as ) ¥ ES “re SH, Scudder Librarp Gift of SAMUEL HUBBARD SCUDDER DLpesedent of ther Saciely 80168) June 22 ,1903 Kohler Collection Te aren Wig Sr En * = —~ : ee \\ HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, IN THEIR CONNEXION WITH THE LAWS QF MATTER AND FORCE: A SERIES OF SCIENTIFIC ESSAYS. BY JOSEPH JOHN MURPHY. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. Hondo; MACMILLAN AND CO. 1869. [The Right of Translation and Reproduction is reserved. | vo > re Som, PA ee id CONTENTS OF VOL. II. CHAPTER XXVII. INTELLIGENCE. Formative, motor, and mental functions, all guided by intelligence—Instinctive intelligence of the bee the same in kind with formative intelligence—Instinct is not more wonderful than formative intelligence—Purpose in the formation and action of the iris—Gradation from unconscious to conscious and rational motor actions in the eye, and in the digestive organs—Actions determined by sensation—Al1l motor actions are intelligent, whether conscious or not—Intel- ligence, unconscious and conscious, formative and mental, is fundamentally the same—This view includes instinct—We cannot point out the beginning of sensation, or of consciousness—M ost thought, perhaps all, is partly unconscious —Identity of formative, instinctive, and mental intelligence—A special act of creation is not necessary for every new adaptation—Moral difficulties lessened by this view—Parasitie worms—Unnatural or immoral instincts—Al1l matter is endowed with forces, and vitalized matter is endowed with intelligence— Intelligence tends to guide all vital actions in the direction that is best for the health of the organism—Disease is no exception—Vital actions minister not only to the individual, but to the race—Reproductive and maternal functions— Social affections—Development of unconscious action into conscious—Love of life. Nore : Jnstinct :—Instincts of social insects cannot be inherited—Darwin’s ex- planation by natural selection—I think them due to Intelligence—Instincts of SREB S CAMBS moi sie ie colo), Wak tones. oe ch wees, otal cue i satiiienad EDsele— CHAPTER XXVIII. MIND. Definition impossible—Mind is developed out of sensation—Consciousness inex- plicable—Consciousness is of sensation—Sensation without consciousness— Sleep—Mental development—Consciousness distinct from sensation—Acquired taste due to a change not in the sensation, but in the consciousness of it— Vi CONTENTS OF VOL. IL Analogous impressions from different senses—Consciousness is indivisible— Biological ground of this in nervous centralization—Sensation is divisible : consciousness not—Consciousness not hereditary—Instance : how birds acquire andread Of Man! ees ty ee ey we, Pa ee eaten eo ee eet CHAPTER XXIX. THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. Differentiation into organs of vegetative and of animal life—Contractility the fundamental character of the latter—Nervous system developed out of mus- cular—Its primary function is to transmit stimuli to the muscles—Nervous system never simple—Ganglia—Reflex action—Nervous function differentiated from muscular function—Sensation does not exist at first—It begins probably with special sense—Sentient and insentient nerves histologically alike—Parallel development of organs and of functions—Corpora striata : their relation to the sensory ganglia—Consensual action: its similarity to merely reflex action— Sensation at first is only the guide to action—Insects have only this, with some possible exceptions—Sensory ganglia developed out of spinal cord, and cerebrum out of sensory ganglia—The cerebrum is the organ of consciousness—Largest in the highest animals—Cerebrum not in direct connexion with the organs of external life—Its structure—The functions of its parts can be ascertained only by analogy—Phrenological theory disproved by facts—One nervous current pro- ducing another—Consciousness is thus produced—Nerves and nerve-currents of consciousness—Is consciousness produced in the sensory ganglia or the cerebrum ?—Consciousness of thought is distinct from thought—Unconscious thought—Recollection without apparent cause—Nerves of thought—The sen- sory ganglia are the seat of consciousness—Consciousness of thought : how produced—Seat of consciousness—Memory—lIts rudimentary form is a con- sciousness of sensation outlasting the sensation—Recollection due to the repro- duction of a current of consciousness—Consensual action produced by remem- bered consciousness—Voluntary action—The same action may be at one time consensual, at another voluntary, according to the nature of the stimulus— Thought acts on the motor ganglia through the nerves of will—Position of the nerves of will—Voluntary actions may become consensual—Instance of a musician—This may become hereditary in animals, as in birds, and in dogs— This explanation will not apply to all consensual actions—Instance of the bee —Voluntary action has been developed out of consensual, and consensual out of insentient—Summary—Enumeration of mental actions—Mutual relation of the nervous organs of mind—Sensation—Consensual action—Consciousness of sensation—Thought—Consciousness produced by thought—Will—Reverie— Sleep—Dreaming—Somnambulism—Grounds of theory stated—Functions of sensory and motor nerves and ganglia are known—Those of the cerebral nerves may be inferred by analogy—Cerebral nerves of consciousness, of thought, and of will—Three primary mental functions probably corresponding thereto—Nerves of consciousness distinct from those of thought and will—Nerves of consciousness: how identified—Thought is in itself unconscious—Nerves of thought—Nerves —~ CONTENTS OF VOL. IL. vu of will—Ideo-motor and voluntary actions: how distinguished—The theory incomplete. Nore: Nervous Currents :—Consciousuess is always a secondary phenomenon— The secondary current is not a continuation of the first—Compared to electric telegraph currents—Nerve-fibres are more than merely conductors. Pp. 18—41 CHAPTER XXX. CONSCIOUSNESS AND THOUGHT. Physiology is useless as a guide in any but elementary psychology, though all mind depends on nervous action—Proofs of this—Feeling is wider than con- sciousness—Feelings of sensation and feelings of consciousness—Gradations of consciousness—Emotions—Feeling is inexplicable—Thought is explicable—It begins with the sense of the relation of sensations to each other—Attention to one particular sensation, or to one particular relation between sensations— Instance in geometrical study—We have no real consciousness of relations, only of related things—But we have knowledge of relations—Unconscious thought thus explained—Thought ceases to be conscious when it is of relations only, to the exclusion of the feelings between which the relations are—What is taken for consciousness of thought is often really consciousness of mental effort. Pp. 42—47 CHAPTER XXXI. MENTAL HABIT. All actions tend to become habitual—Motor habits—Voluntary actions becoming habitual and consensual—Mental habit, or association of ideas—Impressions on consciousness are either sensory or ideal—Law of association stated—Instance of a man’s face and his voice—Groups of sensations—Association by contiguity and by resemblance, both cases of the same principle—Explanation of associa- tion by resemblance: it is a case of association by contiguity—The power of cognising resemblance and difference is an ultimate fact—All association depends on habit—Forgetting, a case of loss of habits by disuse—Reappearance of memories supposed to be lost—Association enters into all mental acts— Memory—Acquisition of knowledge—Accurate knowledge—Error—Reverie— Invention—Reasoning—The mind cannot create, but can only combine—Are all mental facts referable to the law of mental habit alone ?—Parallel question in biology—I believe in intelligence, in addition to the laws of habit—The ques- tion stated: Is intelligence an ultimate fact ?—Why I have treated of associa- tion so briefly Pp. 48—55 vill CONTENTS OF VOL. II. CHAPTER XXXII. THE GROUNDS OF THE MORAL NATURE. Definition—Moral means emotional—Moral is contrasted with intellectual—The root of the moral nature is in the sense of pleasure and pain—Pleasure and pain are inexplicable in themselves, but it may be possible to tell how they arise—Organic intelligence guides all organisms to do what is for their welfare —Sentient organisms are guided to their welfare by sensation—Exceptions— Reason for thinking the law must be general—Desire and fear—Love of life— Sexuai, domestic, and social affections: their rocts in the organic life—Great changes are injurious, slight ones beneficial : great changes are painful, slight ones agreeable—Application of this principle to beauty—Roots of emotions in the organic life—Emotions generated by association—Association of feelings— Love of money not a primary feeling: may have become hereditary—Emotions have their seat in the nerves of consciousness—Germ of the moral nature in sensation—Prudence—Unselfishness—Holiness—Origin of prudence : of unsel- fishness : of holiness—The sense of holiness is a case of intelligence. Pp. 56—64 CHAPTER XXXIII. MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. Is sensation mental /—The question is only verbal—Mind begins with sensation— Feelings of sensation and of consciousness, or bodily and mental feelings : their anatomical grounds : no fundamental distinction—Sensation—Consciousness— Thought—Will—Relation of thought and will to the insentient life—Analogy of mental to organic development—Inter-action of functions in mind—Deve- lopment of thought, feeling, and will—Consensual and voluntary actions— Intermediate class—Sensation and consciousness both inexplicable—Develop- ment of memory, from consciousness outlasting sensation—Necessity of this to thought—Hearing words and sentences—Memory is developed by the law of association— Reverie—Recollection, or voluntary memory—Children have memory with little power of recollection—Only what has been attended to can be recollected—Imagination—Continuance of impressions—Memory—Recollec- tion—Imagination—Development of reasoning out of cognition of relations— Elementary relations—Likeness—Succession—Space-relation—Causation—Re- lations presupposed in association—Perception—Perception may have its seat in the sensory ganglia—Man’s superiority in reasoning—Power of directing thought at will—Language—Abstraction—Whately’s view on language—Use of words in thought, due to the power of directing thought at will : whence also the power of *abstraction—Instance in arithmetic—Voluntary action is always later developed than inyoluntary—Simple inference and abstract reasoning —Moral nature developed out of the sense of pleasure and pain—Care for + ee a, ae eT ee ee CONTENTS OF VOL, IL. 1X the future—Emotions due to association—Sympathy—Love of beauty, of knowledge, and of holiness—Summary—Tabular statement—Second tabular statement. Nore :—There are unconscious sensation and thought—I believe there is no PIMGGUSCOUSHCCLING Nant.) ow a eh ns ws ew) we a Pps 65—82 CHAPTER XXXIV. MENTAL GROWTH. Analogy between the organism and the mind in development by differentiation— Organic and mental integration—Analogy of organic and mental growth—The organism is constructed out of the food by the organic intelligence : so mind is constructed out of impressions of sense by the mental intelligence—Assimi- lation and waste both most rapid in youth—Parallel in receiving and forgetting mental impressions—Organic and mental growth both consist in excess of what is received over what is lost—Waste is a condition of organic life : so is for- getting of mental life—If we remembered everything, we could not think— Coalescence of residua by forgetting—What constitutes familiarity—Words must not only suggest their meaning: they must suggest nothing else—The first of these is secured by remembering, the second by forgetting—Summary— Formation of habits of action by the same law—Moral benefit of forgetting— Forgetting is a case of the lawsof habit . . .. . . . . Pp. 83—91 CHAPTER XXXYV. THE SENSES, External senses—That of heat is distinct—The muscular sense belongs to touch— The skin-nerves are nerves of both touch and heat; as are also the nerves of taste ; and these sensations do not combine with each other: but two tastes or smells, when mixed, combine into a resultant of character intermediate between their constituents : so of mixed colours—Orange— W hite—Sounds do not so com- bine, but may be discriminated—Reason of this in the constitution of the nerves of hearing—The nerves of smell, sight, and hearing transmit no other sensation— Probable cause of sensations of different kinds being transmitted by the same nerve without combining—Only touch and sight give perception of space— Intellectual senses: touch, sight, and hearing—Reproduction in memory of impressions of sight and hearing—Pleasure due to this—Its moral importance— Cause of this in hereditary habit—Senses of touch and heat—These sensations do not combine—What touch cognises is resistance—Muscular sense—Taste— Smell: its resemblance to taste—Sight, or the sense of colour—Only some luminous undulations produce the sense of light, and these excite various sen- sations of colour—Sight gives cognition of space—Characters of sight—Of hearing—Semicircular canals give a sense of the direction of sounds—Hearing is unlike the other senses in the power of discriminating simultaneous sounds Xx CONTENTS OF VOL, IL. —Distribution of the nerves of touch, taste, smell, and sight, to sensitive surfaces—Distribution of the nerves of hearing different—Laws of sonorous vibrations—Period of vibration constant for the same string—Pitch of note constant for the same string—One string may set another vibrating—Action of sound on the nerves of the ear—Tone of sound: how produced—Why do the secondary vibrations, or overtones, combine with the fundamental into a re- sultant sound ?—The combination or distinction may be due to habit—With practice overtones may be distinguished—Sight and hearing are the most intellectual, and the only esthetic senses—Music produces a more intense feeling than visual beauty, because the ear loses no time in combining impressions. Note A: Nerves of Special Sensation :—Opinion of distinct nerves for distinct colours—Reasons against this—No special nerves of taste, nor of heat—The kind of sensation depends not on the nerves, nor on the ganglia, but on the organ of sense—Sensations of light due to pressure, and to an electric current. Nore B: Colours and the Laws of their Combination :—Difference between sen- sations of sight and of the other senses—Meaning of light and of radiance— Heating and chemical effects of radiance—Radiance consists of undulations— Rays of different wave-lengths are mixed together in the sunbeam-—Their sepa- ration by the prism—The places of brightest light, of greatest heating power, and of greatest chemical power, do not coincide—Different rays have different colours—Succession of colours—Difference of colour is a physiological fact, and analogous not to tone but to pitch in sound—The octave in sound and in colour —The series of colours in the spectrum is circular, and the opposite colours are complementaries—How to combine colours— Whites produced by the combina- tion of different pairs of complementaries are optically different—All colours except white are in the spectruam—Black—Grey—Brown—Result of combining two colours not complementary isto form compound colours visibly like simple ones, but optically different—No distinction of primaries and secondaries in any physical sense, but there may be in a physiological sense—Further mathe- matical considerations—Wave frequency—A colour and its octave are 360° apart on the circle—We might expect complementaries to be 180° apart—Dis- crepancy of observation and theory—How accounted for—All the rays are not equally bright to our eyes—Possibility of giving a formula for any tint—Scien- tific principles of harmonious colouring . . . . . . . . Pp. 92—116 CHAPTER XXXVI. PERCEPTION. The problem, how sensations give rise to perceptions—Perception is more than cognition: it is the referring of sensations to their sources, the sources being present in time—A perfectly accurate definition is impossible—Perception is an inference—The same act may be the one or the other, according to cireum- stances—The subject has been complicated by extraneous questions—Perception and the cognition of space are distinct, but have been confounded—We cognise space before we perceive objects in it—Cognition of two sensations as separated : CONTENTS OF VOL, IL X1 in space—Cognition of space by the motion of a sensation—In these ways only superficial extension can be cognised—Cognitions of space and of time originate in parallel ways—Perception of objects external to the body is acquired by the motor sense—Summary—Sight, like touch, originally cognises only superficial extension—Perception by sight is an acquired power—Facts confirming these views —Answer to objection—Perceptions due to both touch and sight—Special connexion of these two senses—Cognition of space in three dimensions is due to touch—Additional proof of this—Touch cognises linear magnitudes ; sight cognises angular ones; and we think more easily of the former than of the latter—W ords denoting the former are common: words denoting the latter are technical—A being with sight only would cognise only angular magnitude— Impressions of the two senses are identified in the mind as the result of habit— Account of the process—Berkeley—Quotation from M‘Cosh—Difficulty about instinctive actions, as a duck running to the water when it leaves the egg— Explanation : these are cases of hereditary habit—Presumption that perception is not a simple act, from the multiplicity of senses—Difficulty of the subject from their multiplicity and their combination—Elements involved in perception enumerated—Assignment of a sensation to its sourcee—Cognition of space-rela- tions—Perception of objects in space—Combination of impressions of touch and sight—What is “the external world” external to?—It may be extra- mental, or only extra-organic—No organ of sense can perceive itself. Nore :—Case of a being having knowledge of space-from sight only—It would cognise only surface, and that the surface of a sphere—It would see straight lines as arcs of great circles—Plane geometry would seem true to it only on infinitely small surfaces—The eye cannot see a plane surface or a straight line— Straight lines are seen as ares of great circles, which intersect when produced— Reid’s “Geometry of Visibles”—A Barrister’s puzzle . . . Pp. 117—182 CHAPTER XXXVII. THE RELATION OF THE MIND TO SPACE AND TIME. Our knowledge of time is a primary cognition : we cognise time in cognising our sensations as successive—I believe space is cognised in a parallel way—Opinion that space is cognised by motion only—Similarity of space and time—Both are necessary—Magnitude is more naturally expressed in space than in time, though number is expressed in time—Conclusion that the cognitions of the two have separate origin—Is the argument relevant ?—Reason for thinking that it is— Larval and mature forms of these cognitions—Reason advanced for thinking that the cognition of space is from motion—Time is more inseparable from our thoughts than space—I believe this is not essential to all mind, but acci- dental to the human mind—Our consciousness begins with the succession of sensations—Possibility of consciousness being developed in space as well as time—Touch, sight, and heariug minister to mind—Of these only the first two give cognition of space—Hearing is the most closely connected with thought, because we think in words—Sensations of different senses may give cognition of time, but only those of the same sense can give it of space—Case of a mind Xll CONTENTS OF VOL. IU. developed out of the sense of sight only: its consciousness would be developed in both time and space—Illustration—What is meant by thinking in space— Possibility of a consciousness independent of time—Instance of this being elie ved sinjescaate rei es een bey ie ae) leet Ce os 6 eae elon CHAPTER XXXVIII TIME, SPACE, AND CAUSATION. I hold the experience theory of our knowledge of space and time in preference to that of forms of thought—But the experience is inherited: so that the results of the experience of the race become forms of thought for the individual— Herbert Spencer—The problem stated: How have space and time become forms of thought ?—Is the fact ultimate, or a result of experience ?—The ex- perience theory—The ideal theory—The ideal theory was consistent with the psychology of Kant’s time—Further conclusion, that space and time are unreal, admitted by Kant—The experience theory is consistent with our psychology— Notion that idealism is favourable to faith—I think the reverse—Kant was kept from scepticism by his faith, in spite of his philosophy—The experience theory makes our knowledge to be true, though limited, and is a possible basis of belief —Causation, like space and time, is cognised directly, by coming within the sphere of consciousness—Causation is cognised in becoming conscious of mental action—There is no direct cognition of the will as the cause of muscular action —How we learn to identify physical and mental causation as cases of the same law—Imaginary case of a being with thought, but no motor powers—Where I agree with Mill, and where I differ—Summary—Belief in the infinity of space and time—Difference between our belief of an eternal past and of an eternal future. Note: Zhe Philosophy of Kant:—The system of Kant’s “ Pure Reason” is idealism, identical with scepticism : that of his “ Practical Reason” is faith. Pp. 143—151 CHAPTER XXXIX. MENTAL INTELLIGENCE. The most important question of biology is whether intelligence is a primary fact ——I have argued the affirmative of organizing intelligence, and have now to argue it of mental—Difficulty of the latter question—There are no innate ideas —Thought begins from experience—Element of intelligence in all thought which is not a result of experience—Association will account for conceptions, but not for beliefs—Belief in the constancy of the order of things—How is this acquired ?—Some say by habit only—I think this is no explanation-— Belief is subject to the laws of habit, but habit cannot produce belief—Phy- sical analogy—Objection from the inconstancy of the weather answered—The constancy of the order of things is not certain, but only probable : but it is certain to be constant unless interrupted—In what sense the law of causation is self- evident—This confidence is presupposed in action, and in desire and fear—The CONTENTS OF VOL. IL. Xi only principles which enter into all reasoning are those of logic—These are known by intelligence without habit—They are involved in perception—The logical principle of identity—The idea of substance—Axioms of metaphysics— Beliefs not the results of thought, but implied in thought—Belief in the veracity of memory is an ultimate fact, and belongs to intelligence—Resem- blance of my theory to idealism, and its difference—I believe the laws of thought are so because they are laws of nature—The question, should we expect to find nature constant if it were not so, is irrational—Intelligence is co-exten- sive with life, and not always conscious—Summary—Belief implies intelligence, as nutrition and growth imply organizing power—Intelligence dominates most in the highest life, both organic and mental—Peculiarities of the mind of man —Sense of holiness—Power of directing thought at will—Consciousness of self —Use of the personal pronouns—Intelligence needed for this. Nore A: Bain’s Theory of Belief :—Quotation from Bain—His theory of belief is no explanation—Belief in substance—Mill on Bain—Bain on the belief in the veracity of memory—NMill on the same. Nore B: Mills Inductive Logic :—Inductive and deductive reasoning—Reason- ing from particulars to particulars—Quotation from Mill—Question of the origin of the belief in the constancy of nature. . . . . . Pp. 152—168 CHAPTER XL. HABIT AND VARIATION IN HISTORY. The science of life and mind has been fully systematized, as have also been logic, mathematics, physics, and chemistry : but the sciences of the results of man’s mental activity have not yet been systematized, including those of language, art, and society—The laws of these subjects depend on the laws of mind, but the converse is not true—In language are an intelligent and a habitual element —Comparative grammar is as yet only comparative etymology, but comparative syntax is to be hoped for—Language is an organism—As life constructs the organism, so thought constructs language—Variability of language, both in the forms of words and their meanings, comparable to variations in the forms of organs, and in their functions—Rudimentary organs comparable to silent letters —Morphological correlations, independent of function, comparable to inflections without meaning—Morphology and the science of language are both compara- tive sciences, and sciences of progressive change—The embryology of language is yet unknown—Historical science of the fine arts, involving the same prin- ciples as organic morphology and language—Morphology of art—Its progressive changes—English architecture—Roman, Gothic, and Oriental architecture— Love of novelty is the moving power in the progress of art—Habit is the reason of continuity in the history of art—Rapid changes in art—Substitution in England of Early Pointed for Norman—This is probably paralleled in the de- velopment of species—Intelligence in art modifying the materials given to it by unintelligent habit, without violating the consistency of a style—Instance in the modification of Gothic architecture for the display of stained glass—Polities —Continuity of history and gradualness of political growth are consequences X1V CONTENTS OF VOL. IL. of the law of habit—Gradual variability of habit in morphology, language, art, and history—Analogy of political progress to mental education—Both consist in the formation of habits—Necessity of permanence in habits—Political bores —Conscious functions are later developed, both in the individual and in society —Government—Law—Habit ought to be controlled by intelligence—Conser- vatism and Liberalism —Institutions outlive their usefulness . Pp. 169—183 CHAPTER XLI. NATURAL SELECTION IN HISTORY. Production of new types of character in colonization—Average difference of emigrants from the parent stock—Direct effect of new circumstances—Natural selection by climate of a race suited thereto, and having a distinct character— This process is purely physical—Natural selection is also true of the moral world—History is determined by man’s mental nature—Victory in human con- flicts depends on moral causes—It does not depend chiefly on courage—Supe- riority of power in a primitive state due to the domestic virtnes—The political virtues—The civie virtues—Virtue confers power—At first vanquished races were destroyed : afterwards they were subjugated—Political progress due to conquest—Ultimately, war ceases to be an agency of progress—Peaceful pro- gress due to competition and natural selection—Justification of freedom. Pp. 184—191 CHAPTER XLII. INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION. Division of labour in the organism and in society—Society is an organism— Nutritive and nervo-muscular organs—Industrial and political organization— Social, like organic development, is from the simple to the complex—The most highly organized are the largest and the longest lived—Constant change of material—Ground of the resemblance—Life is in both a mode of activity— Habit—Intelligence—Three differences between individual and social organiza- tion—Social organization does not depend on structure—In it the whole exists for the parts—It has no reproductive function—Are societies necessarily mortal ? —Argument for the negative. Nore: Herbert Spencer on the Social Organism :—My objections on this sub- ject to H. Spencer—Hobbes on the same subject . . . . . Pp. 192—197 CHAPTER XLIII. THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. The present subject naturally comes at the end of the work—Any such classifi- cation must be imperfect—Subjects belonging to more than one science— Spectrum analysis: polarizing crystals: electro-chemistry—One science giving CONTENTS OF VOL. II. XV suggestions to another, or furnishing materials to another, or supplying instru- ments to another—The telescope and the microscope—Connexion of mathe- maties with dynamics—The laws of dynamics imply those of mathematics— This kind of relation is to be the basis of the classification, which is to be a series—Such a series is only approximately possible—The order is from the simple and general to the complex and special—Summary—No single series in nature—First division into logic, and its applications—Logic, unlike the other sciences, is not an organon—Logical notation is not an instrument of — reasoning—Logic is the initial science—Mathematical and physical sciences— Mathematics comes before physics—Algebra, arithmetic, and geometry— Sciences of matter and of life—Those of matter come first—Dynamical and chemical sciences—Gencral and secondary dynamical sciences—The dynamical come before the chemical—Molecular physics, chemistry, and crystallography —Molecular physics defined—Crystallography—Two groups of the sciences of life—First, those of the properties of organisms—Morphology and physiology —Psychology—Second group not yet systematized—Tabular statement— Posi- tion of astronomy, meteorology, and geology in another series of sciences, whereof the subjects are not laws, but phenomena—I propose to call them the cosmic sciences—Parallelism of the abstract and the cosmic sciences—Its ground—Gradation of phenomena from the vastest to the smallest—Astronomy —Terrestrial magnetism—Meteorology—Oceanography—Geography—Geology —Mineralogy—Palzontology and the distribution of species—Correspondences between the two series—Tabular enumeration of ihe cosmic sciences—Imagi- nary case of a being coming near the universe : the order in which he would see its phenomena—Chain of laws, each link presupposing that which comes before it—Parallel to this in the arrangement of things—Living beings are small in proportion to matter—Matter is small in proportion to space—The widest laws are the simplest, and act through the longest time—The only certainly unalterable truths are those of logic—Time and space were before matter—Gravitation is the only constantly acting foree—Life and mind are the latest products—The highest products are the least in quantity, and the last in time—Harmony of the mind of man with nature—Artistic rule of highest beauty in least quantity, and, in poetry and music, at the end—Not all knowledge is included in the sciences enumerated in this chapter—I believe in metaphysics and theology—Opposition of literature and history to science— Nature of historical science. Nore : Comte and Humboldt on the Classification of the Sciences :—My obligations to Comte—His series of the sciences—Where my series differs from his—Posi- tion of dynamics : of astronomy—Science of language omitted by Comte—-My PDlicanionstoeuMbOldin, 28s = «a i 2 +. « « 2 = py d98=—990 CHAPTER XLIV. REMARKS ON THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE. Agreement of the historical order of the evolution of the sciences with their logical order—Ilustration from painting a picture—The truth stated above is only approximate—The progress of science is twofold, deductive and inductive XV1 CONTENTS OF VOL. II. —Mathematics is deductive, chemistry mostly inductive : the science of heat is both—The logical relations of a science are not always obvious at first—A science may originate independently, and usually has done so—What the early origin of a science depends on—Mathematics—Geometry and algebra—Che- mistry—Sciences of observation are easier than those of experiment—Morpho- logy—Science began at the point most remote from human life, and was conse- quently deemed useless: and still its moving power is not usefulness, but intellectual interest—The telegraph—All inorganic science depends on measure- ments of space. Nore :—Measurement of linear spaces: of velocity: of time: of force: of re- BistancessOl eNereys tie’ cm clei > al os west Ge te Sewage ean CHAPTER XLV. REMARKS ON THE LOGIC OF THE SCIENCES. The more special and complex is the subject of a science, the less is mathematics applicable to it—In connexion with this, the facts of life are in some degree indefinite—This does not imply any uncertainty—The same is true of morals— Certainty without precision—Four fallacies and their origin: that logic is an organon of discovery : that mathematics is the type of science: that clearness and intelligibleness are tests of truth: that precision is the criterion of cer- tainty—Extension of the use of the word science—Double method in science— Induction and deduction must co-operate—Theory and observation—Failure of each alone—Paracelsus—Meteorology—Historical science: its method is the same as that of physical science—Free trade—In what sense mathematics needs verification—Conelusion—_.°- . =. - ». « » « « ».. » Pp.228— 234 APPENDIX. Three questions: Is life an ultimate fact ?—Are organizing and mental intelli- gence ultimate facts?—Is the moral sense an ultimate fact?—I answer all in the affirmative—Moral sense—Intelligence—Life—Quotation from Huxley— Ey mepliystouit en waee'’. art as Sat a ceee ws et sn gm toyed ose aeeeee ee ERRATUM. P. 59, note, for Leibe read Liehe. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. CHAPTER XXVII. INTELLIGENCE. Ehave seen in a previous chapter that vital functions Forma- are to be classed as formative, motor, and sensory. oes Sensory functions develop into mental ones; and for the andmental purpose of the present chapter I shall speak of functions me as formative, motor, and mental. Formative, motor, and mental actions are all guided by all guided intelligence. In the last two chapters I have endeavoured ae to prove that formative or organizing intelligence is an ultimate, inexplicable fact, not capable of being resolved into any other; and in what follows I shall take this as proved. Those who agree with me that the complexities of such organs as the eye and the ear are due to un- conscious intelligence, will probably feel no difficulty in believing the same of such wonderful motor instincts as the cell-building powers of the bee and the wasp. These Instinctive insects, in building their hexagonal cells, are manifestly seu euided by intelligence of some kind; but it cannot be the bee, conscious intelligence, for we cannot think that they have any conscious knowledge of those properties of the hexagon which make that form the most suitable to their purposes. The unconscious intelligence that guides the cell-building the ge actions of the bee is exactly the same in kind with the with VOL. IL. B 2 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. formative unconscious intelligence that determines the formation of os its mouth and its eyes.1 The only reason why we think there is anything exceptionally wonderful in such instincts as those of the bee and the wasp, is that they are com- Instinct is paratively uncommon. Instances of motor instincts, so mor : f : dark definitely adapted to a very special purpose, are found in pate but a few out of the vast number of animal species ; while intelli. | every animal that has well-developed eyes presents an gence. instance of the adaptation of means to purpose by un- conscious formative intelligence, which is quite as definite as that shown in any motor instinct, and far more delicate and subtle. Considered in itself, and without reference to its being exceptional or common, the bee’s eye is at least as wonderful as the bee’s cell. These instincts of bees and wasps are the most remark- able and the most extreme case of motor actions directed by a definite, intelligent purpose, which purpose is yet totally unconscious. But they are distinctly exceptional ; so that, in order to understand the relations between the different intelligent functions, we must take a different class of instances, which show a direct, and not merely an in- ferred connexion between formative and motor intelligence. There is no more clear and definite instance of the adaptation of means to purpose in the whole organic Purpose in creation than in the structure of the iris, enabling it to the forma- contract, involuntarily and spontaneously, in order to ont protect the retina against too much light. The formation of the iris is a case of unconscious formative intelligence, and its action in closing against the light is a case of unconscious motor intelligence. The action of the iris, though a motor action, is as purely unconscious as the formative actions: it cannot be controlled by the will, it is not accompanied by consciousness, nor does it always even depend on sensation; for there is a kind of blindness in which the optic nerve does not transmit the sensation of light to the brain, and yet the iris opens and closes as in a healthy eye.2 From this there is a perfect gradation to 1 See Note at end of chapter. 2 Carpenter’s Human Physiology, p. 533. XXVII. | INTELLIGENCE. 3 those motor actions which are accompanied by conscious- earns . A TO a ness, and are under the control of the will. The action (onecions of the eyelids in closing is sometimes voluntary, but is to con- oftener performed spontaneously, without consciousness or ees will. The motion of the eyeballs is voluntary. And, to pened a complete the evidence of a perfect gradation between the the eye, unconscious or involuntary actions, and the conscious or voluntary ones, it is asserted that in some few men the iris is capable of being opened and closed at will! We find the same gradation between involuntary unconscious action and voluntary conscious action in the digestive system and in the also. The actions of the stomach, muscular as well as cs chemical, are quite involuntary, and in a state of health are unaccompanied by sensation. The action of the throat in swallowing is involuntary, though accompanied by sensation. The action of the mouth in chewing and swal- lowing is mostly performed in obedience to sensation, with little direction from the conscious will, though it is capable of being controlled by the will. Finally, the action of the hands in conveying food to the mouth is altogether voluntary. In these cases of the motor actions of the eye and of the digestive organs, each distinct action has its own separate set of muscles. But this is not true of all motor actions. Coughing and sneezing, for instance, are actions that have a definite purpose—namely, the removal of obstructions from the air-passages—but have no special muscles for their performance. These, like the winking of the eyes, are Actions performed in obedience to sensation, and are only in part ees ne under the control of the will. sensation. We thus see that there is a perfect gradation from those motor actions which, like the action of the iris in opening and closing, are neither conscious nor voluntary, but are determined by vital intelligence, through those which are determined by sensation with little control from the will, to the purely conscious and voluntary ones.* At one end 1 Lewes’s Physiology, vol. ii. p. 222. He also states that men have been able to stop the action of the heart at will for a moment. 2 See the tabular statement of the organic functions, vol. i. p. 163. B2 All motor actions are intelligent, whether conscious or not. Intelli- gence, un- conscious mental, is funda- mentally the same. This view includes instinct. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. of the scale is perfect unconsciousness; at the other is perfect consciousness. The muscular actions at the uncon- scious end of the scale are manifestly determined by the same organizing intelligence that fits the muscles each for its special work; the iris is determined to contract, not by any conscious intelligence, but by the same unconscious intelligence that formed it for contracting. The muscular actions at the other end of the scale, on the contrary—the motions of the artist’s hand, for instance—are directed by conscious mental intelligence. But though there is con- sciousness at only one end of the scale, there is intelligence throughout. All motor actions are directed by an intel- ligence that adapts means to ends; but it is only in the case of the voluntary muscles that the intelligence is con- scious. The unconscious closing of the iris and of the eyelids against light, and the unconscious motions of the throat and the stomach, are as truly adapted to a special purpose, and therefore (according to any possible defini- tion of intelligence) as truly intelligent, as the most con- sciously determined motions of the artist’s hand; and, as I have already insisted, the formative principle to which the structure of the eye is due is as truly intelligent as either. For these reasons I conclude that vital intelligence is the same throughout. I believe the unconscious intel- ligence that directs the formation of the bodily structures is the same intelligence that becomes conscious in the mind. The two are generally believed to be fundamentally distinct: conscious mental intelligence is believed to be human, and formative intelligence is believed to be Divine. This view, making the two to be totally unlike, leaves no room for the middle region of instinct; and hence the marvellous character with which instinct is generally invested. But if we admit that all the intelligence manifested in the organic creation is fundamentally the same, it will appear natural, and what might be expected, that there should be such a gradation as we actually find from perfectly unconscious to perfectly conscious in- telligence; the intermediate region being occupied by XXvIl. | INTELLIGENCE. 5 intelligent though unconscious motor actions—in a word, by instinct. It is impossible to say at what point in the ascending We cannot scale of organization the mutual action of ganglia and nerve- cies fibres begins to be accompanied by sensation; and it is ning of equally impossible to say at what point sensation begins Sapa to develop into consciousness. But what I wish to insist comscious- on here is, that intelligence is not the same thing with the ‘oi consciousness of intelligence. Intelligence—a power tran- scending the ordinary properties of matter, and adapting means to purposes,—intelligence, I say, presides over all vital actions, whether formative, motor, or mental, directing each action to its specific end; but it becomes conscious only in mental actions—that is to say, only in thought; and it becomes perfectly conscious only in mature deli- berate thought. All other thought, including all the Most mental operations of animals and young children, and by eee far the greater portion of the mental operations of even the all, is most thoughtful men, is in a great degree unconscious. ees We cannot tell at what point consciousness becomes per- fect, any more than we can tell where it begins: perhaps, indeed, it is never perfect; perhaps we have no thoughts of which we are able to give a complete account, even to ourselves. It is however certain, that so far from conscious- ness being necessary to intelligence, unconscious intelli- gence is the rule, and conscious intelligence the exception. If these views which I have stated are true; and if the intelligence that adapts organic structures to their functions is fundamentally identical with the mental intelligence of man; it follows from the mere statement, that the intelligence which forms the lenses of the eye is Identity of the same intelligence which, in the mind of man, under- nat. stands the theory of the lens ; the intelligence that hollows tive, and out the bones and the wing-feathers of the bird in order to My combine lightness with strength, and places the feathery ‘ fringes where they are needed,’ is the same intelligence 1 See the explanation of the mechanism of flight, in the Duke of Argyll’s “Reign of Law.” The hollowing out of the bones of birds is probably the most wonderful adaptation in the motor system of any animal, A special act of creation is not neces- sary for every new adapta- tion. Moral difficulties lessened by this view. Parasitic worms. