they -imply are admirable or otherwise? In the extremes the relationship is -demonstrable. That transitory aspects of face accompany transitory -mental states, and that we consider these aspects ugly or beautiful -according as the mental states they accompany are ugly or beautiful, -no one doubts. That those permanent and most marked aspects of face -dependent on the bony framework, accompany those permanent and -most marked mental states which express themselves in barbarism -and civilization; and that we consider as beautiful those which -accompany mental superiority, and as ugly those which accompany mental -inferiority, is equally certain. And if this connexion unquestionably -holds in the extremes—if, as judged by average facts, and by our -half-instinctive convictions, it also holds more or less visibly in -intermediate cases, it becomes an almost irresistible induction, that -the aspects which please us are the outward correlatives of inward -perfections, while the aspects which displease us are the outward -correlatives of inward imperfections. - -I am quite aware that when tested in detail this induction seems not -to be borne out. I know that there are often grand natures behind -plain faces; and that fine countenances frequently hide small souls. -But these anomalies do not destroy the general truth of the law, any -more than the perturbations of planets destroy the general ellipticity -of their orbits. Some of them, indeed, may be readily accounted for. -There are many faces spoiled by the misproportion of features that are -in themselves good; others, by defects of skin, which, though they -indicate defects of {394} visceral constitution, have no relationship -to the higher parts of the nature. Moreover the facts that have been -assigned afford reason for thinking that the leading elements of facial -beauty are not directly associated with _moral_ characteristics, but -with _intellectual_ ones—are the results of long-continued civilized -habits, long cessation of domestic barbarism, long culture of the -manipulative powers; and so may co-exist with emotional traits not at -all admirable. It is true that the highest intellectual manifestations -imply a good balance of the higher feelings; but it is also true that -great quickness, great sagacity in ordinary affairs, great practical -skill, can be possessed without these, and very frequently are so. The -prevalent beauty of the Italians, co-existing though it does with a -low moral state, becomes, on this hypothesis, reconcileable with the -general induction; as do also many of the anomalies we see around us. - -There is, however, a more satisfactory explanation to be offered than -any of these—an explanation which I think renders it possible to admit -the seeming contradictions which the detailed facts present, and yet -to hold by the theory. But as more space will be required for showing -this than can here be spared, I must defer going further until next -week. In the meantime, my own conviction may be expressed in a formula -in which I have often before uttered it:—The saying that beauty is but -skin-deep, is but a skin-deep saying. - - -II. - -All the civilized races, and probably also the uncivilized ones, are -of mixed origin; and, as a consequence, have physical and mental -constitutions in which are mingled several aboriginal constitutions -more or less differing from each other. This heterogeneity of -constitution seems to me the chief cause of the incongruities between -aspect and nature which we daily meet with. Given a pure race, subject -to constant conditions of climate, food, and habits {395} of life, -and there is reason to believe that between external appearance and -internal structure there will be a constant connexion. Unite this race -with another equally pure, but adapted to different conditions and -having a correspondingly different physique, face, and mind, and there -will occur in the descendants, not a homogeneous mean between the two -constitutions, but a seemingly irregular combination of characteristics -of the one with characteristics of the other—one feature traceable to -this race, a second to that, and a third uniting the attributes of -both; while in disposition and intellect there will be found a like -medley of the two originals. - -The fact that the forms and qualities of any offspring are not a mean -between the forms and qualities of its parents, but a mixture of -them, is illustrated in every family. The features and peculiarities -of a child are separately referred by observers to father and mother -respectively—nose and mouth to this side; colour of the hair and eyes -to that—this moral peculiarity to the first; this intellectual one to -the second—and so with contour and idiosyncrasies of body. Manifestly -if each organ or faculty in a child was an average of the two -developments of such organ or faculty in the parents, it would follow -that all brothers and sisters should be alike; or should, at any rate, -differ no more than their parents differed from year to year. So far -however, from finding this to be the case, we find not only that great -irregularities are produced by mixture of traits, but that there is no -constancy in the mode of mixture, or the extent of variation produced -by it. - -This imperfect union of parental constitutions in the constitutions of -offspring, is still more clearly illustrated by the re-appearance of -peculiarities traceable to bygone generations. Forms, dispositions, -and diseases, possessed by distant progenitors, habitually come out -from time to time in descendants. Some single feature, or some solitary -tendency, will again and again show itself, after being apparently -lost. It is notoriously thus with gout, scrofula, {396} and insanity. -On some of the monumental brasses in our old churches are engraved -heads having traits still persistent in the same families. Wherever, -as in portrait galleries, a register of ancestral faces has been kept, -the same fact is more or less apparent. The pertinacity with which -particular characteristics re-produce themselves is well exemplified -in America, where traces of negro blood can be detected in the finger -nails, when no longer visible in the complexion. Among breeders of -animals it is well known that, after several generations in which no -visible modifications were traceable, the effects of a cross will -suddenly make their appearance. In all which facts we see the general -truth that an organism produced from two organisms constitutionally -different, is not a homogeneous mean; but is made up of components, -taken in variable ways and proportions from the originals. - -In a recent number of the _Quarterly Journal of the Agricultural -Society_ were published some facts respecting the mixture of French -and English races of sheep, bearing collaterally on this point. Sundry -attempts had been made to improve the poor French breeds by our fine -English ones. For a long time these attempts failed. The hybrids bore -no trace of their English male ancestry; but were as dwarfed and -poverty-stricken as their French dams. Eventually the cause of failure -was found to lie in the relative heterogeneity and homogeneity of the -two constitutions. The superior English sheep were of mixed race; the -French sheep, though inferior, were of pure race; and the compound, -imperfectly co-ordinated constitution of the one could not maintain -itself against the simple and completely balanced constitution of the -other. This, at first an hypothesis, was presently demonstrated. French -sheep of mixed constitution having been obtained by uniting two of the -pure French breeds, it was found that these hybrid French sheep, when -united with the English ones, produced a cross in which the English -characteristics were duly {397} displayed. Now, this inability of a -mixed constitution to stand its ground against an unmixed one, quite -accords with the above induction. An unmixed constitution is one in -which all the organs are exactly fitted to each other—are perfectly -balanced: the system as a whole, is in stable equilibrium. A mixed -constitution, on the contrary, being made up of organs belonging to -two separate sets, cannot have them in exact fitness—cannot have them -perfectly balanced; and a system in comparatively unstable equilibrium -results. But in proportion to the stability of the equilibrium will be -the power to resist disturbing forces. Hence, when two constitutions, -in stable and unstable equilibrium respectively, become disturbing -forces to each other, the unstable one will be overthrown, and the -stable one will assert itself unchanged. - -The imperfect co-ordination of parts in a mixed constitution, and this -consequent instability of its equilibrium, are intimately connected -with the vexed question of genera, species, and varieties; and, with a -view partly to the intrinsic interest of this question, and partly to -the further elucidation of the topic in hand, I must again digress. - -The current physiological test of distinct species is the production -of a non-prolific hybrid. The ability of the offspring to reproduce -itself is held to indicate that its parents are of the same species, -however widely they may differ in appearance; and its inability -to do this is taken as proof that, nearly allied as its parents -may seem, they are distinct in kind. Of late, however, facts have -been accumulating that tend more and more to throw doubt on this -generalization. Cattle-breeders have established it as a general -fact, that the offspring of two different breeds of sheep or oxen -dwindle away in a few generations if allied with themselves; and -that a good result can be obtained only by mixing them with one or -other of the original breeds—a fact implying that what is true of -so-called species, is, under a modified form, true of varieties also. -{398} The same phenomena are observable in the mixtures of different -races of men. They, too, it is alleged, cannot maintain themselves as -separate varieties; but die out unless there is intermarriage with -the originals. In brief, it seems that the hybrids produced from two -distinct races of organisms may die out in the first, second, third, -fourth, fifth, &c., generation, according as the constitutional -difference of the races is greater or less. Now, the experience of -the French sheep-breeders, above-quoted, suggests a rationale of -these various results. For if it be true that an organism produced -by two unlike organisms is not a mean between them, but a mixture of -parts of the one with parts of the other—if it be true that these -parts belonging to two different sets are of necessity imperfectly -co-ordinated; then it becomes manifest that in proportion as the -difference between the parent organisms is greater or less, the -defects of co-ordination in the offspring will be greater or less. -Whence it follows that, according to the degree of organic incongruity -between the parents, we may have every gradation in the offspring, -from a combination of parts so incongruous that it will not work at -all, up to a combination complete enough to subsist permanently as a -race. And this is just what we find in fact. Between organisms widely -differing in character, no intermediate organism is possible. When -the difference is less, a non-prolific hybrid is produced—an organism -so ill co-ordinated as to be capable only of incomplete life. When -the difference is still less, there results an organism capable of -reproducing itself; but not of bequeathing to its offspring complete -constitutions. And as the degrees of difference are further diminished, -the incompleteness of constitution is longer and longer in making its -appearance; until we come to those varieties of the same species which -differ so slightly that their offspring are as permanent as themselves. -Even in these, however, the organic equilibrium seems less perfect; -as is illustrated {399} in the case I have quoted. And in connexion -with this inference, it would be interesting to inquire whether pure -constitutions are not superior to mixed ones, in their power of -maintaining the balance of vital functions under disturbing conditions. -Is it not a fact, that the pure breeds are _hardier_ than the mixed -ones? Are not the mixed ones, though superior in size, less capable of -resisting unfavourable influences—extremes of temperature, bad food, -&c.? And is not the like true of mankind? - -Returning to the topic in hand, it is manifest that these facts -and reasonings serve further to enforce the general truth, that -the offspring of two organisms not identical in constitution is a -heterogeneous mixture of the two, and not a homogeneous mean between -them. - -If, then, bearing in mind this truth, we remember the composite -character of the civilized races—the mingling in ourselves, for -example, of Celt, Saxon, Norman, Dane, with sprinklings of other -tribes; if we consider the complications of constitution that have -arisen from the unions of these, not in any uniform manner, but with -utter irregularity; and if we recollect that the incongruities thus -produced pervade the whole nature, mental and bodily—nervous tissue -and other tissues; we shall see that there must exist in all of us an -imperfect correspondence between parts of the organism that are really -related; and that as one manifestation of this, there must be more or -less of discrepancy between the features and those parts of the nervous -system with which they have a physiological connexion. - -If this be so, then the difficulties which stand in the way of the -belief that beauty of character is related to beauty of face are -considerably diminished. It becomes possible to admit that plainness -may co-exist with nobility of nature, and fine features with baseness; -and yet to hold that mental and facial perfection are fundamentally -connected, and will, when the present causes of incongruity have worked -themselves out, be ever found united. - - - - -{400} - -THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC. - - -[_First published in_ Fraser’s Magazine _for October 1857._] - -When Carlo, standing, chained to his kennel, sees his master in the -distance, a slight motion of the tail indicates his but faint hope that -he is about to be let out. A much more decided wagging of the tail, -passing by-and-by into lateral undulations of the body, follows his -master’s nearer approach. When hands are laid on his collar, and he -knows that he is really to have an outing, his jumping and wriggling -are such that it is by no means easy to loose his fastenings. And when -he finds himself actually free, his joy expends itself in bounds, in -pirouettes, and in scourings hither and thither at the top of his -speed. Puss, too, by erecting her tail, and by every time raising her -back to meet the caressing hand of her mistress, similarly expresses -her gratification by certain muscular actions; as likewise do the -parrot by awkward dancings on his perch, and the canary by hopping and -fluttering about his cage with unwonted rapidity. Under emotions of an -opposite kind, animals equally display muscular excitement. The enraged -lion lashes his sides with his tail, knits his brows, protrudes his -claws. The cat sets up her back; the dog retracts his upper lip; the -horse throws back his ears. And in the struggles of creatures in pain, -we see that a like relation {401} holds between excitement of the -muscles and excitement of the nerves of sensation. - -In ourselves, distinguished from lower creatures by feelings alike more -powerful and more varied, parallel facts are at once more conspicuous -and more numerous. Let us look at them in groups. We shall find that -pleasurable sensations and painful sensations, pleasurable emotions -and painful emotions, all tend to produce active demonstrations in -proportion to their intensity. - -In children, and even in adults who are not restrained by regard for -appearances, a highly agreeable taste is followed by a smacking of the -lips. An infant will laugh and bound in its nurse’s arms at the sight -of a brilliant colour or the hearing of a new sound. People are apt to -beat time with head or feet to music which particularly pleases them. -In a sensitive person an agreeable perfume will produce a smile; and -smiles will be seen on the faces of a crowd gazing at some splendid -burst of fireworks. Even the pleasant sensation of warmth felt on -getting to the fireside out of a winter’s storm, will similarly express -itself in the face. - -Painful sensations, being mostly far more intense than pleasurable -ones, cause muscular actions of much more decided kinds. A sudden -twinge produces a convulsive start of the whole body. A pain less -violent, but continuous, is accompanied by a knitting of the brows, a -setting of the teeth or biting of the lip, and a contraction of the -features generally. Under a persistent pain of a severer kind, other -muscular actions are added: the body is swayed to and fro; the hands -clench anything they can lay hold of; and should the agony rise still -higher, the sufferer rolls about on the floor almost convulsed. - -Though more varied, the natural language of the pleasurable emotions -comes within the same generalization. A smile, which is the commonest -expression of gratified feeling, is a contraction of certain facial -muscles; and when the smile broadens into a laugh, we see a more -violent and {402} more general muscular excitement produced by an -intenser gratification. Rubbing together of the hands, and that other -motion which Hood describes as the washing of “hands with invisible -soap in imperceptible water,” have like implications. Children -may often be seen to “jump for joy,” Even in adults of excitable -temperament, an action approaching to it is sometimes witnessed. And -dancing has all the world through been regarded as natural to an -elevated state of minds. Many of the special emotions show themselves -in special muscular actions. The gratification resulting from success, -raises the head and gives firmness to the gait. A hearty grasp of the -hand is currently taken as indicative of friendship. Under a gush of -affection the mother clasps her child to her breast, feeling as though -she could squeeze it to death. And so in sundry other cases. Even in -that brightening of the eye with which good news is received we may -trace the same truth; for this sparkling appearance is due to an extra -contraction of the muscle which raises the eyelid, and so allows more -light to fall upon, and be reflected from, the wet surface of the -eyeball. - -The bodily indications of painful emotion are equally numerous, and -still more vehement. Discontent is shown by raised eyebrows and -wrinkled forehead; disgust by a curl of the lip, offence by a pout. -The impatient man beats a tattoo with his fingers on the table, swings -his pendant leg with increasing rapidity, gives needless pokings to -the fire, and presently paces with hasty strides about the room. In -great grief there is wringing of the hands, and even tearing of the -hair. An angry child stamps, or rolls on its back and kicks its heels -in the air; and in manhood, anger, first showing itself in frowns, in -distended nostrils, in compressed lips, goes on to produce grinding of -the teeth, clenching of the fingers, blows of the fist on the table, -and perhaps ends in a violent attack on the offending person, or in -throwing about and breaking the furniture. From {403} that pursing of -the mouth indicative of slight displeasure, up to the frantic struggles -of the maniac, we find that mental irritation tends to vent itself in -bodily activity. - -All feelings, then—sensations or emotions, pleasurable or painful—have -this common characteristic, that they are muscular stimuli. Not -forgetting the few apparently exceptional cases in which emotions -exceeding a certain intensity produce prostration, we may set it down -as a general law, that alike in man and animals, there is a direct -connexion between feeling and movement; the last growing more vehement -as the first grows more intense. Were it allowable here to treat the -matter scientifically, we might trace this general law down to the -principle known among physiologists as that of _reflex action_.[56] -Without doing this, however, the above numerous instances justify the -generalization that every kind of mental excitement ends in excitement -of the muscles; and that the two preserve a more or less constant ratio -to each other. - - * * * * * - -“But what has all this to do with _The Origin and Function of Music_?” -asks the reader. Very much, as we shall presently see. All music is -originally vocal. All vocal sounds are produced by the agency of -certain muscles. These muscles, in common with those of the body at -large, are excited to contraction by pleasurable and painful feelings. -And therefore it is that feelings demonstrate themselves in sounds as -well as in movements. Therefore it is that Carlo barks as well as leaps -when he is let out—that puss purrs as well as erects her tail—that the -canary chirps as well as flutters. Therefore it is that the angry lion -roars while he lashes his sides, and the dog growls while he retracts -his lip. Therefore it is that the maimed animal not only struggles, but -howls. And it is from this cause that in human beings bodily suffering -expresses itself not only in {404} contortions, but in shrieks and -groans—that in anger, and fear, and grief, the gesticulations are -accompanied by shouts and screams—that delightful sensations are -followed by exclamations—and that we hear screams of joy and shouts of -exultation. - -We have here, then, a principle underlying all vocal phenomena; -including those of vocal music, and by consequence those of music in -general. The muscles that move the chest, larynx, and vocal chords, -contracting like other muscles in proportion to the intensity of the -feelings; every different contraction of these muscles involving, -as it does, a different adjustment of the vocal organs; every -different adjustment of the vocal organs causing a change in the sound -emitted;—it follows that variations of voice are the physiological -results of variations of feeling. It follows that each inflection or -modulation is the natural outcome of some passing emotion or sensation; -and it follows that the explanation of all kinds of vocal expression, -must be sought in this general relation between mental and muscular -excitements. Let us, then, see whether we cannot thus account for the -chief peculiarities in the utterance of the feelings: grouping these -peculiarities under the heads of _loudness_, _quality or timbre_, -_pitch_, _intervals_, and _rate of variation_. - - * * * * * - -Between the lungs and the organs of voice, there is much the same -relation as between the bellows of an organ and its pipes. And as the -loudness of the sound given out by an organ-pipe increases with the -strength of the blast from the bellows; so, other things equal, the -loudness of a vocal sound increases with the strength of the blast -from the lungs. But the expulsion of air from the lungs is effected by -certain muscles of the chest and abdomen. The force with which these -muscles contract, is proportionate to the intensity of the feeling -experienced. Hence, _a priori_, loud sounds will be the habitual -results of strong feelings. That they are so we have daily proof. The -pain which {405} if moderate, can be borne silently, causes outcries -if it becomes extreme. While a slight vexation makes a child whimper, -a fit of passion calls forth a howl that disturbs the neighbourhood. -When the voices in an adjacent room become unusually audible, we infer -anger, or surprise, or joy. Loudness of applause is significant of -great approbation; and with uproarious mirth we associate the idea of -high enjoyment. Commencing with the silence of apathy, we find that -the utterances grow louder as the sensations or emotions, whether -pleasurable or painful, grow stronger. - -That different _qualities_ of voice accompany different mental states, -and that under states of excitement the tones are more sonorous than -usual, is another general fact admitting of a parallel explanation. -The sounds of common conversation have but little resonance; those -of strong feeling have much more. Under rising ill temper the voice -acquires a metallic ring. In accordance with her constant mood, the -ordinary speech of a virago has a piercing quality quite opposite to -that softness indicative of placidity. A ringing laugh marks joyous -temperament. Grief, unburdening itself, uses tones approaching in -_timbre_ to those of chanting; and in his most pathetic passages -an eloquent speaker similarly falls into tones more vibratory than -those common to him. Now any one may readily convince himself that -resonant vocal sounds can be produced only by a certain muscular effort -additional to that ordinarily needed. If after uttering a word in his -speaking voice, the reader, without changing the pitch or the loudness, -will _sing_ this word, he will perceive that before he can sing it, -he has to alter the adjustment of the vocal organs; to do which a -certain force must be used; and by putting his fingers on that external -prominence marking the top of the larynx, he will have further evidence -that to produce a sonorous tone the organs must be drawn out of their -usual position. Thus, then, the fact that the tones of excited feeling -are more vibratory than those of common {406} conversation, is another -instance of the connexion between mental excitement and muscular -excitement. The speaking voice, the recitative voice, and the singing -voice, severally exemplify one general principle. - -That the _pitch_ of the voice varies according to the action of the -vocal muscles, scarcely needs saying. All know that the middle notes, -in which they converse, are made without appreciable effort; and all -know that to make either very high notes or very low notes requires -considerable effort. In either ascending or descending from the pitch -of ordinary speech, we are conscious of increasing muscular strain, -which, at each extreme of the register, becomes painful. Hence it -follows from our general principle, that while indifference or calmness -will use the medium tones, the tones used during excitement will be -either above or below them; and will rise higher and higher, or fall -lower and lower, as the feelings grow stronger. This physiological -deduction we also find to be in harmony with familiar facts. The -habitual sufferer utters his complaints in a voice raised considerably -above the natural key; and agonizing pain vents itself in either -shrieks or groans—in very high or very low notes. Beginning at his -talking pitch, the cry of the disappointed urchin grows more shrill as -it grows louder. The “Oh!” of astonishment or delight, begins several -notes below the middle voice, and descends still lower. Anger expresses -itself in high tones, or else in “curses not loud but _deep_.” Deep -tones, too, are always used in uttering strong reproaches. Such an -exclamation as “Beware!” if made dramatically—that is, if made with a -show of feeling—must be many notes lower than ordinary. Further, we -have groans of disapprobation, groans of horror, groans of remorse. And -extreme joy and fear are alike accompanied by shrill outcries. - -Nearly allied to the subject of pitch, is that of _intervals_; and -the explanation of them carries our argument a step {407} further. -While calm speech is comparatively monotonous, emotion makes use of -fifths, octaves, and even wider intervals. Listen to any one narrating -or repeating something in which he has no interest, and his voice will -not wander more than two or three notes above or below his medium -note, and that by small steps; but when he comes to some exciting -event he will be heard not only to use the higher and lower notes of -his register, but to go from one to the other by larger leaps. Being -unable in print to imitate these traits of feeling, we feel some -difficulty in fully conveying them to the reader. But we may suggest -a few remembrances which will perhaps call to mind a sufficiency of -others. If two men living in the same place, and frequently seeing -one another, meet, say at a public assembly, any phrase with which -one accosts the other—as “Hallo, are you here?”—will have an ordinary -intonation. But if one of them, after a long absence, has unexpectedly -returned, the expression of surprise with which his friend greets -him—“Hallo! how came you here?”—will be uttered in much more strongly -contrasted tones. The two syllables of the word “Hallo” will be, the -one much higher and the other much lower than before; and the rest of -the sentence will similarly ascend and descend by longer steps. Again, -if, supposing her maid to be in an adjoining room, the mistress of the -house calls “Mary,” the two syllables of the name will be spoken in an -ascending interval of a third. If Mary does not reply, the call will -be repeated probably in a descending fifth; implying the slightest -shade of annoyance at Mary’s inattention. Should Mary still make no -answer, the increasing annoyance will show itself by the use of a -descending octave on the next repetition of the call. And supposing the -silence to continue, the lady, if not of a very even temper, will show -her irritation at Mary’s seemingly intentional negligence by finally -calling her in tones still more widely contrasted—the first syllable -{408} being higher and the last lower than before. Now, these and -analogous facts, which the reader will readily accumulate, clearly -conform to the law laid down. For to make large intervals requires -more muscular action than to make small ones. But not only is the -_extent_ of vocal intervals thus explicable as due to the relation -between nervous and muscular excitement, but also, in some degree, -their _direction_, as ascending or descending. The middle notes being -those which demand no appreciable effort of muscular adjustment; -and the effort becoming greater as we either ascend or descend; it -follows that a departure from the middle notes in either direction -will mark increasing emotion; while a return towards the middle notes -will mark decreasing emotion. Hence it happens that an enthusiastic -person, uttering such a sentence as—“It was the most splendid sight I -ever saw!” will ascend to the first syllable of the word “splendid,” -and thence will descend: the word “splendid” marking the climax of -the feeling produced by the recollection. Hence, again, it happens -that, under some extreme vexation produced by another’s stupidity, -an irascible man, exclaiming—“What a confounded fool the fellow is!” -will begin somewhat below his middle voice, and descending to the word -“fool,” which he will utter in one of his deepest notes, will then -ascend. And it may be remarked, that the word “fool” will not only -be deeper and louder than the rest, but will also have more emphasis -of articulation—another mode in which muscular excitement is shown. -There is some danger, however, in giving instances like this; seeing -that as the mode of rendering will vary according to the intensity of -the feeling which the reader feigns to himself, the right cadence may -not be hit upon. With single words there is less difficulty. Thus the -“Indeed!” with which a surprising fact is received, mostly begins on -the middle note of the voice, and rises with the second syllable; or, -if disapprobation as well as astonishment is felt, the {409} first -syllable will be below the middle note, and the second lower still. -Conversely, the word “Alas!” which marks not the rise of a paroxysm -of grief, but its decline, is uttered in a cadence descending towards -the middle note; or, if the first syllable is in the lower part of -the register, the second ascends towards the middle note. In the -“Heigh-ho!” expressive of mental or muscular prostration, we may see -the same truth; and if the cadence appropriate to it be inverted, the -absurdity of the effect clearly shows how the meaning of intervals is -dependent on the principle we have been illustrating. - -The remaining characteristic of emotional speech which we have to -notice, is that of _variability of pitch_. It is scarcely possible here -to convey adequate ideas of this more complex manifestation. We must -be content with simply indicating some occasions on which it may be -observed. On a meeting of friends, for instance—as when there arrives -a party of much-wished-for visitors—the voices of all will be heard to -undergo changes of pitch not only greater but much more numerous than -usual. If a speaker at a public meeting is interrupted by some squabble -among those he is addressing, his comparatively level tones will be -in marked contrast with the rapidly changing ones of the disputants. -And among children, whose feelings are less under control than those -of adults, this peculiarity is still more decided. During a scene of -complaint and recrimination between two excitable little girls, the -voices may be heard to run up and down the gamut several times in -each sentence. In such cases we once more recognize the same law: for -muscular excitement is shown not only in strength of contraction, but -also in the rapidity with which different muscular adjustments succeed -one another. - -Thus we find all the leading vocal phenomena to have a physiological -basis. They are so many manifestations of the general law that feeling -is a stimulus to muscular {410} action—a law conformed to throughout -the whole economy, not of man only, but of every sensitive creature—a -law, therefore, which lies deep in the nature of animal organization. -The expressiveness of these various modifications of voice is therefore -innate. Each of us, from babyhood upwards, has been spontaneously -making them, when under the various sensations and emotions by which -they are produced. Having been conscious of each feeling at the same -time that we heard ourselves make the consequent sound, we have -acquired an established association of ideas between such sound and -the feeling which caused it. When the like sound is made by another, -we ascribe the like feeling to him; and by a further consequence we -not only ascribe to him that feeling, but have a certain degree of it -aroused in ourselves: for to become conscious of the feeling which -another is experiencing, is to have that feeling awakened in our own -consciousness, which is the same thing as experiencing the feeling. -Thus these various modifications of voice become not only a language -through which we understand the emotions of others, but also the means -of exciting our sympathy with such emotions. - - * * * * * - -Have we not here, then, adequate data for a theory of music? These -vocal peculiarities which indicate excited feeling, _are those which -especially distinguish song from ordinary speech_. Every one of the -alterations of voice which we have found to be a physiological result -of pain or pleasure, _is carried to an extreme in vocal music_. For -instance, we saw that, in virtue of the general relation between mental -and muscular excitement, one characteristic of passionate utterance is -_loudness_. Well, its comparative loudness is one of the distinctive -marks of song as contrasted with the speech of daily life. Though -there are _piano_ passages in contrast with the _forte_ passages, yet -the average loudness of the singing voice is much greater than {411} -that of the speaking voice; and further, the _forte_ passages of an -air are those intended to represent the climax of its emotion. We -next saw that the tones in which emotion expresses itself, are, in -conformity with this same law, of a more sonorous _timbre_ than those -of calm conversation. Here, too, song displays a still higher degree -of the peculiarity; for the singing tone is the most resonant we can -make. Again, it was shown that, from a like cause, mental excitement -vents itself in the higher and lower notes of the register; using the -middle notes but seldom. And it scarcely needs saying that vocal music -is still more distinguished by its comparative neglect of the notes in -which we talk, and its habitual use of those above or below them; and, -moreover, that its most passionate effects are commonly produced at -the two extremities of its scale, but especially at the upper one. A -yet further trait of strong feeling, similarly accounted for, was the -habitual employment of larger intervals than are employed in common -converse. This trait, also, every ballad and _aria_ systematically -elaborates: add to which, that the direction of these intervals, which, -as diverging from or converging towards the medium tones, we found to -be physiologically expressive of increasing or decreasing emotion, -may be observed to have in music like meanings. Once more, it was -pointed out that not only extreme but also rapid variations of pitch, -are characteristic of mental excitement; and once more we see in the -quick changes of every melody, that song carries the characteristic as -far, if not farther. Thus, in respect alike of _loudness_, _timbre_, -_pitch_, _intervals_, and _rate of variation_, song employs and -exaggerates the natural language of the emotions;—it arises from a -systematic combination of those vocal peculiarities which are the -physiological effects of acute pleasure and pain. - -Besides these chief characteristics of song as distinguished from -common speech, there are sundry minor ones {412} similarly explicable -as due to the relation between mental and muscular excitement; and -before proceeding further, these should be briefly noticed. Thus, -certain passions, and perhaps all passions when pushed to an extreme, -produce (probably through their influence over the action of the heart) -an effect the reverse of that which has been described: they cause a -physical prostration, one symptom of which is a general relaxation -of the muscles, and a consequent trembling. We have the trembling of -anger, of fear, of hope, of joy; and the vocal muscles being implicated -with the rest, the voice too becomes tremulous. Now, in singing, -this tremulousness of voice is effectively used by some vocalists in -pathetic passages; sometimes, indeed, because of its effectiveness, -too much used by them—as by Tamberlik, for instance. Again, there -is a mode of musical execution known as the _staccato_, appropriate -to energetic passages—to passages expressive of exhilaration, of -resolution, of confidence. The action of the vocal muscles which -produces this staccato style, is analogous to the muscular action which -produces the sharp, decisive, energetic movements of body indicating -these states of mind; and therefore it is that the staccato style -has the meaning we ascribe to it. Conversely, slurred intervals are -expressive of gentler and less active feelings; and are so because they -imply the smaller muscular vivacity due to a lower mental energy. The -difference of effect resulting from difference of _time_ in music, is -also attributable to this same law. Already it has been pointed out -that the more frequent changes of pitch which ordinarily result from -passion, are imitated and developed in song; and here we have to add, -that the various rates of such changes, appropriate to the different -styles of music, are further traits having the same derivation. The -slowest movements, _largo_ and _adagio_, are used where such depressing -emotions as grief, or such unexciting emotions as reverence, are to be -portrayed; while the more rapid movements, _andante_, {413} _allegro_, -_presto_, represent successively increasing degrees of mental vivacity; -and do this because they imply that muscular activity which flows -from this mental vivacity. Even the _rhythm_, which forms a remaining -distinction between song and speech, may not improbably have a kindred -cause. Why the actions excited by strong feeling should tend to become -rhythmical, is not obvious; but that they do so there are divers -evidences. There is the swaying of the body to and fro under pain or -grief, of the leg under impatience or agitation. Dancing, too, is a -rhythmical action natural to elevated emotion. That under excitement -speech acquires a certain rhythm, we may occasionally perceive in the -highest efforts of an orator. In poetry, which is a form of speech used -for the better expression of emotional ideas, we have this rhythmical -tendency developed. And when we bear in mind that dancing, poetry, and -music are connate—are originally constituent parts of the same thing, -it becomes clear that the measured movement common to them all implies -a rhythmical action of the whole system, the vocal apparatus included; -and that so the rhythm of music is a more subtle and complex result of -this relation between mental and muscular excitement. - -But it is time to end this analysis, which possibly we have already -carried too far. It is not to be supposed that the more special -peculiarities of musical expression are to be definitely explained. -Though probably they may all in some way conform to the principle that -has been worked out, it is impracticable to trace that principle in its -more ramified applications. Nor is it needful to our argument that it -should be so traced. The foregoing facts sufficiently prove that what -we regard as the distinctive traits of song, are simply the traits -of emotional speech intensified and systematized. In respect of its -general characteristics, we think it has been made clear that vocal -music, and by {414} consequence all music, is an idealization of the -natural language of passion. - - * * * * * - -As far as it goes, the scanty evidence furnished by history confirms -this conclusion. Note first the fact (not properly an historical one, -but fitly grouped with such) that the dance-chants of savage tribes -are very monotonous; and in virtue of their monotony are more nearly -allied to ordinary speech than are the songs of civilized races. -Joining with this the fact that there are still extant among boatmen -and others in the East, ancient chants of a like monotonous character, -we may infer that vocal music originally diverged from emotional speech -in a gradual, unobtrusive manner; and this is the inference to which -our argument points. From the characters of the intervals the same -conclusion may be drawn. - - “The songs of savages in the lowest scale of civilization are - generally confined to the compass of few notes, seldom extending - beyond the interval of the _fifth_. Sometimes, however, a sudden - transition into the octave occurs, especially in sudden exclamations, - or where a word naturally dictates an emphatic raising of the - voice. The _fifth_ especially plays a prominent part in primitive - vocal music. . . . But it must not be supposed that each interval - is distinctly intoned: on the contrary, in the transition from one - interval to another, all the intermediate intervals are slightly - touched in a way somewhat similar to a violinist drawing his finger - rapidly over the string from one note to another to connect them; - and as the intervals themselves are seldom clearly defined, it will - easily be understood how nearly impossible it is to write down such - songs in our notation so as to convey a correct idea of their natural - effect.”