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. which, in the mind of the engineer, has devised the con- struction of iron pillars hollowed out like those bones and feathers ; and the same intelligence that guides the bee in its unconscious shaping of hexagonal cells is also that which, in our minds, understands the properties of the hexagon. This view of the essential identity of organic intelligence and mental intelligence is, I believe, generally received among the Germans; but it will be new to most English readers, who have been accustomed to refer all organic adaptations to creative wisdom directly. Such an hypothesis was inevitable for believers in a Personal Creator, at least so long as the world and all that it contains was supposed to have been created in a few days. But now that we know the antiquity of the world to be almost immeasurable; and now that arguments, which I believe to be conclusive, have been brought forward to prove that every organized form is the result, not of a simple creative act, but of slow development; it appears more reasonable to believe that this slow development has taken place, not in virtue of a fresh exercise of Creative Power at every one of the almost infinitely numerous stages, but in virtue of a principle of intelligence, which guides all organic forma- tion and all motor instincts, and finally becomes conscious in the brains of the higher animals, and conscious of itself in man, This view, as I have already remarked, has the great advantage of including instinctive intelligence as a case of the same general principle with all other intelligence. It leaves instinct mysterious indeed, but not more myste- rious than all life, and not anomalous, as it was under the old view. The view I have stated has also the advantage of re- moving certain very serious difficulties connected with the Divine Purpose of Creation. I refer especially to the ex- istence of such animals as parasitic worms, which are as well adapted as any others for their mode of life, but have probably no sensation and certainly no consciousness, and inflict pain, disease, and death on animals that possess XxviI.] INTELLIGENCE. 7 both sensation and consciousness. On the theory of the independent creation of every separate species, these can only be regarded as instruments of torture devised by Creative Wisdom. But if we believe that they are descended from species which were not parasitic, and have become self-adapted to new habitats, their existence ceases to be anything more than a particular case of the question, why pain and disease are permitted at all. The same remark applies to what have been called Unnatural unnatural, but would be better called immoral instincts ; asco aay such as the working bees slaughtering the drones, after they have fertilized the queen; the female spider en- deavouring to devour the male as soon as she is fertilized ;1 the habit of some species of ants, of carrying off ants of other species when in the pupa state, and making slaves of them ; the habit of the cuckoo of laying its eggs in the nests of other birds; and of the young cuckoo, of throwing the original tenants out of the nest to perish. It is surely easier to believe these instincts to be very peculiar and abnormal results of vital intelligence, than to believe each of them to be a special providential endowment. It will probably be said that this identification of formative, instinctive, and mental intelligence is Panthe- istic. This word is sometimes used very indefinitely, but’ the proper meaning of Pantheism is the identification of the Divine power and intelligence with the powers and intelligences that work in the world of matter and mind. I am not a Pantheist: on the contrary, I believe in a Divine Power and Wisdom infinitely transcending all manifestations of power and intelligence that are or can be known to us in our present state of being. The rela- tion between the Creator and the creation is a mystery to us; not from want of information, but from want of a faculty for understanding it; and it must remain so until we have begun to “know even as we are known.” On this question of intelligence, however, the following remarks will be sufficient to show that my position is quite consistent with Theism. 1 Carpenter’s Comparative Physiology, p. 427. 8 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. All matter We know that matter has been endowed with forces ions of different kinds, gravitative and chemical, which forces forces, are capable of producing motion. We know that matter, in being set in motion by the action of these forces, is not acted on from without: on the contrary, matter is acting as well as acted on. When, for instance, a mass moves, as in the fall of a stone, or when a fire burns and produces heat, which is atomic motion, the energy of the motion is neither created at the moment nor brought from without; it only becomes actual from being potential or latent. Energy, like matter, has been created. Energy or force is an effect of Divine power ; but there is not a fresh exercise of Divine power when- ever a stone falls or a fire burns. So with intelligence. All intelligence is a result of Divine wisdom, but there is not a fresh determination of Divine thought needed for every new adaptation in organic structure, or for every new thought in the brain of man. Every Theist will admit that there is not a fresh act of creation when a new living individual is born. I go a little further, and say that I do not believe in a fresh act of and vital- creation for a new species. I believe that the Creator eee has not separately organized every structure, but has with In- endowed vitalized matter with intelligence, under the peinense guidance of which it organizes itself; and I think there is no more Pantheism in this than in believing that the Creator does not separately cause every stone to fall and every fire to burn, but has endowed matter with energy, and given to energy the power of transforming itself. We have next to consider the law under which vital intelligence acts. This, so far as I can see, is only capable of being very indefinitely stated. The only law which is common to formative, motor, and mental actions alike is Intelli- that their guiding intelligence tends to determine them in mae to Whatever direction is most favourable to the life and guile all health of the organism. I do not think that even disease actionsin 18 any exception to this law. Many diseases, as for XXvII.] INTELLIGENCE. 9 instance probably all eruptive ones, are due to the un- the direc- conscious instinctive action of the vital forces in endea- for thet vouring to get rid of poisonous matter. And morbid the health growths, like cancer, probably consist of portions of the phe organism that have got away from the control of the p;.cace is general life, and lead a life of their own, parasitic on no excep- the rest, and ministering to their own life, though to Maite the injury of the entire organism.! The law that the actions of every organism are such as Vital to minister to its own life and health is to be understood eeeonee with this very important extension, that under certain a only he in- circumstances it ministers not to its own private advan- dividual, tage only, but also to that of the race. Here is the ne the ground of the reproductive and maternal functions ; and, Baipoduas where vital actions are accompanied by sensation and er consciousness, here is the ground also of the sexual, the mena domestic, and the social affections. Social Where sensation is developed, what is healthful is felt as ee agreeable, and what is destructive is felt as painful; and Dey where conscious intelligence 1 is developed, pleasure is con- uncon- sciously sought and pain is consciously avoided as suc gene inte and for their own sakes. But the instinctive unconscious ten- conscious. dency to seek what is needful for life and to avoid what is injurious is developed far lower down i in the organic scale than any sense of pleasure and pain: a daisy, for instance, opens to the light and closes at sunset, and a sea-anemone, which has no nerves and consequently no sensation, opens to the water and closes when the tide leaves it. The vital impulse to self-preservation is also the ground of the love of life and the fear of death. All organisms are constantly and instinctively employed in the work of self-preservation ; and hence when consciousness arises, the preservation of life is thought of as desirable, and the destruction of it as fee Be fearful. But in every case—love of life, love of pleasure, life. 1 See Carpenter’s Human Physiology, p. 371. He leans to the belief that cancer is due to a morbid poison in the blood ; but the question is an open one, and I think the opinion of the nature of cancer expressed in the text is favoured by the fact that, when not too far advanced, it may be cured by extirpation. See also vol. i. p. 157, note. 10 Instincts of social insects cannot be inherited. Darwin’s explana- tion by natural selection, I think them due to Intelli- gence. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. sexual, domestic, and social affection—the conscious feeling and the rational determination are developed later than the instinctive impulse, and are developed out of it. Reason differs from instinct only in being conscious. Instinct is unconscious reason, and reason is conscious instinct. NOTE. INSTINCT, DarwIn endeavours to account for instinct, as for all other facts of life, by the law of natural selection. Concerning the instincts of social insects—bees, wasps, and ants—there is this peculiar difficulty, that characters cannot be inherited in the direct line, because the working insects have their reproductive organs un- developed, and cannot propagate. Darwin points out this diffi- culty, and replies to it that natural selection may be applied to families as well as to individuals. He believes that the cell- building instinct of the bee, for instance, has been perfected by the survival of those swarms which constructed the most perfect hexagons, and consequently used their wax the most economically. This explanation postulates, what is certainly probable, that the same variation will affect all, or the great majority, of the bees of the same swarm. But I cannot think it a satisfactory explanation; and those who agree with me on the subject of Organizing Intelligence will have no difficulty in believing that instinct also is really a case of intelligence, though un- conscious. The instincts of the social insects are the most wonderful in the animal creation, but there are many others, the origin of which is equally hard to guess at. The nest-building instinct which is general among birds may perhaps be prompted by a kind of half-conscious intelligence. But we can scarcely attribute this to fishes ; and yet there are at least two species of fishes— the Stickleback and the Gobius niger—that make nests.! And 1 Carpenter’s Comparative Physiology, p. 964, XXvII.] INSTINCT. ala! how are we to account for the origin of so strange an instinct as Instincts that of the Arius, and of some other fishes, the male of which eeu hatches the eggs in his mouth?! Questions of this sort, how- ever, are neither more nor less difficult to answer than questions concerning the origin of special structures, as for instance the electric organs of some fishes ; a case which Darwin mentions as one of special difficulty. 1 Professor Turner, in British Association Report, 1866. Definition impos- sible. Mind is developed out of sensation. Conscious- ness : inexpli- _ cable. CHAPTER XXVIII. MIND. N writing such a work as this, it would be an obvious proceeding to begin the chapters on mind, or mental life, by a definition of mind. So far as I see, however, this is not possible. It would be plausible to define mind as conscious life; but, as we shall see, there are mental actions which are not conscious. It would be plausible also to define mind as intelligence; but, if the conclusions of the last few chapters are correct, intelligence does not belong to mental life alone, but to all life what- ever. The want of any exact definition, however, need not embarrass us much.! It is the mere statement of a fact to say, that mind begins with sensation, and is developed out of sensation. But it is equally true, that sensation does not constitute mind. Something more is needed; and I believe the common view is perfectly accurate, that this something is consciousness. What, then, is consciousness? I believe that conscious- ness, like sensation, is in itself utterly incapable of being explained ; all that we can do is to define the relations of sensation and consciousness to each other, and to ascertain the biological conditions under which they arise. 1 H. Spencer (see his Principles of Psychology) regards mind as the life of external relation, in so far as this is distinct from the nutritive life. I think, however, this is doubly inaccurate. It would include, as a mental phenomenon, the act of a climbing plant in swinging its tendrils in order to catch something (vol. i. pp. 167, 178) ; and, so far as I can see, it wonld exclude those thoughts and emotions which have no tendency to lead to action. a: CHAP. XXVIII. ] MIND. 13 Sensation and consciousness are both feelings. To use logical language, feeling is the genus of which sensation and consciousness are species. All consciousness is con- sciousness of feeling. It is possible to have a feeling without being conscious of it, but it is not possible to become conscious without having feeling to be conscious of. In order to simplify the subject, it is better instead of feeling to speak of sensation, which is the simplest kind of feeling, and that out of which all other kinds are developed. Consciousness, then, is primarily consciousness of sen- Conscious- sation. Sensation comes before consciousness; it is ners at possible to have a sensation without being conscious of sensation it. This is a truth within every one’s experience, though eter i it is not a very familiar truth, because the absence of ness. consciousness is not likely to be noticed. It must often, however, have occurred to every one suddenly to become conscious of a sight that had been before his eyes, or of a sound that had been in his ears for some time; and to remark, “I saw (or heard) this, but was not conscious of it.” But, what is still more conclusive than this, it is impos- sible to doubt that in sound sleep there is no consciousness Sleep. of sensation; and yet when any one has become accustomed to sleep in a loud monotonous noise, as for instance that of a mill, it is well known that a sudden cessation of the noise will put an end to sleep, just as its sudden com- mencement would do. This proves that the sound must have reached the sleeper’s sensorium, or in other words must have been heard, though his consciousness was, in the most literal sense of the word, asleep to it. This is a conclusive instance of the possibility of sensation without the consciousness of it. F We thus see that there may be sensation without con- sciousness; but there can be no consciousness without sensation. Consciousness is first awakened by sensation, and if it were not so awakened it would sleep for ever, or in other words would never come into existence. We con- - sequently say that consciousness is developed out of sensa- Mental tion ; the conscious or mental life is developed out of the develny merely sentient life, as the sentient life is developed out 14 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [CHAP. of the insentient. I shall have to go into this subject in more detail in the next chapter; but before I do so, there are some more remarks to be made concerning the relation between sensation and consciousness. Conscious- The distinction between a sensation and the conscious- hess is- ness of the sensation is in my opinion a very important sensation. one, though it appears to be often overlooked The truth that they are distinct may be further illustrated by the fact, that a sensation which is felt as disagreeable at first, sometimes becomes agreeable when it is repeated often heqnined enough to become familiar. Hence is the very common taste, yet really very remarkable fact of “acquired tastes.” I ~ am not now speaking of the feelings produced by poetry, by music, or by visual beauty ; the feelings they produce are very different from mere sensations, and are much more complex ; I mean tastes in the primary sense of the word, as belonging to the sense of taste. We know that there are flavours, the taste of which is disagreeable at first, and for which a liking is nevertheless soon acquired. It can scarcely be maintained that the flavour comes by repetition to produce a different sensible impression on the nerves of taste ; in other words, it can scarcely be maintained that it comes to taste differently from what it did at first. I duetoa think it much more likely that the sensation itself con- change not tines to be the same, but the impression produced by the sony sensation on the consciousness becomes different. If it is conscious- Said that this is no explanation at all of the fact that tastes ness of it. may be acquired, 1 admit it; I admit that the hypothesis I advance explains nothing—or, in other words, does not make the fact we have to do with more intelligible ; I only advance it as being what I believe to be a true statianeae of fact. So far as the fact of acquired tastes is capable of being explained at all, it can be explained only by referring it to the law of habit among sentient beings, that what is habitual tends to become agreeable.” 1 Had this distinction been recognised, no one could have fallen into the monstrous absurdity (as I think it) of maintaining that insects have no sensation, because they have nothing homologous with the cerebrum ot Vertebrata, which is the organ of consciousness, 2 See vol. i. p. 188. Xxvill.] MIND. 15 Another remarkable fact which has a kindred bearing Analogous to that last mentioned is, that consciousness perceives Gof. fom various analogies between the sensations of different senses, different without the slightest approach to identity. Softness isa sensation of touch, yet we speak of soft colour. Sweetness is a sensation of taste, yet we speak of sweet sound. The propriety of these expressions is felt by every one, yet they are felt to be inexplicable: a real yet inexplicable analogy is felt between impressions received from different sensations. I believe that although the impressions of different senses—soft objects of touch and soft colour, sweet taste and sweet sound—are totally unlike in so far as they are merely impressions of sense, yet the im- pressions they produce on the consciousness are in some degree similar. Another fact concerning consciousness is, that so soon Conscious- as consciousness, from being conscious of sensations and ae a other feelings, becomes conscious of itself, it recognises itself as being simple and indivisible. Unlike the rela- tions between sensation and consciousness of which I have spoken in the last two paragraphs, this is so obvious and indisputable that no sane person could possibly doubt it, and no proof or elucidation could make it more certain. Biology, however, has shown the physical ground of this Biological mental or metaphysical truth. The ground of the unity oe ee and indivisibility of consciousness, or the mind, is that nervous centralization of the nervous system which in all classes ea of animals appears to be a necessary condition of mind. ‘Mind, or any approach toa mental nature, appears to exist only in the Vertebrata, the higher Articulata (such as insects and spiders), and perhaps the Cephalopodous Mollusca; . and in all these classes the nervous system is not only complex but centralized—all those parts of the nervous system which control and dominate the rest being cen- tralized in the head. The ganglia thus centralized in the head are in the Vertebrata called the brain. This is really a very complex organ, or rather a congeries of organs; but the unity of its action is so perfect that the mind feels itself to be, and really is, not a mere congeries of func- 16 Sensation is divi- sible : Conscious- ness not. Conscious- ness not hereditary. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [CHAP. tions, but a living unity. This is primarily a metaphysical truth, or, in other words, a dictum of consciousness ; but it is re-affirmed by biological observation. We have seen that many of the lower animals are not killed by being cut into pieces, but each separated part will continue to live, and will develop into a perfect animal. Some of the animals which have this property may be sentient, but we cannot think they are conscious! If they are sentient, there is no difficulty in supposing that each of the separated parts continues to feel the same sensations that it felt before division (provided, of course, that it contains a sensory nervous centre); but it is impossible to conceive of con- sciousness being divided in this way. I do not say that such a division of consciousness is impossible, because it is inconceivable by the mind of man. I do not think highly of that kind of reasoning. What I say is, that the human consciousness affirms its own indivisibility, and that the facts of comparative anatomy and physiology tend to prove that such is the law of all consciousness whatever. In speaking in a former chapter of the laws of habit, I said that all characteristics tend to become hereditary, sub- ject to one important limitation. The limitation I spoke of is this, that consciousness is never inherited. This fact, that consciousness is not transmissible, may perhaps stand in some close connexion with the fact insisted on in the last paragraph, that consciousness is not divisible. Mental characters, like bodily ones, are transmissible, and often become hereditary, but the transmission is never accom- panied with consciousness. Habits which have been formed by the conscious acts of the parents may be inherited by the offspring ; but the habit is inherited without any conscious- ness of its origin. The offspring have no consciousness, or, what is the same thing, no memory, of the conscious acts by which the habit was formed in the parent. Here- ditary habit is so much more conspicuous among animals than in man, that, in order to illustrate my meaning, it is 1 We cannot say that such animals have any true individuality. See Note to Chapter XVI. XXVUII. | MIND. ay best to take an instance from among animals. kiras on Instance: uninhabited islands show no dread of man, but after they sees have become a mark for the sportsman for some time dread of they acquire a dread of him, and this instinct becomes ™*™ hereditary! We cannot suppose that the birds which inherit this fear of man have any conscious memory of their parents or, it may be, their ancestors having been frightened by man. They inherit the fear, but not the consciousness of its cause. Selection will, no doubt, in- crease this tendency, by the less timid birds being killed. But the main cause is evidently hereditary habit. 1 This illustration has been suggested to me by a passage in H. Spencer’s Review of Bain’s Psychology, republished in H. Spencer’s collected Essays. VOL. II, Cc Differenti- ation into organs of vegetative and of animal life. Contrac- tility, the funda- mental character of the latter. CHAPTER XXIX. THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. iE the chapter on the Direction of Development it has been stated that the fundamental differentiation in animal development is that into the systems of organs which belong respectively to the vegetative and the animal life. It is necessary for me to state over again part of what I have already stated in that chapter, though I now approach the subject from a different point of view. The organs of vegetative life essentially consist of an apparatus for transforming matter; those of animal life essentially consist of an apparatus for transforming energy. The fundamental attribute of the apparatus of animal life is contractility ; that is to say, the characteristic power of muscular tissue to contract under the influence of a stimu- lus, and in contracting to transform energy from the vital into the motor form :! in other words, to do work by con- tracting. In those simple animals which have muscles but no nerves, as especially the Hydrozoa, the stimulus under which the muscles contract consists in the contact of food or of some other foreign substance ; and such a stimulus, if it is applied to one part of the animal’s muscular tissue, will slowly propagate itself; so that, if one tentacle is irritated, the other tentacles will also contract. But in those more highly organized animals which have a com- plex nervous system, the stimulus under which the muscles contract usually consists in a flow of nervous energy. The difference between the action of muscles that usually con- tract under a stimulus applied to themselves, and muscles 1 See the chapter on the Dynamics of Life. CH. XXIX.] THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. 19 that usually contract under a stimulus transmitted through the nerves, is not, however, a fundamental difference. The nature of the stimulus is the same in both cases; it originates in the same way, and affects the muscles in the same way. Between the case of a muscle that con- tracts from the stimulus. of a foreign body coming into contact with the muscle itself, and one that contracts from the stimulus which the nerves transmit to it when a similar body comes into contact with the extremity of a nerve in some other part of the organism, there is probably not much more difference than there is between the act of ringing a bell in the hand and the act of ringing it at the end of a bell-wire ; or, what is a better comparison, between decomposing water by the action of sulphuric acid on zinc while the acid and zinc are in the same vessel with the water, and effecting the same decomposi- ‘tion by arranging the acid and zinc in a voltaic battery, and sending the liberated energy, in the form of a voltaic current, along a wire to a separated vessel where the water is to be decomposed. The nervous system is developed by differentiation out Nervous of the muscular system, and in its first and lowest deve- Trane lopment appears to have no vestige of sensation and no out of other function than that of transmitting stimuli to the }'S"™ muscles. The muscular tissue of the Hydrozoa, as stated primary _ : : : function is above, transmits a stimulus but slowly. Nervous tissue, on to trans. the contrary, transmits it with a rapidity which is practi- eee cally instantaneous ; and this, of course, makes the motions to the more rapid, and the whole life more energetic, in those ™™!** animals which have a nervous system than in those which are without one. 1 Tt is, however, a very remarkable, and at present an inexplicable fact, that the nervous system is not, in any Nervous animal whatever, so simple as might be thought from the oa foregoing account of its functions. The nerve-fibres are simple. in no case directly laid on, as it were, like telegraph wires, ? All the facts and opinions respecting the anatomy and physiology of the nervous system stated in this chapter are taken from Carpenter’s Human Physiology, except where I advance any opinion as my own. C2 20 Ganglia. Reflex action. Nervous function differenti- ated from muscular function. Sensation does not exist at first. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. for the purpose of transmitting stimuli directly from the skin, or any other part which is more exposed to stimuli than the rest, to the muscles that have to make the response to the stimuli. In the simplest nervous system that appears to be possible under the laws of life, there must be at least two fibres, meeting in a ganglion, and acting one on the other through it. One of the fibres conducts the stimulus from the skin, or wherever its outer extremity is situated, to its inner extremity at the ganglion. The other fibre conducts the stimulus from the ganglion to the muscle in which it terminates, and causes the muscle to contract. This is what is called “reflex action ;” the stimulus being, as it were, reflected from the ganglion. As already mentioned, nervous structure is a develop- ment and outgrowth of muscular structure, being deve- loped by differentiation from it. This is observed, both in = watching the successive stages of the development of the highest animals, and in comparing the various members of the animal kingdom, from the simplest to the most complex development of a nervous system. And it will be obvious from what has been stated above, that nervous function also is a development and outgrowth of muscular function, being developed by differentiation from it. In the Hydrozoa, there are no separate organs for the purpose of transmitting stimuli, nor any organs at all which transmit them, except the muscles themselves. But when a nervous system is developed, the function of transmitting stimuli is separated from the ordinary muscular function, and assigned to the nerves. In the simplest and lowest development of a nervous system, the action of the nerve-fibres on their ganglia is probably unattended by any sensation ; and this continues to be true of large parts of the nervous systems even of man and the higher animals. Higher up in the animal scale, sensation appears: the action of some—not all—of the nerve-fibres on their ganglia produces sensation. We cannot tell where it begins. I think it most likely, that sensation begins where organs of special sense come into axes, | THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. 21 existence ; and as eyes are the most generally distributed It begins of these in the animal creation, I think it most likely that Pro>>ly sensation is nearly co-extensive with the possession of special eyes. But this is incapable of proof: we have no criterion a whatever of its presence or absence. Sensation is in itself, of course, perfectly inscrutable. It is utterly im- possible that we can ever know how or why it is that the flow of a current of a peculiar kind of energy along a nerve to its ganglion should be accompanied by sensation. But we might have expected to find sensation the peculiar function of some particular kind of tissue, so that the pre- sence of sensation might be inferred with certainty from its presence, and the absence of sensation from its absence. Such, however, is not the case. Some nerves and ganglia Sentient are sensory, others are not so; and the microscope, so far and ot sentient as we yet know, shows no difference whatever between nerves histologi- the structure of the two. daily alike: We thus see that the sensory function is not a primary Parallel or fundamental endowment of the nervous system, but has sere ee been added to its original functions in the course of deve- organs lopment. The history of the development of the nervous a aed organs is parallel with the history of the development of the nervous functions. The spinal cord, which is the principal nervous organ of the insentient life, is developed first in the embryo, and the sensory ganglia grow out of it. The sensory ganglia! are situated within the skull, but are distinct from the cerebrum, or true brain. Besides the ganglia of the special senses, there is among them a pair of ganglia called the thalami optici, which (notwithstanding their name) are believed to be the nervous centre for the sense of touch. In close proximity to the sensory ganglia is another pair of ganglia called the corpora striata, which Corpora are believed (though the subject is an obscure one) to be SEEN the ganglionic centres for the nerves of motion, in so far as 1 Tn order to guard against a probable misconception, it ought to be stated that, so far as we know, the ganglia are not the seats of sensation any more than the nerve-fibres. Sensation is produced when certain ganglia receive a stimulus from their nerve-fibres ; but the ganglion is insentient if acted on by pricking or in any other way except through its fibres, and the fibres are insentient if they are cut off from their ganglia. 22 their rela- HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. motion is not merely reflex, but determined by sensation and will. The relation of these to the nerves and ganglia tion to the of sense is as follows:—An impression of sense is trans- sensory ganglia. Consen- sual action: its simi- larity to merely reflex action. Sensation at first is only the guide to action. mitted by some of the nerve-fibres of that sense to its ganglia, and the reception of the impression by the ganglia produces the sensation which is appropriate to that im- pression: the sensory ganglia, in their turn, act on the corpora striata, which are motor ganglia; and the latter send down the motor nerves whatever motor impulse is necessary in order to make the appropriate response to the sensation. For instance: a flash of light falls on the retina, and the impression is telegraphed by the optic nerve to the optic ganglia, where it produces the sensation of light ; the optic ganglia act on the corpora striata, and cause them to send a motor impulse to the muscles of the eyelids, which closes the eyes, and thus makes the appro- priate response to the impression of the flash of light. This is what Dr. Carpenter calls consensual action. The chain of cause and effect is exactly the same in consensual action as in merely reflex, except that in consensual action one of the links of the chain is sentient, and the motor action will not be produced unless sensation is felt. Both reflex and consensual action consist simply in, first, an . impression sent from the exterior extremity of a nerve to the nervous centre; and, second, a motor impulse sent outwards from the nervous centre in response to the impression. It will be observed that in the foregoing account of consensual action, sensation is described as existing, not by itself, but only as the intermediate link between impres- sions received by the organism from without, and the mus- cular actions that constitute the appropriate response to those impressions. Sensation existing by itself, and not necessarily leading to action, appears to belong to a higher development of life, and to be the preparation for Mind. An insect may no doubt have sensations without making any motion in response to them: if such sensations exist, we can have no evidence of their existence. But we know that the first and lowest functions of the nervous system ——— xxix.] THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. 23 appear to be purely reflex and insentient ; these pass, by indistinguishable gradations, into consensual action; so that, at its commencement in the animal scale, sensation appears not to exist alone, but solely as the guide to mus- cular action. The nervous mechanism described above is all that Insects B ‘ é have only insects, or any other invertebrate animals, are known to this, possess. Their highest nervous organs consist of the nerves and ganglia of sense and motion, and their highest nervous functions consist in sensation, and the direction of motor actions by sensation, This at least is generally true, but it appears difficult to believe that ants and with some : : c ° c possible spiders have not some dawnings of conscious intelligence, excep. like that of the higher animals. For the most part, how- tins. ever, the instincts of insects, wonderful as they are, consist in consensual, or sense-directed, actions, guided by uncon- scious vital intelligence,' kindred rather to the organizing intelligence which adapts the bodily structures for their functions, than to the conscious mental intelligence of man. Especially is this true of the cell-building instinct of the bee and the wasp; it cannot be supposed that those insects understand the geometry of the hexagon, and the unvarying perfection of their work is alone enough to ex- clude the idea of an intelligence which works in any degree like that of man. If some insects have a vestige of conscious intelligence, its seat must be in the sensory gangla. This would in- volve no great anomaly, for motor, sensory, and mental functions, including those of instinct, are much more variable between species and species than are the functions belonging to the inorganic life. Besides, the sensory ganglia of all imsects appear to be the seat of perception : I mean the perception of external objects, as external ; which, as I shall have to show further on, I believe to be a rational function, though the reason is unconscious of itself. Leaving the problematical subject of the con- sciousness of insects and spiders, we now go on to the consciousness of the Vertebrata, and especially of man. 1 See the chapter on Intelligence (Chap. XXVII.). Sensory ganglia developed out of spinal cord, and cerebrum out of sensory ganglia. The cerebrum is the organ of conscious- ness. Largest in the highest animals. Cerebrum not in direct connexion with the organs of external life. Its structure. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [cHAP. The spinal cord! is the chief nervous centre of the in- sentient life ; it is the first part of the nervous system that makes its appearance in the development of the embryo. Out of it are developed, by a process like budding, the nervous centres of the sentient life, consisting of the sen- sory ganglia, and the pair of motor ganglia called the corpora striata, which, as already intimated, are in the closest nervous connexion with the sensory ganglia. The nervous system of insects contains no parts of higher grade than these. But in the Vertebrata a distinct organ appears, which is developed by budding out of the sensory ganglia, as they are developed by budding out of the spinal cord. This is the cerebrum, or true brain; it is also called the cerebral hemispheres, for it is a double organ, though in man and the rest of the highest animals the two hemispheres are in close contact. We have every reason to believe that the cerebrum is the organ of con- sciousness and mind, as distinguished from unconscious instinct. In fishes, which are the lowest of the vertebrate classes, it is very small in comparison with the sensory ganglia, but it increases in size as intelligence increases in ascending the animal scale, until in man and the rest of the most highly organized animals the cerebrum is many times larger than all the rest of the nervous centres put together. The cerebral hemispheres are often called ganglia, but this is not quite an accurate expression. Like the spinal cord, they contain masses both of ganglionic cells and of nerve-fibres ; but, unlike either the spinal cord or the sensory ganglia, their nerve-fibres are not in direct con- nexion with any of the organs of external life—with either the muscles or the organs of sense. The cerebral hemi- spheres consist of masses of fibres radiating upwards from the sensory ganglia, and terminating in masses of gan- glionic cells which are continuously spread out under the bones of the skull ; and these ganglionic masses, both those, of the two hemispheres and the various parts of the same 1 Including the medulla oblongata, which, though within the skull, is really part of the spinal cord, a Xx1x.] THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. 25 hemisphere, are connected with each other by other masses of fibres. Concerning the functions of these various parts, we have The no direct evidence whatever. We have no guide but Tae analogy. With the help of analogy, however, I believe can be that a tolerably complete and satisfactory theory can be ene formed. I ought first to mention, that the theory of the so- ae Dy called phrenologists is not only unproved, but disproved, es by facts.1 According to that theory, the cerebral hemi- Phreno- spheres consist of a congeries of organs, in each of which a ee distinct mental function is localized—comparison, imagina- aispored tion, firmness, love of children, &c. Were this true, in- by tac ‘ juries to the brain would injure the mind in definite ways, according to the locality of the injury. But this is not the case; injuries to the brain, when the patient recovers at all, appear generally to leave the mind unaffected, even when a part of the substance of the brain has been lost; and they certainly do not affect the mind in any way that can be predicted when the seat of the injury, and its mag- nitude, are known. Experiments on animals yield the same result. We have seen that it is in accordance with the analogies One of the nervous system, that a current along one nerve-fibre ¢uirent should determine a current to be sent along another fibre.” producing Thus, for instance, if the impression of a flash of ight is ee telegraphed along the optic nerve to the sensory ganglia, a motor impulse is telegraphed along another nerve, causing the eyelids to close. I think it most probable that the nervous mechanism of consciousness resembles this. It is -certain that sensation is produced by the flow of a current of nervous energy along a nerve-fibre of sense to its ganglion; the sensation of light, for instance, is produced by a current flowing along the optic nerve to the optic ganglia. Let us call this the nerve-current of sensation. Now, if consciousness is a feeling, which it certainly is; 1 [ think there is very probably, however, this much truth in phreno- logy, that there is a tolerably close correlation between the form of the brain (which determines the form of the skull) and the mental character. 2 See Note at end of chapter. 26 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHap. and if the consciousness of a sensation is a distinct thing from the sensation itself, as I think I have shown in the preceding chapter; it is as probable as analogy can make Conscious- it, that the consciousness of the sensation is also due to a i ae nerve-current, like that of the sensation, but in a different duced. fibre; and if so, all the evidence we have leads to the Nerves conclusion, that the nerve-currents of consciousness are ee re formed in the fibres that connect the sensory ganglia with ofcon- __ the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum. I consequently i aac regard these fibres as the nerves of consciousness, Just as the nerves which connect the organs of sense with the sensory ganglia are the nerves of sensation, A sensation is due to a current entering the sensory ganglia from a nerve of sensation ; and I believe that the consciousness of the sensation is due to a secondary current being set in motion by the first, and flowing out of the sensory ganglia along the nerves of consciousness. Sensation is due to the action of the nerves of sense on the sensory ganglia, and I believe that consciousness is due to the action of the sensory ganglia on the nerves of consciousness, which are cerebral nerves. A question arises here. Sensation and, as I have no doubt, consciousness also are due to the mutual action of a nerve-fibre and a ganglion. The nerves of sensation have ganglia at only one end; their other ends are in connexion with the organs of sense—with the eye, the ear, the skin, &e. But the nerves of consciousness have ganglia at both ends; at one end are the sensory ganglia, at the other is Iscon- the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum. Is the con- sciousness sciousness of sensation due to the action of the sensory produced in the ganglia in sending out the current of consciousness along Belin the cerebral nerve-fibres ? or is it due to the action of the ee : ganglionic substance of the brain, at the other end of the fibres, receiving the current? An answer to this question might appear impossible, and of course there is no direct evidence ; nevertheless, I believe the same analogical reasoning which has guided us so far, will enable us to give at least a probable answer to this question also. I have as yet spoken only of the consciousness of XxIx.] THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. 27 sensation, which, after sensation itself, is the simplest and most elementary of mental functions. Beyond and above this are thought, and the consciousness of thought. I say thought and the consciousness of thought, because, as the consciousness of sensation is, as I believe, a distinct thing Conscious- from the sensation itself, and there may be a sensation ee aa without the consciousness of it, so the consciousness of ane thought is a distinct thing from the thought itself, and shgnehe there may be thought without the consciousness of it. Of the existence of unconscious thought there is ample Uncon- evidence, and it is now generally admitted by those who thought, have studied psychology. To mention a single instance of this—probably the commonest, but by no means the most remarkable: it is only by admitting that trains of thought, or suggestion, may go on in unconsciousness, that we can account for the mental phenomenon, which must often have come within every one’s experience, of thoughts and memories coming suddenly into consciousness without anything whatever to suggest them, either in external cir- Recollec- cumstances, or in the thoughts that were consciously on ae occupying the mind. I am myself very liable to this. apparent Sometimes when my mind appears to be fully and con- sciously occupied; sometimes soon after wakening in the night, and when consciousness is perfectly awake but not occupied with any train of thought; I find recollections of places, of incidents, of lines of poetry, coming into my consciousness. The things thus recalled are often uninteresting and trivial, and they often, I feel certain, have not been in my conscious memory for years. I have frequently, on their occurrence, sought for any possible link of conscious suggestion by which to account for them, and made myself certain that there was none. But there is no effect without a cause, and if these recollections have not been suggested by any conscious process they must have been suggested by an unconscious one. It is scarcely possible to doubt that unconscious thought, as well as consciousness, must be a function of some part of the nervous system; every vital function, sentient or insentient, appears to have its own peculiar Nerves of thought. The sensory ganglia are the seat of conscious- ness. Conscious- ness of thought, how pro- duced. Seat of conscious- ness. Memory. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. nerves; and I think it is in the highest degree probable, that those nerve-fibres which connect the various parts of the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum with each other are the nerves of thought. The sensory ganglia are, as I believe, the seat of consciousness ; the cerebral hemispheres are the seat of thought ; and I think we may consequently conjecture, with great probability, that unconscious thought is due to nerve-currents flowing between various parts of the cerebral hemispheres, without entering the sensory ganglia; and that consciousness of thought is due to other currents, set in motion by these, and flowing from the cerebral hemispheres along the nerves of consciousness to the sensory ganglia. Owing to the remarkable power that nerve-currents have of setting one another in motion, currents in the nerves of thought generally start currents in the nerves of consciousness, and thought becomes con- scious ; but this is not always the case. Both sensation and thought are, I believe, in their own nature unconscious ; and the nerve-currents of sensation and thought give rise to consciousness, not always, and not directly, but only by causing secondary nervous currents to flow along the nerves of consciousness. My answer to the question I have asked above is con- sequently this: that consciousness of sensation is due to currents flowing along the nerves of the brain, upwards, from the sensory ganglia to the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum; and consciousness of thought is due to currents flowing in the opposite direction, or downwards, along the same nerves, from the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum to the sensory ganglia. In both cases, not the cerebrum, but the sensory ganglia, are the seat of consciousness; or, in other words, consciousness is due to the mutual action of the sensory ganglia and the nerve- fibres which connect them with the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum. The foregoing theory of consciousness affords a complete account of the physical conditions of Memory, _ If it is admitted that the consciousness of a sensation is not the same thing with the sensation itself, it will necessarily OO XXIx.] THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. 29 follow that the memory of a sensation is a continuation or ‘reproduction not of the sensation itself, but of the con- sciousness of it. The simplest and most rudimentary form Its rudi- of memory is when the consciousness of a sensation mone continues for some little time after the sensation itself conscious- has disappeared. This is usually the case, and I shall nee one have to show in a future chapter, how it is necessary outlasting the sensa- to some of the most elementary and important mental tion, operations, that the consciousness of a sensation should thus outlast the sensation itself. There is no difficulty whatever in understanding it as a fact. Sensations, when intense, outlast the impressions that produce them; thus, to take the most decided instance, we continue to see a bright light after the eyes have been closed against it. This is evidently due to the current of nervous energy that flows along the optic nerve, and produces the sensa- tion of light in the optic ganglia, continuing to flow after its exciting cause has ceased to act; and the nerves of consciousness, as I suppose, possess, in a higher degree than those of sensation, this property of continuing to transmit their currents after the exciting cause of those currents has ceased. This property may, perhaps, be a purely physical one, and may be comparable to the fact that some elastic bodies, when struck, vibrate longer than others. It is to be remembered that nervous currents are not currents of fluid, but currents of energy, like electric eurrents. That higher kind of memory which consists not in the continuation, but in the revival of the consciousness Recollec- of sensation—as, for instance, when we recall what we heard or saw yesterday—is to be explained in a parallel manner. The revival of the consciousness of sensation + —or, in a word, recollection—is due to the reproduction due to the of a current in the nerves of consciousness, exactly similar qe (except generally in intensity) to the current to which the current of original consciousness of that sensation was due. But Conscious currents cannot produce or reproduce themselves; there must be an exciting cause for the currents of reproduced consciousness, or recollection, as well as for those of original consciousness, or consciousness of sensation. I Consen- sual action produced by remem- bered con- sciousness. Voluntary action. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCK. [CHAP. believe that all currents of consciousness are secondary currents ; those of original consciousness are excited by currents of sensation (though, as we have seen, they sometimes outlast their exciting cause); those of repro- duced consciousness are excited by currents of thought. Currents of thought, both in exciting one another and in exciting currents of consciousness, act according to the law of mental habit, or, as it is usually called, the law of the association of ideas; of which I shall have to speak in a future chapter. In many cases, remembered consciousness acts on the motor nerves, and on the whole organism, exactly as the original sensation, or the consciousness of it, would do. The thought of a disgusting object, for instance, sometimes produces nausea. Dr. Carpenter mentions an instance of sea-sickness being brought on by the sight of a ship tossing on a stormy sea. Such cases are to be regarded as cases of consensual action—due, however, to reproduced consciousness, not to sensation or the original consciousness of sensation. Dr. Carpenter proposes to call these ideo- motor actions; indicating by this word that they are set going, not by a sensation, but by the revived consciousness, or idea, of a sensation. In order, so far as it is possible, to complete the physio- logical theory of the mind which I am here attempting, it now only remains to speak of voluntary action. Voluntary action is related to consensual action, in the same way that recollection, or reproduced consciousness, is related to original consciousness. As I have already stated my belief on the subject, the consciousness of a sensation is due to a nerve-current of consciousness being excited by the nerve-current of sensation; and the recollection, or revived consciousness, of the same sensation is due to a similar nerve-current of consciousness being excited by a nerve-current of thought. Thus, when I remember to-day the speech I heard yesterday, the revived con- sciousness of the sounds is just like the original conscious- ness I had of them when I heard them, only fainter ; but the currents of consciousness were then excited by XxIx.] THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. 31 currents of sensation, while now they are excited by currents of thought. In an exactly similar way, the same action may be at The same one time consensual and at another time voluntary. All ey muscular action is produced by nerve-currents in the motor time con- nerves; the action of the motor nerves and of the muscles CP aaets o which they direct is just the same in voluntary as in con- voluntary, sensual action; it is only the stimulus, or exciting cause according of the motor currents, that differs: in consensual action eee the motor nerve is excited to act by a current of sensation ; of the in voluntary action it is excited to act by a current of eae thought. Thus, for instance, the sensation of a flash of light flowing in from the optic nerve may determine a motor current which will cause the eyelids to close, with- out the action of will, or even the production of conscious- ness. This is consensual action; but the eyelids may also be stimulated to close by a determination of will; in this case the exciting current is not a current of sensation, but a-current of thought. I do not, however, suppose that the Thought nerves of thought act directly on the motor ganglia; I jy"... believe the nerves of thought, in producing volumeaty ganglia action, act on the motor ganglia, not directly but through ees the nerves of will. There are anatomical reasons for this °f Wl. belief. I have endeavoured to show how there are two distinct sets of cerebral nerves, which may be respectively identified as the nerves of consciousness and the nerves of thought; and I believe the nerves of will may also be identified. As already stated, it is now believed that the pair of ganglia called the corpora striata really constitute the nervous centre for consensual and voluntary motion. They are connected with the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum by thick strands of nerve-fibres, and all analogy Position of is in favour of the belief that these are the nerves of will; g epanerves just as the fibres that connect the sensory ganglia with the 1 The whole of what I have said on the physiological theory of voluntary action is taken in substance from Carpenter’s Human Physiology. I think, though I cannot be certain, that Dr. Carpenter would agree with what I have advanced concerning the physiological theory of consciousness and thought. 32 Voluntary actions may become con- sensual. Instance of a musician. This may become hereditary in animals, as in birds, and in dogs. This ex- planation will not apply to all con- sensual actions. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. ganglionic substance of the cerebrum are the nerves of consciousness. I suppose, consequently, that when action is purely voluntary, the process is this: A current in the nerves of thought (which, as stated above, are not in direct connexion with either the sensory or the motor ganglia) — a current in the nerves of thought, I say, determines a current in the nerves of will; and this acts on the motor ganglia, so as to determine muscular action, exactly as a current of sensation would do. It is a very important fact, that actions which were voluntary at first may become consensual through habit. The best instance of this is afforded by the act of learning any manual art, especially music. In learning to play from printed notes, every movement of the fingers must at first be made to correspond with the notes by a conscious and voluntary determination; but by long practice the intermediate links of consciousness and will may be gradually left out, and the motions of the fingers may be consensually directed by the sight of the printed notes. In man, the greater part of what have become consensual actions, have become so by such a process. Even the act of walking is not instinctive in children, or in other words is not originally consensual, but has to be learned. Among many animals, actions that were voluntary at first have not only become consensual in the individual, but, by hereditary transmission, have become so in the race. One instance of this is the tendency to fly from man which, as mentioned in the preceding chapter, has become hereditary among many races of birds to which it was not originally natural. But the acquired instincts of the domestic races of dogs are yet more remarkable. Young pointers often point the first time they are taken out; and Darwin states that the tendency to run round a flock of sheep instead of at them has become hereditary in the sheep-dog. But are all consensual and instinctive actions to be thus accounted for ?—in other words, were all consensual actions voluntary at first, and have they only become con- sensual through habit? Were we to study man only, we could scarcely avoid the conclusion that such is the case ; ere ee ee Te a XXIx.] THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. 33 but our conclusion would be wrong. ‘The comparative absence of instinctive powers, and the vast development of thought, in man, makes the study of human psychology in some respects misleading, if it is not corrected by com- parison with that of the lower animals. But a study of animal instinct shows that there are many consensual actions which never can have been voluntary. The cell- Instance building instinct of the bee, for instance, certainly cannot OnE NE be the result of consciousness and will, either in the bee itself or in any of its ancestors: I believe it to be due to unconscious vital intelligence. All analogy leads to the Voluntary belief that voluntary action is developed out of consensual 2° has been deve- action, and not the converse; and consensual action has loped out certainly been developed out of insentient or purely reflex adiacall action. It is a general law, that the higher makes its Pa on appearance later than the lower, and is developed out of out of in- the lower; and in this particular case we know that, both Sntnt. in the development of the individual and in the ascending scale of organic forms, the cerebrum—which is the organ of consciousness, thought, and will—makes its appearance later than the sensory and motor ganglia, which are the organs of consensual action; and the sensory and motor ganglia make their appearance later than the nervous organs of the insentient life, which, in animals that have a nervous system at all, are the organs of reflex action. The facts and theories concerning the nervous organs of mental life, and their functions, which I have stated in this chapter, may now be briefly summarized ; leaving out of account the nervous organs of the insentient life; and also leaving out the cerebellum, a nervous centre probably belonging to the motor and instinctive life, though its functions are not yet clearly ascertained. 1 J think that Professor Bain’s theory of the will is vitiated by not attending to this truth. He represents the will as originally set in action by pleasurable and painful sensation. I believe the will has its root in reflex action, auterior to the origin of sensation. VOL. II. D 34 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cuar. Summary. The various nervous actions belonging to sentient and mental life may be enumerated as— Enumera- Sensation, tion of 3 mental Motor action, EEE, Consciousness (including Memory), Will, and Thought. Each of these has its own special nerve-fibres, and is caused by the mutual action of the fibres and the ganglia with which they are connected—or, in other words, by nerve-currents flowing from the fibres into the ganglia, or the converse. A current of one kind can determine the production of a current of another kind, according to definite laws. ag The position of the ganglia and nerve-fibres of mind relation of the. may be represented in the following diagramatic form :— nervous organs of a Ganglionic substance of the cerebrum. Nerves of thought. Un £0 saawany Nerves of consciousness. Motor ganglia, or Sensory ganglia. ; corpora striata. = aS 3 5 3 St : : = & 2 S S s 2 S a Organs of sense. Voluntary muscles. Sensation. | All mind begins with sensation: the first fact of mind consists in currents flowing upwards from the external XXIx.] THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. 35 organs of sense, and producing sensation as they enter the sensory ganglia. Sensation sometimes determines the flow of a downward Consen- current from the motor ganglia along their nerves to the i muscles, causing muscular motions. This is what is called consensual action. Sensation sometimes determines the flow of an upward Conscious- current from the sensory ganglia along the nerves that Soe connect them with the ganglionic substance of the cere- brum, producing consciousness. This is original conscious- ness, or consciousness of sensation. Consciousness generally determines the flow of currents Thought. along the nerves that connect the different parts of the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum with each other, producing thought. Thought is not itself conscious ; but it generally, though Conscious- not always, becomes so by producing currents in the nerves }°* "> of consciousness. Consciousness thus produced by thought thought. sometimes takes the form of the revival of the conscious- ness of a sensation, in which case it constitutes the recol- lection of the sensation. Thought is capable of acting on the motor ganglia by Will. means of currents sent down the nerves of will. The motor ganglia respond to the stimulus exactly as if it were a stimulus to consensual action coming from the sensory ganglia: they send the proper current down the motor nerves to the muscles, causing voluntary muscular motion. Even as a very brief outline, the foregoing list of the various kinds of mental interactions is incomplete. It leaves out all but what may be called the primary classes of interactions. When we come to the laws of association, we shall have to speak of secondary classes of interactions, which are governed by those laws. The phenomena of sleep, dreaming, and somnambulism depend on the partial or total suspension of the activity of various nervous centres of the mental life, and on the D2 36 Reverie. Sleep. Dreaming. Somnam- bulism. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP, partial or total suspension of communication between them by their nerve-fibres. This last expression may need explanation. Independ- ently of that lowering of the activity of the nervous centres in which sleep consists, the fibres that connect them appear, in particular cases, to cease to transmit any mes- sages, or to keep up the communication. Thus, in the state of reverie, the nerves of consciousness and thought may be intently occupied with memory, reasoning, or invention ; while the sensory and motor nerves, with their ganglia, may be engaged with some consensual action, such as the practice of some easy mechanical occupation ; but the mind may have no consciousness of what the eye is seeing, or what the hand is doing: in physiological lan- guage, the currents of sensation that reach the sensory ganglia excite no currents in the nerves of consciousness. In sound sleep, the whole activity of the cerebrum appears to be suspended, including the nerves of con- sciousness and will, as well as those of thought. The activity of the sensory and motor ganglia is very much lowered, though consensual actions are still possible, such as turning round during sleep. Dreaming appears to be an intermediate state between sound sleep and reverie. The peculiarity of somnambulism appears to be that the action of the nerves of consciousness is suspended, while all the rest of the nerves of mind are at work as in the waking state. The actions of somnambulists show that their senses must be awake, and capable of guiding con- sensual action. Thought and will are also active, and yet there is no consciousness. Somnambulism appears to be the only mental state m which determinations of the will are made unconsciously. It has been well remarked, that dreaming and somnambulism are the opposites of each other. In dreaming, the consciousness is partly awake, though it is not in communication with the organs of sense, and the other mental powers are asleep: in somnam- bulism, the consciousness is asleep, and the other mental powers are awake. XXIx.] THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. Ot As the theory stated in this chapter concerning the Grounds functions of the three different sets of cerebral nerves is Cares avowedly propounded as only a hypothesis, I shall con- clude by stating, more distinctly than I have yet done, the evidence on which it rests. Even if we had no direct evidence on the subject, analogy would make it impossible to doubt that every nerve and every ganglion must have its own separate function. But we have direct evidence: anatomy, and Functions the results of experiments on living animals, combine to ee: show, with tolerable distinctness, which are the nerves and nerves and ganglia of sensation, and which are those of motion ; and ae oe the theory-of reflex and consensual action is oases well established. But these methods fail us in the inquiry Those of about the functions of the cerebral nerves. We cannot Hee doubt that nerves in connexion with the organs of sense nel yes are nerves of sensation, and that nerves in connexion with j, se aie by the muscles are motor nerves; but when we come to the analogy. cerebrum we have no such pice to guide us, and the method of experiment cannot be applied. It is, however, impossible to doubt that in the cerebrum, as in all other organs, different nerve-fibres have different functions ; and analogy may guide us, as I think, to a tolerable degree of certainty as to what the functions are. Anatomy has shown that there are three distinct sets of cerebral nerves, having distinct connexions. These are to Cerebral be thus enumerated :— heise 1. The fibres connecting the sensory ganglia with the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum. I regard these as of con- the nerves of Consciousness. BClONaNESS, 2. The fibres connecting the different parts of the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum with each other. I regard these as the nerves of Thought. And Jeeond 3. The fibres connecting the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum with the corpora striata, which are the nervous centres for motor action. I regard these as the nerves of and of Will. “a As a parallel to these anatomical facts, the purely psychological (or what is usually called the metaphysical) 38 Three primary mental functions, probably corre- sponding thereto. Nerves of conscious- ness dis- tinct from those of thought and will. Nerves of conscious- ness, how identified. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. analysis of the facts of Mind has shown that there are three primary mental functions: that is to say :— Consciousness, or Feeling: Thought: and Will. It is at least a probable hypothesis, that the three sets of cerebral nerves correspond to the three primary mental functions. But how are the respective functions of the three sets of nerves to be identified? Here it is important to remember, that although thought and will are usually accompanied by consciousness, they are not always so: there may be unconscious thought, and the facts of somnambulism appear to show that there may be un- conscious voluntary determinations. These facts greatly strengthen the probability that the nerves of conscious- ness, at least, are distinct from those of thought and will. Now, how are we to identify the nerves of consciousness ? Tt will be seen that of the three sets of cerebral nerves, as enumerated above, only one is in connexion with the sensory ganglia, leading up from them to the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum. The functions of these nerves must have something to do with the functions of the sensory ganglia. But they are not nerves of sensation. The nerves of sensation are those which are in connexion with the external organs of sense. They may be, however, and I believe are, the nerves of consciousness : whether the primary consciousness of sensation, or the secondary consciousness of memory and thought. The same kind of reasoning applies to what I believe to be the nerves of thought. The mass of the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum, and of the fibres connecting its different parts, varies as between different species of animals and between different individuals among men, in some kind of approximate proportion to their intellectual powers ; and it is doubted by none that the cerebrum is Thought is the organ of thought. Thought, as we have seen, is not in itself uncon- scious. - necessarily conscious. ‘That is to say, it is in itself uncon- scious, though it is usually accompanied by consciousness. XXIx,] THE PHYSIOLOGY OF MIND. 09 Being itself unconscious, its seat cannot be in the nerves of consciousness ; and I think all analogy is in favour of the hypothesis that the currents of thought are formed in Nerves of the nerve-fibres that connect the different parts of the ‘°ush* ganglionic substance of the cerebrum with each other ; or, in other words, that thought is‘due to the mutual action of the ganglionic substance of the cerebral hemispheres, and the nerve-fibres that connect the different parts thereof. It isa very significant fact, that “it is on the very large proportion which the commissural fibres [or those which I regard as the nerves of thought] bear to the rest, that the bulk of the cerebrum of man and of the higher animals appears chiefly to depend; and it is easy to conceive that this condition has an important relation with the operations of the mind, whatever be our view of the relative functions of different parts of the cerebrum.” If my reasoning is assented to thus far, there can be little difficulty in identifying the nerves of will. We find Nerves of a set of nerve-fibres which by their position serve to con-™ * nect the ganglionic matter of the cerebrum with the corpora striata, which are the motor ganglia for consensual motions, Analogy points to these fibres as the probable channel by which determinations of will, formed in thought, are conveyed to the motor organs. I will here anticipate a possible difficulty. What is the Ideo- physiological distinction between ideo-motor actions (to ot" 2nd voluntary use Dr. Carpenter’s expression) and voluntary ones? Sup- actions: pose, for instance, that I decide, on deliberation, to draw Hee back from a position of danger, and do so; this is voluntary action. Suppose, on the contrary, that I do not wait to deliberate, but involuntarily shrink back from the thought of danger, perhaps contrary to my better judgment; this is an ideo-motor action, and differs from a consensual one only in the feeling that prompts it being not sensation but consciousness of thought. The stimulus to ideo-motor actions, and the stimulus to voluntary actions, both proceed originally from thought, and consequently from the nerves of thought. But the stimulus to voluntary action comes 1 Carpenter’s Human Physiology, p. 577. 40 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. from the ganglionic substance of the cerebrum to the motor ganglia directly, through the nerves of will; the stimulus to ideo-motor action, on the contrary, comes through the nerves of consciousness ; and they do not act on the motor ganglia directly, but through the medium of the sensory ganglia, which, as I have shown reason to believe, are the ganglia of consciousness. Thetheory J admit that the physiological theory of mind, of which sleiee “ T have in this chapter drawn the outline, is but an outline, which may probably never be filled up. Among other deficiencies, it gives no account of one of the most remark- able and yet common of mental facts, namely the act of attention ; which may be defined as the direction of con- sciousness by a voluntary act. In any but the most elementary psychological inquiries, physiology is of little or no use as a guide. NOTE. NERVOUS OURRENTS. Conscious- Ir my theory of consciousness is correct, consciousness is always ness is * . . always , secondary phenomenon. The consciousness of a sensation is secondary due to a current in the nerves of consciousness, produced by a ena current in those of sensation ; and, similarly, the consciousness of a thought is due toa current in the nerves of consciousness, produced by a current in those of thought. One current of consciousness may, however, produce another, according to a law.to be stated in the next chapter. The It is to be observed that the second current is not a mere secondary i current is Continuation of the first, but is in every sense distinct. In not acon- order to illustrate my meaning, it will be best to take instances ee from the working of the electric telegraph. Telegraphic instru- first. ments may be so arranged that an electric current sent from or London may make a signal by deflecting a magnetic needle at 0 electric telegraph York, and then go on and make a signal at Edinburgh. But currents. nothing like this takes place among nervous currents. The xx1x.] NERVOUS CURRENTS. 41 only analogy in telegraphy to the production of secondary nervous currents is the action of a ‘relay battery ;” that is to say, a battery which is so placed that on the arrival of one current it sends on another. The second current here is not a continuation of the first, but has been produced by a distinct battery. Just so, a secondary nervous current is not a continua- tion of the primary one, but is produced by a distinct action of nerve-fibres and ganglia on each other. I may here state, that I think Mr. Lewes is quite right in Nerve- maintaining that nerve-fibres are not merely analogous to tele- pe pas graphic wires. They are, no doubt, conductors of nervous merely energy, but they are also necessary to its production. The ae mutual action of a nerve-fibre and a ganglion is necessary to the production of a nervous current, just as the mutual chemical action of two substances is necessary to the production of a voltaic current. CHAPTER XXX. CONSCIOUSNESS AND THOUGHT. [* the foregoing chapter, I have attempted an analysis of the different mental functions, only so far as such an analysis illustrates, and is illustrated by, the anatomy and physiology of the organs of mind. That anatomy and physiology are, I believe, most valuable guides for the first few steps in the analysis of mental functions, but beyond the first few steps they fail us altogether. I have no doubt that Mind, in its very highest functions as truly as in mere sensation, is dependent on nervous action; but, beyond broadly discriminating between the nerves of conscious- ness, of thought, and of will, we have no means of iden- tifying the nervous actions to which particular mental Physio. actions are due. All psychology, therefore, except in its logy is most elementary parts, must be studied as a distinct useless as a guide in science, without further help from physiology. This, oe however, is not because bodily and mental functions are eee really distinct, but only because we are unable to trace the Float all connexion. But though it is impossible to trace the de- mind z 4 z depecdeon pendence of mental on nervous action in particular cases, nervous that dependence is proved as a general truth by all analogy, action. and by much direct evidence: such as the fact that great mental power is never found without a well-developed Proofs of cerebrum’ (though the converse does not appear to be aes true) ; that mental exertion, like bodily exertion, exhausts 1 T do not say a large cerebrum. Great intellectual power is sometimes met with in brains not above the average size. But there is certainly no instance of great intellectual power in an abnormally small brain, or in a malformed one. ae CH. Xxx. ] CONSCIOUSNESS AND THOUGHT. 43 nervous energy, which requires to be renewed in sleep ; and that, as muscular exertion causes decomposition of the substance of the muscles, so mental exertion causes de- composition of the substance of the brain, separating phosphorus, which is found in the excreta. We have seen reason to believe that there are separate cerebral nerves for consciousness, thought, and will; and we have seen that these correspond with the three primary mental functions of Feeling, Thought, and Will. In speaking of the results of psychological analysis, I say feeling, thought, and will, rather than consciousness, thought, and will. Feeling includes consciousness, but it Feeling is also includes sensation. All action of the sensory ganglia Wi4%. than produces feeling: those feelings which originate in im- ness. pressions coming from the external organs of sense, or from Feelings of the external termination of any of the nerves of the body, and feel- belong to sensation ; those feelings which originate within ee the brain itself belong to consciousness. The simplest, ness. and the primary form of consciousness, is the conscious- Gradations ness of a sensation while it is present; out of this, all sciousness. other forms of consciousness are developed. The next form of consciousness is memory, or the consciousness of a sensation which is no longer present. Beyond this are that large class of feelings or emotions, which, to use H. Emotions. Spencer’s felicitous expression, are “generated indepen- dently in consciousness,” and have no prototype in mere bodily sensation. The most elementary of these are desire of the pleasures, and fear of the pains, of sensation; but beyond these elementary emotions are that higher class of feelings which attach themselves not to sensations but to higher objects, including the sense of beauty and the social and moral feelings. Thus we can classify feelings. We can identify the nervous organs of sensation and consciousness, and ascertain the physical conditions under which feelings of sensation and consciousness arise; and we can trace the origin of one class of feelings out of another by develop- ment within the mind itself (as, for instance, memory out of sensation, and desire and fear out of the consciousness Thought is explicable. It begins sails th sense of the rela- tion of sensations to each other. Attention to one particular sensation, or to one particular relation between sensations. Instance in geo- metrical study. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [CHAP. of pleasure and pain). But when all this has been done, that whole class of facts which are variously called feel- ing, sensation, consciousness, and emotion, remains unex- plained, and incapable of explanation. We can compare one feeling with another, and to a great extent we are able to ascertain where, when, and how, feelings arvse. But it is in the nature of things impossible to tell what a feeling 7s. A man born blind may be made to understand that the colour of green arises when the eyes are directed to grass or leaves: and this is real knowledge, so far as it goes ; but no possible explanation could make him under- stand what the sensation of green is. To use a mathe- matical mode of speech, sensation and consciousness can- not be described in terms of anything but themselves. But with thought it is otherwise. Thought—even unconscious thought—is always derived from conscious elements, and may be described in terms of conscious- ness. It is, I believe, universally admitted, that all thought begins with sensation; but sensation, and the consciousness of sensation, are not themselves thought. The first elementary act of thought is the conscious- ness, not of sensations, but of the relation of sensations to each other;—the consciousness, for instance, of the likeness or unlikeness between two or more sensations, or of their co-existence or succession in time, or of their co-existence or separation in space. Now, when there are two or more feelings present to the consciousness at once, the consciousness is generally directed to one more than to the rest ; or, in common language, the mind attends to one rather than to the rest. For instance, if music and talk are both going on at once, the attention will probably be directed either to the music or to the talk, but not to both. This sometimes takes place involuntarily, sometimes by a voluntary determination. In such a case as this, the consciousness is directed to one sensation, or set of sensations, rather than to the other. But the conscious- ness is also capable of being directed, not to a particular sensation or set of sensations, but to a particular relation or set of relations between sensations. The best instance of — = —— gee | CONSCIOUSNESS AND THOUGHT. 45 this that I can think of, is that afforded by the use of a geometrical diagram. The lines of the diagram may be either drawn in white chalk on a black board, or in black ink on white paper; but it makes no difference whatever to the geometrical student whether the lines are black or white, nor would it make any if they were red or green. It is necessary that the lines should be of some colour, in order to make an impression on his sight: were there no differ- ence of colour or of shade between the lines and the ground they are drawn on, there would be no sensations with which to begin the consciousness of relations between the lines. But one colour will do as well as another, be- cause his consciousness is not occupied with the colours of the lines and of their ground, or with the relation between them considered as a relation between colours, but with a particular kind of relations, namely relations in space, which are the same for lines of any possible colour, and which constitute the subject-matter of geometrical science. I ought to say, that I do not mean to prejudge any metaphysical question as to the nature of geometrical truth. Whatever may be the nature of the truths of geometry in themselves, or in relation to all possible intel- ligence, it is an unquestionable fact that we begin our know- ledge of geometry, and indeed of everything, by cognition of sensations and of the relations between sensations. Neither sensation, nor the consciousness of sensation, is thought : the first rudimentary act of thought is the con- sciousness of the relation between sensations. This, I be- lieve, will be admitted by all. But Iam inclined to think that it is not strictly accurate to speak of consciousness of relation; though it is sufficiently accurate not to be misleading up to the present point of the discussion. I am inclined to think that when we say that we are conscious We have of the relation between two sensations, we really mean Sibi sts that we are conscious, not of the relations, but of the ness of sensations which are related. The relations of geometry ae or 3 are too abstract to be of much use for illustration here ; we ee must take an example from among what is nearer to mere sensation. If I look at a half-open moss rose, I see red 46 But we have knowledge of rela- tions. Uncon- scious thought thus ex- plained. Thought ceases to be con- scious when it is of rela- tions only, to the ex- clusion of the feel- ings between which the relations are, HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. petals in contact with a green calyx. Here are the two sensations of red and green, related to each other as unlike, and as in contact. I am then conscious of two unlike sensations in contact ; but I am not, nor can I be, conscious of the abstract relations denoted by the words “ynlikeness” and “contact.” I am not conscious of ab- stract unlikeness, but I am conscious of unlike sensations ; T am not conscious of abstract contact, but I am conscious of sensations in contact. Relations, in themselves, cannot be objects of consciousness. But they are objects of knowledge : this is a fact of experience, explain it logically or metaphysically as we may. I consequently prefer to say that we are conscious of sensations, and cognizant of the relations between them. There is nothing new in all this. I expect that the one half of my readers will say that it is a mere truism, and the other half that it is a verbal distinction without any meaning behind it. I have no objection to its being called a truism, but 1 believe that, so far from being without meaning, it shows us where to seek for the ex- planation, in so far as it is explicable, of the fact of uncon- scious thought. Consciousness has to do with feelings. Thought has to do with the relations between the feelings, or with relations between these relations, or with a third set of relations between the second set of relations, and so on, in almost indefinitely increasing degrees of abstract- ness ; that is to say, of remoteness from the feelings or sensations on which all thought is nevertheless ultimately based. (I do not offer this as a complete account of the objects of thought, but only as an account of how thought arises.) Now, it is possible to go on thinking of the rela- tions, and the relations between the relations, after we have ceased to be conscious of the feelings which were the subjects of the relations. And this, I believe, is the rationale of the fact of unconscious thought. It may be said in reply to this, that, if it were true, mathematical and all highly abstract reasonings would be performed unconsciously. I reply to the objection, that I believe such reasonings are in a great degree performed Bex. CONSCIOUSNESS AND THOUGHT. 47 unconsciously ; and that what we are conscious of while What is engaged in them is not so much the object under attention, Se" 0". as the effort of will which is needed in order to keep the oe ye thought at work ; for in the normal state of the mind the often exercise of will appears to be always accompanied by con- Pinpee tae sciousness. But when thought is independent of will, it is of mental also frequently unaccompanied by consciousness. Men of °°" inventive minds say that their happiest thoughts have often come to them involuntarily, almost unconsciously, unsought, they know not how ; that is to say, as the result of unconscious or half-conscious thinking. All actions tend to become habitual. Motor habits. Voluntary actions becoming habitual and con- sensual. Mental habit, or associa- tion of ideas. CHAPTER XXXI. MENTAL HABIT. ie the chapter on the Law of Habit I believe I have shown that all vital actions whatever tend to’ repeat themselves, and consequently to become habitual. We have seen that every vital action may be classed under one of the three denominations of formative, motor, and mental. It is not a usual form of expression to speak of formative habits, but I think I have shown that it is strictly accurate ; and to speak of motor and mental habits—that is to say, habits of action and habits of thought—is at once scien- tifically accurate, and in accordance with general usage. When habits are spoken of without any qualifying word, it is motor habits that are generally meant ; and, indeed, the whole organic creation contains no better illustration of the formation of habit—individual, not hereditary habit—than the power of human beings so to learn mechanical arts, that actions which at first were per- formed by a conscious effort of the will, at last become consensual and unconscious; so that (to return to a former instance) a musician’s fingers may be so trained as to be guided almost, if not quite unconsciously, by the sight of the printed notes. The law of mental habit is usually called the law of the association of ideas. The association of ideas 1s a subject that has been very much studied, and to good purpose ; indeed, few subjects are more thoroughly ex- plored or better understood. But the isolated manner in which psychology has been cultivated till now, has caused its nature to be misconceived in ‘one important respect. CHAP. XXX1.] MENTAL HABIT. 