[57] - -Further evidence to the same effect is supplied by Greek history. -The early poems of the Greeks—which, be it remembered, were sacred -legends embodied in that rhythmical, metaphorical language which strong -feeling excites—were not recited, but chanted: the tones and cadences -{415} were made musical by the same influences which made the speech -poetical. By those who have investigated the matter, this chanting -is believed to have been not what we call singing, but nearly allied -to our recitative—nearly allied but simpler. Several facts conspire -to show this. The earliest stringed instruments had sometimes four, -sometimes five strings: Egyptian frescoes delineate some of the simpler -harps as thus constituted, and there are kindred representations of -the lyres and allied instruments of the Assyrians, Hebrews, Greeks and -Romans. That the earliest Greek lyre had but four strings, and that the -recitative of the poet was uttered in unison with its sounds, Neumann -finds definite proof in a verse ascribed to Terpander, celebrating his -introduction of the seven-stringed lyre:― - - “The four-tonèd hymns now rejecting, - And yearning for songs new and sweet, - With seven strings softly vibrating, - The lyre anon shall we greet.” - -Hence it follows that the primitive recitative was simpler than our -modern recitative, and, as such, much less remote from common speech -than our own singing is. For recitative, or musical recitation, is in -all respects intermediate between speech and song. Its average effects -are not so _loud_ as those of song. Its tones are less sonorous in -_timbre_ than those of song. Commonly it diverges to a smaller extent -from the middle notes—uses notes neither so high nor so low in _pitch_. -The _intervals_ habitual to it are neither so wide nor so varied. Its -_rate of variation_ is not so rapid. And at the same time that its -primary _rhythm_ is less decided, it has none of that secondary rhythm -produced by recurrence of the same or parallel musical phrases, which -is one of the marked characteristics of song. Thus, then, we may not -only infer, from the evidence furnished by existing barbarous tribes, -that the vocal music of pre-historic times was emotional speech very -slightly exalted; but we see that the earliest vocal music of which we -have {416} any account, differed much less from emotional speech than -does the vocal music of our days. - -That recitative—beyond which, by the way, the Chinese and Hindoos -seem never to have advanced—grew naturally out of the modulations and -cadences of strong feeling, we have indeed current evidence. There are -even now to be met with occasions on which strong feeling vents itself -in this form. Whoever has been present when a meeting of Quakers was -addressed by one of their number (whose practice it is to speak only -under the influence of religious emotion), must have been struck by -the quite unusual tones, like those of a subdued chant, in which the -address was made. On passing a chapel in Wales during service, the -raised and sing-song voice of the preacher draws the attention. It is -clear, too, that the intoning used in churches is representative of -this mental state; and has been adopted on account of the congruity -between it and the contrition, supplication, or reverence, verbally -expressed. - -And if, as we have good reason to believe, recitative arose by degrees -out of emotional speech, it becomes manifest that by a continuance -of the same process song has arisen out of recitative. Just as, from -the orations and legends of savages, expressed in the metaphorical, -allegorical style natural to them, there sprung epic poetry, out of -which lyric poetry was afterwards developed; so, from the exalted -tones and cadences in which such orations and legends were delivered, -came the chant or recitative music, from which lyrical music has since -grown up. And there has not only thus been a simultaneous and parallel -genesis, but there has been reached a parallelism of results. For -lyrical poetry differs from epic poetry, just as lyrical music differs -from recitative: each still further intensifies the natural language -of the emotions. Lyrical poetry is more metaphorical, more hyperbolic, -more elliptical, and adds the rhythm of lines to the rhythm of feet; -just as lyrical music is louder, more sonorous, more extreme in its -{417} intervals, and adds the rhythm of phrases to the rhythm of -bars. And the known fact that out of epic poetry the stronger passions -developed lyrical poetry as their appropriate vehicle, strengthens the -inference that they similarly developed lyrical music out of recitative. - -Nor indeed are we without evidences of the transition. It needs but -to listen to an opera to hear the leading gradations. Between the -comparatively level recitative of ordinary dialogue, the more varied -recitative with wider intervals and higher tones used in exciting -scenes, the still more musical recitative which preludes an air, and -the air itself, the successive steps are but small; and the fact that -among airs themselves gradations of like nature may be traced, further -confirms the conclusion that the highest form of vocal music was -arrived at by degrees. - -We have some clue to the influences which have induced this -development; and may roughly conceive the process of it. As the -tones, intervals, and cadences of strong emotion were the elements -out of which song was elaborated; so, we may expect to find that -still stronger emotion produced the elaboration; and we have evidence -implying this. Musical composers are men of acute sensibilities. The -Life of Mozart depicts him as one of intensely active affections -and highly impressionable temperament. Various anecdotes represent -Beethoven as very susceptible and very passionate. Mendelssohn is -described by those who knew him as having been full of fine feeling. -And the almost incredible sensitiveness of Chopin has been illustrated -in the memoirs of George Sand. An unusually emotional nature being thus -the general characteristic of musical composers, we have in it just -the agency required for the development of recitative and song. Any -cause of excitement will generate just those exaggerations which we -have found to distinguish the lower vocal music from emotional speech, -and the higher vocal music from the lower. Thus it becomes credible -that the four-toned recitative of the {418} early Greek poets (like -all poets, nearly allied to composers in the comparative intensity of -their feelings), was really nothing more than the slightly exaggerated -emotional speech natural to them, which grew by frequent use into -an organized form. And we may infer that the accumulated agency of -subsequent poet-musicians, inheriting and adding to the products of -those who went before them, sufficed, in the course of many centuries, -to develope this simple four-toned recitative into a vocal music having -great complexity and range. - -Not only may we so understand how more sonorous tones, greater extremes -of pitch, and wider intervals, were gradually introduced; but also how -there arose a greater variety and complexity of musical expression. -For this same passionate, enthusiastic temperament, which leads the -musical composer to express the feelings possessed by others as well as -himself, in more marked cadences than they would use, also leads him to -give musical utterance to feelings which they either do not experience, -or experience in but slight degrees. And thus we may in some measure -understand how it happens that music not only so strongly excites -our more familiar feelings, but also produces feelings we never had -before—arouses dormant sentiments of which we do not know the meaning; -or, as Richter says—tells us of things we have not seen and shall not -see. - - * * * * * - -Indirect evidences of several kinds remain to be briefly pointed -out. One of them is the difficulty, not to say impossibility, of -otherwise accounting for the expressiveness of music. Whence comes -it that special combinations of notes should have special effects -upon our emotions?—that one should give us a feeling of exhilaration, -another of melancholy, another of affection, another of reverence? -Is it that these special combinations have intrinsic meanings apart -from the human constitution?—that a certain number of aërial waves -per second, followed by a certain other {419} number, in the nature -of things signify grief, while in the reverse order they signify -joy; and similarly with all other intervals, phrases, and cadences? -Few will be so irrational as to think this. Is it, then, that the -meanings of these special combinations are conventional only?—that -we learn their implications, as we do those of words, by observing -how others understand them? This is an hypothesis not only devoid of -evidence, but directly opposed to the experience of every one; and -it is excluded by the fact that children, unconventionalised though -they are, show great susceptibility to music. How, then, are musical -effects to be explained? If the theory above set forth be accepted, -the difficulty disappears. If music, taking for its raw material the -various modifications of voice which are the physiological results of -excited feeling, intensifies, combines, and complicates them—if it -exaggerates the loudness, the resonance, the pitch, the intervals, -and the variability, which, in virtue of an organic law, are the -characteristics of passionate speech—if, by carrying out these further, -more consistently, more unitedly, and more sustainedly,it produces -an idealized language of emotion; then its power over us becomes -comprehensible. But in the absence of this theory the expressiveness of -music appears inexplicable. - -Again, the preference we feel for certain qualities of sound presents -a like difficulty, admitting only of a like solution. It is generally -agreed that the tones of the human voice are more pleasing than any -others. If music takes its rise from the modulations of the human voice -under emotion, it is a natural consequence that the tones of that voice -appeal to our feelings more than any others, and are considered more -beautiful than any others. But deny that music has this origin, and the -only alternative is the untenable one that the vibrations proceeding -from a vocalist’s throat are, objectively considered, of a higher order -than those from a horn or a violin. - -Once more, the question—How is the expressiveness of {420} music to be -otherwise accounted for? may be supplemented by the question—How is the -genesis of music to be otherwise accounted for? That music is a product -of civilization, is manifest; for though some of the lowest savages -have their dance-chants, these are of a kind scarcely to be dignified -by the title musical: at most, they supply but the vaguest rudiment -of music, properly so called. And if music has been by slow steps -developed in the course of civilization, it must have been developed -out of something. If, then, its origin is not that above alleged, what -is its origin? - -Thus we find that the negative evidence confirms the positive, and -that, taken together, they furnish strong proof. We have seen that -there is a physiological relation, common to man and all animals, -between feeling and muscular action; that as vocal sounds are produced -by muscular action, there is a consequent physiological relation -between feeling and vocal sounds; that all the modifications of voice -expressive of feeling are the direct results of this physiological -relation; that music, adopting all these modifications, intensifies -them more and more as it ascends to its higher and higher forms; -that, from the ancient epic poet chanting his verses, down to the -modern musical composer, men of unusually strong feelings prone to -express them in extreme forms, have been naturally the agents of these -successive intensifications; and that so there has little by little -arisen a wide divergence between this idealized language of emotion -and its natural language: to which direct evidence we have just added -the indirect—that on no other tenable hypothesis can either the -expressiveness of music or the genesis of music be explained. - - * * * * * - -And now, what is the _function_ of music? Has music any effect beyond -the immediate pleasure it produces? Analogy suggests that it has. The -enjoyments of a good dinner do not end with themselves, but minister to -bodily well-being. Though people do not marry with a view to maintain -the race, yet the passions which impel them to marry secure its {421} -maintenance. Parental affection is a feeling which, while it conduces -to parental happiness, ensures the nurture of offspring. Men love to -accumulate property, often without thought of the benefits it produces; -but in pursuing the pleasure of acquisition they indirectly open the -way to other pleasures. The wish for public approval impels all of -us to do many things which we should otherwise not do,—to undertake -great labours, face great dangers, and habitually rule ourselves in -ways that smooth social intercourse; so that, in gratifying our love -of approbation we subserve divers ulterior purposes. And, generally, -our nature is such that in fulfilling each desire, we in some way -facilitate fulfilment of the rest. But the love of music seems to exist -for its own sake. The delights of melody and harmony do not obviously -minister to the welfare either of the individual or of society. May we -not suspect, however, that this exception is apparent only? Is it not -a rational inquiry—What are the indirect benefits which accrue from -music, in addition to the direct pleasure it gives? - -But that it would take us too far out of our track, we should prelude -this inquiry by illustrating at some length a certain general law -of progress;—the law that alike in occupations, sciences, arts, the -divisions which had a common root, but by gradual divergence have -become distinct, and are now being separately developed, are not truly -independent, but severally act and react on one another to their mutual -advancement. Merely hinting thus much, however, by way of showing that -there are many analogies to justify us, we go on to express the opinion -that there exists a relationship of this kind between music and speech. - -All speech is compounded of two elements, the words and the tones in -which they are uttered—the signs of ideas and the signs of feelings. -While certain articulations express the thought, certain modulations -express the more or less of pain or pleasure which the thought gives. -Using the word _cadence_ in an unusually extended sense, as {422} -comprehending all variations of voice, we may say that _cadence is the -commentary of the emotions upon the propositions of the intellect_. -This duality of spoken language, though not formally recognized, is -recognized in practice by every one; and every one knows that very -often more weight attaches to the tones than to the words. Daily -experience supplies cases in which the same sentence of disapproval -will be understood as meaning little or meaning much, according to the -vocal inflections which accompany it; and daily experience supplies -still more striking cases in which words and tones are in direct -contradiction—the first expressing consent, while the last express -reluctance; and the last being believed rather than the first. - -These two distinct but interwoven elements of speech have been -undergoing a simultaneous development. We know that in the course of -civilization words have been multiplied, new parts of speech have been -introduced, sentences have grown more varied and complex; and we may -fairly infer that during the same time new modifications of voice have -come into use, fresh intervals have been adopted, and cadences have -become more elaborate. For while, on the one hand, it is absurd to -suppose that, along with the undeveloped verbal forms of barbarism, -there existed developed vocal inflections; it is, on the other hand, -necessary to suppose that, along with the higher and more numerous -verbal forms needed to convey the multiplied and complicated ideas of -civilized life, there have grown up those more involved changes of -voice which express the feelings proper to such ideas. If intellectual -language is a growth, so also, without doubt, is emotional language a -growth. - -Now, the hypothesis which we have hinted above, is that, beyond the -direct pleasure which it gives, music has the indirect effect of -developing this language of the emotions. Having its root, as we -have endeavoured to show, in those tones, intervals, and cadences of -speech which express {423} feeling—arising by the combination and -intensifying of these, and coming finally to have an embodiment of its -own; music has all along been reacting upon speech, and increasing -its power of rendering emotion. The use in recitative and song of -inflections more expressive than ordinary ones, must from the beginning -have tended to develope the ordinary ones. The complex musical phrases -by which composers have conveyed complex emotions, may rationally -be supposed to influence us in making those involved cadences of -conversation by which we convey our subtler thoughts and feelings. If -the cultivation of music has any effect on the mind, what more natural -effect is there than this of developing our perception of the meanings -of qualities, and modulations of voice; and giving us a correspondingly -increased power of using them? Just as chemistry, arising out of -the processes of metallurgy and the industrial arts, and gradually -growing into an independent study, has now become an aid to all kinds -of production—just as physiology, originating from medicine and once -subordinate to it, but latterly pursued for its own sake, is in our day -coming to be the science on which the progress of medicine depends;—so, -music, having its root in emotional language, and gradually evolved -from it, has ever been reacting upon and further advancing it. - -It will scarcely be expected that much direct evidence in support of -this conclusion can be given. The facts are of a kind which it is -difficult to measure, and of which we have no records. Some suggestive -traits, however, are to be noted. May we not say, for instance, that -the Italians, among whom modern music was earliest cultivated, and who -have more especially excelled in melody (the division of music with -which our argument is chiefly concerned)—may we not say that these -Italians speak in more varied and expressive inflections and cadences -than any other people? On the other hand, may we not say that, confined -almost exclusively as they have hitherto been to their national {424} -airs, and therefore accustomed to but a limited range of musical -expression, the Scotch are unusually monotonous in the intervals and -modulations of their speech? And again, do we not find among different -classes of the same nation, differences that have like implications? -The gentleman and the clown stand in decided contrast with respect to -variety of intonation. Listen to the conversation of a servant-girl, -and then to that of a refined lady, and the more delicate and complex -changes of voice used by the latter will be conspicuous. Now, without -going so far as to say that out of all the differences of culture to -which the upper and lower classes are subjected, difference of musical -culture is that to which alone this difference of speech is ascribable; -yet we may fairly say that there seems a much more obvious connexion of -cause and effect between these than between any others. Thus, while the -inductive evidence to which we can appeal is but scanty and vague, yet -what there is favours our position. - - * * * * * - -Probably most will think that the function here assigned to music is -one of very little moment. But reflection may lead them to a contrary -conviction. In its bearings upon human happiness, this emotional -language which musical culture develops and refines, is only second in -importance to the language of the intellect; perhaps not even second -to it. For these modifications of voice produced by feelings, are the -means of exciting like feelings in others. Joined with gestures and -expressions of face, they give life to the otherwise dead words in -which the intellect utters its ideas; and so enable the hearer not only -to _understand_ the state of mind they accompany, but to _partake_ of -that state. In short, they are the chief media of _sympathy_. And if we -consider how much both our general welfare and our immediate pleasures -depend on sympathy, we shall recognize the importance of whatever makes -this sympathy greater. If we bear in mind that by their fellow-feeling -men are led {425} to behave justly and kindly to one another—that -the difference between the cruelty of the barbarous and the humanity -of the civilized, results from the increase of fellow-feeling; if we -bear in mind that this faculty which makes us sharers in the joys and -sorrows of others, is the basis of all the higher affections; if we -bear in mind how much our direct gratifications are intensified by -sympathy,—how, at the theatre, the concert, the picture gallery, we -lose half our enjoyment if we have no one to enjoy with us;—we shall -see that the agencies which communicate it can scarcely be overrated -in value. The tendency of civilization is to repress the antagonistic -elements of our characters and to develope the social ones—to curb -our purely selfish desires and exercise our unselfish ones—to replace -private gratifications by gratifications resulting from, or involving, -the pleasures of others. And while, by this adaptation to the social -state, the sympathetic side of our nature is being unfolded, there -is simultaneously growing up a language of sympathetic intercourse—a -language through which we communicate to others the happiness we feel, -and are made sharers in their happiness. This double process, of which -the effects are already appreciable, must go on to an extent of which -we can as yet have no adequate conception. The habitual concealment of -our feelings diminishing, as it must, in proportion as our feelings -become such as do not demand concealment, the exhibition of them will -become more vivid than we now dare allow it to be; and this implies -a more expressive emotional language. At the same time, feelings -of higher and more complex kinds, as yet experienced only by the -cultivated few, will become general; and there will be a corresponding -development of the emotional language into more involved forms. Just as -there has silently grown up a language of ideas, which, rude as it at -first was, now enables us to convey with precision the most subtle and -complicated thoughts; so, there is still silently growing up a language -of feelings, which, notwithstanding its present {426} imperfection, we -may expect will ultimately enable men vividly and completely to impress -on each other the emotions which they experience from moment to moment. - -Thus if, as we have endeavoured to show, it is the function of music to -facilitate the development of this emotional language, we may regard -music as an aid to the achievement of that higher happiness which it -indistinctly shadows forth. Those vague feelings of unexperienced -felicity which music arouses—those indefinite impressions of an unknown -ideal life which it calls up, may be considered as a prophecy, the -fulfilment of which music itself aids. The strange capacity which we -have for being affected by melody and harmony, may be taken to imply -both that it is within the possibilities of our nature to realize those -intenser delights they dimly suggest, and that they are in some way -concerned in the realization of them. If so the power and the meaning -of music become comprehensible; but otherwise they are a mystery. - -We will only add that, if the probability of these corollaries be -admitted, then music must take rank as the highest of the fine arts—as -the one which, more than any other, ministers to human welfare. And -thus, even leaving out of view the immediate gratifications it is -hourly giving, we cannot too much applaud that musical culture which is -becoming one of the characteristics of our age. - - -POSTSCRIPT. - -An opponent, or partial opponent, of high authority, whose views were -published some fourteen years after the above essay, must here be -answered: I mean Mr. Darwin. Diligent and careful as an observer beyond -naturalists in general, and still more beyond those who are untrained -in research, his judgment on a question which must be {427} decided by -induction is one to be received with great respect. I think, however, -examination will show that in this instance Mr. Darwin’s observations -are inadequate, and his reasonings upon them inconclusive. Swayed -by his doctrine of sexual selection, he has leaned towards the view -that music had its origin in the expression of amatory feeling, and -has been led to over-estimate such evidence as he thinks favours that -view, while ignoring the difficulties in its way, and the large amount -of evidence supporting another view. Before considering the special -reasons for dissenting from his hypothesis, let us look at the most -general reasons. - -The interpretation of music which Mr. Darwin gives, agrees with my own -in supposing music to be developed from vocal noises; but differs in -supposing a particular class of vocal noises to have originated it—the -amatory class. I have aimed to show that music has its germs in the -sounds which the voice emits under excitement, and eventually gains -this or that character according to the kind of excitement; whereas -Mr. Darwin argues that music arises from those sounds which the male -makes during the excitements of courtship, that they are consciously -made to charm the female, and that from the resulting combinations of -sounds arise not love-music only but music in general. That certain -tones of voice and cadences having some likeness of nature are -spontaneously used to express grief, others to express joy, others to -express affection, and others to express triumph or martial ardour, is -undeniable. According to the view I have set forth, the whole body of -these vocal manifestations of emotion form the root of music. According -to Mr. Darwin’s view, the sounds which are prompted by the amatory -feeling only, having originated musical utterance, there are derived -from these all the other varieties of musical utterance which aim to -express other kinds of feeling. This roundabout derivation has, I -think, less probability than the direct derivation. {428} - -This antithesis and its implications will perhaps be more clearly -understood on looking at the facts under their nervo-muscular aspect. -Mr. Darwin recognizes the truth of the doctrine with which the -foregoing essay sets out, that feeling discharges itself in action: -saying of the air-breathing vertebrata that― - - “When the primeval members of this class were strongly excited and - their muscles violently contracted, purposeless sounds would almost - certainly have been produced; and these, if they proved in any way - serviceable, might readily have been modified or intensified by the - preservation of properly adapted variations.” (_The Descent of Man_, - vol. ii., p. 331.) - -But though this passage recognizes the general relation between -feelings and those muscular contractions which cause sounds, it does so -inadequately; since it ignores, on the one hand, those loudest sounds -which accompany intense sensations—the shrieks and groans of bodily -agony; while, on the other hand, it ignores those multitudinous sounds -not produced “under the excitement of love, rage, and jealousy,” but -which accompany ordinary amounts of feelings, various in their kinds. -And it is because he does not bear in mind how large a proportion of -vocal noises are caused by other excitements, that Mr. Darwin thinks “a -strong case can be made out, that the vocal organs were primarily used -and perfected in relation to the propagation of the species” (p. 330). - -Certainly the animals around us yield but few facts countenancing his -view. The cooing of pigeons may, indeed, be named in its support; and -it may be contended that caterwauling furnishes evidence; though I -doubt whether the sounds are made by the male to charm the female. But -the howling of dogs has no relation to sexual excitements; nor has -their barking, which is used to express emotion of almost any kind. -Pigs grunt sometimes through pleasurable expectation, sometimes during -the gratifications of eating, sometimes from a general content while -seeking about for food. The bleatings of sheep, again, occur under the -promptings of various feelings, usually of no great {429} intensity: -social and maternal rather than sexual. The like holds with the lowing -of cattle. Nor is it otherwise with poultry. The quacking of ducks -indicates general satisfaction, and the screams occasionally vented by -a flock of geese seem rather to express a wave of social excitement -than anything else. Save after laying an egg, when the sounds have -the character of triumph, the cluckings of a hen show content; and on -various occasions cock-crowing apparently implies good spirits only. -In all cases an overflow of nervous energy has to find vent; and while -in some cases it leads to wagging of the tail, in others it leads to -contraction of the vocal muscles. That this relation holds, not of one -kind of feeling, but of many kinds, is a truth which seems to me at -variance with the view “that the vocal organs were primarily used and -perfected in relation to the propagation of the species.” - -The hypothesis that music had its origin in the amatory sounds made -by the male to charm the female, has the support of the popular idea -that the singing of birds constitutes a kind of courtship—an idea -adopted by Mr. Darwin when he says that “the male pours forth his -full volume of song, in rivalry with other males, for the sake of -captivating the female.” Usually, Mr. Darwin does not accept without -criticism and verification, the beliefs he finds current; but in this -case he seems to have done so. Even cursory observation suffices to -dissipate this belief, initiated, I suppose, by poets. In preparation -for dealing with the matter I have made memoranda concerning various -songbirds, dating back to 1883. On the 7th of February of that year I -heard a lark singing several times; and, still more remarkably, during -the mild winter of 1884 I saw one soar, and heard it sing, on the -10th January. Yet the lark does not pair till March. Having heard the -redbreast near the close of August, 1888, I noted the continuance of -its song all through the autumn and winter, up to Christmas {430} eve, -Christmas day, the 29th of December, and again on the 18th January, -1889. How common is the singing of the thrush during mild weather in -winter, everyone must have observed. The presence of thrushes behind my -house has led to the making of notes on this point. The male sang in -November, 1889; I noted the song again on Christmas eve, again on the -13th January, 1890, and from time to time all through the rest of that -month. I heard little of his song in February, which is the pairing -season; and none at all, save a few notes early in the morning, during -the period of rearing the young. But now that, in the middle of May, -the young, reared in a nest in my garden, have sometime since flown, -he has recommenced singing vociferously at intervals throughout the -day; and doubtless, in conformity with what I have observed elsewhere, -will go on singing till July. How marked is the direct relation between -singing and the conditions which cause high spirits, is perhaps best -shown by a fact I noted on the 4th December, 1888, when, the day being -not only mild but bright, the copses on Holmwood Common, Dorking, -were vocal just as on a spring day, with a chorus of birds of various -kinds—robins, thrushes, chaffinches, linnets, and sundry others of -which I did not know the names. Ornithological works furnish verifying -statements. Wood states that the hedge-sparrow continues “to sing -throughout a large portion of the year, and only ceasing during the -time of the ordinary moult.” The song of the blackcap, he says, “is -hardly suspended throughout the year;” and of caged birds which sing -continuously, save when moulting, he names the grosbeak, the linnet, -the goldfinch, and the siskin. - -I think these facts show that the popular idea adopted by Mr. Darwin -is untenable. What then is the true interpretation? Simply that like -the whistling and humming of tunes by boys and men, the singing of -birds results from overflow of energy—an overflow which in both cases -{431} ceases under depressing conditions. The relation between -courtship and singing, so far as it can be shown to hold, is not a -relation of cause and effect, but a relation of concomitance: the two -are simultaneous results of the same cause. Throughout the animal -kingdom at large, the commencement of reproduction is associated with -an excess of those absorbed materials needful for self-maintenance; -and with a consequent ability to devote a part to the maintenance of -the species. This constitutional state is one with which there goes a -tendency to superfluous expenditure in various forms of action—unusual -vivacity of every kind, including vocal vivacity. While we thus see -why pairing and singing come to be associated, we also see why there -is singing at other times when the feeding and weather are favourable; -and why, in some cases, as in those of the thrush and the robin, there -is more singing after the breeding season than before or during the -breeding season. We are shown, too, why these birds, and especially the -thrush, so often sing in the winter: the supply of worms on lawns and -in gardens being habitually utilized by both, and thrushes having the -further advantage that they are strong enough to break the shells of -the hybernating snails: this last ability being connected with the fact -that thrushes and blackbirds are the first among the singing birds to -build. It remains only to add that the alleged singing of males against -one another with the view of charming the females is open to parallel -criticisms. How far this competition happens during the pairing season -I have not observed, but it certainly happens out of the pairing -season. I have several times heard blackbirds singing alternately in -June. But the most conspicuous instance is supplied by the redbreasts. -These habitually sing against one another during the autumn months: -reply and rejoinder being commonly continued for five minutes at a time. - -Even did the evidence support the popular view, adopted {432} by Mr. -Darwin, that the singing of birds is a kind of courtship—even were -there good proof, instead of much disproof, that a bird’s song is a -developed form of the sexual sounds made by the male to charm the -female; the conclusion would, I think, do little towards justifying -the belief that human music has had a kindred origin. For, in the -first place, the bird-type in general, developed as it is out of -the reptilian type, is very remotely related to that type of the -_Vertebrata_ which ascends to Man as its highest exemplar; and, in the -second place, song-birds belong, with but few exceptions, to the single -order of _Insessores_—one order only, of the many orders constituting -the class. So that, if the _Vertebrata_ at large be represented by a -tree, of which Man is the topmost twig, then it is at a considerable -distance down the trunk that there diverges the branch from which -the bird-type is derived; and the group of singing-birds forms but a -terminal sub-division of this branch—lies far out of the ascending -line which ends in Man. To give appreciable support to Mr. Darwin’s -view, we ought to find vocal manifestations of the amatory feeling -becoming more pronounced as we ascend along that particular line of -inferior _Vertebrata_ out of which Man has arisen. Just as we find -other traits which pre-figure human traits (instance arms and hands -adapted for grasping) becoming more marked as we approach Man; so -should we find, becoming more marked, this sexual use of the voice, -which is supposed to end in human song. But we do not find this. The -South-American monkeys (“the Howlers,” as they are sometimes called), -which, in chorus, make the woods resound for hours together with their -“dreadful concert,” appear, according to Rengger, to be prompted by -no other desire than that of making a noise. Mr. Darwin admits, too, -that this is generally the case with the gibbons: the only exception -he is inclined to make being in the case of _Hylobates agilis_, which, -on the testimony of Mr. Waterhouse, he says ascends and descends the -scale by {433} half-tones.[58] This comparatively musical set of -sounds, he thinks, may be used to charm the female; though there is no -evidence forthcoming that this is the case. When we remember that in -the forms nearest to the human—the chimpanzees and the gorilla—there is -nothing which approaches even thus far towards musical utterance, we -see that the hypothesis has next to none of that support which ought to -be forthcoming. Indeed in his _Descent of Man_, vol. ii., p. 332, Mr. -Darwin himself says:—“It is a surprising fact that we have not as yet -any good evidence that these organs are used by male mammals to charm -the females:” an admission which amounts to something like a surrender. - -Even more marked is the absence of proof when we come to the human -race itself—or rather, not absence of proof but presence of disproof. -Here, from the _Descriptive Sociology_, where the authorities will be -found under the respective heads, I quote a number of testimonies of -travellers concerning primitive music: commencing with those referring -to the lowest races. - -“The songs of the natives [of Australia] . . . are chiefly made on -the spur of the moment, and refer to something that has struck the -attention at the time.” “The Watchandies seeing me much interested -in the genus Eucalyptus soon composed a song on this subject.” The -Fuegians are fond of music and generally sing in their boats, doubtless -keeping time, as many primitive peoples do. “The principal subject -of the songs of the Araucanians is the exploits of their heroes:” -when at work their “song was simple, referring mostly to their -labour,” and was the same “for every {434} occasion, whether the -burden of the song be joy or sorrow.” The Greenlanders sing of “their -exploits in the chase” and “chant the deeds of their ancestors.” “The -Indians of the Upper Mississippi vocalize an incident, as—‘They have -brought us a fat dog,’:” then the chorus goes on for a minute. Of -other North-American Indians we read—“the air which the women sang -was pleasing . . . the men first gave out the words, which formed -a consummate glorification of themselves.” Among the Carriers (of -North America) there are professed composers, who “turn their talent -to good account on the occasion of a feast, when new airs are in -great request.” Of the New Zealanders we read:—“The singing of such -compositions [laments] resembles cathedral chanting.” “Passing events -are described by extemporaneous songs, which are preserved when good.” -“When men worked together appropriate airs were sung.” When presenting -a meal to travellers, women would chant—“What shall be our food? shell -fish and fern-root, that is the root of the earth.” Among the Sandwich -Islanders “most of the traditions of remarkable events in their history -are preserved in songs.” When taught reading they could not “recite a -lesson without chanting or singing it.” Cook found the Tahitians had -itinerant musicians who gave narrative chants quite unpremeditated. “A -Samoan can hardly put his paddle in the water without striking up some -chant.” A chief of the Kyans, “Tamawan, jumped up and while standing -burst out into an extempore song, in which Sir James Brooke and myself, -and last not least the wonderful steamer, was mentioned with warm -eulogies.” In East Africa “the fisherman will accompany his paddle, -the porter his trudge, and the housewife her task of rubbing down -grain, with song.” In singing, the East African “contents himself with -improvising a few words without sense or rhyme and repeats them till -they nauseate,” Among the Dahomans any incident “from the arrival of -a stranger to an {435} earthquake” is turned into a song. When rowing, -the Coast-negroes sing “either a description of some love intrigue or -the praise of some woman celebrated for her beauty.” In Loango “the -women as they till the field make it echo with their rustic songs.” -Park says of the Bambarran—“they lightened their labours by songs, -one of which was composed extempore; for I was myself the subject of -it.” “In some parts of Africa nothing is done except to the sound of -music.” “They are very expert in adapting the subjects of these songs -to current events.” The Malays “amuse all their leisure hours . . . -with the repetition of songs, which are for the most part proverbs -illustrated. . . . Some that they rehearse in a kind of recitative -at their _bimbangs_ or feasts are historical love-tales.” A Sumatran -maiden will sometimes begin a tender song and be answered by one of the -young men. The ballads of the Kamtschadales are “inspired apparently by -grief, love, or domestic feeling;” and their music conveys “a sensation -of sorrow and vague, unavailing regret.” Of their love-songs it is said -“the women generally compose them.” A Kirghiz “singer sits on one knee -and sings in an unnatural tone of voice, his lay being usually of an -amorous character.” Of the Yakuts we are told “their style of singing -is monotonous . . . their songs described the beauty of the landscape -in terms which appeared to me exaggerated.” - -In these statements, which, omitting repetitions, are all which the -_Descriptive Sociology_ contains relevant to the issue, several -striking facts are manifest. Among the lowest races the only musical -utterances named are those which refer to the incidents of the -moment, and seem prompted by feelings which those incidents produce. -The derivation of song or chant from emotional speech in general, -thus suggested, is similarly suggested by the habits of many higher -races; for they, too, show us that the musically-expressed feelings -relevant to the immediate occasion, or to past occasions, are feelings -of various kinds: now of simple good {436} spirits and now of joy -or triumph—now of surprise, praise, admiration, and now of sorrow, -melancholy, regret. Only among certain of the more advanced races, as -the semi-civilized Malays and peoples of Northern Asia, do we read of -love-songs; and then, strange to say, these are mentioned as mostly -coming, not from men, but from women. Out of all the testimonies there -is not one which tells of a love-song spontaneously commenced by a man -to charm a woman. Entirely absent among the rudest types and many of -the more developed types, amatory musical utterance, where first found, -is found under a form opposite to that which Mr. Darwin’s hypothesis -implies; and we have to seek among civilized peoples before we meet, in -serenades and the like, music of the kind which, according to his view, -should be the earliest.