49 The law of the association of ideas is generally mentioned as if it were an ultimate law. Now, it is no doubt an ultimate law, so far as psychology only is concerned. It is true of all mental phenomena, and it is not resolvable into any other mental law. But the phenomena of mind are only a part of the phenomena of life, and the law of the association of ideas is only a particular case, though a very important one, of a law which is true of all the phenomena of life—namely, the law of habit. In order to keep this truth before the reader’s mind, I intend to speak of mental habit in preference to the association of ideas, though I admit that the association of ideas is a perfectly accurate expression, and I shall use it wherever it will best serve to express my meaning. Ideas may be defined as all those impressions on con- Impres- sciousness and thought which are not due to immediate S0us 0” impressions of sense. All impressions on the mind, con- ness are sequently, which are not sensory are ideal. This use of pers On the word idea is perhaps rather wider than is sanctioned ideal. by common usage, but it is intelligible and, I think, necessary for the purposes of science. The elementary law of association may be thus stated :— Law of as- When two feelings have been experienced together, or in i240" immediate succession, the recurrence of either of the feel- ings separately tends to recall to memory the conscious- ness of the other feeling; or, in fewer words and less technical language, feelings that have been experienced together tend to recall each other. Let us call two sensa- tions, or groups of sensations, 4 and B; and let us call the consciousness of the two respectively a and 6. If A and B have often occurred together, or in immediate succession, a and 6 also will have occurred together, or in immediate succession; and, in virtue of the law that all the actions of living beings tend to become habitual, a and 6 will acquire the habit of occurring together, and whatever produces the one will recall the other also. Or, to use an illustration instead of an algebraic statement: the sight of a man’s Instance face and the sound of his voice may become so associated of eae together in the mind, that the consciousness, or memory, of his voice. VOL. I. E Groups of sensations. Associa- tion by contiguity, and by re- semblance, both cases of the same prin- ciple. Explana- tion of as- sociation by resem- blance : HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [cHAP. the two may acquire a habit of always accompanying each other, so that the sight of the face will recall the voice into conscious memory, and the sound of the voice will simi- larly recall the sight of the face. I have spoken above of “ sensations, or groups of sensations.” The sound of a voice is a single sensation ; the impression of a man’s face on the sense of sight is a group of sensations; but once a group of sensations has become familiar, it is capable of becoming the subject of associations, just like a simple sensation. In the case of association just mentioned, the ideas of two things become associated in our consciousness, because the things themselves have been associated in our expe- rience by contiguity to each other, either in space or in time; and association produced in this way is called asso- ciation by contiguity. Association is produced in another way, which, though quite as familiar, is not quite so easy to analyse into its elements, so as to prove it to be a case of the law of habit. I mean association by resemblance ; as, for instance, when the sight of a good portrait recalls to mind the face it resembles. Association by resemblance and association by contiguity are sometimes spoken of as if they were both ultimate facts of the mental nature ; but T think it can be shown that they are both to be referred to the same principle of association, though under different circumstances, and that they are both alike cases of the law of habit. In order to explain the fact of association by resemblance as a case of mental habit, it is better to speak, not of objects having the kind of likeness that a face and its portrait have to each other, but of objects so nearly alike as to be indistinguishable; as, for instance, two uncut copies of the same book. If I see a book at a friend’s house, and this recalls to my memory that I have seen the same book—that is to say, a precisely similar book—in a bookseller’s shop, by what mechanism of asso- ciation is the recollection effected? It is to be thus explained : my first view and my second view of the book are two distinct incidents, partly alike and partly unlike— alike in that the two copies of the book were exactly similar, unlike in that the places and other circumstances Se Xxx1.| MENTAL HABIT. 51 were different ; and consequently the impressions produced on my consciousness by the two incidents are compound impressions, partly similar and partly different. But when the second impression on my consciousness is made by seeing the book for the second time, the idea of the book is already habitually associated with the idea of the bookseller’s shop, and recalls it. This is what takes place in all cases of remembrance by similarity. No two incidents are similar in all their details ; and when they are said to be precisely similar, it is only meant that, of the compound impressions which all incidents make on the consciousness, the parts that attract the attention are the similar parts. When one thing, or one incident, recalls another by its similarity, the one, when compared with the other, may always be resolved into a similar part and a dissimilar part. Let us call the similar parts of two things, or of two incidents, A, and the dissimilar parts X and Y ; the things themselves will con- sequently be respectively indicated by A X and A Y. In the act by which the mind has acquired its memory of A X, A has already become associated with X as a case of association by contiguity. So that when we say the impression of A X on the consciousness recalls that of A Y, what really happens is, that the impression of A, which is the element common to the two, recalls that of Y. it isa case Thus, association by resemblance is really a case of asso- ager ciation by contiguity. contiguity. In order to prevent my meaning from being miscon- The power ceived, I ought to add that I regard the power of cognising °f °°8t* ne sing re- resemblance and ditference—in a word, the power of com- semblance parison—as an ultimate and original power of the mind, ee not dependent on habit, association, or memory. I have ee indicated this view in the last chapter. It is, for instance, conceivable that the mind should compare two sensations, such as two spots of colour, simultaneously present to the consciousness, without any element derived from habit entering into the process. Most readers who will take the trouble to follow my reasonings on the subject of association by contiguity and E 2 52 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [CHAP. by resemblance, will probably be of opinion that I have elaborately explained what is self-evident ; that the subject itself may be understood without the slightest difficulty, while there is some difficulty in following my explanation of it. I reply, that, obvious as may be the whole subject when formally stated, it is not self-evident, nor, I believe, is it yet generally recognised, that all simple associations are formed by contiguity, either in place or in time; so that association by resemblance is really a case of associa- tion by contiguity. But I believe it is generally admitted that these two—contiguity and resemblance—include all cases whatever of simple association. I must here reply to a possible objection to my mode of regarding all association as a case of the law of habit. It is beyond question that many associations, and those the most durable, are habitual ; for instance, that vast network of associations between the sounds of words and their meanings which constitutes the knowledge of one’s own language, has evidently been acquired by the habit of hearing and speaking the language, from a time before the earliest time that one can remember. But when we form the association between a word and its meaning, not by often hearing them conjoined but by a single mental act, as we constantly do in learning a foreign language, it may be argued that this is not a case of habit, but of a totally different mental law. I believe, however, that this dif- ference, important as it is, may be shown to be merely one All asso- of degree. The law of habit is, that actions tend to repeat Besant themselves. All habits no doubt strengthen with repe- on habit. tition; but if an action tends to repeat itself without having been repeated more than once, this is no less truly a case of habit than if it became habitual after countless repetitions. If, indeed, we knew the meaning of any words without having learned them, this would no doubt be a case of association which could not be traced to habit. But it is safe to assert that no case of the kind exists. In the chapter on the Laws of Habit,! we have seen that 1 Chapter XV. XXXI.] MENTAL HABIT. 53 habits are liable to be lost by disuse. This is universally true, and it is perhaps more conspicuously true of mental habits than of any other kind. Memory, as we have seen, is altogether due to mental habit, or association, and con- sists in the liability of associations to be recalled into consciousness. In virtue of the law of the loss of habits Forget- by disuse, any association which remains for a sufficiently cds eae long time without being recalled into consciousness, ulti- aes by mately loses the power of being so recalled; in common : language, it is forgotten. But we have also seen that the Reappear- tenacity of a habit does not always depend on its promi- sae rcne hence, or present strength ; and that a tenacious habit may supposed revive after appearing to be lost. To this class of facts © ee belongs the very remarkable yet not uncommon fact of the recollection in illness or in delirium, of long-forgotten memories of childhood. As the law of habit is a law of all life, so the law of Associa- mental habit, or the law of association, is a law of all an ae mind. It enters into all mental processes. Memory, as mental we have seen, consists in the power of recalling associations ee that have been once formed. The acquisition of knowledge equine consists in the formation of associations: the learning of a ae language, for instance, consists in the formation of associa- ledge. tions between the words and their meanings, so that either will recall the other. The acquisition of knowledge con- cerning things consists in the formation of associations between the various properties of the things, and the acquisition of the power of recalling those associations to memory when they are wanted. Accuracy of knowledge Accurate consists in the associations which are formed in the mind feie) between things, and between their properties, accurately corresponding to the combinations that exist in the real world. Errors of knowledge consist in failures in the Error. correspondence. Reverie chiefly consists in associations Reverie. successively recalling each other to memory without any effort of will. Imagination, or invention, consists in the Invention. formation within the mind of ideal associations, which the inventor may afterwards construct as actual combinations 54 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP in the real world ; as when a poem or a piece of music is written out, or a machine is constructed, after being first Reasoning. Imagined in the mind. Reasoning consists in forming, or attempting to form, associations within the mind which will correspond to the actual combinations of things in the real world; as, for instance, when Sir R. Murchison, from the scanty data before him, predicted the discovery of that physical configuration which Dr. Livingstone afterwards discovered in South Africa. It may appear to some of my readers an inaccurate and unjustifiable extension of the use of the word, to describe imagination and reasoning as cases of association. I reply, that they are unquestionably cases of the formation of mental, or ideal, combinations; and all mental combina- tion must be the association of ideas already in the mind ; The mind because all knowledge has its beginning in experience: the eet pt Mind, strictly speaking, has no creative power, and can can only only combine the materials furnished to it by experience. combiue. Tn the present state of psychological science, I think this is unquestionable. But it does not follow that true mental originality is impossible. The mind may be truly original in its mode of combining the data of experience, just as an architect may be truly original though he cannot create the stone with which he builds, but must obtain it from the quarry. I have said that the law of mental habit, or the associa- tion of ideas, enters into every mental process except the most elementary. I think this does not admit of question. Areall But it is a question, whether the action of the mind se on the data given to it by experience, in virtue of the able to the law of mental habit alone, is capable of accounting for Lali all the facts of mind. This, in fact, is another aspect of a the question which I have discussed in the chapter on the Parallel origin of species. I there considered the question, whether Ba ae the facts of organic adaptation can be due to the actions, direct and indirect, of the surrounding world of multiform % forces, acting on the organism through the laws of habit I believe and variation alone; and I came to the conclusion that in mtelli- E a ae 5 § gence, in such is not the case; that, in addition to the unintelligent ee Xxx1.] MENTAL HABIT. 55 laws of habit and variation, there is a principle of organ- addition to izing intelligence, which is not a resultant from any unin- eee of telligent forces, or put together out of any unintelligent elements, but is an ultimate fact of nature. Just so in the science of mind. In the present state of psychology as of The physiology, the most important of all questions is whether eS intelligence is an ultimate, primary fact, Incapable of being Is intelli- resolved into any other ; or whether it has been put together Sree out of unintelligent elements. I believe that in mind, as fact? in organization, intelligence is an ultimate fact. I believe that in all thought, as in all organization, there is something for which the laws of habit do not account. But it is as yet too soon to discuss this question. I shall keep it for the concluding psychological chapter. In the next chapter I shall have to speak of habit and intelligence as acting in the moral nature. It will be perceived by any one who is in any degree familiar with psychological studies, that I have in this chapter treated the vast subject of the laws of the associa- tion of ideas very slightly. I have only glanced by allusion at the formation of ideas of groups of sensations, and other yet more complex ideas; to which class belong all our ideas of external things as distinguished from ideas or memories of simple sensations. And I have dis- missed in a single paragraph the action of mental associa- tion in the processes of reasoning and invention ; though it would take whole chapters, and perhaps a whole volume, to do justice to those subjects. My reason for doing so is, Why I that I do not design, as part of this work, to write Satie om complete treatise on psychology, any-more than a complete association treatise on biology ;—and a complete treatise on the laws ~ sats of association, in all their cases and applications, would be nothing less than a complete treatise on psychology. The purpose of the present work is not to enter into full detail on this or any other subject, but to point out what I believe to be the true position of the laws of habit in biology and in psychology, and the relation of the principle of intelligence to that of habit in both. . . : : . CHAPTER XXXII. THE GROUNDS OF THE MORAL NATURE. WEaiion: | be speaking of the moral nature, I do not use the sl expression in the usual sense, in which it is restricted emotional. to those powers of the mind that take cognizance of right and wrong. I intend to speak of the moral nature as co- extensive, and indeed identical, with the emotional nature. Moral is The word moral is not properly contrasted with mental. pore Moral is contrasted with intellectual ; and the moral and lectual. intellectual natures are both branches of the mental nature. We have seen that the intellectual nature begins from sensation, and that the first rudiment of intellect consists in the power of cognising the relations between different The root 5 : A of the sensations. It is no less true that the moral nature begins nee bs from sensation. The first rudiment of the moral nature in the consists in cognising the difference between agreeable and sense of : pleasure disagreeable sensations, and in desiring the one and and pain. disliking the other. Pleasure Pleasure and pain—or, in other words, the agreeable and and pain 2 aie ° a ag 5 aoe ex. aisagreeable qualities of sensations—are facts which, like plicable in gensation itself, cannot be explained or resolved into any Belen: others. But, as we have seen it to be with sensation, so it ae may may be with pleasure and pain. Though it is impossible to s A A : i to tell how explain what they are in themselves, it may be possible to they arise. +41] when and how they arise. In speaking of organic Organic in- | : : telligence intelligence I stated it to be, as I believe, the general law pues a of intelligence, that it directs all the actions, whether ie to o we formative, motor, or mental, of an organism, in whatever 1s Tor their a = . = 3 welfare. direction is best for the life and health of the organism.? 1 See p. 8. CH. XxXx11.] GROUNDS OF THE MORAL NATURE. 57 I am inclined to think that intelligence is in itself abso- lutely unerring, and that when it does not guide the actions of the organism aright, it is because the action of intelligence has been interfered with and counteracted by other and unintelligent forces: just as gravitation is a universal and unceasing force; and when bodies do not fall towards each other, it is because they are prevented. But this, as regards intelligence, does not admit of proof. All organisms, as I believe, are intelligent, but only some organisms are sentient. All organisms, as a general rule, seek what is good for their life and health and avoid what is bad for them. Insentient organisms, as I believe, are guided in so doing by their unconscious organic intelligence; but when sensation is developed, Sentient and with it the power of discriminating between pleasure fie panded and pain, the sense of pleasure and pain becomes a guide : to their what is healthful is felt as agreeable, and as such is Mir art sought; what is destructive or injurious is felt as dis- agreeable, and as such is avoided. Not that intelligence abdicates its functions. The connexion between the animal’s welfare and the sense of pleasure, and the con- verse connexion between injury and the sense of pain, is, | have no doubt, in some way determined by intelli- gence. The law that what is beneficial is agreeable, and what is injurious is disagreeable, is no doubt subject to very puzzling exceptions, of which the most remarkable, ame and indeed the typical, instances are the sweet tastes of some poisonous substances. These, in the present state of our knowledge, must stand over as inexplicable anomalies. But I am convinced that they are only exceptions ; for, when organisms are sentient, the guidance of their lives, Reason for at least as to the choice of food, appears to be entirely kins committed to the sense of what is agreeable and disagree- must be able in taste; and if this sense habitually gave such ee indications as to guide the organism wrong instead of right, the whole race of such organisms would speedily perish. The sense of actually felt pleasure and pain is the root Desire and of the desire of pleasure and of the fear of pain; so that, Sexual, domestic, and social affections : HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [ CHAP. once organisms acquire desires and fears, the law of pleasure and pain stated above causes them to desire what is favourable to their life and health, and to fear what is injurious. This is the ground of the love of life and fear of death. These feelings would be scarcely explicable if they had their roots in thought, or even in sensation ; but their roots are deeper than either thought or sensation, down in the nature that we have in common with all organisms whatever, vegetable as well as animal, which prompts all alike to seek whatever ministers to - their life. In other words, the impulse to self-preservation is universal among organisms, sentient and insentient, conscious and unconscious. We have become conscious, and the impulse to self-preservation has become conscious in us, and is called the love of life, or the fear of death. In speaking in a former chapter of organic intelligence, I stated that organisms are guided by that intelligence to perform not only such actions as are salutary for the indi- vidual, but also such as are needed for the perpetuation ‘ and the prosperity of the race.t_ The simplest and the only universal instance of this is the reproductive function. When organisms become sentient “and conscious, the actions which minister to the life of the race, as well as those which minister to the life of the individual, are attended with a sense of pleasure and become objects of desire. These feelings constitute the root of the sexual, domestic, and social affections. Thus the instinct of a bird, for instance, causes her to tend her young: she pro- bably has a sense of pleasure in doing so; and, if she loses them, she shows manifest signs of mental pain. This is an instance of the general fact that the healthful per- formance of every vital function, in so far as it is attended with sensation or consciousness at all, gives rise to a sense of pleasure, and any interference with its per- formance gives rise to a sense of pain. The affection of a bird or other animal for her young has thus 1 See p. 9. Xxx. ] THE GROUNDS OF THE MORAL NATURE. 59 its root deeper than consciousness or sensation, in the instinctive intelligence which prompts all organisms, conscious and unconscious, animal and vegetable alike, to minister to the life of the race as well as to their own; and the same is true of the attachment, outlasting mere desire, which some animals, at least among birds, feel for their mates. The pleasures and pains, the hopes and fears of their roots sympathy, all the unselfish emotions, and all that makes pe: of man a social being, grow, I believe, out of this root.! So life. far as I see, the origin and nature of the sympathetic and social character of man neither need nor admit of any other explanation than that which is here suggested. In speaking of the laws of habit, I hinted at another and totally different way in which the sense of pleasure and pain is to be directly referred to the elementary and universal laws of life. We then saw that great changes of Great the circumstances in which any organism has to live are *278° injurious and destructive, while slight changes are bene- ee ficial? We have subsequently seen that when organisms BELeaea become sentient what is beneficial is felt as agreeable, and Bates what is injurious is felt as painful. From these two laws, are it follows by mere syllogistic inference that great changes La are felt as painful, but slight changes are felt as agreeable ; ones and this is affirmed by all experience as a general fact of ee: our mental nature. We like familiar things and familiar ways, and yet we weary of monotony and like novelty. This sounds contradictory, yet we know that it is true. The full statement of the truth, divested of its paradoxical form, is that we like what is familiar, but we like it to be diversified with slight novelty. It does not in the least degree interfere with the truth of this statement as a law, or rather a pair of laws, of the mind, that the love of familiar things is relatively strong in some persons, and 1 “Die Leidenschaft flieht, Die Leibe muss bleiben : Die Blume verbliiht, Die Frucht muss treiben.” —ScHILLER. 2 Vol. i. p. 188. 60 Applica- tion of this prin- ciple to beauty. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. the love of novelty in others; and also that the same persons love novelty in some things, while in other things they cannot endure it. Many persons, for instance, are fond of novelty in such matters as dress and music, to whom the pain of reconsidering a religious or political opinion would be unbearable. I should commence a perfectly inexhaustible subject if I were to endeavour to trace all the applications of this law, that slight novelty is pleasing, but great novelty disagreeable; for that law is connected with the whole subject of human character, and all the results of the action of human character in history, in art, and even in language. I shall here only speak of the importance of this principle in constituting the sense of beauty. The sense of beauty is a very complex fact, and I believe that no definition of beauty has yet been proposed which really answers the purpose of a definition by in- cluding all that it is meant to include, and excluding all that it is meant to exclude. For the present purpose let us narrow the subject as much as possible by excluding moral beauty, such as that of a thoroughly amiable cha- racter, and intellectual beauty, such as that of the theories of gravitation and heat; so that we shall have to do with the beauty of sight and of soundalone. And let us also further narrow the subject, by excluding all elements that properly belong, not to the beautiful, but to the sublime and the picturesque, which, though they are constantly mingled with beauty, are perhaps radically distinct. Having thus narrowed the subject to beauty of sight and of sound, leaving out all elements of the sublime and of the picturesque, we shall find that it is tolerably manageable for purposes of analysis. Ido not say, for I do not believe, that the complex fact of the sense of beauty is capable of being referred to any single principle of our nature. But I say that one element of beauty, and that of the greatest importance, is directly traceable to the law already stated, that slight changes are agreeable, but great changes are painful. Great changes or abrupt transitions are disagreeable to the Ce ee I a a xxxu.] THE GROUNDS OF THE MORAL NATURE. 61 eye. Violent contrasts of light and shade, or of colour, are not beautiful, or at least are less beautiful than gradation. The same is true of form as of colour: a mixture of Greek and Gothic details, for instance, would be condemned by those who are best qualified to appreciate the beauty of either alone. Slight changes and gradual transitions, on the contrary, are demanded by the eye. A vast expanse of a single colour, or the endless repetition of a single form, may be beautiful, but its beauty will be of a low order: a much higher kind of beauty is due to variety of colour where the masses are not too large, as in the case of flowers among foliage; and the highest of all beauty of colour is that which is due to the almost imper- ceptibly graduated combinations of tints in sunset skies. The soundness of these principles is generally admitted. An artistic design in which they are observed cannot fail to have many of the elements of beauty, though it may be commonplace and unmeaning; while a design in which they are violated can scarcely be beautiful at all. I think it will be generally admitted that these artistic principles are based on our natural and instinctive liking for slight changes and dislike of great ones; and I believe I have shown how these feelings have their roots in the deepest laws of life. I have now endeavoured to give an account of the origin of some of those feelings which are independently generated in consciousness, and transcend mere sensation. I have successively considered the love of life, the sympa- thetic and social feelings, and so much of the sense of beauty as consists of the love of gradual variety, or variety in unity ; and I have endeavoured to trace them directly to their roots in the nature which we have in Roots of common with all living beings, whether sentient or insen- eypeiins tient. I do not believe that their origin is in any way organic traceable to the laws of the association of ideas; though up. I have no doubt that the laws of association have very much to do with their development, as indeed they have with every mental process whatever. I am, of course, aware Emotions generated by associa- tion. Associa- tion of feelings. Love of money ; not a primary feeling ; may have become hereditary. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. that my view of the subject is in some degree opposed to the view held by what may now be regarded as the reigning school of British philosophy. But there are feelings or capacities for pleasurable and painful emotion which are beyond all doubt generated by the action of the laws of association or mental habit. The law of what be called the association of feelings, as dis- tinguished from and parallel to the association of ideas, is this,—that whatever has become associated in experience with pleasurable or painful feelings, itself becomes the occasion of pleasurable or painful feelings. Thus the sight of a place where we have endured sorrow may become the cause of a feeling of mental pain, or the converse. The most remarkable instance of this is the love of money. Money is not a desirable thing in itself; it is desirable only on account of the desirable things that can be had by its means. It is consequently impossible that the love of money can be a primary feeling. The love of food and, as I believe, the love of life, of kindred, and of at least some forms of beauty, are primary feelings, not due to association with any others, but having their roots directly in life. The love of money, on the contrary, is a secondary emotion, produced by association with the thought of the desirable things which it is able to purchase. But once it is formed, it is exactly like a primary emotion ; and many men spend their lives in storing it up as if it were de- sirable for its own sake, without a thought of its doing any real good either to themselves or to any one else. It is quite probable that the love of money has become an hereditary characteristic in at least some classes of society “among the civilized races of men; and if so, though it is Emotions have their seat in the nerves of conscious- ness. a secondary emotion for the race, it is practically a primary one for the individual. The seat of the emotions is, of course, not in the nerves of sensation, but in those of consciousness. This is true alike of the secondary emotions, which are generated by asso- ciation, and of those which I believe to be primary, or, in other words, directly traceable to our nature as living beings, such as the love of kindred. ee ee a ey ee xxxu.] | THE GROUNDS OF THE MORAL NATURE. 63 The sense of pleasure and pain, with the desire of plea- Germ of . : rs - , the moral sure and the fear of pain, constitute the germ out of which yature, in the whole of our moral and emotional nature is developed. sensation. But though they are emotional, these elements cannot be themselves regarded as moral. There are three things in which morality or moral excellence consists. These are: 1. Preferring the future to the present ; or prudence. Prudence. 2. Preferring the interest of another to one’s own; the Unselfish- social virtues, or unselfishness. HERS: 3. Preferring a higher aim to a lower one; as, for in- stance, preferring the performance of a duty which is certain to be unrewarded, to pleasure; I cannot think of any word that properly distinguishes this class of virtues from the other two, except holiness. Holiness. In morality, as in all life, the higher is developed out of the lower, and-presupposes the lower. Prudence, unselfish- ness, and holiness are all developed out of the preference of pleasure to pain. Out of the sense of pleasure and pain Origin of in the present arises prudence, or care to provide for Prudence: pleasure, and against pain, in the future; and the readi- ness to forego a smaller present pleasure, or to endure a smaller present pain, in order to provide for greater future pleasure, or against greater future pain. Out of the of unsel- sense of one’s own pleasure and pain arises unselfishness, “)"¢ss: or care for the welfare of others. And out of the pleasures and pains, the desires and fears, of mere sensation, arise of those feelings which belong to a higher order than sensa- boliness. tion—love of beauty, love of truth, and love of virtue. Concerning the origin of prudence, there is no room for doubt, and not much, so far as I see, even for dis- cussion ; it necessarily arises when thought and will have obtained the ascendency over mere sensation and con- sensual action. The origin of the unselfish virtues is a subject which has been very much debated. I have stated my reasons for believing that they have their roots in those instincts which prompt all organisms, sentient and insentient alike, to perform such actions as are needful for the preservation of the race. 64 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cH. XXXII. But how have we acquired the idea of holiness? how have we learned that some pleasures, quite irrespectively of their intensity, are higher than others, and worthier to be sought—that the pleasure of hearing music, for instance, is higher than that of eating and drinking; the pleasures of the affections higher than those of music ; and the pleasure yielded by the approbation of a good conscience higher than all the rest? And how have we learned to conceive of aims of duty so high, that not even the highest pleasure, present or future, ought to be weighed against them ? The sense I believe this moral sense, or sense of holiness,! is in- ennai capable of being referred to any principle belonging to of intelli- either matter, life, or sensation, and can only be explained seas a case, not of vital but of spiritual intelligence. I have only glanced at this most important subject. It would be impossible to do it justice without introducing arguments drawn from another world than that external world which we know of the senses; and to do so would be to enter on a totally new class of subjects. It is not from indifference to them, but rather from the sense of their transcendent importance, that I at present pass them by with this allusion, and restrict myself in this work to the sciences of matter and life. 1 Mr. Mill, in his work on Utilitarianism, maintains, with the whole of the philosophical school which he so ably represents, that the moral sense is what I have called a secondary feeling, and produced by association with the pleasures and pains of sensation. He is, however, obliged to admit— or rather, I ought to say, he places in the front of his theory—that besides differing in quantity (which, I suppose, means intensity multiplied into duration), pleasures differ from each other as higher and lower ; a little of a higher pleasure being worth as much as a great deal of a lower one. Of course I agree with this ; but I think it destroys the whole of the theory. I think it introduces an ethical element into the subject without saying whence it is derived, and thereby virtually confesses that it is underived. i ae : { q z ; CHAPTER XXXIiI. MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. Be ORE endeavouring to trace the subject of mental development in detail, it will be well to recapitulate, so as to bring into one brief view the various statements of the last few chapters concerning the elementary prin- ciples of mind. Mind is developed out of sensation, as out of a germ. It is the purpose of this chapter to trace the process of development. But does sensation itself belong to mind? I state this Is sensa. question, not as one which from my point of view needs eee any answer, but as one which may naturally arise and embarrass the reader’s thoughts; and I reply to it, that the question is a purely verbal one. I have confessed The _ my inability to frame a satisfactory definition of mind. pees But, as a matter of fact, mind begins with sensation. verbal. Consciousness belongs to mind; there are feelings of Mind sensation and feelings of consciousness; I have stated my PSs reasons for believing that the seat of both kinds of feelings sensation. is in the sensory ganglia, though produced by the action Feelings of different sets of nerves; and feelings of sensation and 01 S°™s*) of consciousness, especially disagreeable ones, often act on of con- the organs of unconscious life in the same way, as for instance in the cases of nausea and of palpitation of the heart, which may be produced either by bodily or by mental feelings. 1 See the Chapter on the Physiology of Mind (Chapter XXIX.). VOL, II. F 66 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. or bodily I have just used the common expression of “bodily and ae mental feelings,” to signify what I have previously called feelings of sensation and feelings of consciousness. The common expression is perfectly accurate, if we accurately understand what it really means, and do not let ourselves be hampered by preconceived notions about the mutual relation of the body and the mind. Bodily feelings are those which originate in impressions on the body ; mental feelings are those which originate within the mind itself? their To speak in anatomical language: bodily feelings, or feel- peta ings of sensation, are those which are due to the action of the nerves that connect the sensory ganglia with the various parts of the body; mental feelings, or feelings of consciousness, are due to the action of the nerves that connect the sensory ganglia with the ganglionic substance of the cerebral hemispheres.? But our own consciousness of our mental states unites with reasoning based on no funda- physiological anatomy, in testifying that there is no fun- mental dis damental difference between the feelings of sensation and those of consciousness. Sensation. | Besides sensation, we have seen that the mental func- tions are all to be classed under the three following heads :— Conscious: 1. Consciousness; to which belong the feelings of con- ness. Consciousness has its root in sensation. Thought. 2. Thought; which, as I believe, has its root in the unconscious vital intelligence that belongs to all living beings. And Will. 3. Will; which has its root in involuntary motor action. It may be said that I have here contradicted myself, by saying in one breath that sensation is the germ out of 1 See the chapter on the Laws of Mind, in Mill’s Logic, vol. ii. 2 I ought not to put forward an hypothesis, of which part of the details have been, so far as I am aware, first thought out by myself, as if it were a proved theory, though I am myself convinced of its truth. See the chapter on the Physiology of Mind. 3 See Note at end of chapter. sciousness, also called the mental feelings, or the emotions.? - XX XIII] MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 67 which all mind is developed ; and in the next, that con- sciousness has its separate root in sensation, thought in vital intelligence, and will in motor action. J reply that no such expression can be anything more than a metaphor, and that the truths indicated by the metaphors do not contradict each other, but supplement each other. Had they been indicated by inconsistent metaphors it would not have mattered, but it may be shown, if it is worth showing, that the metaphors are really consistent with each other. We may say that consciousness, thought, and Relation will are all developed out of the single germ of sensation, ie iene but thought and will send down each its own root into the to the insentient life ; thought into unconscious vital intelligence, rides = will into the motor function. I have a few more remarks to make before going on to trace the details of the process by which mind is deve- loped out of the germ of sensation. All development, mental as well as bodily, is differentia- tion ; and in describing any process of differentiation, it is difficult, if not impossible, to avoid the use of language which will appear to imply that differentiation signifies branching out. Especially is this true when the successive differentiations are stated in a tabular form. In the tabular form to which I intend to reduce the summary of this subject, it will necessarily appear as if the various mental functions branched out of sensation, as the branches of a tree out of its root. But this, though of course only metaphorical, would be a most inaccurate metaphor. The true analogy to the differentiations that constitute mental development does not consist in the separation of the branches of a tree, which are all alike in functions and in organization. The true analogy is in that differentiation Analogy of of wnlike parts from each other which takes place in the aie development of all organisms, and most completely in the develop- highest. The differentiated organs and tissues of organisms do not branch out and separate; on the contrary, the more complete is their differentiation, the more complete also is Gitar their integration ; that is to say, the more unlike they seo en become, the more perfectly their functions are combined, in mind. F 2 68 Develop- ment of thought, feeling, and will, Consen- sual and HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [ CHAP. and the more necessary they are to each other’s life. As stated in the chapter on the Direction of Development,! the more complete is the physiological division of labour, the more complete is also the physiological centralization. It is the same with the mental functions. Consciousness, thought, and will are all distinct, but they are all necessary to each other’s development. Thought derives all its materials from consciousness, and furnishes consciousness with the materials of all the higher emotions. Will is directed by thought, and is nearly always accompanied by consciousness. Will has also the power of directing thought ; this power is what makes possible that process of thought called abstraction, on which the immeasurable superiority of the reasoning power of man to that of all animals appears to depend. These various relations of interaction between the various mental functions are not less real, and for a complete psychology not less necessary to understand, than their relations of development ; but it is only the relations of development that I shall make any attempt to state in tabular form. I now proceed to state in some detail how I conceive the various mental functions to be derived by development the one from the other. We have seen that the germ of all mind is sensation. Those mental functions which do not necessarily determine any other actions, but have their end in themselves, that is to say the functions of thought and feeling, have their germ in sensation determining consciousness. The volun- tary powers, on the contrary, have their germ in sensation determining motor action; that is to say, in consensual action. Or we may say, using a different but not a con- tradictory metaphor, and stating another aspect of the subject, that thought and feeling have their roots in the sensory functions of the organism ; and will, or the volun- tary powers, in its motor functions. It is impossible to draw the line where consensual action ends and voluntary action begins. I shall use the word 1 Chapter XII. XXXII. ] MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 69 voluntary im a sense nearly synonymous with mentally voluntary determined, and I shall class as voluntary all actions the aes impulse to which comes, as I believe, along the nerves of will; although they may not be voluntary in the highest sense, of being at our choice to do or not to do. I mean such actions as yielding to fear against one’s better judgement, or attending to something that one would rather not listen to. Such actions are of intermediate character between Inter- ° consensual actions and those which are in the highest tae sense voluntary. The development of merely consensual or sense-deter- mined nervous action into will is, perhaps, the greatest of the mysteries in the whole of the mysterious realm of life. I am unable to throw any further light upon it; and as the question of the freedom of the will does not fall within the province of the present work, I shall at once go on to the subject of the development of thought and feeling out of sensation. As I have already stated, I regard the consciousness of a sensation as a distinct thing from the sensation itself ; Sensation and I believe that consciousness is equally inexplicable eens with sensation. Without consciousness, no higher mental both inex- : : plicable. function than mere sensation could be developed; though thought and will are not forms of consciousness, and though they sometimes, as we have seen, act unconsciously, yet consciousness appears to be a necessary condition of their development. But the mere consciousness of sensation could not give origin to thought or emotion. I shall speak first of the development of thought, or the intellectual nature. The consciousness of a sensation usually—indeed, I think Develop- always—in some slight degree outlasts the sensation itself," * memory, This is memory in its simplest and most rudimentary from con- sate sclousness form ; and, as remarked before, it is no doubt due to some outlasting peculiar property in the nerves of consciousness.! This is a S°™S*tton. primary property of consciousness, and is not in any way due to thought or association. It is obvious that this much of 1 See p. 29, 70 Necessity of this to thought. Hearing words and sentences, Memory is developed by the law of associa- tion. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. memory is necessary, in order that a number of impressions successively received by sensation should combine to make a single total impression on consciousness. The sound of a word, for instance, if it is a word of more than one letter, consists of a number of different sounds reaching the ear successively ; and in order that the successive impressions on the sensation may make one practically simultaneous impression on the consciousness, it is obvious that while the mind is receiving any one of the successive impressions, it must not have lost the consciousness of those already received. The same is true of the words of any short intelligible sentence ; though the words are heard succes- sively, the total meaning of the sentence is practically flashed on the consciousness at once. The effect of this power is much more than merely to economize time in thinking ; if we did not thus retain the consciousness of a Sensation after the sensation itself has given place to another, it would be impossible to cognise the relation between two successive impressions, and thought—at least all thought which, like ours, is developed under the con- ditions of time,—thought, I say, would be, not slow, but impossible. This power of retaining impressions in the consciousness for some short time is, however, only the rudimentary form of memory. The developed form of memory consists not in retaining impressions in the consciousness, but in the liability of the impressions to be recalled into consciousness. This takes place under the law of mental habit, or the association of ideas: an impression on the consciousness recalls to memory another impression which has become habitually associated with the first ; as, for instance, when the sound of a friend’s voice recalls the image of his face. This, of course, is true not only of feelings of sensation, but equally so of those classes of impressions on consciousness -which have their source within the mind itself. In other words, the law of memory by association is equally true of sensations, of emotions, and of thoughts. By the esta- blishment of such associations, it becomes possible for one sensation or thought to produce not only the consciousness ce XXXII. ] MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. Tl of itself, but also the revived consciousness or memory of another. Without this process, so far as I can see, thought would have no materials. And not only may one impression on consciousness call up the remembrance of another, but that remembrance may call up another remembrance; and this may go on for a great number of times. Reverie may perhaps be defined as consisting Reverie. in the succession of remembered images thus calling one another into consciousness, without the guidance of thought or will. It is impossible to doubt that in a great number of cases the intermediate links of association are unaccompanied by consciousness ; in no other manner can we account for the strange way in which absent and long- forgotten things will often come back to memory. This unconscious suggestion is the rudimentary and lowest form of unconscious thinking. But I have not yet come to the consideration of the thinking process. The next stage in the development of memory is re- Recollec- collection, or the recalling of remembrances, not by the eee involuntary process of mere suggestion, but by a voluntary memory. act; as, for instance, when, in answer to a request, we relate what we have heard. It is within every one’s ex- perience, that a very considerable effort of will is often needed, in order to recall what we wish to remember. Recollection is a higher development than mere memory, and, like all higher developments, it is later acquired. Children often remember tenaciously before they can recollect. This is the reason of a fact that is well known to every one who has had much intercourse with young Children children; namely, that they enjoy hearing a story told have over and over again, even when they know it so well that with little they can correct any mistake in it. They remember the Ce story without being able to recollect it. Something of the tion. same is to be observed among uneducated adults; indeed, the power of recollection is probably in no case equal to the power of remembrance. Attention is a voluntary act; it may be defined as the Only what voluntary direction of consciousness. It is, I think, eee a fact which every one may verify, that objects which to can be 72 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHar. recol- have passed before the sight without being consciously lected. attended to may be recognised when they are seen again ; but only those which have been consciously and voluntarily attended to can be recollected. We have now traced the development of memory, from the mere retaining of impressions on the consciousness, up to the voluntary recollection of them. A higher stage of ara what is really the same development consists in imagina- tion, or the formation of new combinations, by the action of the mind itself, out of the materials furnished by memory. The mind cannot create; it can only recombine. Memory must furnish the materials for imagination to work on. The Greeks, in the language of allegorical fable, or rather allegorical truth, called the Muses the daughters of Mnemosyne. There are thus four stages of the development of the powers of memory and imagination :— Continu- 1. Continuance of an impression in consciousness after ance ofim- it has vanished from sensation. Ppresslons. . . Memory. 2. Memory by association. pele 3. Voluntary memory, or recollection. 10n. . . : . . Imacina + Imagination, or recombination of remembered im- eat >) 5 . e . tion. pressions by the action of the mind, sometimes voluntary, sometimes involuntary and spontaneous. Develop- Side by side with the development of the powers of ment of : = © : reasoning “2emory and imagination proceeds the development of the out of cog- reasoning power. As the germ of memory is the power of nition of the consciousness to retain the impression of a sensation, after the sensation itself has vanished; so the germ of the reasoning power consists in the power of cognising the relation of different sensations one to another. Elemen- | There are, I believe, three, and only three, kinds of ete simple elementary relations between different sensations; these are :— 1. The relation of likeness or unlikeness; as when two spots of colour are perceived to be like or unlike. For Likeness. brevity, let us call this the relation of likeness. 2. The relation of co-existence or succession in time. If : , Xxxul.] MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 73 I hear the twofold note of a cuckoo, its two notes are an instance of the swecession of two sensations in time. If I see the cuckoo while I hear it, the sound and the sight are two sensations co-existent in time. For brevity, let us call this the relation of succession. nue 3. The relation of co-existence or separation in space. If I feel two objects, one with each hand, this is a case of the separation of two sensations in space. If I press one hand on a slab of marble, and find it both cold and hard, this is a case of the co-existence of two sensations in space. For brevity, let us call this the space-relation. seat Likeness, succession, and the space-relation are, I believe, the only simple and elementary relations that are possible between sensations. But I believe there is a fourth relation between feelings which is also a perfectly simple one; namely, that of cause and effect. This relation cannot exist between two feelings of mere sensation; one im- pression of sensation cannot cause another. But an impression of sensation may cause an emotion, as when the sight of food causes a desire to eat it; and one action of mind in emotion, thought, or will, may be the canse of another. . For brevity, let us call this the relation of causation. Causation. All these four kinds of relation are, I believe, directly cognised by the mind ; and these cognitions constitute the ground of thought. It is not, I believe, disputed by any that the cognition of simple relations is the ground and the germ of thought; but it is under discussion what relations are really simple, primary, and incapable of being resolved into others. Mill and Bain regard the relations of likeness and of succession as the only ones which are really simple ; the space-relation and causation are, according to them, ultimately resolvable into the relation of suc- cession. In the following chapters I shall have to state my reasons for differing from them; but in this I prefer only to state my belief as to what the primary relations are, and to go on with the subject of the development of the power of thought out of the cognition of simple relations. « 74 Relations presup- posed in associa- tion. Percep- tion. Percep- tion may have its seat in the sensory ganglia. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [ CHAP. As the power of retaining the consciousness of a sen- sation after the sensation itself has ceased is the germ of memory, so the power of cognising simple relations between sensations is the germ of thought. It is to be observed that the cognition of simple relations is pre- supposed in the formation of associations of ideas. Asso- ciation by contiguity presupposes that the mind cognises the relation of contiguity, whether in space or in time; and association by likeness, in the same way, presupposes that the mind cognises the likeness. This is equally true, whether I am right or not in believing that asso- ciation by likeness is resolvable into association by contiguity. The first stage in the development of thought is thus the cognition of relations: the second is the perception of things. I think that Berkeley has clearly proved the act of perceiving things to be, not an immediate and simple act of the mind, but an inference from data; the data being sensations, and the relations between sensations. It may be advanced as an argument against this, that insects appear to perceive, and yet they are without the cerebral hemi- spheres, which in the Vertebrata are the organs of thought. I reply that perception, though an inference, and as such an act of thought, is not due to conscious thought, but to unconscious, though sentient, organic intelligence. The thought which I believe to have its seat in the cerebral hemispheres is conscious thought, or, if it has become unconscious, it has had its origin in consciousness. But the sensory ganglia are perhaps the seat, not only of sensation, but of the power of cognising likeness, suc- cession, and the space-relation between sensations; and in insects, and possibly even in the Vertebrata, they are the seat of perception also. In a future chapter I shall have to treat the subject of perception with greater fulness. In the development of thought, the next stage above perception is that lower form of the reasoning power which we have in common with animals. This may be defined as merely reasoning from one object of sense to another, or XXXII] MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 75 simple inference ; it consists in the power of making such inferences as this, that a man must be in the house because his hat is on its peg. The next stage of the development of thought consists in the distinctively human power of reasoning. I am not Man's — able to see any way of referring all the superiorities of Pdi man to any single principle. But so far as the superiority ins. of man to the highest of the animals is intellectual, I believe it is traceable to the fact, that man has the power, Power of which they have not, of directing his thoughts at will. On aes this power depends the power of abstraction; and with t will. ; ; 2 . Language. it the power of using words and other arbitrary signs in Abstrac- speaking and in thinking. fon. It was a favourite doctrine with Archbishop Whately, Whately’s that “ language is not only the expression of thought, but lanitsies the instrument of thought ;” and he maintained that it is impossible to carry on any reasoning process except by the aid of words or other arbitrary signs of essen- tially the same kind, such as the figures of arithmetic or the letters of algebra. And I believe he maintained in connexion with this, and as part of the same theory, that the power of using such arbitrary signs as instru- ments of thought is the distinctively human power, and is at the root of man’s intellectual superiority to the lower animals. There can be no doubt that this is correct as to the facts. It is possible to make such an inference as that a man must be in the house if his hat is on the peg, without the use of words in the process; and there are many dogs which are perfectly able to draw such an inference as this. But no one who examines any reasoning process of a much higher kind than this, as it goes on in his own thoughts, will doubt that we chink in words ; and that if we were debarred from the use of words in thinking, no elaborate Use of process of thought would be possible to us. But I cannot eae believe the power of making use of words or other arbi- trary signs for the purpose of thinking, to be an inde- pendent and primary power. I think it is the result of something simpler and deeper. I should think so, even if 76 due to the power of directing thought at will : whence also the power of abstrac- tion. Instance in arith- metic. Voluntary action is always later deve- loped than involun- tary. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [ CHAP. I were myself unable to carry the analysis any further. But I believe it is a result of another power, which constitutes the really primary and fundamental difference between the intellect of man and that of the animals which most nearly approach him; namely, the power of directing thought at will. Thought is impossible without the formation of associations: indeed all thought which is higher than the cognition of the simplest relations consists in forming new associations. In forming associations the mind is at first purely passive ; but it soon becomes active, and one of the most important results of its activity is the formation of language; which consists in the formation of arbitrary associations between the words and their meanings, by a voluntary, though probably only half-conscious, act of the mind. A second result of the power of directing thought at will is the power of abstraction. Without abstraction none but the most rudimentary process of thought would be possible. An example may best serve to make this subject clear, and the best example I can think of is that contained in elementary arithmetic. The multiplication table is the statement of a set of abstract truths—truths, that is to say, which can only be arrived at by abstracting, in thought, the relations of number from the ideas of all the things that are or can be numbered. In saying that eight times eight are sixty-four, for instance, we have nothing to do with any things that may count up to the number of sixty-four; they may be books, or cattle, or houses, it matters not: we only make an assertion con- cerning the abstract numbers eight and sixty-four. Thus in thought and in language to abstract a particular set of the relations, or of the properties, of things from the things themselves, is what mere suggestion, working by the laws of association, could never do; only a voluntary act of the — mind can do it. In reasoning as well as in memory, the voluntary action of the mind is a later and a higher development than its spontaneous action. Voluntary recollection is higher than spontaneous remembrance, and voluntarily directed thought is higher than spontaneous thought. The same is also true A A alls ai et as ple sy XXXII. | MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. ea of motor action: voluntary motor action is a later and higher development than consensual action. The lower kind of reasoning, which we have in common Simple with animals, and which merely consists in reasoning from pa one object of sense to another, may be called simple infer- abstract ence. The higher and distinctively human kind may be“ ™ ealled abstract reasoning. I have now completed this outline of the development of the intellectual nature; and concerning the development of the moral and emotional nature it is only necessary to state again, in a slightly different form, the results we have arrived at on this subject in the preceding chapter. The germ of the whole moral and emotional nature is Moral the sense of pleasure and pain in mere sensation. Out of aoe a the sense of pleasure and pain as actually felt, arise desire out of the and fear ; and out of the desire and fear of present things, are such as desire for food or fear of a wild beast, arise care and pain. for the unseen and distant future; and hence the virtue Care for (for it is a virtue) of prudence. At the same time new the future. emotions are produced by the action of association, which Emotions attach themselves, not to the immediate pleasures and nae pains of sensation, but to objects which have become tion. habitually associated with these. The love of money is the best instance of this; it has evidently been produced by the association in the mind of money with the desirable things that money can obtain for its owner; for money is not desirable except on account of the desirable things it will obtain. Selfish as this passion usually is, it is the mark and attribute of a more highly developed mental nature than that which cares only or chiefly for the enjoyments of mere sensation. I have mentioned the love of money, because it is by far the most remark- able of the class; but these feelings of association may attach themselves to almost anything, and sometimes do attach themselves very closely to places and to objects which may have no beauty, and no value except as mementoes, Next in the scale of moral development are sympathy sympathy. and the social affections. Out of the desire of good and 78 Love of beauty, of know- ledge, and of holiness. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. the fear of harm for oneself, arise the desire of good and the fear of harm for others. This among animals appears to be confined to the care for offspring, and the sympathy of gregarious animals of the same flock for each other ; but in man it becomes the root of patriotism, philanthropy, and all the unselfish virtues. The last and highest kind of moral development consists, in its rudimentary form, of those affections which are not to be referred, either directly or (as I believe) indirectly, to the pleasures and pains of mere sensation: the most important of these are the love of beauty and the love of knowledge. Higher than these, but on the same line of development, is the moral sense—the love of holiness, and the fear and hatred of sin. I have now, in conclusion, to enumerate in tabular form the various kinds, or rather the various directions, of mental development, with the successive stages of each. T do not think it at all likely that my enumeration can be nearly perfect—I have no doubt it will be found to admit of great improvements in detail; but I am convinced of the substantial correctness of its plan. The main divisions —those which are marked with Arabic figures—are, I believe, entirely right. They differ from each other not in degree but in kind, and may be compared—to use an illustration which is quite accurate for the present purpose —to the branches of a tree. The subdivisions—those which are marked with Greek letters—may, no doubt, be greatly improved in detail, especially those of the emotional part. The successive subdivisions of the same division differ in degree rather than in kind; they are, at least in several instances, successively developed out of each other, and may be compared, not to distinct branches, but rather to the successive parts of the same branch. It will be seen that the principle of this table is the same as that in the chapter on Organic Functions'\—of which, indeed, it may be regarded as a continuation. The arrangements of the subjects in the two tables are not quite consistent 1 Vol. i. p. 163. Ly Ot Se ee XXXII. | MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. 19 with each other; but this is not any proof of inaccuracy : I have endeavoured to make each separately accurate from its own point of view. As the use of a tabular statement like this is not to communicate information or ideas in the first instance, but to give a concluding summary of them, it may be well first to state its substance in an ordinary paragraph. Sensation may produce no effect beyond itself, or it may Summary. produce consciousness, or it may produce action. Con- sciousness is either intellectual or emotional. The intel- lectual nature has two distinct developments ; one in the direction of memory and imagination, the other in the direction of the reasoning power. The germ of memory is the continuance of the consciousness of sensation after the sensation itself has ceased: this successively develops into memory by suggestion, voluntary recollection, and imagi- nation. The germ of the reasoning power is the cognition of such simple relations as likeness, succession, and the space-relation : this successively develops into perception of things, the power of simple inference, and the power of abstract reasoning. The germ of the emotional nature is the sense of pleasure and pain in mere sensation: this develops into desire and fear; the emotions due to asso- ciation, such as the love of money; the sympathetic emotions ; the love of beauty and of knowledge; and the moral sense, or sense of holiness. When sensation pro- duces action, this in its simplest form is consensual action: it successively develops into the voluntary direc- tion of muscular action, and the voluntary direction of thought. 80 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. Tabular 1. By itself. Sensation. statement. ( a. Continuance of | consciousness when sensa- tion is past. 1.Mnemonic. | 8.Memory by suggestion. y.Voluntary re- collection. 5. Imagination. a,Cognition of | simple rela- tions. B. Perception of things. y.Simple infer- ence. 5. Abstract rea- soning. { | 1.Intellectual. | 2. Rational. 2. Deter- . mining Sensation, conscious- ness. a. Sense of plea- sure and pain. B.Desireand fear. y. Emotions ofas- sociation. 6, Sympathy. e. Love of beauty and of ¢ Knowledge. n- Moral sense. 2. Emotional. a, Consensual ac- tion. 3. Deter- B&.Voluntary mus- mining cular action. action. y. Voluntary di- rection of thought. The foregoing table represents the development of the mental functions alone from the germ of sensation. The following one is an extension of the tabular statement of the organic functions in the chapter on that subject.’ As given there, all the functions which are developed out of sensation were included under the single head of Mind: I now state them separately, and classified from the point of view of development. 1 Chapter XV. Ly 81 MENTAL DEVELOPMENT. XXXII. | “ASS [RIOT ‘5 ) “oS paTMOUY jo pue Aynveq jo aAory ‘> “Ayyedurkyg -g | “MOTJLIOOSSeB Jo stoTjouNT “A “Ieaj pur o1tseq “¢ | ‘ured pue ainsevoid jo asuag ‘2 J ‘Surmosvad JoRIysqV °g ) ‘gouarazut apduatg A ‘SBUIY} Jo MoTydoo10g “¢ *SUOT}R] -a1 o[CuIIS Jo WOIyIUSOD 2 | “HOTJVULSVULT *Q ) ‘MorpoeT[Ooed Arezunyo, “A } ‘morysesons Aq A1oulepy *@ ‘ysvd St Worpes MOS UWdT[A SsausNoTIs -109 jo dadURNUT}WOD ‘o “MOT}eSTIAg “MOTouL ATB}UNTO A. '@) ‘MOTJOUL [enstasMO,) “A ‘MOTJOUL XoTory at ‘MOTJOUL SnosuR{MOdg “» “SURSIO JO WOIeULIO,T “g "SONSST} JO WOTYVULIO “2 *spunodutoo ) oMNsI0 Jo uoryeuog { TeUONeY Gy “OIMOTHOU LY *T Second tabular statement. ‘[euoljourg °z | | ‘Tenqoo]]o4Uy “TL } } “SSOUSNOTOSUOD SULUTULIOJep UWolyesuag °Z ‘JIasq ATU SUIUIUMIajap Woyesudg *T | a ( Stosuag *% | } “LOZOTL “T ‘TRAN JONIYS °G ‘TeorwLeyD) “T | “Ad19Ma Jo U0 -VULIOJSURI} OY} UI Surysisuos AT[eIyuesse ‘suotouNny yeuUY °% “10}JVUL JO WOVULIOJsuLIy dT} UI Suysisuoo AT[eIyWesse ‘story -OUNf 9ATJBIOHOA IO ATIVULIOT “T S VOL. II. 82 There are uncon- scious sensation. and thought. I believe there is no unecon- scious feeling. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cH. XXXUI. NOTE. Iy the past chapter, wherever I have spoken of emotions—that is to say, feelings of consciousness (or, to use Herbert Spencer's expression, feelings which are independently generated in con- sciousness, as distinguished from mere sensations) ;—where I have spoken of emotions, I say, I have always implied that the emotion itself and the consciousness of the emotion are one and the same thing. I have, nevertheless, insisted that the con- sciousness of a sensation is a distinct thing from the sensation itself, and that the consciousness of a thought is a distinct thing from the thought itself. I refer to this, as it may probably be thought that I have fallen into an inconsistency out of mere inadvertence. I believe, however,—though I hold the opinion subject to reconsideration,—that I am right: I believe that sensation and thought may, and do, exist without any conscious- ness of them, but that there can be no emotion, or mental feeling, without the consciousness of it. It may be urged that, as a matter of experience, there are unconscious emotions as well as unconscious sensations and unconscious thoughts. It is a common remark to make of those we have loved and lost, that we did not know the strength of our own affection till its object was gone. I think, however, that in such cases what we were formerly unconscious of was not any feelings which we had at the time, but the feelings which we should have under changed circumstances ; and though I believe we cannot be unconscious of actual feelings, there is no doubt we may be unconscious of possible feelings, which may under changed circumstances become actual, owe CHAPTER XXXIV. MENTAL GROWTH. . . “7. Betts between of the process by which the mind, like an organism, ,), omer is developed by differentiation out of a simple germ. pee The organism is a mass of vitalized matter, having very in develop- complex structure, and is developed out of a minute Te structureless mass of gelatinous substance. The mind is tiation, a complex aggregate of conscious and intellectual functions, and is developed out of the germ of sensation. The re- semblance is one of analogy, according to the received definition of analogy, namely resemblance of relations. The mind does not resemble a bodily organism, but the relation of the mental functions to each other resembles the relation to each other of the bodily functions and of the bodily tissues and organs. And this analogy, or resemblance of relations, between the functions of the mind, and the organs of the body, is twofold. They not only agree in the vast complexity of both being de- veloped by differentiation out of a simple germ; they further agree in this, that as in organic development the Organic more complete is the differentiation, or mutual separa- praia tion and unlikeness, between the various organs, the more tion. complete also is their integration, or mutual co-operation and dependence ; so in mental development: the more complete is the differentiation of mental functions from each other, the more complete also is their integration. As an instance of this mutual dependence, or integration, of mental functions, may be mentioned the fact that pure G2 : i the last chapter, I have given an account in outline, Analogy 84 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. scientific thought, perfectly differentiated from feeling, needs the action of will to make it work. Analogy of The analogy here traced is between the mental functions eu q) and the bodily organs. I do not lay claim to any ori- growth. * ginality i in pointing it out. But there is a further analogy, between organic growth and mental growth, and between the formation of organic tissue and of what by a bold metaphor may be called mental tissue; which, so far as T am aware, has not yet been traced by any one in all its closeness. The _ It is a well-known truth, that every organism is built ore. «up out of the substance of its food. This is perfectly ae familiar with respect to animals, and is equally certain of food by the plants, though their food is less visible, consisting chiefly aie: of the carbon contained in the carbonic acid of the air. But this is evidently not a full account of the process of nutrition. There must be not only materials, but some- thing that builds with the materials; and this something is the principle of life, or the organizing power, which, as T have stated my reasons for believing, is intelligent, though unconscious.* so mind The growth of mind is analogous with this. As all whee 4 materials come to the organism from without, so the out of im- materials of knowledge come to the mind from without, cept in the shape of impressions on the senses. All inowledge the mental begins with sensation ; we have no “ innate ideas :” pre- ae vious to sensation we have neither ideas, nor knowledge, nor any actual mental existence whatever, but only the possibility, or to speak more accurately the potentiality, of a mental existence. This is admitted by all. To quote the old scholastic axiom, “ There is nothing in the mind but what it has derived from sensation.” But this is evidently not a full account of the process of mental growth. There must be not only materials, but something that builds with the materials. As Leibnitz expressed it, we must modify the scholastic axiom, and say: “ There is nothing in the mind but what it has derived from sensa- tion, except the mind itself.” From the point of view to 1 See the chapters on Natural Selection and on Intelligence. XXXIV. | MENTAL GROW'TH. 85 which we have now attained, this axiom may be thus amplified :—“ There is nothing in the organism but what it has received in the food, except the organizing principle of vital intelligence which builds up the organism ; and there is nothing in the mind but what it has received from sensation, except the organizing principle of mental intel- ligence, which evolves knowledge out of the materials received from sensation.” It is my belief that the organizing intelligence of the vital organism, and the in- telligence of the mind, are one and the same principle, though acting unconsciously in the organism and con- sciously in the mind: and further, that this intelligence, under both of these its manifestations, is an ultimate fact, incapable of being resolved into anything simpler than itself. I have not yet, however, fully stated the closeness of the analogy between organic growth and mental growth. The living organism, while it is constantly acquiring and assimilating new material, is as constantly parting with Assimila- old material. These two processes respectively consti- "4 | tute nutrition and waste; and the excess of nutrition over waste constitutes growth. Waste is most rapid in the early youth of an organism, but at that period nutrition both most : : 3 : - 7 rapid in is more rapid still, and consequently growth is most rapid youth. in early youth. The process of mental growth is an exact parallel to this. The mind is constantly receiving imnpres- Parallel in sions from the external senses, and as constantly losing '°°tvivs and for- the impressions by forgetting them ; old impressions on getting th fad d are lost, and ieee e memory fade away and are lost, and new ones supply pressions. their place ; and mental growth consists in the excess of what is remembered over what is forgotten: mental growth Organic goes on so long as the new impressions which are re- ares: tained exceed in number, force, and’ variety those which both con- are lost. As organic growth consists in the organism es of acquiring more substance than it parts with, so mental vanes growth consists in the mind acquiring more and stronger over what impressions than it loses. raat This, when once distinctly stated, is self-evident ; but the parallel is closer still. Waste, no less than nutrition, 86 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [CHAP. Waste isa is a necessary condition of organic life and growth. The condition of organic life : so is for- getting of mental life. If we remein- bered every- thing, we could not think. organism is not like a.crystal, which simply acquires sub- stance, and, when it has done growing, remains in a state of molecular immobility. Both during growth and after growth has ceased, the organism is constantly losing sub- stance and replacing it with new substance. Every one is aware that this is true of the organism. Every one knows that waste is not an imperfection of the organism, as wearing-out is of machinery, but a necessary condition of life. But it appears to be the general belief, that the corresponding fact in mental life—the liability to lose impressions by forgetting them—is an imperfection and a weakness of mind, as liability to wear and tear is of machinery. Iam convinced that this is an error; I am convinced that as waste, no less than nutrition, is necessary to the life and growth of the organism, so. forgetting, no less than remembering, is necessary to the life and growth of the mind. This may appear a strange paradox, but I think that on consideration it will become evident. If we remembered all the mental impressions we had ever received since the beginning of our mental life, we should be distracted by their multitude, we should be overwhelmed by their weight. If the sound of every word of our own language, or of any other language with which we have become familiar, were to recall to memory every time we had ever heard it pronounced; or if the sight of every familiar face were to recall every time we had ever seen it; if all details, the most insignificant as well as the most important, the least interesting as well as the most interesting, were to come crowding unbidden into memory whenever we desired to think of any object or of any event,—the mind would, as it were, have no room to move, and thought would be impossible. But such a result is prevented by that constitution of the memory in virtue of which we retain, generally and on the average, the im- portant and interesting particulars of any object or of any event, and forget the rest; so that, on the whole, we retain what we need to retain, and forget what we do best to forget. XXXIV.] MENTAL GROWTH. 87 Further; the greater part of our mental acquisitions does not consist of mental pictures of single objects, or mental representations of particular events. Such pictures and such representations are not formed until memory develops into the power of recollection, and it is not probable that animals or young children form them at all. The most important mental acquisitions, and those the accumulation of which constitutes the rapid mental growth of young children, do not consist of the residua! of single impres- Coales- sions, but of the coalesced residua of many impressions. nee An impression leaves its residuum in the memory; and forgetting. when it is often repeated, the residua of the several im- pressions become inseparable and indistinguishable, and coalesce into one. It is in this way that we become familiar with the words of our own language, and with everything else that is familiar; indeed, it is part of the definition of familiarity, that we are not familiar with What con. anything until we have forgotten how often we have eeu witnessed it. The earliest, the most durable, and the most arity. important of our mental acquisitions are of this kind. The best instance of this is, perhaps, our knowledge of our own language. We have become familiar with words in common use, not by hearing them once, but by hearing them oftener than we can remember ; our knowledge of any common word is not a single residuum from the impression made by hearing it once, but a coalesced residuum, con- sisting of the indistinguishably united residua that have been left at each time we have heard it. Familiarity with a word consists of two elements, familiarity with its sound and familiarity with its meaning. The sound of a word is only an impression on the sense of hearing, but the know- ledge of the meaning consists of a mental association, effected in virtue of the law of habit, between the sound and the thing which it signifies. In order that language Words should rightly fulfil its function of communicating thought, "1S" "** ? only it is necessary that every word shall suggest its meaning ; suggest 1 I borrow the word “residuum” from “ Morell’s Mental Philosophy.” He has borrowed it from the German writers on psychelogy. I make no apology for the use of a most convenient though new word. 88 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. ther but more than this is needed; it is further necessary that they must eVety word shall suggest nothing else. The requisite that eee a word shall suggest its meaning is secured by the power else. of memory: the requisite that it shall suggest nothing Soo else is secured by the not less necessary, though purely secured by negative, power of forgetting. The sound of a word may ae, have been heard a thousand times, under circumstances the second which were never exactly alike; the speaker, the words by for- areas ‘ getting, before it in the sentence, the words after it, and all other circumstances, have been constantly varied, excepting only the only important circumstance (using the word circum- stance with its literal signification), the circumstance of its meaning. In virtue of the law that strong or often-repeated impressions on the consciousness leave residua in the memory, the word itself and its meaning are remembered ; in virtue of the law that feeble or seldom-repeated impres- sions on the consciousness fade altogether away, the vary- ing and unimportant circumstances under which the word has been heard are forgotten. Of all the complex impres- sions which have been produced on the mind by the word, as it has been heard a thousand times under as many partly dissimilar circumstances, the varying and unlike elements are forgotten, while the constant elements—that is to say, the sound of the word and its meaning—are retained ; and the residua of the thousand impressions, having become alike by the loss of their unlike elements, are indistinguishable, and coalesce into one. By this pro- cess, the word comes to remain in the memory, separate, detached, suggesting its meaning, and suggesting nothing else. But if the residua of all the thousand impressions did not lose their unlike elements, they would still be distingwshable, and could not coalesce into one. The word would indeed remain in the memory, but not as a single coalesced residuum ; it would not be separate and detached from irrelevant objects: it would no doubt suggest its meaning, but it would suggest so much else that it would not serve the purpose which language is meant to serve.! 1 It may be objected to this, that, in learning a foreign language, we habitually remember a word and its meaning after meeting with it only XXXIV. ] MENTAL GROWTH. 89 I will now sum up the whole of the parallel I have Summary. been endeavouring to draw between organic and mental life and growth. The organism grows by means of new material brought from without in the food. So the mind grows by means of impressions brought from without by the senses. But food could not of itself build up an organism. The or- ganism is built up out of the materials of the food, by the action of the intelligent organizing principle of life. So the impressions received by the mind from the senses could not of themselves form a mind. They are organized into knowledge, and become part of the mental structure * by the action of the intelligent principle of mental life. It is necessary to organic life and growth not only to be constantly acquiring new material, but also to be con- stantly parting with old material. So it is necessary to mental life and growth to be not only always acquiring and retaining new impressions, but always also forgetting. Organic growth is due to the excess of material acquired over material parted with. So mental growth is due to the excess of what is remembered over what is forgotten. In infancy, when the body is growing most rapidly, it is also most rapidly undergoing waste and parting with material. So in childhood, when the mind is acquiring knowledge the most rapidly, it is also forgetting the most. The same law of forgetting, and the necessity of for- Forma- getting, are true of a different though closely related set Hon of mental phenomena. I mean the process by which action by habits of action are formed. “We learn to do a thing by ee SEAL doing it.” The process of learning a mechanical art is this: that actions are at first performed voluntarily and with conscious attention; but, in virtue of the law of once. But this is an acquired power. Partly through mere habit, partly through voluntary exertion, the student of a language acquires a power of forming the association between a word and its meaning with peculiar facility. I think that children begin to acquire this power while they are learning to speak. But it is not likely that a trace of it exists at the time when language is nothing to the child but sound; and yet every one’s ‘knowledge of language has to begin from that point. 90 Moral benefit of forgetting. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. habit, the oftener they are repeated the easier they become, until at last, in many cases, they cease to need any co- operation of the will or of the conscious attention. They have of course to be voluntarily set going, but when set going they are continued consensually; the stimulus and guide to each successive action of the muscles being some- times the action next before it, sometimes the sight of the work or the instrument before the workman. Some musi- cians become able to perform in this way, the stimulus of sense being given either by the sound of the successive notes, or by the sight of the printed music. I have stated this before, but what I wish to point out now is the perfect similarity between this process and the process by which we learn our own language ; or, in more general terms, between the process of acquiring motor habits, and the process of acquiring purely mental associations. I have shown that, in order to have the association between words and their meanings in an available form in the mind, the residua of the impressions of all the times we have heard any word must coalesce in the mind into a practically single residuum; and this is done by for- getting the merely accidental circumstances under which we have heard each word. Just so in learning an art. Before it can be consensually performed the memory of each separate time that it has been practised must be lost, and the residua of them all must coalesce into one, which single residuum constitutes the acquired habitual power. The necessity under which we are of forgetting is good for us in another way. Our life and our duties are in the present, and it would be bad for us were our thoughts to be too much in the past; but this is for the most part for- bidden by the law of the certain though slow and gradual fading away of all impressions which are not renewed. It is in virtue of this law that time mitigates grief, even when no nobler cause is at work.! 1 “ We forget because we must, And not because we will.” Matruew ARNOLD. XXXIV. ] MENTAL GROWTH. 