[59] - -Even were his view countenanced by the facts, there would remain -unexplained the process by which sexually-excited sounds have been -evolved into music. In the foregoing essay I have indicated the various -qualities, relations, and combinations of tones, spontaneously prompted -by emotions of all kinds, which exhibit, in undeveloped forms, the -traits of recitative and melody. To have reduced his hypothesis to a -shape admitting of comparison, Mr. Darwin should have shown that the -sounds excited by sexual emotions possess these same traits; and, to -have proved that his hypothesis is the more tenable, should have shown -that they possess these same traits in a greater degree. But he has not -attempted to do this. He has simply suggested that instead of having -its roots in the vocal sounds caused by feelings of all kinds, music -has its roots in the vocal {437} sounds caused by the amatory feeling -only: giving no reason why the effects of the feelings at large should -be ignored, and the effects of one particular feeling alone recognized. - - * * * * * - -Nineteen years after my essay on “The Origin and Function of Music” was -published, Mr. Edmund Gurney criticized it in an article which made its -appearance in the _Fortnightly Review_ for July 1876. Absorption in -more important work prevented me from replying. Though, some ten years -ago, I thought of defending my views against those of Mr. Darwin and -Mr. Gurney, the occurrence of Mr. Darwin’s death obliged me to postpone -for a time any discussion of his views; and then, the more recent -unfortunate death of Mr. Gurney caused a further postponement. I must -now, however, say that which seems needful, though there is no longer -any possibility of a rejoinder from him. - -Some parts of Mr. Gurney’s criticism I have already answered by -implication; for he adopts the hypothesis that music originated in -the vocal utterances prompted by sexual feeling. To the reasons above -given for rejecting this hypothesis, I will add here, what I might have -added above, that it is at variance with one of the fundamental laws of -evolution. All development proceeds from the general to the special. -First there appear those traits which a thing has in common with many -other things; then those traits which it has in common with a smaller -class of things; and so on until there eventually arise those traits -which distinguish it from everything else. The genesis which I have -described conforms to this fundamental law. It posits the antecedent -fact that feeling in general produces muscular contraction in general; -and the less general fact that feeling in general produces, among other -muscular contractions, those which move the respiratory and vocal -apparatus. With these it joins the still less general fact that sounds -indicative of feelings vary in sundry {438} respects according to the -intensity of the feelings; and then enumerates the still less general -facts which show us the kinship between the vocal manifestations of -feeling and the characters of vocal music: the implication being that -there has gone on a progressive specialization. But the view which -Mr. Gurney adopts from Mr. Darwin is that from the special actions -producing the special sounds accompanying sexual excitement, were -evolved those various actions producing the various sounds which -accompany all other feelings. Vocal expression of a particular emotion -came first, and from this proceeded vocal expressions of emotions in -general: the order of evolution was reversed. - -To deficient knowledge of the laws of evolution are due sundry of Mr. -Gurney’s objections. He makes a cardinal error in assuming that a more -evolved thing is distinguished from less evolved things in respect -of _all_ the various traits of evolution; whereas, very generally, a -higher degree of evolution in some or most respects, is accompanied -by an equal or lower degree of evolution in other respects. On the -average, increase of locomotive power goes along with advance of -evolution; and yet numerous mammals are more fleet than man. The stage -of development is largely indicated by degree of intelligence; and -yet the more intelligent parrot is inferior in vision, in speed, and -in destructive appliances, to the less-intelligent hawk. The contrast -between birds and mammals well illustrates the general truth. A -bird’s skeleton diverges more widely from the skeleton of the lower -vertebrates in respect of heterogeneity than does the skeleton of a -mammal; and the bird has a more developed respiratory system, as well -as a higher temperature of blood, and a superior power of locomotion. -Nevertheless, many mammals in respect of bulk, in respect of various -appliances (especially for prehension), and in respect of intelligence, -are more evolved than birds. Thus it is obviously a mistake to assume -that whatever is more {439} highly evolved in general character is -more highly evolved in every trait. - -Of Mr. Gurney’s several objections which are based on this mistake here -is an example. He says—“Loudness though a frequent is by no means a -universal or essential element, either of song or of emotional speech” -(p. 107). Under one of its aspects this criticism is self-destructive; -for if, though both relatively loud in most cases, song and emotional -speech are both characterized by the occasional use of subdued tones, -then this is a further point of kinship between them—a kinship which -Mr. Gurney seeks to disprove. Under its other aspect this criticism -implies the above-described misconception. If in a song, or rather -in some part or parts of a song, the trait of loudness is absent, -while the other traits of developed emotional utterance are present, -it simply illustrates the truth that the traits of a highly-evolved -product are frequently not all present together. - -A like answer is at hand to the next objection he makes. It runs thus:― - - “In the recitative which he [Mr. Spencer] himself considers naturally - and historically a step between speech and song, the rapid variation - of pitch is impossible, and such recitative is distinguished from the - tones even of common speech precisely by being more monotonous” (p. - 108). - -But Mr. Gurney overlooks the fact that while, in recitative, some -traits of developed emotional utterance are not present, two of its -traits are present. One is that greater resonance of tone, caused by -greater contraction of the vocal chords, which distinguishes it from -ordinary speech. The other is the relative elevation of pitch, or -divergence from the medium tones of voice: a trait similarly implying -greater strain of certain vocal muscles, resulting from stronger -feeling. - -Another difficulty raised by Mr. Gurney he would probably not have set -down had he been aware that one character of musical utterance which -he thinks {440} distinctive, is a character of all phenomena into -which motion enters as a factor. He says:—“Now no one can suppose that -the sense of rhythm can be derived from emotional speech” (p. 110). -Had he referred to the chapter on “The Rhythm of Motion” in _First -Principles_, he would have seen that, in common with inorganic actions, -all organic actions are completely or partially rhythmical—from -appetite and sleep to inspirations and heart-beats; from the winking -of the eyes to the contractions of the intestines; from the motions -of the legs to discharges through the nerves. Having contemplated -such facts he would have seen that the rhythmical tendency which is -perfectly displayed in musical utterance, is imperfectly displayed in -emotional speech. Just as under emotion we see swayings of the body and -wringings of the hands, so do we see contractions of the vocal organs -which are now stronger and now weaker. Surely it is manifest that the -utterances of passion, far from being monotonous, are characterized by -rapidly-recurring ascents and descents of tone and by rapidly-recurring -emphases: there is rhythm, though it is an irregular rhythm. - -Want of knowledge of the principles of evolution has, in another place, -led Mr. Gurney to represent as an objection what is in reality a -verification. He says:― - - “Music is distinguished from emotional speech in that it proceeds not - only by fixed degrees in time, but by fixed degrees in the scale. This - is a constant quality through all the immense quantity of embryo and - developed scale-systems that have been used; whereas the transitions - of pitch which mark emotional affections of voice are, as Helmholtz - has pointed out, of a gliding character” (p. 113). - -Had Mr. Gurney known that evolution in all cases is from the indefinite -to the definite, he would have seen that as a matter of course the -gradations of emotional speech must be indefinite in comparison with -the gradations of developed music. Progress from the one to the -other is in part _constituted_ by increasing definiteness in the -time-intervals and increasing definiteness in the tone-intervals. -Were it {441} otherwise, the hypothesis I have set forth would lack -one of its evidences. To his allegation that not only the “developed -scale-systems” but also the “embryo” scale-systems are definite, it -may obviously be replied that the mere existence of any scale-system -capable of being written down, implies that the earlier stage of -the progress has already been passed through. To have risen to a -scale-system is to have become definite; and until a scale-system has -been reached vocal phrases cannot have been recorded. Moreover had Mr. -Gurney remembered that there are many people with musical perceptions -so imperfect that when making their merely recognizable, and sometimes -hardly recognizable, attempts to whistle or hum melodies, they show -how vague are their appreciations of musical intervals, he would have -seen reason for doubting his assumption that definite scales were -reached all at once. The fact that in what we call bad ears there -are all degrees of imperfection, joined with the fact that where the -imperfection is not great practice may remedy it, suffice of themselves -to show that definite perceptions of musical intervals were reached by -degrees. - -Some of Mr. Gurney’s objections are strangely insubstantial. Here is an -example:― - - “The fact is that song, which moreover in our time is but a limited - branch of music, is perpetually making conscious efforts; for - instance, the most peaceful melody may be a considerable strain to a - soprano voice, if sung in a very high register: while speech continues - to obey in a natural way the physiological laws of emotion” (p. 117). - -That in exaggerating and emphasizing the traits of emotional speech, -the singer should be led to make “conscious efforts” is surely natural -enough. What would Mr. Gurney have said of dancing? He would scarcely -have denied that saltatory movements often result spontaneously from -excited feeling; and he could hardly have doubted that primitive -dancing arose as a systematized form of such movements. Would he -have considered the belief that stage-dancing is evolved from these -spontaneous movements {442} to be negatived by the fact that a -stage-dancer’s bounds and gyrations are made with “conscious efforts”? - -In his elaborate work on _The Power of Sound_, Mr. Gurney, repeating in -other forms the objections I have above dealt with, adds to them some -others. One of these, which appears at first sight to have much weight, -I must not pass by. He thus expresses it. - - “Any one may convince himself that not only are the intervals used - in emotional speech very large, twelve diatonic notes being quite an - ordinary skip, but that he uses extremes of both high and low pitch - with his speaking voice, which, if he tries to dwell on them and make - them resonant, will be found to lie beyond the compass of his singing - voice” (p. 479). - -Now the part of my hypothesis which Mr. Gurney here combats is that, -as in emotional speech so in song, feeling, by causing muscular -contractions, causes divergencies from the middle tones of the voice, -which become wider as it increases; and that this fact supports the -belief that song is developed from emotional speech. To this Mr. -Gurney thinks it a conclusive answer that higher notes are used by the -speaking voice than by the singing voice. But if, as his words imply, -there is a physical impediment to the production of notes in the one -voice as high as those in the other, then my argument is justified if, -in either voice, extremes of feeling are shown by extremes of pitch. -If, for example, the celebrated _ut de poitrine_ with which Tamberlik -brought down the house in one of the scenes of William Tell, was -recognized as expressing the greatest intensity of martial patriotism, -my position is warranted, even though in his speaking voice he could -have produced a still higher note. - -Of answers to Mr. Gurney’s objections the two most effective are -suggested by the passage in which he sums up his conclusions. Here are -his words. - - “It is enough to recall how every consideration tended to the same - result; that the oak grew from the acorn; that the musical faculty - and pleasure, which have to do with music and nothing else, are the - representatives and {443} linear descendants of a faculty and pleasure - which were musical and nothing else; and that, however rudely and - tentatively applied to speech, Music was a _separate order_” (p. 492). - -Thus, then, it is implied that the true germs of music stand towards -developed music as the acorn to the oak. Now suppose we ask—How many -traits of the oak are to be found in the acorn? Next to none. And then -suppose we ask—How many traits of music are to be found in the tones of -emotional speech? Very many. Yet while Mr. Gurney thinks that music had -its origin in something which might have been as unlike it as the acorn -is unlike the oak, he rejects the theory that it had its origin in -something as much like it as the cadences of emotional speech; and he -does this because there are sundry differences between the characters -of speech-cadences and the characters of music. In the one case he -tacitly assumes a great unlikeness between germ and product; while -in the other case he objects because germ and product are not in all -respects similar! - -I may end by pointing out how extremely improbable, _a priori_, is Mr. -Gurney’s conception. He admits, as perforce he must, that emotional -speech has various traits in common with recitative and song—relatively -greater resonance, relatively greater loudness, more marked divergences -from medium tones, the use of the extremes of pitch in signifying the -extremes of feeling, and so on. But, denying that the one is derived -from the others, he implies that these kindred groups of traits have -had independent origins. Two sets of peculiarities in the use of the -voice which show various kinships, have nothing to do with one another! -I think it merely requires to put the proposition in this shape to see -how incredible it is. - - * * * * * - -Sundry objections to the views contained in the essay on “The Origin -and Function of Music,” have arisen from misconception of its scope. -An endeavour to explain the _origin_ of music, has been dealt with -as though it were a theory of music in its entirety. An hypothesis -{444} concerning the rudiments has been rejected because it did not -account for everything contained in the developed product. To preclude -this misapprehension for the future, and to show how much more is -comprehended in a theory of music than I professed to deal with, let me -enumerate the several components of musical effect. They may properly -be divided into _sensational_, _perceptional_, and _emotional_. - -That the sensational pleasure is distinguishable from the other -pleasures which music yields, will not be questioned. A sweet sound -is agreeable in itself, when heard out of relation to other sounds. -Tones of various _timbres_, too, are severally appreciated as having -their special beauties. Of further elements in the sensational pleasure -have to be named those which result from certain congruities between -notes and immediately succeeding notes. This pleasure, like the primary -pleasure which fine quality yields, appears to have a purely physical -basis. We know that the agreeableness of simultaneous tones depends -partly on the relative frequency of recurring correspondences of the -vibrations producing them, and partly on the relative infrequency -of beats, and we may suspect that there is a kindred cause for the -agreeableness of successive tones; since the auditory apparatus which -has been at one instant vibrating in a particular manner, will take -up certain succeeding vibrations more readily than others. Evidently -it is a question of the _degree_ of congruity; for the most congruous -vibrations, those of the octaves, yield less pleasure when heard in -succession than those of which the congruity is not so great. To -obtain the greatest pleasure in this and other things, there requires -both likeness and difference. Recognition of this fact introduces us -to the next element of sensational pleasure—that due to contrast; -including contrast of pitch, of loudness, and of _timbre_. In this -case, as in other cases, the disagreeableness caused by frequent -repetition of the same sensation (here literally called “monotony”) -results from the exhaustion which any single {445} nervous agent -undergoes from perpetual stimulation; and contrast gives pleasure -because it implies action of an agent which has had rest. It follows -that much of the sensational pleasure to be obtained from music depends -on such adjustments of sounds as bring into play, without conflict, -many nervous elements: exercising all and not overexerting any. We -must not overlook a concomitant effect. With the agreeable sensation -is joined a faint emotion of an agreeable kind. Beyond the simple -definite pleasure yielded by a sweet tone, there is a vague, diffused -pleasure. As indicated in the _Principles of Psychology_ (§ 537), -each nervous excitation produces reverberation throughout the nervous -system at large; and probably this indefinite emotional pleasure is -a consequence. Doubtless some shape is given to it by association. -But after observing how much there is in common between the diffused -feeling aroused by smelling at a deliciously scented flower and that -aroused by listening to a sweet tone, it will, I think, be perceived -that the more general cause predominates. - -The division between the sensational effects and the perceptional -effects is of course indefinite. As above implied, part of the -sensational pleasure depends on the relation between each tone and the -succeeding tone; and hence this pleasure gradually merges into that -which arises from perceiving the structural connexions between the -phrases and between the larger parts of musical compositions. Much -of the gratification given by a melody consists in the consciousness -of the relations between each group of sounds heard and the groups -of sounds held in memory as having just passed, as well as those -represented as about to come. In many cases the passage listened -to would not be regarded as having any beauty were it not for its -remembered connexions with passages in the immediate past and the -immediate future. If, for example, from the first movement of -Beethoven’s Funeral-March sonata the first five notes are detached, -they appear to be meaningless; {446} but if, the movement being known, -they are joined with imaginations of the anticipated phrases, they -immediately acquire meaning and beauty. Indefinable as are the causes -of this perceptional pleasure in many cases, some causes of it are -definable. Symmetry is one. A chief element in melodic effect results -from repetitions of phrases which are either identical, or differ -only in pitch, or differ only in minor variations: there being in the -first case the pleasure derived from perception of complete likeness, -and in the other cases the greater pleasure derived from perception -of likeness with difference—a perception which is more involved, and -therefore exercises a greater number of nervous agents. Next comes, as -a source of gratification, the consciousness of pronounced unlikeness -or contrast; such as that between passages above the middle tones and -passages below, or as that between ascending phrases and descending -phrases. And then we rise to larger contrasts; as when, the first theme -in a melody having been elaborated, there is introduced another having -a certain kinship though in many respects different, after which there -is a return to the first theme: a structure which yields more extensive -and more complex perceptions of both differences and likenesses. But -while perceptional pleasures include much that is of the highest, they -also include much that is of the lowest. A certain kind of interest, if -not of beauty, is producible by the likenesses and contrasts of musical -phrases which are intrinsically meaningless or even ugly. A familiar -experience exemplifies this. If a piece of paper is folded and on one -side of the crease there is drawn an irregular line in ink, which, -by closing the paper, is blotted on the opposite side of the crease, -there results a figure which, in virtue of its symmetry, has some -beauty; no matter how entirely without beauty the two lines themselves -may be. Similarly, some interest results from the parallelism of -musical phrases, notwithstanding utter lack of interest in the -phrases themselves. The kind of interest {447} resulting from such -parallelisms, and from many contrasts, irrespective of any intrinsic -worth in their components, is that which is most appreciated by the -musically-uncultured, and gives popularity to miserable drawing-room -ballads and vulgar music-hall songs. - -The remaining element of musical effect consists in the idealized -rendering of emotion. This, as I have sought to show, is the primitive -element, and will ever continue to be the vital element; for if “melody -is the soul of music,” then expression is the soul of melody—the -soul without which it is mechanical and meaningless, whatever may -be the merit of its form. This primitive element may with tolerable -clearness be distinguished from the other elements, and may coexist -with them in various degrees: in some cases being the predominant -element. Anyone who, in analytical mood, listens to such a song as -_Robert, toi que j’aime_, cannot, I think, fail to perceive that its -effectiveness depends on the way in which it exalts and intensifies -the traits of passionate utterance. No doubt as music develops, the -emotional element (which affects structure chiefly through the forms -of phrases) is increasingly complicated with, and obscured by, the -perceptional element; which both modifies these phrases and unites them -into symmetrical and contrasted combinations. But though the groups -of notes which emotion prompts admit of elaboration into structures -that have additional charms due to artfully-arranged contrasts and -repetitions, the essential element is liable to be thus submerged in -the non-essential. Only in melodies of high types, such as the _Addio_ -of Mozart and _Adelaide_ of Beethoven, do we see the two requirements -simultaneously fulfilled. Musical genius is shown in achieving the -decorative beauty without losing the beauty of emotional meaning. - -It goes without saying that there must be otherwise accounted for -that relatively modern element in musical effect which has now almost -outgrown in importance the {448} other elements—I mean harmony. This -cannot be affiliated on the natural language of emotion; since, in -such language, limited to successive tones, there cannot originate -the effects wrought by simultaneous tones. Dependent as harmony is on -relations among rates of aerial pulses, its primary basis is purely -mechanical; and its secondary basis lies in the compound vibrations -which certain combinations of mechanical rhythms cause in the -auditory apparatus. The resulting pleasure must, therefore, be due -to nervous excitations of kinds which, by their congruity, exalt one -another; and thus generate a larger volume of agreeable sensation. A -further pleasure of sensational origin which harmony yields is due to -contrapuntal effects. Skilful counterpoint has the general character -that it does not repeat in immediate succession similar combinations of -tones and similar directions of change; and by thus avoiding temporary -over-tax of the nervous structures brought into action, keeps them in -better condition for subsequent action. Absence of regard for this -requirement characterizes the music of Gluck, of whom Handel said—“He -knows no more counterpoint than my cook;” and it is this disregard -which produces its cloying character. Respecting the effects of harmony -I will add only that the vague emotional accompaniment to the sensation -produced by a single sweet tone, is paralleled by the stronger -emotional accompaniment to the more voluminous and complex sensation -produced by a fine chord. Clearly this vague emotion forms a large -component in the pleasure which harmony gives. - -While thus recognizing, and indeed emphasizing, the fact that of many -traits of developed music my hypothesis respecting the origin of music -yields no explanation, let me point out that this hypothesis gains a -further general support from its conformity to the law of evolution. -Progressive integration is seen in the immense contrast between the -small combinations of tones constituting a cadence of grief, or anger, -or triumph, and the vast combinations of {449} tones, simultaneous -and successive, constituting an oratorio. Great advance in coherence -becomes manifest when, from the lax unions among the sounds in which -feeling spontaneously expresses itself, or even from those few musical -phrases which constitute a simple air, we pass to those elaborate -compositions in which portions small and large are tied together into -extended organic wholes. On comparing the unpremeditated inflexions -of the voice in emotional speech, vague in tones and times, with -those premeditated ones which the musician arranges for stage or -concert room, in which the divisions of time are exactly measured, the -successive intervals precise, and the harmonies adjusted to a nicety, -we observe in the last a far higher definiteness. And immense progress -in heterogeneity is seen on putting side by side the monotonous chants -of savages with the musical compositions familiar to us; each of which -is relatively heterogeneous within itself, and the assemblage of which -forms an immeasurably heterogeneous aggregate. - - * * * * * - -Strong support for the theory enunciated in this essay, and defended -in the foregoing paragraphs, is furnished by the testimonies of two -travellers in Hungary, given in works published in 1878 and 1888 -respectively. Here is an extract from the first of the two. - - “Music is an instinct with these Hungarian gipsies. They play by - ear, and with a marvellous precision, not surpassed by musicians - who have been subject to the most careful training. . . . The airs - they play are most frequently compositions of their own, and are in - character quite peculiar. . . I heard on this occasion one of the - gipsy airs which made an indelible impression on my mind; it seemed - to me the thrilling utterance of a people’s history. There was the - low wail of sorrow, of troubled passionate grief, stirring the heart - to restlessness, then the sense of turmoil and defeat; but upon this - breaks suddenly a wild burst of exultation, of rapturous joy—a triumph - achieved, which hurries you along with it in resistless sympathy. - The excitable Hungarians can literally become intoxicated with this - music—and no wonder. You cannot reason upon it, or explain it, but its - strains compel you to sensations of despair and joy, of exultation - and excitement, as though under the influence of some potent - charm.”