91 It is to be observed that the law of the fading away Forgetting of mental impressions is not an independent primary ()° jaws af law. It is a case of that law of habit in virtue of of habit. which all vital tendencies, whether organic or mental, gradually disappear when nothing occurs to call them into exercise.! 1 See the chapter on the Laws of Habit (Chapter XV.). External senses. That of heat is distinct. The muscular sense belongs to touch. CHAPTER XXXvV. THE SENSES. ie the foregoing chapters it has not been necessary to speak of sensations and the consciousness of them further than as general facts: there has been no occasion for discriminating between the various kinds of sensations. But before entering on the consideration of the complex facts of perception, and of our conceptions of time and space, it will be necessary to consider the peculiarities of the various senses, and of the various ways in which they are related to the mind. For the analysis of the more general facts of mind, it is only necessary to take into account the general fact of sensation; but for the analysis of the more special facts of mind, we must also take into account the special facts of the various senses. It is not necessary in the present chapter to make any further mention of the visceral sensations, such as hunger and thirst, and the sensations of being well or ill. For the present purpose we have to do only with the external senses; that is to say, those senses by means of which we obtain information concerning things external to the sentient organism. The externa] senses are usually enumerated as five ; namely, touch, taste, smell, sight, and hearing. The sense of heat, however, is really a distinct sense, though it has its seat in the same nerves with the sense of touch. The “muscular sense,” or sense of muscular action, is classed by many as a distinct sense; but I shall state my reasons for regarding it as not really separable from the sense of CHAP. XXXvV.] THE SENSES. 93 touch. Perhaps, however, this is little else than a merely verbal question. There are several different ways in which the various senses differ very remarkably from one another. These differences I shall now proceed to enumerate. 1. The nerves of the skin are both nerves of touch and The nerves of the sense of heat; and the nerves of the inside aa ee of the mouth are nerves at once of touch, of the sense of nerves of heat, and of taste. These, though combined in the same pone ee nerves, are distinct senses ; and when the same nerve is page transmitting sensations of distinct senses to the sensory of taste ; ganglia, they are cognised by the consciousness as distinct sensations. Thus, if we are eating something which is and these hard enough to press against the inside of the mouth, pee which is hot, and has a flavour, the pressure, the heat, and combine the flavour form, not one combined sensation, but three eee distinct sensations. But when two or more sensations of the same sense are transmitted by the same nerve, the sensations, instead of being cognised as distinct, combine into a resultant sensation, which makes a single impres- sion on the consciousness. Thus, if two tastes, or two but two smells, are mixed together, the mixture is perceived as a ae single taste or smell, having a character intermediate when between those of its constituents; but it is impossible to eas direct the attention to one of the two constituents sepa- i oe rately. In drinking tea with sugar in it, for instance, the of charac- sensation is a mixed sensation, and not two sensations ; & j2te™ and it would be impossible, by any effort of attention, to between taste the tea and not the sugar, or to taste the sugar and ea eae, not the tea. The same is true of mixed colours. If two So of rays of light of different colour are made to combine their oe ad colours by falling on the same spot of white paper, what is seen is not two colours, but a resultant colour. If red and yellow, for instance, are thus combined, the resultant colour is orange ; and it would be impossible, by any effort Orange. of attention, to see either the red or the yellow separately. In some cases, of which that just mentioned is one, the resultant colour is of a character intermediate between those of its constituents; but when all the prismatic 94 White. Sounds do not so combine, but may be discri- minated. Reason of this in the constitu- tion of the nerves of hearing. The nerves of smell, sight, and hearing transmit no other sensation. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. colours are combined, the resultant is white, which is totally unlike any of them, and could not possibly have been predicted from them! The sense of hearing is the only one among the senses which has any power of cog- nising, as distinct, sensations of the same order which come mixed together. We have a power of distinguishing simul- taneous sounds, and even of directing the consciousness, by a voluntary act of attention, to one sound among many ; thus, any one can, by a little effort of attention, hear what a particular person is saying amidst a buzz of con- versation ; and some persons acquire the power of listening to a single instrument in a whole orchestra. This is no doubt an acquired power—that is to say, it is not likely that infants are born with it; but it is a power which is not the less characteristic of the sense of hearing; no amount of practice would give to the eye the slightest vestige of any power analogous to this ;—no practice could confer the power of seeing any of the separate prismatic colours in white light. There is reason, however, to believe that the sense of hearing is no exception to the law that sensations of the same sense, when transmitted by the same nerve, combine into a single sensation. There is reason to believe that distinct sounds are not transmitted to the auditory ganglia by the same nerve, but that on the contrary sounds of different pitch excite each a different nerve. I shall have to return to this subject. I think there are no cases of sensations of different senses being transmitted by the same nerves, except those already mentioned, of the nerves of the skin being at once nerves of touch and of heat, and those of the mouth being at once nerves of touch, of heat, and of taste. The nerves of smell, of sight, and of hearing appear to transmit no sensations except those which are peculiar to them. As stated above, I believe it is a law that when the Same nerve transmits two or more sensations of the same sense, they combine into a single sensation; but when the sensations transmitted by the same nerve belong to distinct senses, they are cognised as distinct. I think we may with 1 On the laws of the combination of colours, see Note at end of chapter. Xxxv.] THE SENSES. 95 some degree of probability assign a physical ground for this law. We have seen in a former chapter,! that in nervous Probable . : . cause of action something flows along the nerve-fibre with a mea- sensations surable velocity much less than that of the electric current of different along a wire. It is scarcely possible to doubt that what rae thus flows along the nerve, as well as what flows along the See = electric wire, is not a fluid, or matter in any form, but the same energy, in the form probably of a vibratory or wave-like Vii} ont motion of the molecules of the conducting fibre. Now combining. when waves are formed in the same medium and of the same order of magnitude, they combine into resultant waves; but if the waves formed in the same medium are of different orders of magnitude, they do not combine, but remain visibly distinct. Thus, if two stones of nearly the same size are thrown into water at a little dis- tance from each other, the waves raised by the two will, where they meet, be seen to coalesce together, though they afterwards separate; but if the waves from a stone are met by the waves proceeding from heavy drops of rain, the two sets of waves, being of different orders of magnitude, will remain visibly distinct, though intersecting each other. If it is true that sensation is due to the transmission of vibrations along the nerve-fibres to the ganglia, it appears a probable conjecture that sensations of the same sense are due to vibrations of the same order of magnitude, and sensations of different senses to vibrations of different orders of magnitude ; and that vibrations of the same order, when coming into the sensory ganglia together, combine and produce resultant sensations ; while those of different orders do not so combine. But I only offer this as a conjecture, which I see no possible means of verifying. 2. The perception of space is due to the senses of touch Only and sight exclusively : no other sense is capable of giving raise it. I shall have to examine this subject in detail in the perception next chapter, where I shall state reasons for believing altar that our first cognition of space is due to touch, including the muscular sense, though our habitual thoughts of space have become associated rather with sight. 1 See the chapter on the Direction of Development (Chapter XII.). 96 Intellec- tual senses: touch, sight, and hearing. Reproduc- tion in memory of impres- sions of sight and hearing. Pleasure due to this. Its moral import- ance. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE.’ [CHAP. 3. There are only three of the senses which can be re- garded as in any way intellectual senses—I mean, as ministering to the intellect; these are hearing, sight, and touch. By hearing we learn the thoughts of our fellow- men, and by sight we obtain the greater part of our knowledge of external things. In the developed state of the intellect, we make progress in knowledge by means of these two senses exclusively ; but at the beginning of in- tellectual development, touch is probably the most impor- tant of all; for, as I shall have to show in the next chapter, it is in all probability by means of touch that we acquire our first cognition of space, and with it our first knowledge of the existence of an external world. 4, In connexion with the intellectual character of sight and hearing is the fact that they are the only senses the impressions of which are capable of being reproduced in recollection with any vividness. It is often easy to recall in thought what we have seen or heard, to recall an absent face or scene before the mind’s eye, or to repeat in thought a conversation or a poem. This power is often a source of very great enjoyment, especially to intellectual persons who lead a lonely life; and its usefulness needs no proof: but what is not quite so obvious is the moral importance of this fact. These “pleasures of memory” are perfectly pure, and of a kind that are good for the mind. But if it were possible to recall pleasures of the unintellectual senses in the same way, and to enjoy them in the recollec- tion; if it were possible, for instance, to feel the same kind of reproduced pleasure in the memory of the meat we have eaten and the wine we have drunk that we can feel in the memory of the music we have heard and the pictures we have seen, it needs no proof how bad this would be for human character. And further : many of the pains produced by disease or accident are very intense, and would embitter life if they remained in the memory ; but, like the pleasures of eating and drinking, and all other unintellectual impressions on the consciousness, these pains cannot be reproduced in consciousness, and are compara- tively forgotten. XXXv. | THE SENSES, O7 The facility of recalling the impressions of sight and sound is the basis of the imaginative power, which, in so far as it works with the materials of sense, works exclu- sively with those of sight and sound, and produces the results which we enjoy in music, in painting, and in the rest of the arts. ; The cause of the facility of recalling the impressions of Cause of sight and sound.is, I have no doubt, hereditary habit. nee Ever since the first dawn of the human intellect, men have habit. been endeavouring to recall the words they have heard from other men, in order to consider their meaning and what they indicated; and they have been endeavouring to recall what they have seen, in order to decide where to go and what todo. The power of reproducing sights and sounds in memory has thus been cultivated by practice, and has become hereditary. But no power could be developed by habitual exercise, unless its germ existed previously. The germ of memory, as shown in the chapter on Mental Development, consists in the consciousness of a sensation outlasting the sensation itself; and the next stage of its development consists in the power of remembering a past sensation when it is recalled by anything that has become associated with it. In connexion with the visceral sensa- tions and the unintellectual senses, the development of memory stops here: in connexion with sight and hearing, it goes on into recollection, or the power of recalling im~- pressions at will for the purposes of use and enjoyment, And this, again, becomes the germ of imagination, At the risk of some repetition, I shall now enumerate the different senses, with the principal characteristics of each. 1. The nerves of touch are also nerves of heat, but, the Senses of senses being distinct, an impression of touch and one of jv" "4 heat occurring together are cognised in consciousness as distinct: for instance, if I press my hand on a slab of These. marble and feel it hard and cold, the hardness and the ee coldness are cognised as distinct sensations. OTT The sense of touch consists in the sense of pressure and VOL. II. H 98 What touch cognises is resistance. Muscular sense. Taste. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. resistance : all the properties of things that we cognise by means of touch, such as the differences of hard and soft, and of rough and smooth, are due to various modes and degrees of resistance to the touch. I regard the “mus- cular sense” as a part of the sense of touch, for all that it cognises is also resolvable into pressure and resistance ; it appears uncertain whether there would be any sense of muscular motion whatever—that is to say, it is uncertain whether muscular action would give rise to sensation—if it were absolutely unresisted.1 Our first cognitions of space, and of things existing in space, are due to the sense of touch, which so far is an intellectual sense ; though in a developed state of the intellect we obtain information concerning external things chiefly through sight; but in blind persons the sense of touch, in virtue of its giving a cognition of space and of the form and position of things in space, is capable, in a great degree, of supplying the place of the sense of sight, in a way that no other sense could conceivably do. Sensations of touch do not admit of being reproduced in memory with any vividness. 2. The nerves of taste are also nerves of touch and of heat, and when these sensations are experienced together, they are cognised as distinct. But when two tastes are mixed together, a single taste is cognised intermediate in character between its constituents. The sense of taste is not an intellectual one; it gives no cognition of space; and its impressions are scarcely at all capable of being reproduced in memory. Sensations of taste are due to the substances 1 “Of the voluntary motion of our limbs we know originally nothing. We do not perceive the motion of our muscles by their own sensations, but attain a knowledge of them only when perceived by another sense. The muscles most under our control are those of the eye and the voice, which perform motions microscopically small : yet we have no conscious- ness of the motion. We move the diaphragm against the heavy pressure of the liver, &e., yet with as little consciousness of the motion. It follows that the motions of our limbs must be observed by sight or touch in order to learn that they move, and in what direction.” (Weber, quoted in M‘Cosh’s Examination of Mill’s Philosophy, p. 128.) Dr. M‘Cosh quotes this in opposition to the theory of Mill and Bain, to be referred to in the next two chapters, that we acquire the cognition of space through the muscular sense alone. XXXvV.] THE SENSES, 99 which are tasted being dissolved in the moisture of the mouth. 3. The nerves of smell are not nerves of any other sense. Smell. Sensations of smell bear a greater resemblance to sensa- ey tions of taste than do the sensations of any other two taste. senses to each other: this is, no doubt, a consequence of the similarity in the physical conditions of their pro- duction ; for sensations of smell are due to the vapours which are smelled being dissolved in the moisture of the nostrils. In other respects, also, the senses of taste and of smell resemble each other. Smell, like taste, is not an intellectual sense ; it gives no cognition of space, and its impressions are scarcely at all capable of being reproduced in memory. 4. The nerves of sight are not nerves of any other sense. Sight, or All the sensations of sight may with perfect accuracy be the sense called colours; for white may be regarded as a colour, black is the absence of any colour, and lustre is only a particular way in which light falls. According to the theory now generally received, and I think on demon- strative evidence, radiance consists of undulations in an ethereal medium. The undulations are of various lengths, but, so far as we are able to ascertain, they do not differ one from the other in any essential property, except that those rays whereof the undulations are between certain Only some ascertained limits of length have the power of exciting the mineus undula- sensation of light; or rather (for the property is a purely tions pro- physiological one), iduere Gis eye have the power of (ue ‘he perceiving the sensation of light when they are acted on light, by those rays; and, what is most remarkable, rays which appear to differ only in the length of their undulations excite sensations of colour which differ not in intensity and these but in kind—such as red, green, and blue. This is an Sania ultimate fact of sensation, and its reason is consequently sensations quite inscrutable! The subject of colours and their com- °°!" binations being a very special one, I defer my further consideration of it to Note B at the end of this chapter. The sense of sight gives a cognition of space, though I 1 See Note A at end of chapter. H 2 100 Sight gives think it is demonstrable that the first cognition of space is cognition of space. Characters of sight. Of hearing. Semi- circular canals give a sense of the direction of sounds. Hearing is unlike the other senses, in the power of diseri- minating simnul- taneous sounds. Distribu- HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [CHAP. obtained, not by sight, but by touch. Sight is a highly intellectual sense ; and in connexion with this is the fact, that impressions of sight are capable of being not only remembered, but reproduced in memory, or recollected, with great vividness. 5. The nerves of hearing are not nerves of any other sense. Hearing, like sight, is a highly intellectual sense ; and impressions of sound, such as those of voices or of music, are capable of being reproduced in memory with great vividness. Hearing gives no cognition of space in the sense of extension, but it does give a cognition of direc- tion: all the higher animals, at least, appear to have some power of judging from what direction a sound comes. “ It is commonly supposed that the ‘semicircular canals’ have for their peculiar function to receive the impressions by which we distinguish the direction of sounds; and it is certainly a powerful argument in support of this view that in almost every instance in which these parts exist at all, they hold the same relative positions as in man, their three planes being nearly at right angles to one another.”! This power of judging of the direction of sound, however, is very deficient in precision; and without the assistance of other senses it would probably be quite insufficient to give rise to any cognition of space, at least unless it was incomparably more accurate than it is in man. That in which hearing differs from all the other senses is the fact, that distinct sounds falling on the ear together do not necessarily combine into a resultant sensation, as tastes, smells, and colours do when they are mixed. Unlike those other sensations, simultaneous sounds are capable of being recognised as distinct, and of being attended to separately. There is good reason to believe that this remarkable property of the sense of hearing depends on the peculiar manner in which the nerves of hearing termi- nate in the ear. The nerves of the other organs of sense branch out and form a network at their terminations: thus tion of the the nerves of touch, of taste, and of smell form extended 1 Carpenter’s Human Physiology, p. 669. XXXv. | THE SENSES. 101 4 networks, the purpose of which appears to be to obtain the nerves of necessary extent of sensitive surface; and the optic nerve eee branches out into a network dieawen the retina (which hare and organ derives its name from this fact), for the purpose of Goes providing a surface sensitive to light, on which the image SUces. of the object looked at is to be formed. But the nerves of hearing terminate in a totally different way from any of these.!. No image has to be formed in the ear analogous to Distribu- the retinal image in the eye, and consequently no sentient es ae surface is needed like the retina, nor is an extended ee sentient surface needed for any other purpose. Conse- : quently the nerves of hearing are not spread out at their terminations, but are concentrated together in “ Corti’s organ.” There are about three thousand of these nerve- fibres; and we have good reason to believe that each one of these is sensitive, not to all sounds, but only to sounds of a pitch altogether or nearly identical with that to which it is itself strung. So that different sounds, when heard at the same time, are heard by different nerves, and make each its own impression on the consciousness: unlike colours, or smells, or tastes, which, when mixed, are felt by the same nerves, and make a combined impression on the consciousness, In order to explain how sounds act each on its own Laws of appropriate uerve, we must refer to the general laws of Sram acoustic vibrations. Every stretched string has a period of vibration belonging to itself, which is not affected by Pe the manner in which it is caused to vibrate, but is constant constant so long as its length and its tightness are unchanged; in qeaiee other words, the number of vibrations which a string makes sting. in a second is constant for the same string. The pitch of a sound depends on the number in a second of the sonorous vibrations, which, when transmitted through the air to the ear, excite the sensation of sound ; so that the same string, ’ Pitch 6 by its vibrations, always SrpdlGes sound of the same pitch note con- —a single vibration of the string, of course, producing a Stent for ’ 4 : the sanie single sonorous vibration, or sound-wave. The laws of string. 1 Vor the following details, see the review of Tyndall’s Lectures on Sound, in the Edinburgh Review of January 1868, , pny ances’ bi 102 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. ~ [CHAP. vibration are the same in all bodies whatever ; but vibrat- ing strings exemplify those laws in their greatest sim- plicity and in the most manageable form, for which reason it is best, in treating of elementary acoustics, to speak One string of strings only. If two strings have the same period of SR vibration, and one of these is set vibrating, the sonorous vibrating. vibrations produced by it will set the other string vibrating in unison: from the analogy of the case, and from the won- derful way in which the auditory nerve-fibres in “ Corti’s organ” are stretched like the strings of a violin across a Action of bridge, we have every reason to believe that those nerves ne are such sympathetically vibrating strings. Every sound of the ear. which enters the cavity of the ear sets in vibration that nerve which is strung to its own pitch, and its vibrations produce in the auditory ganglia the sensation of sound. It ought to be stated that this theory is not offered as a demonstrated truth, but only as‘ having a very high degree of analogical probability. It is not easy to see any way in which it could be experimentally verified. Tone of I have next to speak of the tone of sounds, which is sound: a more complex fact than their pitch. The physical theory of tone may thus be stated in outline:—The tone of a how sound is produced by the union of secondary sonorous produced. aves, or overtones, with the primary sonorous wave, or fundamental. When the fundamental is not accompanied by any overtones, its sound is soft and dull, as that of a tuning-fork But such sounds are very unusual: there are overtones in nearly all sounds. Consequently, nearly all sounds are not simple but complex sounds. The over- tones are of higher pitch than the fundamental. The pitch of the fundamental is what defines the pitch of the complex sound. A fundamental may be accompanied by many overtones. In a word, the tone of a sound is due to the combination of secondary sonorous vibrations with the fundamental. The secondary sonorous vibrations are of course due to the production of secondary vibrations in the musical string or other sonorous body. But now a question arises, How is any such thing pos- 1 Tyndall’s Lectures on Sound. XXXv.] THE SENSES. 103 sible as a complex sound? Why do we not hear the Why do overtones as distinct sounds from the fundamental, instead eke of hearing a complex sound unlike either? Why do vibrations, sounds ever combine into a resultant sound, instead of fee being each transmitted along its own nerve-fibre separately combine to the auditory ganglia, so as to be distinct in the con- funda- sciousness? I am inclined to think the answer is this eae bie, All sounds, when heard simultaneously, tend to combine sultant into complex sounds, and the power of distinguishing ae them, like the rest of man’s voluntary powers, has to be acquired by habit. In consequence of the laws which regulate the vibration of strings and other bodies, most sounds are accompanied by overtones; and ag the funda- mental and its overtones are habitually heard together, the The com- ear in most persons never acquires the habit or the power ce ee of distinguishing them; while it easily acquires the power tion may of distinguishing sounds which are heard together only by 72,4"? © accident, such as two different voices. In distinguishing two voices which are heard at the same time, the ear is also, no doubt, very much guided by the fact that the different voices rise and fall separately, while a funda- mental note and its overtones rise and fall together. But with prac- it is stated by Helmholtz? that it is possible to acquire by ae practice the power of distinguishing the overtones of a be distin: single vibrating string. See The senses of sight and hearing are the only senses Sight and which minister to the intellect in any high state of intel- oe lectual development ; and, no doubt for this reason, they most intel- are the only esthetic senses—that is to say, the only senses eee through which we derive any ideas of beauty. It may be only | unusual to call that beauty which we admire and enjoy in eae music, but it certainly impresses the mind exactly as visual beauty does, making allowance only for the unlikeness of one sense to another. The objects of visual beauty are in general much more permanent than sounds can be, and they consequently give a more durable pleasure; but the Music pro- pleasure due to music, on the other hand, is, while it lasts, (ces @ e 5 more in- more intense than that due to visual beauty. The reason tense 1 Quoted in Tyndall’s Lectures on Sound. 104 feeling than visual beauty, because the ear loses no time in combining impres- sions, Opinion of distinct nerves for distinct colours. Reasons against this. No special nerves of taste, HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. of this probably is, that the beauty, or what is called by an expression which is scarcely a metaphor, the harmony, of form and colour is due to the combination of several distinct impressions on the sense of sight, which cannot be properly combined without a motion of the eye; and this occupies some little time ; while the harmony of sound is due to the combination of distinct impressions on the sense of hearing, which combine in the consciousness of themselves, without any time being lost. To this fact, that no time whatever is lost in combining simultaneous impressions of sound, while some little time is lost in combining simultaneous impressions of sight, I attribute the peculiarly vivid and intense effect of music on the consciousness. NOTE A. NERVES OF SPECIAL SENSATION. THE opinion was first advanced by Dr. Young, and has lately been sanctioned by the high authority of Helmholtz,! that there must be three distinct sets of nerve-fibres in the retina and the optic nerve, one for each of the three primary colours. On this subject it is difficult to see how there can ever be any absolutely conclusive evidence ; for, supposing the three sets of nerves to exist, and to be distinctly visible under the microscope, how could the distinct function of each be ascertained? But there are what appear to me the strongest analogical reasons for reject- ing such an hypothesis. The hypothesis in question rests on the belief that each sen- sory nerve must transmit a single kind of sensation, and cannot transmit any other. Now this belief appears to be contrary to such evidence as we can obtain. Dr. Carpenter says of the sepse of taste: “There is no special nerve of taste; for the gustative impressions upon the front of the tongue are conveyed (to the sensory ganglia) by the Lingual branch of the fifth pair, while those made upon the back of the organ are conveyed by the Glosso-pharyngeal, both of which nerves also minister to common sensibility (or the sense of touch) ; and pressure on the 1 Physiological Theory of Music, French translation, p. 1865. XXXv.] NERVES OF SPECIAL SENSATION. 105 trunk of either of these nerves gives rise to pain, which is not the case with either the olfactory, the optic, or the auditory nerves. Moreover, the papillary apparatus, through which the gustative impressions are made upon the extremities of these nerves, is essentially the same in structure with that of the skin.” ? Moreover, if there is a distinct set of visual nerve-fibres for each primary colour, it would appear to follow that there must be a distinct set of nerve-fibres of taste for each distinct kind of taste—saline, bitter, sweet, &c.; and a distinct set of olfactory nerve-fibres for each distinct kind of smell; which would be an almost incredible conclusion. The case of the sense of hearing, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, is different from these. Each distinct sound is probably transmitted to the auditory ganglia by a distinct set of nerves. But, as a result of this, it is possible to distinguish, as distinct, sounds which are received in the consciousness together ; andif the impressions of different primary colours were transmitted to the optic ganglia by different nerve-fibres, we should be able to distinguish the constituent colours in a compound colour—we should be able to see the three primaries in white. If it were true that any one nerve-fibre can transmit sensations of only one kind, it must follow that the nerves of the sensa- nor of tion of heat must be distinct from those of touch ; but, accord- Beale ing to Dr. Carpenter, there is no evidence whatever in favour of this conclusion.” The truth appears to be, that the sensations which any nerve transmits depend neither on the constitution of the nerve itself, The kind nor on that of its ganglion (for all nerves and all ganglia, so far 0f by as the microscope has shown, are histologically alike), but alto- pends not gether on the constitution of the organ in which the nerve has pau uy te its external termination. ‘Thus a nerve which terminates in the on the gan- eye transmits the sensation of light, and a nerve which termi- cleat nates in the ear transmits the sensation of sound. ‘The differ- organ of euces in kind between the sensations of different colours are no S*™S¢ doubt left unexplained by this hypothesis, but they are inex- plicable by any hypothesis whatever, and the difference between the tastes of sugar and of salt, or any other simple fact of sensation, 1s equally inexplicable. The conclusion stated in the foregoing paragraph may appear 1 Wuman Physiology, p. 617. ° Ibid. p. 615. 106 Sensations of light due to pressure, and to an electric current. Ditference between sensations of sight and of the other senses. Meaning of light and of radiance. Heating and chemical effects of radiance, HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. to be contradicted by the well-known fact that pressure on the retina produces the sensation, not of pressure, but of light. But when the retina and the optic nerve have been habitually trans- mitting sensations of light ever since their first formation, it is I think what might have been expected that all their sensations, even when excited, not by radiance, but by pressure or by disease, should take the form of sensations of light. It is stated, that an electric shock sent in opposite directions along the optic nerve will produce, if in the one direction the sensation of red, and if in the other direction the sensation of blue. This is a strong argument against the hypothesis of distinct nerves for each of the three primary colours ; for it is difficult to believe that the set of nerves which produces the sensation of blue will produce their sensation in response to an electric current in one direction, that the set which produces the sensation of red will respond to a current in the opposite direction, and that the set which produces the sensation of green will respond to neither. It is far more likely that the opposite electric currents, or shocks, produce different sensations in the same nerves. NOTE B. COLOURS AND THE LAWS OF THEIR COMBINATION, THERE are a great many distinct primary kinds of sensation of taste, of smell, and of sound. The same might appear to be true of the sensations of colour; but such is not the fact; all the sensations of colour which are possible, at least to the human eye, are capable of being produced by the combination of three primary elements. In what follows, I shall use the word light as only the name of a sensation. That which produces the sensation I shall call radiance. Radiance, however, has other properties than that of producing the sensation of light when it falls on the retina. It is a form of energy, and, like all forms of energy, it is capable of being penetemedd into heat: this takes place when sunbeams heat the body on which they fall. It has also many peculiar and little understood chemical effects ; the whole art of photo- graphy is based on some of these. 1 | regret that I cannot find my authority for this statement. XXxXxv. | COLOURS AND THEIR COMBINATION. 107 There is what I regard as demonstrative evidence for believing Radiance that radiance consists of undulations in a universal ethereal coasts of medium. The radiance of the sun, and of all other sources tions. with which we are familiar, consists of a variety of rays, which, Lehane so far as we know, differ from each other in no physical character waye- except the length of the undulations of which they are composed. nets a The velocity of all the rays is the same, and consequently the together number of undulations, or waves, to the second in any ray is eS inversely proportional to the length of the waves that compose that ray. All the rays are capable of being refracted; the refrangibility is the greatest where the wave-length is the least ; so that rays from the same source, as for instance the rays that constitute a sunbeam, may be separated by refraction through a Their prism; the rays of unequal refrangibility being refracted at eh unequal angles, and consequently proceeding in different direc- prism. tions. The unequally refracted rays, when received on a screen, constitute the prismatic spectrum. As radiance is a form of energy, and as all energy is capable of transformation into heat, it can scarcely be doubted that the -heating-power of any ray is a measure of the quantity of energy due to it. When we apply this test, we find that the visible brightness of a ray has nothing to do with the quantity of energy which it contains ; for the rays which have the greatest heating-power are scarcely if at all visible. This, of course, is py.¢ not a physical but a physiological fact ; or, in other words, it Places of depends not on the nature of radiance, but on the constitution Tae oe of our visual faculty. What is even more remarkable is that greatest the greatest chemical, or actinic, or photographic power coincides ee neither with the greatest heating power nor with the brightest and of : : greatest light ; the rays of greatest chemical power, on the contrary, are Chemical almost if not quite invisible, and are at the opposite end of the power, spectrum from the heating rays.! ponents The rays of different wave-lengths, and consequently of dif- _. ESS é i . Different ferent refrangibilities, produce different sensations of colour in rays have the eye. Beginning at the rays of the greatest wave-length and peu least refrangibility, and going on to those of opposite character, hae the succession is as follows : 2— * For the probable reason of the last mentioned fact, see a paper by Professor Tyndall in the Fortnightly Review for February 1869. _ 2 I take this enumeration from Professor Grasstnann’s paper on the Theory of Compound Colours, in the Philosophical Magazine for April 1854, 1038 Succession of colours. Difference of colour is a physio- logical fact, and ana- logous. not to tone but to pitch in sound. The octave in sound and in colour HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [cwar. Red, orange, yellow, yellowish green, green, bluish green, azure, indigo, violet, purple. The rays of greatest heating-power are beyond the brightest red, and those of greatest chemical power nearly coincide with the purple. The colours graduate into each other, so that any accwrate enumeration of tints is impossible. The fact that rays of different wave-lengths, which is altogether a quantitative difference, producegualitative differences of colour, is a purely physiological fact, and one of which no explanation appears possible. It is, however, to be remarked, that the colour of light is not in any true sense analogous to the tone of sound.' The pitch of sound depends on the wave-length of the sonorous undulation, and its tone depends on the combination of secondary waves with the fundamental. In the manner of its production, the colour of light is analogous, not to the tone of sound, but to its pitch ; for, as just stated, rays which have different wave- lengths, and have, so far as we know, no other difference whatever, excite totally different sensations of colour. There is strong reason for believing that the colour of light corresponds to the pitch of sound in another and very re- markable way. It is a law of sound (or rather of the hearing faculty, for it is a physiological fact and not a physical one)—it is a law of the hearing faculty, I say, that any two notes whereof the sonorous waves producing the one are exactly twice as numerous in a second as those producing the other, are in a manner recognised as the same note, the one being the octave of the other. There is reason to think that the same is true of colours. What makes the subject obscure is the fact, which is a purely physiological one, that the power of perceiving sound extends over more than eleven octaves,* while the power of 1 Tt is, I think, to be regretted that the Germans, and Dr. Tyndall in imitation of them, have introduced the term sownd-colowr in the sense of toue. The word is not needed, for it expresses nothing that “tone” does uot express quite as well, both in German and in English ; and moreover, as shown in the text, the analogy it suggests is untrue. 2 According to M. Despretz, “the number of vibrations required to pro- duce an appreciable musical sound, in persons endowed with an acute seuse of hearing, may vary from 16 [in a second] for the lowest, to 73,000 for the highest note.” (Carpenter's Human Physiology, p. 660.) This is a range of rather more than eleven octaves ; for the eleventh octave of a note of 16 sonorous vibrations to the second contains 65,536 to the second : that is to say, 16 x 2! +11 — 65,536. xxxv.] COLOURS AND THEIR COMBINATION. 109 perceiving light extends over but one.!_ The number of luminous undulations to the second of the faint purple-red rays beyond the violet is about twice that of the extreme red rays at the opposite extremity of the spectrum, and their wave-length consequently about one-half. Satisfactory observations on the subject are difficult, in consequence of the faintness of the purple rays, which makes them often difficult even to see, and still more difficult to identify with the red. Nevertheless, the transition from violet to red through purple is stated to be perfectly visible with good light and a good instrument; so that the colours of the spectrum really occur in the following recurrent order,? like that of the notes of music :— ‘ Red, orange, yellow, yellowish green, green, bluish green, azure, indigo, violet, purple, red again. If there is any doubt of the actual recurrence of the same tint of colour in the spectrum, though I believe there is none, this theory of an octave in the spectrum would still be in the highest degree probable ; not only from the analogy of sound, but also from the visible fact that violet and purple are inter- mediate colours of tint between blue and red, just as orange is visibly intermediate between red and yellow. It is obvious that this fact of an octave in the spectrum is an ultimate fact of sensation, not to be accounted for by any law of habit, or accounted for at all. If the series of colours in the spectrum is recurrent, it iS The series using only another word for the same fact to say that it is of colours é : in the circular. A circular arrangement of the colours of the spectrum spectrum is circular, 1 According to Sir John Herschel (Good Words, August 1865), the luminous vibrations of the extreme red number 399,401,000,000,000 to the second, and those of the extreme violet 831,479,000,000,000 ; so that the latter are a little more than twice as numerous as the former, and the power of vision extends through a little more than an octave. No such determinations, however, can be anything more than approximative. The measurement of the lengths of the waves, and of their number to the second, is not subject to any great error, but it is a matter of great uncer- tainty where the extreme red and the extreme violet are ; for the illumi- nated part of the spectrum graduates into darkness, and its extreme limits will be taken as at different points, according to the goodness of the light and of the instrument, and perhaps also according to the peculiarity of the observer's eyes. 2 For the fact of this recurrence, see Professor Grassmann’s paper already referred to. 110 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cnar. is necessary, in order to give any right conception of the laws of the composition of colours. and the It is possible to arrange the colours of the spectrum in such SE ste a circular order, that every opposite pair of colours in it shall comple- be complementary to each other; that is to say, shall make mentaries. white when combined. This order, according to Professor Grassmann, is that of the following diagram.' PURPLE, & = “2 ore o, \% % e S & Aa a ia s So wy B Zs N % & os Br Viv” CRP Tsp it GREEN. 1 See the paper already referred to. Professor Grassmann does not give the circular form, but his tabular statement of the pairs of complementaries comes to the same thing. The law that every colour in the spectrum has its complementary in the spectrum was deduced by Professor Grassmann from theoretical considerations; and it has been to a great extent con- firmed by the experiments of Helmholtz, who “found that the colours from red to green-yellow were complementary to colours ranging from green-blue to violet, and that the colours between green-yellow and green-blue have no homogeneous complementaries, but must be neutralized by mixtures of red and violet.” (Professor Clark Maxwell on the Theory of Compound Colours, Philosophical Transactions for 1860.) I think there can be little doubt XXXV.] COLOURS AND THEIR COMBINATION. 111 So that any one of the following pairs of colours, when combined, will make white :— Red and bluish green. Orange and azure. Yellow and indigo. Yellowish green and violet. Green and purple. It is to be observed that, in such experiments as these, what we must do is to combine the colours themselves ; and this is to How to be done by letting rays of the two colours which we wish to Cone combine fall on the same spot of white paper. Mixture of colouring stuffs will not give the same results.! It is also to be observed, that the white produced by the Whites combination of any one pair of complementaries, though the Pes same in appearance as that produced by the combination of any combina- other pair, is not really the same. The difference is shown by pied decomposing any white ray with the prism, which will separate pairs of it into its differently-coloured constituents; just as the com- eee mon white light of day is decomposed by the prism into all are the colours of the spectrum. Thus, the white which is com- quer pounded of red and bluish green may be separated by the prism back into red and bluish green; and the white which is com- pounded of yellow and indigo may be in like manner separated back into yellow and indigo. Thus, two whites may be, to use Professor Clark Maxwell’s expression, optically different though chromatically alike. ‘The white light of day is of course a mixture of the whites which are compounded of all the pairs of complementaries in the spectrum. that the failure to find homogeneous complementaries (that is to say, com- plementaries in the spectrum) for the colours from green-yellow to green- blue is due merely to the faintness of the purple tints, among which by the theory their complementaries should be found. 1 If we mix two or more colouring materials together, the colour of the mixture is due to those rays which are not absorbed by any of the mate- rials ; so that the more ingredients we put into our mixture the more rays are absorbed, and the nearer we come to the total suppression of light, which is blackness. Hence the necessity, in water-colour painting, of obtaining brilliancy, if possible, by a single wash of colour. If on the contrary we mix the colours themselves in the way described in the text, the more colours we add the more light we get. It is thus obvious that the two methods of mixing will not give the same results. For the remark about water-colours, see Sir John Herschel, in Good Words, August 1865. 112 All colours except white are in the spectrum, Black. Grey. Brown. Result of combining two colours not comple- mentary, is to form compound colours visibly like simple ones, but optically different. No dis- tinction of primaries and second- aries in any phy- sical sense, HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [ CHAP. Except white, all possible colours are colours of the spectrum. Black is merely the negation of light, and grey is only a subdued or lowered white.! Brown tints, which to the eye appear unlike any of the colours of the spectrum, are “merely red, orange, or yellow, of feeble intensity, more or less diluted with white.” ? If two colours of the spectrum not complementary to each other are mixed in the way already described (the brightness of the two colours being of equal intensity), the colour produced by their combination will be similar in appearance to the colour situated half-way between the two constituents on the circumference of the circle of prismatic colours; and the compound will not necessarily be similar in appearance to either constituent. Thus, red and green form yellow. But such a compound colour, though it may be chromatically similar to a simple one, is of course optically different, and may be decomposed back into its constituents by the prism. The compound colours, however, though of the same tint with the simple ones, are in many cases less saturated, presenting the appearance of being diluted with white. It follows from this, that there is no distinction of primary and secondary colours,* for every colour may be either primary or secondary : primary, because it is found in the spectrum ; and secondary, because it may be formed by the combination of other colours. It also follows by mathematical consequence from the facts stated here, and has been verified by experiment, that if any three colours whatever are so taken from the circumference of the circle of prismatic colours, that the centre of the circle falls within the triangle whereof they are at the angles, either white 1 Most of what are called grey tints, however, probably contain blue. 2 Professor Clark Maxwell’s paper, referred to in a former note. 3-Sir David Brewster thought he had shown that the colours of the spectrum are not primary, but capable of further decomposition by passing them through coloured media. By this kind of decomposition he thought he proved that there are but three primary colours, namely red, yellow, and blue. Helmholtz however has, I think, shown satisfactorily that Brewster’s results were due to an imperfect method of observing, and that no ray of the spectrum is capable of decomposition by passing through any coloured medium. A ray under such circumstances may be greatly weak- ened, but it preserves its tint unchanged. (See Helmholtz’s paper in the Philosophical Magazine for December 1852. ) ae XXXv. | COLOURS AND THEIR COMBINATION. 113 or any other colour may be formed by combining them in suitable proportions.! We thus find that, as a physical fact, rays of all colours are equally primary. But Professor Clark Maxwell? has found — reason, from observations on colour-blind persons, to think that, but there as a physiological fact, sensations of all colours are not equally ee bom . : a physio- primary; but that all other sensations of colour are compounded logical of the three primaries, red, green, and blue. peuse: I shall conclude this note with some remarks on the mathe- Further matical theory of chromatic octaves and complementaries. age Logically they ought to have come earlier, but I think it better considera- to leave the statement of the elementary laws of colour unen- “°° cumbered by even the simplest mathematics. In what follows let us, as in musical science, speak not of the wave-lengths, but of the frequency of the waves ; that is to say, Wave fre- the number of waves in a given time. The frequency is of (NeNCY- course inversely as the length. Having ascertained the wave-frequency to which either a sound or a colour is due, we find the wave-frequency of its octave by multiplying by two, or of its lower octave by dividing by the same. Extreme purple is the octave of extreme red, A colour and on the chromatic circle drawn above these are separated ee). by an are of 360°. Now, the pairs of complementaries, as I 360° apart have laid them down, are separated, each colour from its one complementary, by an are of 180°. If this circular arrange- ment of colours represents any truth of nature, it might conse- quently be supposed that, having ascertained the wave-frequency of any colour, we should be able to find that of its complemen- tary by multiplying or dividing, as the case may be, by the square root of two. That is to say, if we arrange the colours, from red to its octave where purple turns red again, round the 360 degrees of a circle, in such a way that any two colours sepa- rated by equal arcs shall have their wave-frequencies in equal ratios ; then, as the wave-frequencies of the two reds which are 1 See Professor Clark Maxwell's paper, already referred to. 2 See the same paper. According to Professor Clark Maxwell, most colour-blind persons (so called) are insensible to any difference hetween red, yellow, and green, but sensible to the difference between these and blue or violet. But there is another less common kind of colour- blindness, which consists in insensibility to the difference between green and blue. VOL. II, I 114 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [cHAP. We might separated by an arc of 360° stand to each other in the ratio of expect comple- mentaries to be 180° apart. Discre- pancy of observa- tion and theory. How accounted for. 1 to 2, the wave-frequencies of any pair of colours which are opposite to each other in the circle must be in ratio of 1 to the square root of 2. It might, I say, be expected, that such pairs of opposites should be pairs of complementaries. But this does not appear to be the case. According to Pro- fessor Clark Maxwell, the wave-frequencies of some of the pairs of complementary colours are in the ratios of the numbers here given with them ;! eaeh colour being the complementary of that opposite to it in the other column. Red a) ic 8 4.) O00 Bluish green. 47°65 Orange. . . 39°80 Blue... + 9) soem Yellow. . . 41°40 Indigo. . . 54°70 If the wave-frequencies of the colours in the right-hand column were to those of their complementaries in the ratio of the square root of 2 to 1, they would be— Bluish green. . . . . 51°47 Whe, Ss) Ea ce Oe eed OO dudigo is. <2. Se. oP eStoe It will be noticed that the observed wave-frequencies of these three colours are considerably smaller than those calculated by the hypothesis from the wave-frequencies of their comple- mentaries ; and the differences, besides being all on the same side, are too great to be accounted for by any accident or error. Thus in such a circle as I have imagined (in which equal dis- tances along the circumference correspond to equal ratios of frequency), any two complementaries are not precisely opposite, but approach each other on the green side of the circle. From a mathematico-physical point of view this may appear anomalous, but it is easily explained from a physiological one. White is not a mathematical expression ; it is the name we give to. the colour-sensation produced by sunshine. We say that the rays of which the sunbeam is composed are of very unequal 1 See the paper already referred to, The determinations were made by means of an interference-spectrum, obtained by an application of the prin- ciple of Newton’s rings, and the numbers given are the numbers of waye- lengths in the retardations. The determinations are for the positions of certain of Fraunhofer’s lines. In the cases of bluish-green, blue, and indigo, I have taken the mean of the determinations for two or three lines in the same colour. XXXxv.] COLOURS AND THEIR COMBINATION. 115 brightness ; that its green, for instance, is much brighter than All the its purple. But this is not strictly accurate; it is our faculty Se ane of vision which is so constituted as to be more forcibly impressed equally by the green rays than by the purple ones. This is a purely pepe physiological fact, and it is quite possible that there may be animals which have eyes that are more forcibly impressed by the purple than by the green.! If all parts of the spectrum were of equal brightness to our eyes, then equal ares of the circle would contain equal quantities of cclour, and equal and opposite arcs would neutralize each other, forming white. The circle, as we have seen, is divisible into arcs of the following pairs of complementary colours :— Red and bluish green = White. Orange and azure = White. Yellow and indigo = White. Yellowish green and violet = White. Green and purple = White. Were a pair of complementaries always of equal brightness, it is obvious that, in order to make white without leaving any residual colour, they ought to occupy equal arcs of the circle. But this is not the case; the colours on the green side of the circle are much brighter than those on the purple side; so that the combination of equal arcs (or, in other words, of eqnal quantities) of the two would not produce pure white, but would have a residual green tinge. The neutralization, or conversion into white, of all the colours, without residual tinge from any of them, is attained by the brightest colour of any pair of com- plementaries occupying the smallest arc ; and, as the colours are brighter on the green side of the circle than on the purple side, this involves as a geometrical consequence that the colours which we might have expected to find separated by an arc of 180°, are a little nearer to each other by the green side of the circle. As stated above (see p. 112), all possible colours are contained in the spectrum, except white, black, and grey; though many tints, especially the various tints of brown, are so inferior to 1 Tt has been suggested that cats and owls, and other animals which see well in twilight, may have eyes unusually sensitive to the very refrangible rays,—the violet and purple, and the photographic rays invisible to us,— which are relatively more abundant in twilight than the less refrangible ones, 12 116 Possibility of giving a formula for any tint. Scientific principles of harmo- nious colouring. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CH. XXXV. those of the spectrum in intensity and in degree of saturation that the eye does not identify them. There are three, and only three, ways in which any two tints of colour can possibly differ from each other. These are: 1. In the order of the colour: or, in other words, the posi- tion of the colour in the chromatic circle. 2. In the intensity of the colour. And 3. In the intensity of the white with which the colours of all substances are diluted. Professor Clark Maxwell has made the important remark, that, as these three elements all admit of numerical statement, it is possible to give an arithmetical formula for any possible tint. The intensity, or brightness, of the colour itself and of the intermixed white may of course be numerically valued, taking as unity for each colour the brightest tint that can be obtained by means of pigments. The order of the colour may be stated in degrees of the chromatic circle, which for such a purpose ought probably to be so arranged that each colour should be exactly 180° from its complementary. I am convinced that the principles of harmonious colouring are to be found in the laws of the combination of colours stated in this note. Ido not know how far Mr. Ruskin is right in saying that no rules for harmonious colouring are worth any- thing, but if he is right that no such rules of any value have been yet laid down, it does not follow that he is right in main- taining it to be in the nature of things impossible for such rules ever to be discovered. If we have no rules of any value for harmonious colouring, this is only because the true laws of the combination of colours have not been long known. We know what science has done for the kindred art of music, and with this analogy it is to me incredible that science should be unable to discover valid and valuable rules for the art of colouring. CHAPTER XXXVI. PERCEPTION. T is an axiom concerning which there is no dispute, The that mind begins with sensation. It is also agreed by pe all, that sensation is inexplicable. But the most debated sensations . f h 1 : h ti : . t give rise question of psychology is, how sensations give rise to {o percep- perceptions. — When I speak of perception, I mean more than the Perception iti f ti A ti I t 1s more mere cognition of a sensation. Any sensation whatever than cog- may be the object of cognition ; any sensation becomes the ™tion : object of cognition in the act of directing attention to it. But a sensation may be cognised without its giving rise to any perception. Nothing, for instance, is perceived in cognising the general sensation of being well or ill, vigorous or weary. That which we perceive, according to what I regard as the accurate use of the word, is not the sensation itself, but that to which we refer the sensation. And [I it is the : . 7 referring propose to define perception, as that act by which the mind oe sonca- refers sensations to their sources. I must, however, in some tions to _ degree qualify this definition. The perceived source of a ese sensation—that is to say, the source to which in the act of perception we assign the sensation—may be remote in space: thus, if I receive a ray of light from a star on my eyes, and thereby perceive the star, that which I perceive is at an almost immeasurable distance. But the perceived source of a sensation cannot be remote in time; it must be present in time; if the source to which the mind refers the sensation belongs to past time, the act of referring the sensation to its source is not called perception, but inference. Thus, if I cognise the sensation of thirst, I may perceive that my throat is dry, and may infer that this is 118 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [ CHAP. caused by my having eaten salt meat an hour ago. We must consequently modify the definition of perception the sources offered above, and call it that act by which the mind refers Eat sensations to sources present in time. This is the most intime. accurate definition I can offer, but it is not perfectly accurate; it includes as perceptions some acts which are really inferences. Thus, I may cognise a local pain arising from disease, and I may know with perfect certainty the state of the diseased part which causes the pain; yet the knowledge by which I assign the painful sensation to its source may be a case, not of perception, but of very circuitous inference. I believe, however, that it is in the nature of things Aper- impossible to frame a definition which shall be such as ee to include all that are really acts of perception, and to definition exclude all that are really acts of inference. And the 25 at reason of this, in my opinion, is that perception and inference graduate into each other. Perception indeed is an inference; it is only the first and simplest case of inference. When we refer a sensation to its source —as, for instance, when we refer light to a star, and in so doing perceive the star—I do not regard the per- py ception as a simple inexplicable act of the mind; I inference, Tegard it as an inference, instantaneously and spon- taneously made. This view is supported by the fact that The same the same act may appear to be a perception or an in- rr ny i. ference, according as it is performed at once and spon- ey ats taneously, or with hesitation and with some effort of cording to thought. Thus, dogs perceive by the smell. A dog will oe smell a dead animal and perceive at once where it is; when a man may ascertain its presence only by con- sidering for some little time what the source of the unpleasant smell can be, and even then may remain in some degree of doubt. It is, I think, quite impossible to point out any difference between the dog’s unhesitating perception and the man’s hesitating inference, except the mere circumstance that the one is instantaneous, while the other occupies an appreciable time. It may be said that perception is an unconscious process, while inference is a XXXVI] PERCEPTION. conscious one. This is true—at least it is true in the case just supposed ; but the unconsciousness of a mental process is a result of its bemg habitually performed. We can perceive by sound, as accurately as the dog can perceive by smell, and we can perceive the presence of our friends by their voices; but this is altogether an acquired per- ception, depending on habitual association: when we are learning to know a man by his voice, the power of iden- tifying him graduates from hesitating inference to unhesi- tating perception; and when it has become perception, it is accompanied by no more conscious thought than the spontaneous perceptions of an animal. And when in- ferences—that is, what are indisputably inferences—are performed at once, spontaneously, and without effort, we habitually speak of them as perceptions. David perceived that his child was dead, when he saw the servants whisper. I believe this account of perception in itself presents no difficulties. I believe the difficulties with which the question is generally surrounded do not arise from any metaphysical perplexity in the nature of the sub- ject itself, but from its being complicated with other questions which come before us in connexion with it. These questions concern the relation of the mind to space, and the relation of the two senses of sight and touch to each other in the act of perception; so that in the treat- ment of the theory of perception various questions have got mixed up together, concerning the nature of that act by which the mind refers sensations to their sources, the nature and origin of the cognition of space, and the mode in which the sensations of sight and touch are combined in the perception of bodies. To these three distinct inquiries some writers add a fourth, namely, the nature of the idea of material substances as distinguished from their properties. It is no wonder if four such questions appear inextricably perplexed when they are all mixed up together, and yet may prove to be manageable enough if they are taken separately. I have stated my belief that perception is to be defined 119 The subject has been com- plicated by extraneous questions. 120 Percep- tion, and the cogni- tion of space, are distinct, but have been con- founded. We cognise space before we perceive objects in it. Cognition of two sensations as sepa- rated in space, HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP- as an instantaneous inference. The next question to con- sider is the nature and origin of our cognition of space. These two questions—how we perceive, and how we become cognizant of space—are nearly always confounded; and this confusion has its expression in the use of the term “the external world,” as synonymous with “the world existing in space.” The two may be identical in fact, but they are not necessarily identical in thought. We may conceive a being with consciousness and thought like ‘our own, but with no sense except that of hearing. Such a being could not possibly acquire any idea of space, yet it might perceive—that is to say, might infer—the existence of a world external to itself. On the other hand, I believe it is possible to be cognizant of space, and of relations in space, without perceiving an external world as existing in space; and not only so, but I believe we necessarily cognise the existence of sensations as related in space, before we perceive the objects to which we refer the sen- sations: in other words, that we must have cognised space before we can begin to perceive objects as existing in space. I go on to state more fully the way in which, as I believe, we cognise space. When I speak of two or more sensations, I must be understood as meaning sensations of the same sense. Let us imagine what may take place when consciousness is being first awakened by sensation. A ray of heat falls on a spot of skin; this is cognised as simply a sensation, and nothing more. A second ray of equal intensity falls on the same spot of skin; this is not cognised as a distinct sensation, only the first sensation is now cognised as having increased in intensity. But let the second ray fall on a different spot of skin; this will be cognised as a distinct sensation, in all respects similar to the first, but separated from it in space. This, I believe, is the elementary form of the cognition of space. It is, in my opinion, a case of pure primary cognition, without any element of inference; just like the cognition of unlikeness that would be produced if the two sensations were different. Or, instead of supposing a second sensation at some distance from the first, let us sunnose that the warm spot is moved pe SX Vi.| PERCEPTION. 121 over the skin; this will be cognised as a change, not in the Cognition character of the sensation, but in its locality ; and this also 0) SP2¢¢.PY will give rise to a cognition of space. I do not say that ohn sensa- such experiences as these will give a fully developed cog- 7, ihoce nition of space. They can only give the cognition of space ways, only : : ; Sac superficial of two dimensions; of surface only, not of solidity. But extension I believe they can, and do, give the first rudimentary oan bes Fi cognition of space. ate Ido not suppose that the cognition of space could be Cognitions produced by a uniform sensation spread over a sensitive salar surface, such as the sensation of heat over the whole skin time of the body when in a warm bath: just as the cognition cael of time could not be produced by the unchanging con- Ways. tinuance of the same sensation. The cognition of time is produced by the commencement, the cessation, or the change of sensations; and the cognition of space, as I believe, is produced in an exactly parallel way, by the existence of sensations at the same time in different parts of a sensitive surface. By these merely passive sensations, we acquire the cognition of space-relation between our own sensations only ; and that, I think, in space of only two dimensions. The cognition of a third dimension in space is, I think, due not to any merely passive sensation, but to our motor activity, and the sensation of it; and to the same “ mus- Pereep- cular sense” is due the perception of objects in external sue space—external, that is, to the body. Our perceptions of external to external objects, in so far as they are derived from touch ees and not from sight, consist of combined impressions of by the form and resistance (this analysis is admitted by all sense. writers on the subject); and I believe that these percep- tions are inferences from our sensations of motion and of resistance to motion. This will be intelligible to any one who will watch, or imagine, a blind man examining a new object with his hands. He moves them round it in order to ascertain its form, and feels its resisting power in order to ascertain its hardness or softness. There are thus three possible ways in which impressions Summary. on the senses may produce a cognition of space; and I Sight, like touch, originally cognises only superficial extension. Percep- tion by sight is an acquired power. Facts con- firming these views. Answer to objection, HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHar. have no doubt the three actually co-operate in producing it. These are— 1. The existence of two or more sensations in different places at the same time. 2. A sensation changing its place. 3. Our own motions. We cognise space, or extension, by the sense of sight as well as by that of touch ; and in sight, as in touch, we are originally cognizant of superficial extension only. What we originally see is only coloured surface; and what we are originally cognizant of in seeing is only sensations of colour, and the mutual relations of those sensations in superficial space. The power of perceiving— that is to say, of inferring—the existence of external objects by sight, as by touch, is a Jater acquired power. This view, that the cognition of space is at first of superficial space, is, of course, not capable of proof. But it is very strongly supported by a fact of which every one’s consciousness will inform him; namely, that it is easier to think of extension as superficial than either as linear or as solid. If we desire to think of a line, Wwe imagine a surface and draw the line on it. If we desire to think of space of three dimensions, we imagine a surface, and then, I think with some little difficulty, add the third dimension. Such a fact as this may be com- pared to those facts of organization which have no bearing on the functions of the adult, but are records of the process of its development. It may be said that on my theory of the acquisition of the cognition of space by the co-existence of similar sensations in different parts of the sentient surface of the body, there is no reason why our first thoughts of extension should be superficial rather than linear. I reply, that in practice we become cognizant of extension, not by the co-existence of two separated sen- sations, but by the co-existence of an indefinite number of sensations, some of them similar and some unlike, spread over the surface of the body ; and thus our first perceptions of extension are not linear, but superficial. I have as yet spoken only of perceptions by a single haf 7 Eve 14 XXXVI.] PERCEPTION. 123 sensation. But in the most important class of perceptions Percep- —that is to say, in those of sight—elements from the two bears senses of sight and touch are combined. The peculiarly touch and ae : a sight. intimate connexion between those two senses is due to the Se call fact, that they alone of all the senses give any cognition connexion - = of these of space! Space has become more associated in our two senses, habitual thoughts with sight than with touch; but the origin of our cognition of space in its three dimensions must be due, not to sight, but to touch (including the Cognition muscular sense as belonging to the latter); for the hand, 2 read which is the principal organ of touch, is capable of dimensions : 3 : : cae - - is due to moving in all three dimensions, and thus of giving origin touch. to the cognition of three dimensions ; while the eye, whether at rest or in motion, has no way of cognising a dimension. It is true that the eye acquires a power of estimating distance, not only by the effects of perspective, but by means of the varying optical adjustments which are spontaneously made for varying distances ; but this power is later acquired, and is far inferior in accuracy, as well as totally different in kind, from the power of the eyes to appreciate the space-relations of surface. It has been shown by observations made on persons born blind who afterwards received sight by the removal of the congenital cataract, that they knew simple superficial forms, such as a circle or a square, when presented to their sight, but had no perception whatever of the distances of objects from the eye.” 1 See the chapter on the Physiology of the Senses, in Dr. M‘Cosh’s Examination of Mill’s Philosophy. 2 See Dr. M‘Cosh’s chapter, already referred to. Berkeley said that a person born blind, and acquiring sight suddenly, would not know a circle from a square. In his time, no observations on the subject had been made. It has been subsequently stated, that his purely theoretical views have been confirmed by observations on persons cured of congenital cataract ; but a very carefully observed case reported by Dr. Franz of Leipzig (quoted by Dr. M‘Cosh from the Philosophical Transactions of 1841) appears conclusive as to the cognition of superficial extension. With respect to the inability of the eye to perceive the distance of objects from itself, until it has learned to do so by practice, Mr. Abbot, in his work “Sight and Touch,” argues that no observation of the kind is in the least degree conclusive ; because in all such cases as yet recorded there has been but one eye, so that the patient has been without those means of perceiving distance which are given by the simultancous use of two eyes ; and in that 124 Addi- tional proof of this. Touch cognises linear magni- tudes ; sight cognises angular ones ; and we think more easily of the former than of the latter. Words denoting the former are common: words denoting the latter are tech- nical. A being | with sight only would cognise only angular magni- tude. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. Our habitual mode of thinking of space is such as to afford additional proof that we have our first cognition of space from touch rather than from sight. The magnitudes which the hand cognises and measures are linear mag- nitudes: the magnitudes which the eye cognises and measures are angular magnitudes. If our conception of space is derived from touch, we ought to think of linear magnitudes more easily than of angular ones. If, on the contrary, our conception of space is derived from sight, we ought to think of angular magnitudes more easily than of linear ones. Now, the former of these two is the case with us; we think more easily of linear than of angular magnitudes. This is the more remarkable, because, once angular magnitudes are understood, they are as easy to » reason about as linear ones, and much easier to measure: but no one clearly conceives what angular magnitudes are until he has received his first lesson in mathematics ; and words denoting linear magnitudes and directions are abundant in colloquial language, while words denoting angular magnitudes and positions are all in some degree technical. Such words as above, below, before, behind, right, left, mile, and inch, belong to common language; while such words as altitude, azimuth, and degree, belong to scientific language. To speak technically, our sponta- neous thoughts of space, whether superficial or solid, are always in terms of rectilinear co-ordinates, never in terms of polar co-ordinates. Were a being with mental faculties like ours to have no power of moving about, and no sense except sight, it could, and would, form an idea of angular magnitude, but not of linear magnitude. It would see all things, as we see the stars, on the surface of a hollow sphere, of which the one eye the optical apparatus for adjusting the lenses of the eye to varying distances has inevitably been destroyed in the operation for cataract ; so that, by the mere physical conditions of the case, there could be no power of perceiving distance by the eye, until the effects of perspective were learned. This is perfectly true as to the fact. My conviction that the cognition of space is originally derived from touch, and not from sight, is not grounded on any such observations, but chiefly on the reasoning in the next two paragraphs, which, so far as I know, is original. XXXvVI.] PERCEPTION. 125 centre would be its own eye; but it would be totally un- conscious of any distance between its eye and the objects. Not, however, that they would seem close to its eye; the question whether they were near or far would for it have no meaning.t If in the course of its development it were to acquire a hand or a tentacle, by means of the motions of that organ it would acquire the sense of distance, and then its knowledge of the properties of space would be as complete as ours; but, as its ideas of angular magnitude were more early acquired than its ideas of distance or linear magnitude, it would always think more easily of the former ; and it would spontaneously think of space in terms of polar co-ordinates. But if, on the contrary, the organ of touch were developed first and the eye after- wards, it would acquire its ideas of distance or linear - magnitude first, and of angular magnitude later; and it would consequently always think of space in terms of recti- linear co-ordinates. Now this last is practically our case. In all perceptions and ideas of bodies as existing in space, impressions of sight are combined and practically Impres. identified with impressions of touch. Thus, if I perceive pune: the size of a book by the eye, I know of what size it will senses are seem to the hand; or if I first perceive its size by the hand, ee I know of what size it will seem to the eye. In common ™n4, language it would be said that it seems of the same size to both. But how can it be possible to identify an angular magnitude and a linear one with each other? The identt- as the fication is the result solely of habitual experience. If we had Sate os no means of ever touching what we saw, and no means of ever seeing what we touched, we should have no notion of identifying the two, nor would it be possible for us to do so, even in imagination ; for there is no common measure for linear and angular magnitudes ; nor is there any resem- blance between the sensations of light and colour felt by the eye, and the impressions of contact and resistance felt by the touch. Without experience there would be no more connexion in perception or thought between the objects of sight and of touch, than there is between colours 1 See Note at end of chapter. 126 Account of the process. Berkeley. Quotation from M ‘Cosh. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHar. and sounds. But experience has taught us that, as a general rule, wheréver there is a sensation of sight there is a possible sensation of touch ; and wherever there is a sensation of touch there is a possible sensation of sight. That is to say, if I raise my eyes and see, for instance, my paper-cutter, I know that on stretching forth my hand I am certain to meet with a corresponding sensation of touch; or if I stretch forth my hand and feel it, I know that on raising my eyes I am certain to meet with a cor- responding sensation of sight. The two sensations are met with together; and this is our only, but quite sufficient, reason for referring them to the same object.’ This truth, that the identification of visual and tangible objects is solely due to experience, was first seen by Berkeley, and is the essential point of his celebrated theory of vision. He deduced it from purely theoretical data, and it has been subsequently confirmed by observations on persons cured of congenital blindness by the removal of a cataract. It is found that persons under such circum- stances have to learn to see, just as children have to learn to walk; or, to quote Dr. M‘Cosh’s expression, they “ re- quire observation and thought to reconcile the information they had got from touch, with that which they are now receiving from sight; just as persons who have learned two languages, say German and French, require practice to enable them readily to translate the one into the other.”? 1 A very remarkable instance of the facility with which what may be called habits of perception are formed is afforded by the fact that persons the axes of whose eyes are far from parallel—that is to say, persons who squint—have the visual images necessarily formed on parts of the two retinas which do not correspond, and yet they see single. When the two axes have been set parallel by an operation, so that the two images come to be formed on corresponding parts of the retinas, the patient sees double at first, but soon learns to see single. (Carpenter’s Human Physiology, p- 705.) In this case, however, there must be some organic change in the nervous connexion between the two eyes and the optic ganglia. 2 See the chapter referred to in a former note. It may not be a familiar fact that translation is an art which has to be learned by practice, even when familiarity with two languages exists already ;—in other words, that facility in translating with accuracy from one language into another is not a matter of course, even to those who know both languages well ;—but it is true. vet la Nese ~I XXXVI. | PERCEPTION. 12 Berkeley, however, left unsolved, and I believe unat- tempted, the real difficulty of his theory. I mean that con- pifficulty cerning the instinctive motor actions of animals. Young ce _ ducks, for instance, run to the water and begin to swim tive as soon as they leave the egg; so that we see them able ‘tons *% to perform, without having learned, actions of the same running to character as those which a child performs in consequence ee of having learned, such as walking or feeding itself. Now, ue oe the actions of young ducks, and of most young animals, : evidently involve perception, and are a result of it. What then becomes of Berkeley’s theory, that the perception of objects has to be learned? To state the argument more clearly :—The young duck knows—not consciously, but in an unconscious way that serves it for guidance—that the water which it sees is water in which it can swim. It leaves the egg, not only with the same power of sensation which man possesses at birth, but also with that power of perception which, if Berkeley’s analysis of perception is correct, man only acquires gradually and by experience. It is no explanation to say that animals are instinctive, but man is rational. We have no ground for thinking that there is any fundamental difference between instinct and reason; or, since the words instinct and reason have acquired misleading associations, I will say rather between the animal powers of mind and the lower human ones. In this state the question was left by Berkeley ; and Mill, in a review on the subject, which was first published more than twenty years ago, after stating with his usual ability the grounds for believing that we have no possible means, except experience, for identifying the objects of sight with the objects of touch, concluded by admitting the instinctive actions of animals as an unsolved difficulty in the way of Berkeley’s theory. When my attention was first directed to the subject, this difficulty appeared to me not a merely residual difticulty, like those planetary per- turbations which the theory of gravitation failed to account for in Newton’s time; it appeared to amount to a refuta- tion of the entire theory. But recent speculations on the nature of instinct and of mind, especially the speculations 128 Explana- tion: these are cases of hereditary habit. Presump- tion that perception is not a simple act, from the multipli- city o senses. Difficulty of the subject, from their multipli- city, and their com- bination. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, (CHAP. of H. Spencer, have shown that Berkeley’s theory is really consistent with all the facts, and that the difficulty is only apparent. The question is, how is the duck able to recog- nise water without having seen water, and to swim with- out having learned to swim? And the answer is, that these are habits which have become hereditary and consequently instinctive. The race has learned them, and they are con- sequently instinctive in the individual. The individual has learned them, not in itself but in its ancestors. But the power of perceiving by means of sight, which power is obviously implied in the duck running to the water when it sees it, is, in the duck as well as in man, purely the result of experience ; only that in man it is the experience of the individual, in the duck it is that of the race. I do not deny that the explanation is in some degree hypothetical, for there is no possible test for deciding what are the results of habit, and what of unconscious organic intelligence, acting independently, or as it were in antici- pation of habit. But the explanation I have offered, in which, I believe, every authority would now agree, has the only proof of which the nature of the case admits: that is to say, the cause alleged is known to exist, and is adequate to produce the effect. As I have stated at the beginning of this chapter, I believe that perception is neither a simple act nor an inexplicable one, but merely the simplest of all cases of inference. The fact that we perceive,not by one but by several distinct senses is enough to raise a very strong presumption that perception is not a simple inexplic- able act, but one that admits of analysis and explana- tion. And what raises the probability, I think, to a cer- tainty, is the familiar fact that in many cases we are at a loss whether we ought to refer the sensation to anything external, or to account for it by the disordered state of the organic system. The multiplicity of the senses is, however, a cause of difficulty in the understanding of the subject; and it is still further complicated by the combination, in the most important class of perceptions, of impressions derived from the two senses of touch and sight. It is XXXVI. | PERCEPTION. 