—_Round about the Carpathians_, by Andrew F. Crosse, pp. 11, - 12. {450} - - -Still more graphic and startling is the description given by a more -recent traveller, E. Gerard. - - “Devoid of printed notes, the Tzigane is not forced to divide his - attention between a sheet of paper and his instrument, and there is - consequently nothing to detract from the utter abandonment with which - he absorbs himself in his playing. He seems to be sunk in an inner - world of his own; the instrument sobs and moans in his hands, and is - pressed tight against his heart as though it had grown and taken root - there. This is the true moment of inspiration, to which he rarely - gives way, and then only in the privacy of an intimate circle, never - before a numerous and unsympathetic audience. Himself spell-bound by - the power of the tones he evokes, his head gradually sinking lower - and lower over the instrument, the body bent forward in an attitude - of rapt attention, and his ear seeming to hearken to far-off ghostly - strains audible to himself alone, the untaught Tzigane achieves a - perfection of expression unattainable by mere professional training. - - This power of identification with his music is the real secret of - the Tzigane’s influence over his audience. Inspired and carried away - by his own strains, he must perforce carry his hearers with him as - well; and the Hungarian listener throws himself heart and soul into - this species of musical intoxication, which to him is the greatest - delight on earth. There is a proverb which says, ‘The Hungarian only - requires a gipsy fiddler and a glass of water in order to make him - quite drunk;’ and, indeed, intoxication is the only word fittingly to - describe the state of exaltation into which I have seen a Hungarian - audience thrown by a gipsy band. - - Sometimes, under the combined influence of music and wine, the - Tziganes become like creatures possessed; the wild cries and stamps of - an equally excited audience only stimulate them to greater exertions. - The whole atmosphere seems tossed by billows of passionate harmony; - we seem to catch sight of the electric sparks of inspiration flying - through the air. It is then that the Tzigane player gives forth - everything that is secretly lurking within him—fierce anger, childish - wailings, presumptuous exaltation, brooding melancholy, and passionate - despair; and at such moments, as a Hungarian writer has said, one - could readily believe in his power of drawing down the angels from - heaven into hell! - - Listen how another Hungarian has here described the effect of their - music:—‘How it rushes through the veins like electric fire! How it - penetrates straight to the soul! In soft plaintive minor tones the - _adagio_ opens with a slow rhythmical movement: it is a sighing - and longing of unsatisfied aspirations; a craving for undiscovered - happiness; the lover’s yearning for the object of his affection; the - expression of mourning for lost joys, for happy days gone for ever; - then abruptly changing to a major key, the tones get faster and more - agitated; and from the whirlpool of harmony the melody gradually - detaches itself, alternately drowned in the foam of overbreaking - waves, to reappear floating on the surface with undulating - motion—collecting as it were fresh power for a renewed burst of fury. - But {451} quickly as the storm came it is gone again, and the music - relapses into the melancholy yearnings of heretofore.’” _The Land - beyond the Forest_, vol. II, pp. 122–4. Lond. 1888. - -After the evidence thus furnished, argument is almost superfluous. The -origin of music as the developed language of emotion seems to be no -longer an inference but simply a description of the fact. - - -ENDNOTES TO _THE ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC_. - -[56] Those who seek information on this point may find it in an -interesting tract by Mr. Alexander Bain, on _Animal Instinct and -Intelligence_. - -[57] _The Music of the Most Ancient Nations, &c._, by Carl Engel. This -quotation is not contained in my essay as originally published, nor -in the version of it first reproduced in 1858. Herr Engel’s work was -issued in 1864, seven years after the date of the essay. - -[58] It is far more probable that the ascents and descents made by -this gibbon consisted of indefinitely-slurred tones. To suppose that -each was a series of definite semi-tones strains belief to breaking -point; considering that among human beings the great majority, even of -those who have good ears, are unable to go up or down the chromatic -scale without being taught to do so. The achievement is one requiring -considerable practice; and that such an achievement should be -spontaneous on the part of a monkey is incredible. - -[59] After the above paragraphs had been sent to the printers I -received from an American anthropologist, the Rev. Owen Dorsey, some -essays containing kindred evidence. Of over three dozen songs and -chants of the Omaha, Ponka, and other Indians, in some cases given -with music and in other cases without, there are but five which have -any reference to amatory feeling; and while in these the expression of -amatory feeling comes from women, nothing more than derision of them -comes from men. - - - - -{452} - -THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER. - - -[_First published in_ Macmillan’s Magazine _for March 1860._] - -Why do we smile when a child puts on a man’s hat? or what induces us -to laugh on reading that the corpulent Gibbon was unable to rise from -his knees after making a tender declaration? The usual reply to such -questions is, that laughter results from a perception of incongruity. -Even were there not, on this reply, the obvious criticism that laughter -often occurs from extreme pleasure or from mere vivacity, there would -still remain the real problem—How comes a sense of the incongruous -to be followed by these peculiar bodily actions? Some have alleged -that laughter is due to the pleasure of a relative self-elevation, -which we feel on seeing the humiliation of others. But this theory, -whatever portion of truth it may contain, is, in the first place, open -to the fatal objection that there are various humiliations to others -which produce in us anything but laughter; and, in the second place, -it does not apply to the many instances in which no one’s dignity is -implicated: as when we laugh at a good pun. Moreover, like the other, -it is merely a generalization of certain conditions to laughter; -and not an explanation of the odd movements which occur under these -conditions. Why, when greatly delighted, or impressed with certain -unexpected contrasts {453} of ideas, should there be a contraction -of particular facial muscles and particular muscles of the chest and -abdomen? Such answer to this question as may be possible, can be -rendered only by physiology. - - * * * * * - -Every child has made the attempt to hold the foot still while it -is tickled, and has failed; and there is scarcely any one who has -not vainly tried to avoid winking when a hand has been suddenly -passed before the eyes. These examples of muscular movements which -occur independently of the will, or in spite of it, illustrate -what physiologists call reflex-action; as likewise do sneezing and -coughing. To this class of cases, in which involuntary motions are -accompanied by sensations, has to be added another class of cases, in -which involuntary motions are unaccompanied by sensations:—instance -the pulsations of the heart; the contractions of the stomach during -digestion. Further, the majority of seemingly-voluntary acts in such -creatures as insects, worms, molluscs, are considered by physiologists -to be as purely automatic as is the dilatation or closure of the iris -under variations in the quantity of light; and similarly exemplify the -law, that an impression on the end of an afferent nerve is conveyed -to some ganglionic centre, and is thence usually reflected along an -efferent nerve to one or more muscles which it causes to contract. - -In a modified form this principle holds with voluntary acts. Nervous -excitation always _tends_ to beget muscular motion; and when it rises -to a certain intensity always does beget it. Not only in reflex -actions, whether with or without sensation, do we see that special -nerves, when raised to states of tension, discharge themselves on -special muscles with which they are indirectly connected; but those -external actions through which we read the feelings of others, show us -that, under any considerable tension, the nervous system in general -discharges itself on the muscular system in general: either with or -without the {454} guidance of the will. The shivering produced by -cold implies irregular muscular contractions, which, though at first -only partly involuntary, become, when the cold is extreme, almost -wholly involuntary. When you have severely burnt your finger it is very -difficult to preserve a dignified composure: contortion of face, or -movement of limb, is pretty sure to follow. If a man receives good news -with neither facial change nor bodily motion, it is inferred that he -is not much pleased, or that he has extraordinary self-control: either -inference implying that joy almost universally produces contraction -of the muscles, and so, alters the expression, or attitude, or both. -And when we hear of the feats of strength which men have performed -when their lives were at stake—when we read how, in the energy of -despair, even paralyzed patients have regained for a time the use of -their limbs; we see still more clearly the relation between nervous -and muscular excitements. It becomes manifest both that emotions and -sensations tend to generate bodily movements, and that the movements -are violent in proportion as the emotions or sensations are intense.[60] - -This, however, is not the sole direction in which nervous excitement -expends itself. Viscera as well as muscles may receive the discharge. -That the heart and blood-vessels (which, indeed, being all contractile, -may in a restricted sense be classed with the muscular system) are -quickly affected by pleasures and pains, we have daily proved to -us. Every sensation of any acuteness accelerates the pulse; and how -sensitive the heart is to emotions, is testified by the familiar -expressions which use heart and feeling as convertible terms. Similarly -with the digestive organs. Without detailing the various ways in which -these may be influenced by our mental states, it suffices to mention -the marked benefits derived by dyspeptics, as well as other invalids, -from cheerful society, welcome news, {455} change of scene, to show -how pleasurable feeling stimulates the viscera in general into greater -activity. - -There is still another direction in which any excited portion of the -nervous system may discharge itself; and a direction in which it -usually does discharge itself when the excitement is not strong. It -may pass on the stimulus to some other portion of the nervous system. -This is what occurs in quiet thinking and feeling. The successive -states which constitute consciousness, result from this. Sensations -excite ideas and emotions; these in their turns arouse other ideas -and emotions; and so on continuously. That is to say, the tension -existing in particular nerve-centres, or groups of nerve-centres, when -they yield us certain sensations, ideas, or emotions, generates an -equivalent tension in some other nervous structures, with which there -is a connexion: the flow of energy passing on, the one idea or feeling -dies in producing the next. - -Thus, then, while we are totally unable to comprehend how the -excitement of certain nerve-centres should generate feeling—while, in -the production of consciousness by physical agents acting on physical -structures, we come to a mystery never to be solved; it is yet quite -possible for us to know by observation what are the successive forms -which this mystery may take. We see that there are three channels along -which nerve-centres in a state of tension may discharge themselves; or -rather, I should say, three classes of channels. They may pass on the -excitement to other nerve-centres that have no direct connexions with -the bodily members, and may so cause other feelings and ideas; or they -may pass on the excitement to one or more motor nerves, and so cause -muscular contractions; or they may pass on the excitement to nerves -which supply the viscera, and may so stimulate one or more of these. - -For simplicity’s sake I have described these as alternative routes, -one or other of which any current of nerve-force must take; thereby, -as it may be thought, implying that {456} such current will be -exclusively confined to some one of them. But this is by no means the -case. Rarely, if ever, does it happen that a state of nervous tension, -present to consciousness as a feeling, expends itself in one direction -only. Very generally it may be observed to expend itself in two; and -it is probable that the discharge is never absolutely absent from any -one of the three. There is, however, variety in the _proportions_ in -which the discharge is divided among these different channels under -different circumstances. In a man whose fear impels him to run, the -mental tension generated is only in part transformed into a muscular -stimulus: there is a surplus which causes a rapid current of ideas. An -agreeable state of feeling produced, say by praise, is not wholly used -up in arousing the succeeding phase of the feeling and the new ideas -appropriate to it; but a certain portion overflows into the visceral -nervous system, increasing the action of the heart and facilitating -digestion. And here we come upon a class of considerations and facts -which open the way to a solution of our special problem. - -For, starting with the truth that at any moment the existing quantity -of liberated nerve-force which in an inscrutable way produces in us -the state we call feeling, _must_ expend itself in some direction, it -follows that, if of the several channels it may take, one is wholly or -partially closed, more must be taken by the others; or that if two are -closed, the discharge along the remaining one must be more intense; and -that, conversely, should anything determine an unusual efflux in one -direction, there will be a diminished efflux in other directions. - -Daily experience illustrates these conclusions. It is commonly remarked -that the suppression of external signs of feeling, makes feeling more -intense. The deepest grief is silent grief. Why? Because the nervous -excitement not discharged in muscular action, discharges itself -in other nervous excitements—arouses more numerous and more {457} -remote associations of melancholy ideas, and so increases the mass -of feelings. People who conceal their anger are habitually found to -be more revengeful than those who explode in loud speech and vehement -action. Why? Because, as before, the emotion is reflected back, -accumulates, and intensifies. Similarly, men who, as proved by their -powers of representation, have the keenest appreciation of the comic, -are usually able to do and say the most ludicrous things with perfect -gravity. - -On the other hand, all are familiar with the truth that bodily activity -deadens emotion. Under great irritation we get relief by walking about -rapidly. Extreme effort in the bootless attempt to achieve a desired -end, greatly diminishes the intensity of the desire. Those who are -forced to exert themselves after misfortunes, do not suffer nearly -so much as those who remain quiescent. If any one wishes to check -intellectual excitement, he cannot choose a more efficient method -than running till he is exhausted. Moreover, these cases, in which -the production of feeling and thought is hindered by determining the -nervous energy towards bodily movements, have their counterparts in -the cases in which bodily movements are hindered by extra absorption -of nervous energy in sudden thoughts and feelings. If, when walking, -there flashes on you an idea that creates great surprise, hope, or -alarm, you stop; or if sitting cross-legged, swinging your pendent -foot, the movement is at once arrested. From the viscera, too, intense -mental action abstracts energy. Joy, disappointment, anxiety, or any -moral perturbation rising to a great height, destroys appetite; or, if -food has been taken, arrests digestion; and even a purely intellectual -activity, when extreme, does the like. - -Facts, then, bear out these _a priori_ inferences, that the nervous -excitement at any moment present to consciousness as feeling, must -expend itself in some way or other; that of the three classes of -channels open to it, it must {458} take one, two, or more, according -to circumstances; that the closure or obstruction of one, must increase -the discharge through the others; and, conversely, that if, to answer -some demand, the efflux of nervous energy in one direction is unusually -great, there must be a corresponding decrease of the efflux in other -directions. Setting out from these premises, let us now see what -interpretation is to be put on the phenomena of laughter. - - * * * * * - -That laughter is a form of muscular excitement, and so illustrates -the general law that feeling passing a certain pitch habitually vents -itself in bodily action, scarcely needs pointing out. It perhaps needs -pointing out, however, that strong feeling of almost any kind produces -this result. It is not a sense of the ludicrous, only, which does it; -nor are the various forms of joyous emotion the sole additional causes. -We have, besides, the sardonic laughter and the hysterical laughter -which result from mental distress; to which must be added certain -sensations, as tickling, and, according to Mr. Bain, cold, and some -kinds of acute pain. - -Strong feeling, mental or physical, being, then, the general cause of -laughter, we have to note that the muscular actions constituting it -are distinguished from most others by this, that they are purposeless. -In general, bodily motions that are prompted by feelings are directed -to special ends; as when we try to escape a danger, or struggle to -secure a gratification. But the movements of chest and limbs which -we make when laughing have no object. And now remark that these -quasi-convulsive contractions of the muscles, having no object, but -being results of an uncontrolled discharge of energy, we may see whence -arise their special characters—how it happens that certain classes of -muscles are affected first, and then certain other classes. For an -overflow of nerve-force undirected by any motive, will manifestly take -first the {459} most habitual routes; and if these do not suffice, -will next overflow into the less habitual ones. Well, it is through the -organs of speech that feeling passes into movement with the greatest -frequency. The jaws, tongue, and lips are used not only to express -strong irritation or gratification, but that very moderate flow of -mental energy which accompanies ordinary conversation, finds its chief -vent through this channel. Hence it happens that certain muscles round -the mouth, small and easy to move, are the first to contract under -pleasurable emotion. The class of muscles which, next after those of -articulation, are most constantly set in action (or extra action, let -us say) by feelings of all kinds, are those of respiration. Under -pleasurable or painful sensations we breathe more rapidly: possibly -as a consequence of the increased demand for oxygenated blood. The -sensations that accompany exertion also bring on hard breathing; which -here more evidently responds to the physiological needs. And emotions, -too, agreeable and disagreeable, both, at first, excite respiration; -though the last subsequently depress it. That is to say, of the bodily -muscles, the respiratory are more constantly implicated than any others -in those various acts which our feelings impel us to; and, hence, -when there occurs an undirected discharge of nervous energy into the -muscular system, it happens that, if the quantity be considerable, it -convulses not only certain of the articulatory and vocal muscles, but -also those which expel air from the lungs. Should the feeling to be -expended be still greater in amount—too great to find vent in these -classes of muscles—another class comes into play. The upper limbs are -set in motion. Children frequently clap their hands in glee; by some -adults the hands are rubbed together; and others, under still greater -intensity of delight, slap their knees and sway their bodies backwards -and forwards. Last of all, when the other channels for the escape of -the surplus nerve-force have been filled to {460} overflowing, a yet -further and less-used group of muscles is spasmodically affected: the -head is thrown back and the spine bent inwards—there is a slight degree -of what medical men call opisthotonos. Thus, then, without contending -that the phenomena of laughter in all their details are to be so -accounted for, we see that in their _ensemble_ they conform to these -general principles:—that feeling excites to muscular action; that when -the muscular action is unguided by a purpose the muscles first affected -are those which feeling most habitually stimulates; and that as the -feeling to be expended increases in quantity it excites an increasing -number of muscles, in a succession determined by the relative frequency -with which they respond to the regulated dictates of feeling. To which -as a qualifying and complicating factor must be added the relative -sizes of the muscles; since, other things equal, the smaller muscles -will be moved more readily than the larger. - -There still, however, remains the question with which we set out. -The explanation here given applies only to the laughter produced -by acute pleasure or pain: it does not apply to the laughter which -follows certain perceptions of incongruity. It is an insufficient -explanation that in these cases, laughter is a result of the pleasure -we take in escaping from the restraint of grave feelings. That this -is a part-cause is true. Doubtless very often, as Mr. Bain says, “it -is the coerced form of seriousness and solemnity without the reality -that gives us that stiff position from which a contact with triviality -or vulgarity relieves us, to our uproarious delight,” And in so far -as mirth is caused by the gush of agreeable feeling which follows -the cessation of unpleasant mental strain, it further illustrates -the general principle above set forth. But no explanation is thus -afforded of the mirth which ensues when the short silence between the -_andante_ and _allegro_ in one of Beethoven’s symphonies, is broken by -a loud sneeze. In this, and hosts of like cases, the mental tension -is not coerced but {461} spontaneous—not disagreeable but agreeable; -and the coming impressions to which attention is directed, promise a -gratification which few, if any, desire to escape. Hence, when the -unlucky sneeze occurs, it cannot be that the laughter of the audience -is due simply to the release from an irksome attitude of mind: some -other cause must be sought. - -This cause we shall arrive at by carrying our analysis a step further. -We have but to consider the quantity of feeling which exists under such -circumstances, and then to ask what are the conditions determining the -direction of its discharge, to reach a solution. Take a case. You are -sitting in a theatre, absorbed in the progress of an interesting drama. -Some climax has been reached which has aroused your sympathies—say, a -reconciliation between the hero and heroine, after long and painful -misunderstanding. The feelings excited by this scene are not of a kind -from which you seek relief; but are, on the contrary, a grateful relief -from the painful feelings with which you have witnessed the previous -estrangement. Moreover, the sentiments these fictitious personages -have for the moment inspired you with, are not such as would lead you -to rejoice in any indignity offered to them; but rather, such as would -make you resent the indignity. And now, while you are contemplating the -reconciliation with a pleasurable sympathy, there appears from behind -the scenes a tame kid, which, having stared round at the audience, -walks up to the lovers and sniffs at them. You cannot help joining -in the roar which greets this _contretemps_. Inexplicable as is this -irresistible burst on the hypothesis of a pleasure in escaping from -mental restraint; or on the hypothesis of a pleasure from relative -increase of self-importance, when witnessing the humiliation of -others; it is readily explicable if we consider what, in such a case, -must become of the feeling that existed at the moment the incongruity -arose. A large mass of emotion had been produced; or, to speak in -physiological language, a large portion of the nervous {462} system -was in a state of tension. There was also great expectation with -respect to the further evolution of the scene—a quantity of vague, -nascent thought and emotion, into which the existing quantity of -thought and emotion was about to pass. Had there been no interruption, -the body of new ideas and feelings next excited, would have sufficed to -absorb the whole of the liberated nervous energy. But now, this large -amount of nervous energy, instead of being allowed to expend itself -in producing an equivalent amount of the new thoughts and emotions -which were nascent, is suddenly checked in its flow. The channels -along which the discharge was about to take place, are closed. The new -channel opened—that afforded by the appearance and proceedings of the -kid—is a small one; the ideas and feelings suggested are not numerous -and massive enough to carry off the nervous energy to be expended. The -excess must therefore discharge itself in some other direction; and in -the way already explained, there results an efflux through the motor -nerves to various classes of the muscles, producing the half-convulsive -actions we term laughter. - -This explanation is in harmony with the fact that when, among several -persons who witness the same ludicrous occurrence, there are some -who do not laugh, it is because there has arisen in them an emotion -not participated in by the rest, and which is sufficiently massive -to absorb all the nascent excitement. Among the spectators of an -awkward tumble, those who preserve their gravity are those in whom -there is excited a degree of sympathy with the sufferer, sufficiently -great to serve as an outlet for the feeling which the occurrence had -turned out of its previous course. Sometimes anger carries off the -arrested current; and so prevents laughter. An instance of this was -lately furnished me by a friend who had been witnessing the feats at -Franconi’s. A tremendous leap had just been made by an acrobat over a -number of horses. The clown, seemingly envious of this success, made -ostentatious preparation for doing the like; {463} and then, taking -the preliminary run with immense energy, stopped short on reaching the -first horse, and pretended to wipe some dust from its haunches. In most -of the spectators, merriment was excited; but in my friend, wound up by -the expectation of the coming leap to a state of great nervous tension, -the effect of the baulk was to produce indignation. Experience thus -proves what the theory implies; namely, that the discharge of arrested -feelings into the muscular system, takes place only in the absence -of other adequate channels—does not take place if there arise other -feelings equal in amount to those arrested. - -Evidence still more conclusive is at hand. If we contrast the -incongruities which produce laughter with those which do not, we -see that in the non-ludicrous ones the unexpected feeling aroused, -though wholly different in kind, is not less in quantity or intensity. -Among incongruities which may excite anything but a laugh, Mr. Bain -instances—“A decrepit man under a heavy burden, five loaves and two -fishes among a multitude, and all unfitness and gross disproportion; -an instrument out of tune, a fly in ointment, snow in May, Archimedes -studying geometry in a siege, and all discordant things; a wolf in -sheep’s clothing, a breach of bargain, and falsehood in general; the -multitude taking the law in their own hands, and everything of the -nature of disorder; a corpse at a feast, parental cruelty, filial -ingratitude, and whatever is unnatural; the entire catalogue of -the vanities given by Solomon, are all incongruous, but they cause -feelings of pain, anger, sadness, loathing, rather than mirth.” Now in -these cases, where the totally unlike state of consciousness suddenly -produced, is not inferior in mass to the preceding one, the conditions -to laughter are not fulfilled. As above shown, laughter naturally -results only when consciousness is unawares transferred from great -things to small—only when there is what we may call a _descending_ -incongruity. - -And now observe, finally, the fact, alike inferable _a priori_ {464} -and illustrated in experience, that an _ascending_ incongruity not -only fails to cause laughter, but works on the muscular system an -effect of the reverse kind. When after something very insignificant -there arises without anticipation something very great, the emotion we -call wonder results; and this emotion is accompanied not by contraction -of the muscles, but by relaxation of them. In children and country -people, that falling of the jaw which occurs on witnessing an imposing -and unexpected change, exemplifies this effect. Persons wonder-struck -at the production of a striking result by a seemingly-inadequate cause, -are frequently described as unconsciously dropping the things they held -in their hands. Such are just the effects to be anticipated. After -an average state of consciousness, absorbing but a small quantity of -nervous energy, is aroused without notice, a strong emotion of awe, -terror, or admiration; joined with the astonishment due to an apparent -want of adequate causation. This new state of consciousness demands -far more nervous energy than that which it has suddenly replaced; and -this increased absorption of nervous energy in mental changes, involves -a temporary diminution of the outflow in other directions: whence the -pendent jaw and the relaxing grasp. - -One further observation is worth making. Among the several sets of -channels into which surplus feeling might be discharged, was named -the nervous system of the viscera. The sudden overflow of an arrested -mental excitement, which, as we have seen, results from a descending -incongruity, must doubtless stimulate not only the muscular system, as -we see it does, but also the internal organs: the heart and stomach -must come in for a share of the discharge. And thus there seems to be -a good physiological basis for the popular notion that mirth-creating -excitement facilitates digestion. - - * * * * * - -Though, in doing so, I go beyond the boundaries of the {465} immediate -topic, I may fitly point out that the method of inquiry here followed, -opens the way to interpretation of various phenomena besides those of -laughter. To show the importance of pursuing it, I will indicate the -explanation it furnishes of another familiar class of facts. - -All know how generally a large amount of emotion disturbs the action of -the intellect, and interferes with the power of expression. A speech -delivered with great facility to tables and chairs, is by no means so -easily delivered to an audience. Every schoolboy can testify that his -trepidation, when standing before a master, has often disabled him -from repeating a lesson which he had duly learnt. In explanation of -this we commonly say that the attention is distracted—that the proper -train of ideas is broken by the intrusion of ideas that are irrelevant. -But the question is, in what manner does unusual emotion produce this -effect; and we are here supplied with a tolerably obvious answer. The -repetition of a lesson, or set speech previously thought out, implies -the flow of a very moderate amount of nervous excitement through a -comparatively narrow channel. The thing to be done is simply to call -up in succession certain previously-arranged ideas—a process in which -no great amount of mental energy is expended. Hence, when there is a -large quantity of emotion, which must be discharged in some direction -or other; and when, as usually happens, the restricted series of -intellectual actions to be gone through, does not suffice to carry -it off; there result discharges along other channels besides the one -prescribed: there are aroused various ideas foreign to the train of -thought to be pursued; and these tend to exclude from consciousness -those which should occupy it. - -And now observe the meaning of those bodily actions spontaneously set -up under these circumstances. The schoolboy saying his lesson, commonly -has his fingers actively engaged—perhaps in twisting about a broken -pen, or perhaps in squeezing the angle of his jacket; and if told to -keep his {466} hands still, he soon again falls into the same or a -similar trick. Many anecdotes are current of public speakers having -incurable automatic actions of this class: barristers who perpetually -wound and unwound pieces of tape; members of parliament ever putting -on and taking off their spectacles. So long as such movements are -unconscious, they facilitate the mental actions. At least this seems -a fair inference from the fact that confusion frequently results from -putting a stop to them: witness the case narrated by Sir Walter Scott -of his school-fellow, who became unable to say his lesson after the -removal of the waistcoat button which he habitually fingered while in -class. But why do they facilitate the mental actions? Clearly because -they draw off a portion of the surplus nervous excitement. If, as above -explained, the quantity of mental energy generated is greater than can -find vent along the narrow channel of thought that is open to it; and -if, in consequence, it is apt to produce confusion by rushing into -other channels of thought; then, by allowing it an exit through the -motor nerves into the muscular system, the pressure is diminished, and -irrelevant ideas are less likely to intrude on consciousness. - -This further illustration will, I think, justify the position that -something may be achieved by pursuing in other cases this kind of -psychological inquiry. A complete explanation of the phenomena, -requires us to trace out _all_ the consequences of any given state of -consciousness; and we cannot do this without studying the effects, -bodily and mental, as varying in quantity at one another’s expense. We -should probably learn much if in every case we asked—Where is all the -nervous energy gone? - - -ENDNOTE TO _THE PHYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER_. - -[60] For numerous illustrations see essay on “The Origin and Function -of Music.” - -END OF VOL. II. - - - - -MR. HERBERT SPENCER’S WORKS. - - -_A SYSTEM OF SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY._ - - - _8th Thousand._ - (WITH AN APPENDIX DEALING WITH CRITICISMS.) - In one vol. 8vo, cloth, price 16s., - FIRST PRINCIPLES. - -CONTENTS. - -PART I.—THE UNKNOWABLE. - - 1. Religion and Science. - 2. Ultimate Religious Ideas. - 3. Ultimate Scientific Ideas. - 4. The Relativity of All Knowledge. - 5. The Reconciliation. - -PART II.—THE KNOWABLE. - - 1. Philosophy Defined - 2. The Data of Philosophy. - 3. Space, Time, Matter, Motion, and Force. - 4. The Indestructibility of Matter. - 5. The Continuity of Motion. - 6. The Persistence of Force. - 7. The Persistence of Relations among Forces. - 8. The Transformation and Equivalence of Forces. - 9. The Direction of Motion. - 10. The Rhythm of Motion. - 11. Recapitulation, Criticism, and Recommencement. - 12. Evolution and Dissolution. - 13. Simple and Compound Evolution. - 14. The Law of Evolution. - 15. The Law of Evolution, continued. - 16. The Law of Evolution, continued. - 17. The Law of Evolution, concluded. - 18. The Interpretation of Evolution. - 19. The Instability of the Homogeneous. - 20. The Multiplication of Effects. - 21. Segregation. - 22. Equilibration. - 23. Dissolution. - 24. Summary and Conclusion. - - - _4th Thousand._ - In two vols. 8vo, cloth, price 34s. - THE PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY. - -CONTENTS OF VOL. I. - -PART I.—THE DATA OF BIOLOGY. - - 1. Organic Matter. - 2. The Actions of Forces on Organic Matter. - 3. The Re-actions of Organic Matter on Forces. - 4. Proximate Definition of Life. - 5. The Correspondence between Life and its Circumstances. - 6. The Degree of Life varies as the Degree of Correspondence. - 7. The Scope of Biology. - -PART II.—THE INDUCTIONS OF BIOLOGY. - - 1. Growth. - 2. Development. - 3. Function. - 4. Waste and Repair. - 5. Adaptation. - 6. Individuality. - 7. Genesis. - 8. Heredity. - 9. Variation. - 10. Genesis, Heredity, and Variation. - 11. Classification. - 12. Distribution. - -PART III.—THE EVOLUTION OF LIFE. - - 1. Preliminary. - 2. General Aspects of the Special-Creation-Hypothesis. - 3. General Aspects of the Evolution-Hypothesis. - 4. The Arguments from Classification. - 5. The Arguments from Embryology. - 6. The Arguments from Morphology. - 7. The Arguments from Distribution. - 8. How is Organic Evolution caused? - 9. External Factors. - 10. Internal Factors. - 11. Direct Equilibration. - 12. Indirect Equilibration. - 13. The Co-operation of the Factors. - 14. The Convergence of the Evidences. - -APPENDIX. - - The Spontaneous-Generation Question. - -CONTENTS OF VOL. II. - -PART IV.—MORPHOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT. - - 1. The Problems of Morphology. - 2. The Morphological Composition of Plants. - 3. The Morphological Composition of Plants, continued. - 4. The Morphological Composition of Animals. - 5. The Morphological Composition of Animals, continued. - 6. Morphological Differentiation in Plants. - 7. The General Shapes of Plants. - 8. The Shapes of Branches. - 9. The Shapes of Leaves. - 10. The Shapes of Flowers. - 11. The Shapes of Vegetal Cells. - 12. Changes of Shape otherwise caused. - 13. Morphological Differentiation in Animals. - 14. The General Shapes of Animals. - 15. The Shapes of Vertebrate Skeletons. - 16. The Shapes of Animal Cells. - 17. Summary of Morphological Development. - -PART V.—PHYSIOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT. - - 1. The Problems of Physiology. - - 2. Differentiations between the Outer and Inner Tissues of Plants. - - 3. Differentiations among the Outer Tissues of Plants. - - 4. Differentiations among the Inner Tissues of Plants. - - 5. Physiological Integration in Plants. - - 6. Differentiations between the Outer and Inner Tissues of Animals. - - 7. Differentiations among the Outer Tissues of Animals. - - 8. Differentiations among the Inner Tissues of Animals. - - 9. Physiological Integration in Animals. - - 10. Summary of Physiological Development. - -PART VI.—LAWS OF MULTIPLICATION. - - 1. The Factors. - - 2. _À Priori_ Principle. - - 3. Obverse _à priori_ Principle. - - 4. Difficulties of Inductive Verification. - - 5. Antagonism between Growth and Asexual Genesis. - - 6. Antagonism between Growth and Sexual Genesis. - - 7. Antagonism between Development and Genesis, Asexual and Sexual. - - 8. Antagonism between Expenditure and Genesis. - - 9. Coincidence between high Nutrition and Genesis. - - 10. Specialities of these Relations. - - 11. Interpretation and Qualification. - - 12. Multiplication of the Human Race. - - 13. Human Evolution in the Future. - -APPENDIX. - - A Criticism on Professor Owen’s Theory of the Vertebrate Skeleton. - - On Circulation and the Formation of Wood in Plants. - - - _5th Thousand._ - (WITH AN ADDITIONAL PART.) - In two vols. 8vo, cloth, price 36s., - THE PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY. - -CONTENTS OF VOL. I. - -PART I.—THE DATA OF PSYCHOLOGY. - - 1. The Nervous System. - 2. The Structure of the Nervous System. - 3. The Functions of the Nervous System. - 4. The Conditions essential to Nervous Action. - 5. Nervous Stimulation and Nervous Discharge. - 6. Æstho-Physiology. - -PART II.—THE INDUCTIONS OF PSYCHOLOGY. - - 1. The Substance of Mind. - 2. The Composition of Mind. - 3. The Relativity of Feelings. - 4. The Relativity of Relations between Feelings. - 5. The Revivability of Feelings. - 6. The Revivability of Relations between Feelings. - 7. The Associability of Feelings. - 8. The Associability of Relations between Feelings. - 9. Pleasures and Pains. - -PART III.—GENERAL SYNTHESIS. - - 1. Life and Mind as Correspondence. - 2. The Correspondence as Direct and Homogeneous. - 3. The Correspondence as Direct but Heterogeneous. - 4. The Correspondence as extending in Space. - 5. The Correspondence as extending in Time. - 6. The Correspondence as increasing in Speciality. - 7. The Correspondence as increasing in Generality. - 8. The Correspondence as increasing in Complexity. - 9. The Co-ordination of Correspondences. - 10. The Integration of Correspondences. - 11. The Correspondences in their Totality. - -PART IV.—SPECIAL SYNTHESIS. - - 1. The Nature of Intelligence. - 2. The Law of Intelligence. - 3. The Growth of Intelligence. - 4. Reflex Action. - 5. Instinct. - 6. Memory. - 7. Reason. - 8. The Feelings. - 9. The Will. - -PART V.—PHYSICAL SYNTHESIS. - - 1. A Further Interpretation Needed. - 2. The Genesis of Nerves. - 3. The Genesis of Simple Nervous Systems. - 4. The Genesis of Compound Nervous Systems. - 5. The Genesis of Doubly-Compound Nervous Systems. - 6. Functions as Related to these Structures. - 7. Psychical Laws as thus Interpreted. - 8. Evidence from Normal Variations. - 9. Evidence from Abnormal Variations. - 10. Results. - -APPENDIX. - - On the Action of Anæsthetics and Narcotics. - -CONTENTS OF VOL. II. - -PART VI.—SPECIAL ANALYSIS. - - 1. Limitation of the Subject. - - 2. Compound Quantitative Reasoning. - - 3. Compound Quantitative Reasoning, continued. - - 4. Imperfect and Simple Quantitative Reasoning. - - 5. Quantitative Reasoning in General. - - 6. Perfect Qualitative Reasoning. - - 7. Imperfect Qualitative Reasoning. - - 8. Reasoning in General. - - 9. Classification, Naming, and Recognition. - - 10. The Perception of Special Objects. - - 11. The Perception of Body as presenting Dynamical, Statico-Dynamical, - and Statical Attributes. - - 12. The Perception of Body as presenting Statico-Dynamical and - Statical Attributes. - - 13. The Perception of Body as presenting Statical Attributes. - - 14. The Perception of Space. - - 15. The Perception of Time. - - 16. The Perception of Motion. - - 17. The Perception of Resistance. - - 18. Perception in General. - - 19. The Relations of Similarity and Dissimilarity. - - 20. The Relations of Cointension and Non-Cointension. - - 21. The Relations of Coextension and Non-Coextension. - - 22. The Relations of Coexistence and Non-Coexistence. - - 23. The Relations of Connature and Non-Connature. - - 24. The Relations of Likeness and Unlikeness. - - 25. The Relation of Sequence. - - 26. Consciousness in General. - - 27. Results. - -PART VII.—GENERAL ANALYSIS. - - 1. The Final Question. - 2. The Assumption of Metaphysicians. - 3. The Words of Metaphysicians. - 4. The Reasonings of Metaphysicians. - 5. Negative Justification of Realism. - 6. Argument from Priority. - 7. The Argument from Simplicity. - 8. The Argument from Distinctness. - 9. A Criterion Wanted. - 10. Propositions qualitatively distinguished. - 11. The Universal Postulate. - 12. The test of Relative Validity. - 13. Its Corollaries. - 14. Positive Justification of Realism. - 15. The Dynamics of Consciousness. - 16. Partial Differentiation of Subject and Object. - 17. Completed Differentiation of Subject and Object. - 18. Developed Conception of the Object. - 19. Transfigured Realism. - -PART VIII.—CONGRUITIES. - - 1. Preliminary. - 2. Co-ordination of Data and Inductions. - 3. Co-ordination of Syntheses. - 4. Co-ordination of Special Analyses. - 5. Co-ordination of General Analyses. - 6. Final Comparison. - -PART IX.—COROLLARIES. - - 1. Special Psychology. - 2. Classification. - 3. Development of Conceptions. - 4. Language of the Emotions. - 5. Sociality and Sympathy. - 6. Egoistic Sentiments. - 7. Ego-Altruistic Sentiments. - 8. Altruistic Sentiments. - 9. Æsthetic Sentiments. - - - _3rd Edition, revised and enlarged._ - In 8vo., cloth, price 21s., Vol. I. of - THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. - -CONTENTS. - -PART I.—THE DATA OF SOCIOLOGY. - - 1. Super-Organic Evolution. - - 2. The Factors of Social Phenomena. - - 3. Original External Factors. - - 4. Original Internal Factors. - - 5. The Primitive Man—Physical. - - 6. The Primitive Man—Emotional. - - 7. The Primitive Man—Intellectual. - - 8. Primitive Ideas. - - 9. The Ideas of the Animate and the Inanimate. - - 10. The Ideas of Sleep and Dreams. - - 11. The Ideas of Swoon, Apoplexy, Catelepsy, Ecstacy, and other forms - of Insensibility. - - 12. The Ideas of Death and Resurrection. - - 13. The Ideas of Souls, Ghosts, Spirits, Demons. - - 14. The Ideas of Another Life. - - 15. The Ideas of Another World. - - 16. The Ideas of Supernatural Agents. - - 17. Supernatural Agents as causing Epilepsy and Convulsive Actions, - Delirium and Insanity, Disease and Death. - - 18. Inspiration, Divination, Exorcism, and Sorcery. - - 19. Sacred Places, Temples, and Altars; Sacrifice, Fasting, and - Propitiation; Praise and Prayer. - - 20. Ancestor-Worship in General. - - 21. Idol-Worship and Fetich-Worship. - - 22. Animal-Worship. - - 23. Plant-Worship. - - 24. Nature-Worship. - - 25. Deities. - - 26. The Primitive Theory of Things. - - 27. The Scope of Sociology. - -PART II.—THE INDUCTIONS OF SOCIOLOGY. - - 1. What is a Society? - 2. A Society is an Organism. - 3. Social Growth. - 4. Social Structures. - 5. Social Functions. - 6. Systems of Organs. - 7. The Sustaining System. - 8. The Distributing System. - 9. The Regulating System. - 10. Social Types and Constitutions. - 11. Social Metamorphoses. - 12. Qualifications and Summary. - -PART III.—THE DOMESTIC RELATIONS. - - 1. The Maintenance of Species. - - 2. The Diverse Interests of the Species, of the Parents, and of the - Offspring. - - 3. Primitive Relations of the Sexes. - - 4. Exogamy and Endogamy. - - 5. Promiscuity. - - 6. Polyandry. - - 7. Polygyny. - - 8. Monogamy. - - 9. The Family. - - 10. The _Status_ of Women. - - 11. The _Status_ of Children. - - 12. Domestic Retrospect and Prospect. - - - _2nd Thousand._ - In 8vo, cloth, price 18s. Vol. II of - THE PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY. - - (_Containing the two following divisions, which may still_ - _be had separately._) - - - In one vol. 8vo, cloth, price 7s., - CEREMONIAL INSTITUTIONS. - -CONTENTS. - - 1. Ceremony in General. - 2. Trophies. - 3. Mutilations. - 4. Presents. - 5. Visits. - 6. Obeisances. - 7. Forms of Address. - 8. Titles. - 9. Badges and Costumes. - 10. Further Class-Distinctions. - 11. Fashion. - 12. Ceremonial Retrospect and Prospect. - - - In one vol. 8vo, cloth, price 12s. - POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS. - -CONTENTS. - - 1. Preliminary. - 2. Political Organization in General. - 3. Political Integration. - 4. Political Differentiation. - 5. Political Forms and Forces. - 6. Political Heads—Chiefs, Kings, etc. - 7. Compound Political Heads. - 8. Consultative Bodies. - 9. Representative Bodies. - 10. Ministries. - 11. Local Governing Agencies. - 12. Military Systems. - 13. Judicial Systems. - 14. Laws. - 15. Property. - 16. Revenue. - 17. The Militant Type of Society. - 18. The Industrial Type of Society. - 19. Political Retrospect and Prospect. - - - _2nd Thousand._ - In one vol. 8vo., cloth, price 5_s._ - ECCLESIASTICAL INSTITUTIONS. - -(_Being Part VI. of the PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY._) - -CONTENTS. - - 1. The Religious Idea. - 2. Medicine-men and Priests. - 3. Priestly Duties of Descendants. - 4. Eldest Male Descendants as Quasi-Priests. - 5. The Ruler as Priest. - 6. The Rise of a Priesthood. - 7. Polytheistic and Monotheistic Priesthoods. - 8. Ecclesiastical Hierarchies. - 9. An Ecclesiastical System as a Social Bond. - 10. The Military Functions of Priests. - 11. The Civil Functions of Priests. - 12. Church and State. - 13. Nonconformity. - 14. The Moral Influences of Priesthoods. - 15. Ecclesiastical Retrospect and Prospect. - 16. Religious Retrospect and Prospect. - - - _5th Thousand._ - - WITH AN APPENDIX, CONTAINING AN ADDITIONAL CHAPTER, AND - REPLIES TO CRITICISMS. - - In one vol. 8vo, cloth, price 8s., - - THE DATA OF ETHICS. - -(_Being Part I. of the PRINCIPLES OF ETHICS._) - -CONTENTS. - - 1. Conduct in General. - 2. The Evolution of Conduct. - 3. Good and Bad Conduct. - 4. Ways of Judging Conduct. - 5. The Physical View. - 6. The Biological View. - 7. The Psychological View. - 8. The Sociological View. - 9. Criticisms and Explanations. - 10. The Relativity of Pains and Pleasures. - 11. Egoism _versus_ Altruism. - 12. Altruism _versus_ Egoism. - 13. Trial and Compromise. - 14. Conciliation. - 15. Absolute Ethics and Relative Ethics. - 16. The Scope of Ethics. - - -_OTHER WORKS._ - - - _5th Thousand._ - In one vol. 8vo, cloth, price 6s., - EDUCATION: - INTELLECTUAL, MORAL, AND PHYSICAL. - -CONTENTS. - - 1. What Knowledge is of most Worth? - 2. Intellectual Education. - 3. Moral Education. - 4. Physical Education. - - - _Also, 20th and 21st Thousand,_ - _A CHEAP EDITION OF THE FOREGOING WORK._ - -In one vol. crown 8vo, price 2s. 6d. - - - _Library Edition (the 9th), with a Postscript._ - In one vol., price 10s. 6d., - THE STUDY OF SOCIOLOGY. - -CONTENTS. - - 1. Our Need of it. - 2. Is there a Social Science? - 3. Nature of the Social Science. - 4. Difficulties of the Social Science. - 5. Objective Difficulties. - 6. Subjective Difficulties—Intellectual. - 7. Subjective Difficulties—Emotional. - 8. The Educational Bias. - 9. The Bias of Patriotism. - 10. The Class-Bias. - 11. The Political Bias. - 12. The Theological Bias. - 13. Discipline. - 14. Preparation in Biology. - 15. Preparation in Psychology. - 16. Conclusion. - Postscript. - - - _10th Thousand._ - In wrapper, 1s., in cloth, better paper, 2s. 6d. - THE MAN _VERSUS_ THE STATE. - -CONTENTS. - - 1. The New Toryism. - 2. The Coming Slavery. - 3. The Sins of Legislators. - 4. The Great Political Superstition. - Postscript. - - - _4th Thousand._ - In two vols. 8vo, cloth, price 16s., - ESSAYS: - SCIENTIFIC, POLITICAL, AND SPECULATIVE. - -CONTENTS OF VOL. I. - - 1. Progress: its Law and Cause. - 2. Manners and Fashion. - 3. The Genesis of Science. - 4. The Physiology of Laughter. - 5. The Origin and Function of Music. - 6. The Nebular Hypothesis. - 7. Bain on the Emotions and the Will. - 8. Illogical Geology. - 9. The Development Hypothesis. - 10. The Social Organism. - 11. Use and Beauty. - 12. The Sources of Architectural Types. - 13. The Use of Anthropomorphism. - -CONTENTS OF VOL. II. - - 1. The Philosophy of Style. - 2. Over-Legislation. - 3. The Morals of Trade. - 4. Personal Beauty. - 5. Representative Government. - 6. Prison Ethics. - 7. Railway Morals and Railway Policy. - 8. Gracefulness. - 9. State-Tamperings with Money and Banks. - 10. Parliamentary Reform: the Dangers and the Safeguards. - 11. Mill _versus_ Hamilton—the Test of Truth. - - - _3rd Edition._ - In one vol. 8vo., price 8s., - THIRD SERIES OF - ESSAYS: - -CONTENTS. - - 1. The Classification of the Sciences (with a Postscript, replying to - Criticisms). - - 2. Reasons for Dissenting from the Philosophy of M. Comte. - - 3. Laws in General. - - 4. The Origin of Animal-Worship. - - 5. Specialized Administration. - - 6. “The Collective Wisdom.” - - 7. Political Fetichism. - - 8. What is Electricity? - - 9. The Constitution of the Sun. - - 10. Mr. Martineau on Evolution. - - 11. Replies to Criticisms. - - 12. Transcendental Physiology. - - 13. The Comparative Psychology of Man. - - - Price 2s. 6d., - THE FACTORS OF ORGANIC EVOLUTION. - - - DESCRIPTIVE SOCIOLOGY; OR GROUPS OF SOCIOLOGICAL FACTS, CLASSIFIED AND - ARRANGED BY HERBERT SPENCER, - -COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED BY - -DAVID DUNCAN, M.A., Professor of Logic, &c., in the Presidency College, -Madras; RICHARD SCHEPPIG, Ph.D.; and JAMES COLLIER. - -EXTRACT FROM THE PROVISIONAL PREFACE. - -Something to introduce the work of which an instalment is annexed, -seems needful, in anticipation of the time when completion of a volume -will give occasion for a Permanent Preface. - -In preparation for _The Principles of Sociology_, requiring as bases of -induction large accumulations of data, fitly arranged for comparison, -I, some twelve years ago, commenced, by proxy, the collection and -organization of facts presented by societies of different types, -past and present; being fortunate enough to secure the services of -gentlemen competent to carry on the process in the way I wished. -Though this classified compilation of materials was entered upon -solely to facilitate my own work; yet, after having brought the mode -of classification to a satisfactory form, and after having had some -of the Tables filled up, I decided to have the undertaking executed -with a view to publication; the facts collected and arranged for easy -reference and convenient study of their relations, being so presented, -apart from hypothesis, as to aid all students of Social Science in -testing such conclusions as they have drawn and in drawing others. - -The Work consists of three large Divisions. Each comprises a set -of Tables exhibiting the facts as abstracted and classified, and a -mass of quotations and abridged abstracts otherwise classified, on -which the statements contained in the Tables are based. The condensed -statements, arranged after a uniform manner, give, in each Table or -succession of Tables, the phenomena of all orders which each society -presents—constitute an account of its morphology, its physiology, and -(if a society having a known history) its development. On the other -hand, the collected Extracts, serving as authorities for the statements -in the Tables, are (or, rather will be, when the Work is complete) -classified primarily according to the kinds of phenomena to which they -refer, and secondarily according to the societies exhibiting these -phenomena; so that each kind of phenomenon as it is displayed in all -societies, may be separately studied with convenience. - -In further explanation I may say that the classified compilations and -digests of materials to be thus brought together under the title of -_Descriptive Sociology_, are intended to supply the student of Social -Science with data, standing towards his conclusions in a relation like -that in which accounts of the structures and functions of different -types of animals stand to the conclusions of the biologist. Until there -had been such systematic descriptions of different kinds of organisms, -as made it possible to compare the connexions, and forms, and actions, -and modes of origin, of their parts, the Science of Life could make no -progress. And in like manner, before there can be reached in Sociology, -generalizations having a certainty making them worthy to be called -scientific, there must be definite accounts of the institutions and -actions of societies of various types, and in various stages of -evolution, so arranged as to furnish the means of readily ascertaining -what social phenomena are habitually associated. - -Respecting the tabulation, devised for the purpose of exhibiting social -phenomena in a convenient way, I may explain that the primary aim -has been so to present them that their relations of simultaneity and -succession may be seen at one view. As used for delineating uncivilized -societies, concerning which we have no records, the tabular form -serves only to display the various social traits as they are found to -co-exist. But as used for delineating societies having known histories, -the tabular form is so employed as to exhibit not only the connexions -of phenomena existing at the same time, but also the connexions of -phenomena that succeed one another. By reading horizontally across a -Table at any period, there may be gained a knowledge of the traits of -all orders displayed by the society at that period; while by reading -down each column, there may be gained a knowledge of the modifications -which each trait, structural or functional, underwent during successive -periods. - -Of course, the tabular form fulfils these purposes but approximately. -To preserve complete simultaneity in the statements of facts, as read -from side to side of the Tables, has proved impracticable; here much -had to be inserted, and there little; so that complete correspondence -in time could not be maintained. Moreover, it has not been possible -to carry out the mode of classification in a theoretically-complete -manner, by increasing the number of columns as the classes of facts -multiply in the course of Civilization. To represent truly the progress -of things, each column should divide and sub-divide in successive ages, -so as to indicate the successive differentiations of the phenomena. -But typographical difficulties have negatived this: a great deal has -had to be left in a form which must be accepted simply as the least -unsatisfactory. - -The three Divisions constituting the entire work, comprehend three -groups of societies:—(1) _Uncivilized Societies_; (2) _Civilized -Societies—Extinct or Decayed_; (3) _Civilized Societies—Recent or Still -Flourishing_. These divisions have at present reached the following -stages:― - -DIVISION I.—_Uncivilized Societies._ Commenced in 1867 by the gentleman -I first engaged, Mr. DAVID DUNCAN, M.A. (now Professor of Logic, -&c., in the Presidency College, Madras), and continued by him since -he left England, this part of the work is complete. It contains four -parts, including “Types of Lowest Races,” the “Negrito Races,” the -“Malayo-Polynesian Races,” the “African Races,” the “Asiatic Races,” -and the “American Races.” - -DIVISION II.—_Civilized Societies—Extinct or Decayed._ On this part of -the work Dr. RICHARD SCHEPPIG has been engaged since January, 1872. The -first instalment, including the four Ancient American Civilizations, -was issued in March, 1874. A second instalment, containing “Hebrews and -Phœnicians,” will shortly be issued. - -DIVISION III.—_Civilized Societies—Recent or Still Flourishing._ Of -this Division the first instalment, prepared by Mr. JAMES COLLIER, of -St. Andrew’s and Edinburgh Universities, was issued in August, 1873. -This presents the English Civilization. It covers seven consecutive -Tables; and the Extracts occupy seventy pages folio. The next part, -presenting in a still more extensive form the French Civilization, is -now in the press. - -The successive parts belonging to these several Divisions, issued at -intervals, are composed of different numbers of Tables and different -numbers of Pages. The Uncivilized Societies occupy four parts, each -containing a dozen or more Tables, with their accompanying Extracts. -Of the Division comprising Extinct Civilized Societies, the first part -contains four, and the second contains two. While of Existing Civilized -Societies, the records of which are so much more extensive, each -occupies a single part. - - H. S. - _March, 1880._ - - - _In Royal Folio, Price 18s._, - No. I. - English. - -COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED - -BY - -JAMES COLLIER. - - - _In Royal Folio, Price 16s._, - No. II. - Mexicans, Central Americans, Chibchas, - and Peruvians. - -COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED - -BY - -RICHARD SCHEPPIG, PH.D. - - - _In Royal Folio, Price 18s._, - No. III. - Lowest Races, Negrito Races, and - Malayo-Polynesian Races. - -COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED - -BY - -PROF. DUNCAN, M.A. - -TYPES OF LOWEST RACES. - - Fuegians. - Andamanese. - Veddahs. - Australians. - -NEGRITO RACES. - - Tasmanians. - New Caledonians, etc. - New Guinea People. - Fijians. - -MALAYO-POLYNESIAN RACES. - - Sandwich Islanders. - Tahitians. - Tongans. - Samoans. - New Zealanders. - Dyaks. - Javans. - Sumatrans. - Malagasy. - - - _In Royal Folio, Price 16s._, - No. IV. - African Races. - -COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED - -BY - -PROF. DUNCAN, M.A. - - Bushmen. - Hottentots. - Damaras. - Bechuanas. - Kaffirs. - East Africans. - Congo People. - Coast Negroes. - Inland Negroes. - Dahomans. - Ashantis. - Fulahs. - Abyssinians. - - - _In Royal Folio, Price 18s._, - No. V. - Asiatic Races. - -COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED - -BY - -PROF. DUNCAN, M.A. - - Arabs. - Todas. - Khonds. - Gonds. - Bhils. - Santals. - Karens. - Kukis. - Nagas. - Bodo and Dhimals. - Mishmis. - Kirghiz. - Kalmucks. - Ostyaks. - Kamtschadales. - - - _In Royal Folio, Price 18s._, - No. VI. - American Races. - -COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED - -BY - -PROF. DUNCAN, M.A. - - Esquimaux. - Chinooks. - Snakes. - Comanches. - Iroquois. - Chippewayans. - Chippewas. - Dakotas. - Mandans. - Creeks. - Guiana Tribes. - Caribs. - Brazilians. - Uaupés. - Abipones. - Patagonians. - Araucanians. - - - _In Royal Folio, Price 21s._, - No. VII. - Hebrews and Phœnicians. - -COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED - -BY - -RICHARD SCHEPPIG, PH.D. - - - _In Royal Folio, Price 30s._, - No. VIII. - French. - -COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED - -BY - -JAMES COLLIER. - - -MR. HERBERT SPENCER’S WORKS. - -_A SYSTEM OF SYNTHETIC PHILOSOPHY._ - - FIRST PRINCIPLES 16_s._ - - PRINCIPLES OF BIOLOGY. 2 vols. 34_s._ - - PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY. 2 vols. 36_s._ - - PRINCIPLES OF SOCIOLOGY, Vol. I. 21_s._ - - DITTO Vol. II. 18_s._ - -(_This Volume includes the two following Works, which are at present -published separately._) - - CEREMONIAL INSTITUTIONS 7_s._ - - POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS 12_s._ - - ECCLESIASTICAL INSTITUTIONS 5_s._ - - THE DATA OF ETHICS 8_s._ - - -_OTHER WORKS._ - - THE STUDY OF SOCIOLOGY 10_s._ 6_d._ - - EDUCATION 6_s._ - - DITTO _Cheap Edition_ 2_s._ 6_d._ - - ESSAYS. 2 vols. 16_s._ - - ESSAYS (Third Series) 8_s._ - - THE MAN _versus_ THE STATE 2_s._ 6_d._ - - DITTO _Cheap Edition_ 1_s._ - - REASONS FOR DISSENTING FROM THE - PHILOSOPHY OF M. COMTE 6_d._ - - THE FACTORS OF ORGANIC EVOLUTION 2_s._ 6_d._ - -[For particulars see end of the volume.] - -WILLIAMS AND NORGATE, - -14, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON. - - - ALSO MR. SPENCER’S - _DESCRIPTIVE SOCIOLOGY_, - -COMPILED AND ABSTRACTED BY - -PROF. DUNCAN, DR. SCHEPPIG, & MR. COLLIER. - -FOLIO, BOARDS. - - 1. ENGLISH 18_s._ - - 2. ANCIENT AMERICAN RACES 16_s._ - - 3. LOWEST RACES, NEGRITOS, POLYNESIANS 18_s._ - - 4. AFRICAN RACES 16_s._ - - 5. ASIATIC RACES 18_s._ - - 6. AMERICAN RACES 18_s._ - - 7. HEBREWS AND PHŒNICIANS 21_s._ - - 8. FRENCH 30_s._ - -[For particulars see end of the volume.] - -WILLIAMS AND NORGATE, - -14, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON. - -Harrison & Sons, Printers, St. Martin’s Lane. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE - -This is Volume II (1891) of Spencer’s three volume series of Essays. -Volume I (1891) has been published by Project Gutenberg as ebook 29869. -Volume III (1904) is (ca 2016 October) in preparation at Project -Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders. Volume III contains an index for -all three volumes. Original page scans are available from archive.org. - -Original spelling and grammar are generally retained, with a few -exceptions noted below. Original italics _look like this_. Footnotes -were renumbered 1–60, changed to endnotes, and moved to the ends of the -appropriate essays. Original printed page numbers look like this: {35}. - -Page 84. Table I, originally printed on an unnumbered page between -pages 84 and 85, has been moved to page 85, and recast as a nested list -so as to function well in ebook format. In particular, large curly -brackets “{” intended to combine information on more than one line have -been eliminated. Table II, printed between pages 88 and 89 has been -treated similarly, and moved to page 88. Table III, printed between -pages 92 and 93 has been moved to page 92 and treated similarly. - -Page 125–130. In the comparison of Compte’s and Spencer’s propositions, -the two columns of the table were rewrapped into equal widths, to fit -a 72 character limit per line. This removes the original printed line -per line correspondence, if any such was implied, but the original -arrangement of the paragraphs is retained. The table of paragraphs -on pp. 131–132 was treated in the same way. On page 126, the phrase -“est essentiellement différent même radicalement opposé”, clearly -missing something in the original printed book, was changed to “est -essentiellement différent et même radicalement opposé”. - -Page 192. 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