129 quite conceivable that in a different world from this, a mental nature as highly developed as ours might be evolved out of the germ of a single sense, at least if that sense ‘were sight ; and to such a being the nature of perception would probably present no difficulty whatever. I think I have shown in this chapter that what we call Elements perception, and naturally regard as a single mental act, eee really consists of distinct elements, which may be thus tion ane merated. enumerated :— 1. The referring of a sensation to its source; as when Assign- we recognise a voice as that of a friend, or, in other words, See a perceive the friend by means of his voice. This has not to its necessarily anything to do with the cognition of space. It Paring is true we know that every sound must come from some place, but it is not by means of the sense of hearing that we have learned this. Had we no sense except hearing, we should have no cognition of space at all. 2. The cognition of space-relations between our sensa- Cognition tions ; and mae 3. The cognition of a third dimension in space by means of the motor or muscular sense. 4, Having learned to refer a sensation to a source, and Percep- having acquired the cognition of space in three dimen- eee a sions, we become able to perceive the source of a sensation space. in external space; that is to say, to perceive objects external to the body. 5. Lastly, we learn to combine the impressions of sight Combina- _ tion of with those of touch, and thus to acquire the very complex ratte ideas that we have of external objects. sions of I believe that by thus separating the complex subject of Gone pug perception into its elements, we remove the difficulties which have hung round it, and make it as explicable as any mental function can be. One cause of difficulty concerning the present subject is the ambiguity of the expression “the external world.” What is this understood to be external to? Is it to the What is mind, or only to the body? In other words, is the body rea part of the external world? This question may appear to Wane be only a verbal one; and we may appear to dispose of it to VOL, II. K 130 It may be extra- mental, or HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHar. by speaking, instead, of the extra-mental world, which includes the body, and of the extra-organic world, which only extra- does not include the body. But I think the question re- organic, No organ of sense can perceive itself. presents a real though a soluble difficulty. If I am right in agreeing with those who think that perception is an inference, we may define the internal world as consisting of all that is known by direct consciousness; and the external world, as including all that is known only by inference therefrom. In so far as the body is the seat of sensations, it is part of the internal world : in so far as it is an object of perception, it is a part of the external world. It is here to be observed, that when one of our organs of sense becomes an object of perception, it is perceived, not by itself, but by another organ of sense.” Sight and touch are the only organs by which we perceive objects, because they are the only organs of sense that give any idea of space. The eye cannot see itself, but the hand can feel it ; one hand, or at least one finger, cannot feel itself, but the other hand can feel it, and the eye can see both the hands. Had we but one sense, and were the organ of that one sense incapable of becoming an object of perception to itself, and consequently incapable of becoming an object of perception at all, it would not occur to us to regard it as a part of the external world. 1 “J have endeavoured to show that the difficulties connected with the apparent deception of the seuses can be removed by attending to three distinctions :—1. That between our original and acquired perceptions : 2. That between sensation and perception: 3. That between the objects intuitively perceived : all of them being extra-mental, but some of them also catra-organic.” (M*Cosh’s Examination of Mill’s Philosophy, p. 171, note.) “ Objects intuitively perceived which are not extra-organic,” must, I suppose, be states of the organism, such as dryness of the throat. 2 This remark has been made by Professor Ferrier. XXXVL | PERCEPTION, sul NOTE. As stated in the foregoing chapter, an intelligent being, which Case“of a should derive its knowledge of space from sight alone, could aes have no idea of more than two dimensions in space. The eye knowledge sees surface only ; and if knowledge of space came exclusively Ce through the eye, it would be of superficial extension alone. sight only. And further: the superficial extension thus cognised would not Teeeada be that of a plane surface, but that of the interior surface of a cognise sphere ; for, as previously stated, the eye really sees all things, only a as it sees the stars, projected on the interior surface of a sphere. and that It would consequently be impossible for such a being to have a pune any knowledge of the properties of a plane surface, or of any — as surface except a spherical one ; and as a straight line cannot be drawn on a sphere, it could have no idea of a straight line. All plane surfaces would appear to it as portions of the surface [¢ would of the sphere, and all straight lines would appear as arcs of Bt ar great circles drawn on the sphere. The propositions of solid }ines as geometry would be unmeaning to such a being ; the propositions ¢s of of plane geometry would appear to be true only on an infinitely eee small scale ; and a race of such beings would perhaps make the pjane first great improvement in their methods of studying geometry, pees by introducing the conception of infinitely small portions of a aes surface, in order thereon to study the properties of lines and ve oy figures. nitely There is nothing hypothetical in all this ; it is simple mathe- small matical truth. It is mathematically impossible for the eye to see py age a plane surface or a straight line. Plane surfaces, and indeed Og all surfaces whatever, are seen a8 portions of the surface of aa plane sphere : straight lines are seen as arcs of great circles on the eae sphere. Every one who understands enough of geometry to line. — perceive the absurdity of asking whether the moon appears Straight bigger or less than a cheese, is aware that this is true of the lines are heavens ; and every one who has studied the theory of perspec- aoe of tive knows that it is true of what we see on the earth. When great we perceive plane surfaces and straight lines by sight, we do not case see them ; we infer them from what we see. Perception is only ey which intersect when pro- duced. Reid’s Geometry of Visibles, A Bar- rister’s puzzle. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CH. XXXVI. a rapid inference. The conception of plane surfaces and straight lines, or rather the possibility of those conceptions, comes not through sight, but through touch. Parallel straight lines never meet; but two parallel great circles cannot be drawn on the sphere. Any two great circles must necessarily intersect each other in two points (thus the meridian lines on a globe intersect at the two poles). Now, as straight lines are represented to the eye by arcs of great circles, it follows that straight lines as seen by the eye are lines which would meet and intersect if they were produced. All this was stated long ago by Reid, in his “ Geometry of Visibles,” and has often been stated since. But it has been stated in that form of needless paradox, which tends to obscure truth at once to those who are urging it and to those whom they address. It has been said that if we had no geometrical con- ceptions except what came to us through the sense of sight, it would appear to us that parallel straight lines could, and if produced must, enclose a space. Now, the accurate way of making this statement is, that if we had no geometrical concep- tions except what we acquired through the sense of sight, we should have no conception of straight lines at all, but of great circles instead. These remarks will show us what to think of the following - puzzle—for it is really no better—from ‘“ Essays by a Bar- rister :”— “It would also be possible to put the case of a world in which two lines would be universally supposed to include a space. Imagine a man who had never had any experience ot straight lines through the medium of any sense whatever, sud- denly placed upon a railway stretching out on a _ perfectly straight line to an indefinite distance in each direction. He would see the rails, which would be the first straight lines he had ever seen, apparently meeting, or at least tending to meet, at each horizon ; and he would thus infer, in the absence of all other experience, that they actually did enclose a space when produced far enough.” The answer to this is, that what he would see would not be two straight lines, but arcs of two great circles, each of the arcs being nearly, if not quite, a semicircle ; and, I suppose, he would have no reason to fer anything else. CHAPTER XXXVII. THE RELATION OF THE MIND TO SPACE AND TIME, N the last chapter, I have endeavoured to show that our first rudimentary knowledge of space consists in the cognition of sensations as being situated in different parts of the body, and consequently related to each other in space. It seems inconceivable that the existence, at the same time, of sensations in different parts of the sentient organism should not give rise to a rudimentary cognition of space; whether these are sensations of pressure or of heat in different parts of the skin, or sensations of colour in different parts of the retina. And besides, as I have shown, this theory of the origin of the cognition of space accounts for the fact, that our spontaneous thoughts of space or extension are more apt to be of a surface than of either a line or a solid. It is not disputed by any, that our knowledge of time is Our know- an immediate and primary cognition ; that is to say, we pee ee become cognizant of time in the act of cognising our primary feelings as succeeding each other in time. But concern- Bees: ing our cognition of space there is great diversity of noes opinion. One school, which I believe is the prevalent our sen. one in Germany, and with which I agree, maintains that teats the cognition of space is equally immediate and primary with that of time: in other words, that as we cognise I believe time by the succession of sensations in time, so we origi- SP2¢e #8 - % i 5 ~ cognised nally cognise space by the separation of sensations in ina space. This is a statement, though too brief to be com- oe plete, of the theory on the subject which I have en- deayoured to prove in the last chapter. Another school, 134 Opinion that space is cognised by motion only. Similarity of space and time. Both are necessary. Magnitude is more naturally HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [onap. to which Mill, Bain, and H. Spencer belong, think that the knowledge of space is obtained solely by moving in it; and as all motion takes place in time, they inter that our knowledge of space is not a primary cognition at all, but derived from that of time. As I have said, I am opposed to this view. In the last chapter I have stated my reasons for thinking that the cognition of space is primary. Never- theless there are real arguments on the other side, which must be fully stated before they can be refuted. In approaching the question whether our knowledge of space is really a primary cognition like that of time, we first meet with this fact, that whether time and space are considered in themselves or as objects of thought, they are in many important respects like each other, and unlike anything else. Considered in themselves, they are both infinitely extended, and both infinitely divisible. Magni- tude is expressible in terms either of time or of space. Both have being, though neither has existence ; all things exist in space, and all events occur in time. Considered as objects of thought, they are both necessary; that is to say, we cannot conceive them as not being. We can voluntarily form a mental conception of the absence of all existing things, but empty space will remain: we can similarly conceive the absence of all events, but time will remain. We cannot conceive, by any effort of the mind, of a limit to either: we cannot conceive of a boundary in any direction to space, nor can we conceive of a beginning or an end to time! In one way, indeed, the idea of space appears to cling closer to the mind than that of time ; for although magnitude may be expressed in time as well as in space, we habitually think of magnitude rather as 1 Mr. ill says it is credible to him that there may be a limit to space (though of course he admits that it is tconcetvable), and I suppose he wowld say the same of time. I do not agree with him; but I mention this in order to point out that conceivable and credible are words and ideas which ought never to be confounded ;—though it is one of the most impor- tant of all metaphysical problems, to determine how far conceivableness is a test of possibility and credibility. I do not mean to charge Mr. Mill with any such confusion ; on the contrary, I do not think I could name any writer who is so free from it. xxxvu.] | RELATION OF MIND TO SPACE AND TIME. 13 expressed in space than in time. Thus, we speak of a expressed space of time, but not of the converse: we never speak of 4,5" a time of space. On the other hand, we speak of numbers time: in terms of time, even when the numbers indicate ratios eee <. between spaces; thus we say that the sun is many times as expressed far off as the moon. From these facts, as well as from ™ %™@ those dwelt on in the last chapter concerning our cognition ponelion of space, I conclude that our knowledge of space and our cognitions knowledge of time are distinct in their origin, and parallel, ote twa though closely connected, in their development. separate It may be said that all this is irrelevant. It may be bag said that the mere examination of our habitual thoughts ple throws but little hght on their origin, just as the anatomy televant! and physiology of a mature organism may throw but little light on its larval form and on the mode of its development. I formerly thought this argument was valid, but I have in a great degree been compelled to modify my opinion, in consequence chiefly of the very remarkable Reason fo manner in which our thoughts of space actually do, as I nee have shown in the last chapter, retain traces of their mode of development, and of what, by a bold but perfectly accurate metaphor, I may call their larval form. The Larval an larval form of our cognition of space is derived from touch ft’. and from the motions of the hand only ; in its developed these form it is derived from these conjointly with sight. Now, eae as I have shown, we spontaneously think of space in terms of linear magnitude, which are given by the hand, and not in terms of angular magnitude, which are given by the eye. This is a very decided remnant and record of the origin of our cognition of space by touch, and not by sight. If it were true that the cognition of space were developed out of the cognition of time, we should surely find some such evidence as this of its development; but we find none such. Time is linear, and so is motion ;' and if our cognition of space were developed by means of motion out of our cognition of time, we surely should think more easily and more spontaneously of a line 1 Tt may be said that rotatory motion is not linear, but angular. But rotatory motion may always be resolved into linear motions. 136 Reason advanced for think- ing that the cogni- tion of space is from motion. Time is more in- separable from our thoughts than space. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [ CHAP. than of a surface: but, as we have seen, the reverse is the case. The reason usually advanced in favour of the theory that the cognition of space is not primary, but derived from that of time through the means of motion, is, that motion is capable of producing it, and that no cognition ought to be regarded as primary if it can possibly have been derived from any other. I have stated my reason for thinking, in opposition to this theory, that our mode of thinking of space is different from what it would be if it had been produced in that way. But in my opinion the really strong reason for thinking that the cognition of space is somehow less of a primary cognition than that of time, is the fact, of which every one must be aware who has read or thought on the questions of modern metaphysical controversy, that there is something perplexing, something, it may be said, unmanageable, in the relation of the mind to space, which there is not in its relation to time. And, argue as we may, we cannot get rid of the fact, that time is much more inseparable from our thoughts than space. It is true, as already remarked, that we cannot conceive of a universe without them both. But it is also true that we think in time, and do not think in space ; and we cannot by any process of reasoning get rid of the notion that “the external world” does exist in space, in a sense in which the same is not true of “the internal world:” or, in other words, that space is somehow external to the mind. These facts convinced me, when my attention was first directed to this class of subjects, that the cognition of space was formed in the mind later than that of time, or, at least, must be formed in a fundamentally different way ; and I am inclined to think that these facts are what really determine such thinkers as Mr. Mill, though it may be in some degree unconsciously to themselves, in favour of the theory of our knowledge of space being altogether acquired by means of motion. It is unquestionably true that, in the way I have just stated, the relation of our consciousness to space is unlike its relation to time. But this fact will, I think, lose its force if it can be shown to XXXVII. | RELATION OF MIND TO SPACE AND TIME. 137 belong, not to consciousness as such, but, as it were acci- dentally, to the human consciousness, as a consequence of the manner in which the human consciousness is de- veloped out of its original germ of sensation. I believe 7 tetieye this can be shown. I think it can be shown how the this is uot human mind has been developed under circumstances vera which have caused its relations to space to be unlike its mung pus relations to time; and it can be further shown with great to the probability, how a mind might be developed, quite consis- ae tently with what we know of the laws of mental develop- ment, under circumstances which should cause its relations to space to be the same as its relations to time; or, in other words, how a mind might be developed which should think, not only in time, but also in space. All consciousness is primarily consciousness of differ- ence. This, I believe, is admitted by every one. That is to say, if the mind were to be always feeling the same sensation, it would never be conscious at all; but con- sciousness is awakened when sensations begin, or cease, Or Our con- succeed each other. As a matter of fact, I think it is sae certain, and will be disputed by no one, that our con- with the sciousness is developed in this way. But let us see how oreconer.. much is implied in this. In order to cognise the differ- tions. ence between two sensations succeeding each other in time, it is necessary to remember the first of the two; that is to say, it is necessary that the consciousness of the first sensation should outlast the sensation itself. Consequently, a rudimentary memory is necessary to the development of consciousness im time. Now, I have just admitted that owr consciousness is unquestionably deve- loped in time. But is it a necessary consequence of the laws of mind that a// consciousness must be developed in time? I think we may assert with some tolerable degree Possibility of certainty that a mind might be developed, under the °,°°"- same laws as ours but under other circumstances, from eng den the thoughts of which space and time should be alike Be inseparable, which should think in space as well as in Mian time. For, why do we think in time and not in space? 1 See pp. 70, 71. 138 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. The fact that we do so, though it is a fact of conscious- ness, is, I think, not an ultimate fact, but one that admits of being accounted for. In order to account for it we must go beyond the general fact that consciousness is developed out of sensation, and examine the constitution of the separate sensory faculties. Touch, The sensory faculties which we have to examine are eeu ae only the three intellectual senses; that is to say, touch, minister sight, and hearing: for these are the only senses which, in tomind. man at least, have any appreciable effect in producing Of these, mental development. Now, it needs no proof that it is meee only touch and sight which give rise to any cognition give cog- of space (including the muscular sense as belonging to ae of touch). Hearing alone could not give it. But, in com- pensation for being unable to cognise space, the sense of hearing has the remarkable power, in which it differs from all the other senses, of cognising different simulta- neous sounds without their combining into one; that is to say, of cognising sensations as distinct which are sensa- tions of the same sense, and are not separated either in time or in space; and not only of cognising them as distinct, but of either attending to one of them in pre- ference to the others, or else of attending to several at once, so as to cognise their mutual relation. Time is cognised by all the senses, because all sensations succeed each other in time ; but space is cognised only by touch and sight. This fact—that time is cognised by all the senses, and space by only some of them—is, I think, enough to account for the fact that we think in time, and Hearing isnot in space. But this is not all. That intellectual sense the most . : ont closely Which gives no cognition of space—namely, the sense of peer hearing—is of all the senses the most closely associated thought, With thought. Thisis probably a consequence of the habit ia of thinking in words, which is necessary to any high deve- words. lopment of thought. It is also to be observed that sensa- Sensations tions of different senses are cognised either as simultaneous of different oy as successive. Lf, for instance, we see a flash and hear a senses z - i may give shot, we are conscious of hearing the shot either at what 1 See the Chapter on the Senses (Chap. XXXV.). XXXvIt. | RELATION OF MIND TO SPACE AND TIME. appears to be the same time with the flash, or at a sensibly later moment, so that sensations of different senses give a cognition of time; while only sensations of the same sense, whether of sight or of touch, are able primarily to give any cognition of space.t There is thus quite enough in the constitution of the sensory faculties of man to account for the fact that we think in time and do not think in space, and that time is inseparable from the human consciousness, while space can only be thought of as something external to it. There is enough, I say, in the constitution of our sensory faculties to account for these facts, without the aid of any such hypothesis as that of the conception of space being derived from the con- ception of time by means of the experience of motion. But these, though facts of owr consciousness, are not necessarily facts of a/l consciousness. I have said above that we may conceive of a being having its consciousness developed in space as well as in time, and consequently thinking in space as well as in time. Such would pro- bably be the result if a mental nature as complex and lofty as ours were developed, as it conceivably might be, out of the germ of the sense of sight alone. We must suppose such a being to have no sensations whatever except those of light and colour; so that either it had no visceral or organic sensations at all, or, if it had any, that they took the form of sensations of colour, as jaundice is said (though, I believe, erroneously) sometimes to give a yellow colour to everything that is looked at. Such a being could not conceive of a sensation without its having position in space; for every colour that is seen must of necessity be seen in some position in space. The consequence of 1 Tt may be said that a sensation of sight and one of touch are cognised as related to each other in space: for instance, I both see and feel the paper on which I am writing, and cognise its position by means of both sensations. This is true: but, as stated in the last chapter, we have every reason to believe that the power of identifying a visual object with a tangible one is an acquired power. If we had never seen anything that we felt, and had never felt anything that we had seen, the idea of identi- fying the objects of sight and of touch would not occur to us as a possible or conceivable idea, 139 cognition of time, but only those of the same sense can give it of space. Case of a mind de- veloped out of the sense of sight only 140 its con- sciousness would be developed in both time and space. Tllustra- tion, HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [ CHAP. this would be, that its consciousness would be developed in both space and time, just as our consciousness is deve- loped in time only. All ow sensations have position in time, but only some of them have position in space. The sensations of hearing—which, as we have seen, is the sense which is the most intimately connected with thought—are not primarily in any way related to space; and consequently our consciousness is developed in time, and we think in time, but we do not think in space, and space appears to our consciousness to be somehow outside of it. But in the supposed case of a being which is unable to have, and consequently unable to conceive of, any sensations except such as have position in space, the mind would be deve- loped in space as well as in time. It would think both in time and in space. Space would be as inseparable from its thoughts as time is from ours, and would not appear to be in any way outside of its consciousness. The relation of its consciousness to space would be no more perplexing to it than the relation of our consciousness to time is to us. Indeed, the development of its consciousness in space would be a simpler fact than the development of its consciousness, or of our consciousness, in time; because, as we have seen, consciousness cannot be developed in time without at least a rudimentary memory, so as to cognise the difference between present sensations and past ones: but nothing similar to this is needed in order to cognise either the relations of likeness and unlike- ness, or the space-relation. Our consciousness may be called a series of feelings strung together on a thread of time ;1 but the consciousness of such a being as we are supposing—a consciousness into which space enters as inseparably as time—might rather be called a series of feelings woven, as a pattern, into a web whereof the warp is time and the woof is space. If it is asked what I mean by thinking in space ?—how is 1 But, as Mill has remarked, if the mind is a series of feelings, it is a series which is aware of itself as a series. I agree with Dr. M‘Cosh that this is an inadequate statement, but I doubt whether Mill means it as an exhaustive one. XXXVI. | RELATION OF MIND TO SPACE AND TIME. 141 it conceivably possible to do so ?—I reply, that we think in What is time by means of words which succeed each other in time. Hacking’ If we were naturally, spontaneously, and unavoidably to in space. think by means of diagrams drawn in space, I should call this thinking in space. This, of course, is not a full account of a subject which, by the terms of the case, lies in a great degree outside of our possibilities of thought ; I only offer it as a suggestion or indication. It may be said, in answer to this reasoning, that I have, at the most, proved the possibility of consciousness being developed in space and in time at once; but that, if I would complete my argument as to the difference between the relation of time and of space to the human conscious- ness being only, as it were, accidental, and not a law of all consciousness,—in order to complete this argument, I say, it may be urged that I ought to show the possibility of Possibility consciousness being developed in space and not in time, Ce as a parallel and an opposite to the development of the indepen- human consciousness in time and not in space. This, roe however, is a demand which cannot be complied with. The very fact of our consciousness being developed in time makes it impossible for us to conceive the possibility of a consciousness which is not developed in time. But though it is not imaginable by us, I do not see any impossibility in a consciousness being developed in space and not in time: that is to say, I do not see any impossibility in the consciousness of some totally different order of being becoming awakened into life—not, like ours, by the suc- cession of different sensations, each occupying a distinct portion of time, but by the co-existence of different sensa- tions, each occupying a distinct portion of space. I say, that I see nothing absurd or incredible in a consciousness being in this way developed in space ; while the sensations, being perfectly unchangeable, do not give rise to the development of consciousness in time. Indeed, the one essential condition of the origin of consciousness, as it appears to me, is neither the cognition of the succession of sensations in time, nor the cognition of their separation in space, but simply the cognition of difference: whether 142 = Instance of this being believed in. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CH. XXXVII. difference of opposition in space, or difference of position in time, or difference in the sense of unlikeness. But though the notion of a consciousness which is not de- veloped in time, and which remains unchanged through time, is not capable of being imagined by us, whose con- sciousness has been developed in so totally different a manner, yet the possibility of it is capable of being be- lieved. It has been a favourite notion with some Christian mystics, that the happiness of a future state may be a perfectly unchangeable state of bliss, so as to exclude all sense of the succession of feelings, and consequently all consciousness of time. This notion has been thus ex- pressed in the well-known lines— “ Nothing there is to come, and nothing past, But one eternal Now doth alway last.” I quote these, not as having myself any sympathy with the feeling they express, but merely in order to show that the notion of a consciousness which does not exist in time has proved itself before now to be believable. CHAPTER XXXVIII. TIME, SPACE, AND CAUSATION. T will be perceived by any one who has followed my I hold the reasonings thus far, that, as regards the relation of the ies os mind to space and time, I assent to the theory which is our know- associated with the name of Locke, namely, that our know- pia ae ledge of them is derived from experience, in preference to time, in the theory which is associated with the name of Kant, of Er eenee their being @ priori forms of thought existing in the mind pee previously to experience, though it is only by means of — experience that the mind becomes conscious of them. I see no reason whatever for thinking that the conceptions of space and time exist in the mind in any form at all, consciously or unconsciously, previously to experience. In a word, I think with Locke, that experience is what pro- duces those conceptions ; in opposition to Kant, who main- tained that experience does not produce them, but only ealls them forth from unconsciousness into consciousness. * But the doctrine of Locke, which I adopt, must be But the understood with a very important modification. The con- ee ceptions of space and time are indeed results of expe- herited: rience; but it is, for the most part, not individual but iba Marg inherited experience: in a word, they are results of the results of eapertence of the race, which have become forms of thought Sees oe Jor the individual. the race Thus Locke, who derived our conceptions of space and Hae time from experience, and Kant, who regarded them as fae forms of thought, are seen to be both right ; but the truth individual. seen by Locke is a wider truth than that seen by Kant, and includes it. The reconciliation and union of the two. 144 Herbert Spencer. The problem » stated : How have space and time become forms of thought ? Is the fact ultimate, or a result of experi- ence ? The experience theory. The ideal theory. The ideal . theory was consistent with the psycho- logy of Kant’s time. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [cHaP. by introducing the conception of hereditary mental habit, is due to Herbert Spencer, in whose work on Psychology the subject is wrought out. I believe that his doctrine will, in another generation or two, be universally ac- cepted, and that the age-long controversy on this subject will cease. It is not to be denied that space and time are forms of thought: the question is, how space and time have become forms of thought. Kant replied to this question by simply stating the fact, and stating it as an ultimate and inexplic- able one. Locke and Spencer, like Kant, admit the fact ; but, unlike Kant, they do not regard it as ultimate and inexplicable; they believe, and I agree with them, that it is a result of experience acting through the law of hereditary mental habit. The doctrine that the conceptions of space and time are results of experience is often, and conveniently, called the experience theory. The doctrine that they are ultimate and inexplicable laws, or forms, of thought, is often, and conveniently, called the ideal theory ; and it forms a cha- racteristic part of those metaphysical systems which are known as the various forms of Idealism or Transcenden- talism ; the essential character of which, if I understand them aright, consists in regarding mind as the fundamental reality, and in deriving all knowledge from the constitution of the mind itself. Kant’s ideal doctrine, that space and time are not only forms of thought but @ priori forms—inexplicable facts of mind not to be accounted for by experience, or accounted for at all,—this doctrine, I say, was quite consistent with the psychology of Kant’s time, which regarded mind as something totally distinct in nature from the matter and the organic life with which it is always associated. When space and time were found to be forms of thought, and when thought was swpposed to be something apart from the external world, it was a logical inference that these forms of thought belonged to the mind only, and could not be traced to any origin in the external world. And it was a further inference, not very obvious, but logical and perhaps XXXVIII. | TIME, SPACE, AND CAUSATION. 145 necessary, that space and time are nothing but forms of Further thought, to which there is no corresponding reality in the Pasi, world outside of the mind; that though we are compelled lesa by the constitution of our faculties to perceive, and to unreal, think of, objects in space and events in time, yet space and time are in no way functions of the objects and of the events, but solely of the mind which cognises them. Kant admitted saw this inference, and admitted it. But now that we PY Kant. have learned to regard thought, not as something apart The _ from the external universe, but as the highest manifes- eee tation of its highest forces—namely, those of life—it is an oe equally logical inference, and is the inference which I psycho- draw, that space and time are forms of thought because !°8Y- they are facts of the universe ; that they were facts of the universe before they became forms of thought; and that, in a word, they are facts of the universe which have become conscious of themselves in the brain of man. It appears to be a prevalent notion—though it was the Notion notion rather of the schools of Kant and of Coleridge than eae is of those which have succeeded to them—that idealism, or favourable the theory which makes time and space, and other con- ee ceptions that belong to the groundwork of our thoughts, to be @ priori forms having no root except in the mind itself, and consequently derives all knowledge from the constitution of the mind ;—it appears, I say, to be a pre- valent notion that idealism is somehow more favourable to faith than the rival experience-theory. I think this is not I think only wrong, but the exact reverse of the truth. If space ed er and time, and other fundamental conceptions, are nothing but forms of thought, to which nothing in the universe around us necessarily corresponds, then they are, or may be, totally unreal; and absolute truth—that is to say, truth which is true for all natures whatever—is unattainable by us, and perhaps has no existence. Kant did not draw this a ides conclusion—his faith kept him from it ; but his philosophy scepticism did not constitute a basis for his faith: on the contrary, it Ses was his faith that kept him from what he saw and ad- spite of ; : : f his philo- mitted to be the logical consequence of his philosophy.? sophy. 1 See Note at end of chapter. VOL, II. L 146 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. But if it is true, as I believe, that these conceptions were facts of nature before they became forms of thought, and are forms of thought because they are facts of nature, then The it follows that the forms of thought correspond with the a facts of external nature: we know things as they are; our makes our knowledge of the universe, though very limited, is real so Ener coe far as it extends. So that idealism, with all its vast pre- though tensions, leads by a direct and logical path to absolute limited sce : rc amis, scepticism; while the experience-theory, though it is com- Pee paratively unpretending, and is often despised as being asis 0 et apis Lilie ° . . . belief. materialistic, is at least a possible basis for belief. Causation, 1 now come to the subject of causation. I believe that like space we acquire the knowledge of causation in exactly the same and time, : 4 2 ; is cognised way in which we acquire the knowledge of space and time, a namely by direct cognition—by their coming within the within the sphere of consciousness. sphere of : é conscious ~—-L- have already stated! my belief that we acquire our pe te first cognition of space from the co-existence of sensations in different places in the body; and that we acquire our first cognition of time by the succession of sensations. In the act whereby the mind cognises the separation of sensa- tions in space, space comes within the sphere of conscious- ness; in the act whereby it cognises the succession of sensations in time, time comes within the sphere of con- sciousness. I believe that we acquire the cognition of causation in an exactly parallel way to these; namely, by the relation of cause and effect entering into the sphere of our consciousness. Consequently, our first knowledge of causation is not merely inferential knowledge ; it 1s matter of direct cognition, as much as our knowledge of likeness and unlikeness, of succession, and of the space-relation. But there is this peculiarity about the cognition of causa- tion. The other three simple relations which I have enumerated obtain between sensations; and in cognising them the mind may be perfectly passive. But with causation the case is different. One sensation cannot be cognised as the cause of another: when we are cognizant 1 In the Chapter on Mental Development (Chap. XXXIII.). XXXVIII. ] TIME, SPACE, AND CAUSATION. of causation taking place within the sphere of our con- sciousness, the effect is not a sensation, but either a thought, a mental feeling, or a voluntary determination; in the production of any of which the mind must be in some degree active. In a word, we become cognizant of causa- tion in becoming conscious of our own mental action. I do not see how this fact of a direct cognition of causation within the mind itself can be doubted. I was conscious, for instance, of a feeling of joy at the result of the Abyssinian war. I was conscious of assenting to the reasoning by which, as stated above, H. Spencer has ex- plained the origin of our conceptions of space and time as results of hereditary habit. And since the commencement of this work, I have often been conscious of voluntary determinations, or determinations of my will, to think and to write on its subjects : these determinations are not mere feelings, but feelings followed by action ; and I am directly cognizant of the connexion between the determination as the cause and the action as its effect. I must here guard against a probable misconception. We are directly cognizant of the relation of cause and effect only when both the effect and the cause are within the sphere of consciousness. Thus, when I determine to think out a particular subject, and do so, I am directly cognizant of the causation; that is to say, I am directly cognizant of the fact that the determination of my will is the cause of the direction of my thoughts. But when I write, I am not directly cognizant of my will as the cause of the motion of my fingers, because the connexion between the will and the muscular actions is not within conscious- ness. It was maintained by Wolf, the expositor of Leibnitz, if he is not misrepresented, that the determinations of the will and the motions of the muscles are not related as cause and effect, but that the mind and the body are so constructed as to act together without any such connexion; and, absurd as is such a theory, it does not actually give the lie to consciousness. So far as I can perceive, our only, though quite sufficient, reason for believing that our muscular actions, such as the motions of the fingers in L2 147 Causation is cognised in be- coming conscious of mental action, There is no direct cognition of the will as the cause of muscular action. How we learn to identify — physical and mental causation as cases of the same law. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. writing, are caused by our voluntary determinations, is that we always find that the voluntary determinations are followed by the motions. But if any one were to tell me that hearing good news is not the cause of joy, or that my reading a sound demonstration is not the cause of my assenting to it, this would contradict a fact of direct cognition, just as much as if he were to assure me that sugar was bitter or toothache pleasant. We say that fire causes heat, and that good news causes joy. Fire causing heat is a fact of matter; and this rela- tion of cause and effect is not within our consciousness, but is, as I believe, inferred by us from the facts. Good news causing joy is a fact of mind; and this relation of cause and effect is within our consciousness, and is, I think, self-evidently no mere inference, but a fact of direct cognition. But mankind naturally and spon- taneously regard these as both alike cases of causation ; and I believe that here, as in so many other cases, the spontaneous belief of mankind is right. But how do we come mentally thus to ascribe the same law of causation to these two sets of actions, the physical and the mental, between which there is so little intelligible resemblance ? T think, though the subject is most difficult to analyse, that the connecting link by which we learn to identify causation as cognised within the mind with causation as inferred in the world of matter outside of it, consists in the fact that we have the power, inexplicable as that power is, of making our own will an acting cause in the world of matter. Thus, if I will to think, my thoughts act as desired; if I will to write, my fingers and my pen act as desired ; and though the causal connexion, as already pointed out, is within the sphere of consciousness in the one case and not in the other, yet the effect follows the cause in beth cases with equal certainty, and we learn to identify the nature of the causal action in the two cases, In a word, we identify the two facts of mental causation and physical causation in consequence of the fact that a mental determination is capable of becoming a physical cause; as when the determination of my will causes the XXXVUL | TIME, SPACE, AND CAUSATION. 149 motion of my pen. If a being were to exist, having powers Imaginary of perception and thought like our own, but without any bernie! i power whatever of acting on the world around it, I think motel it is certain that its ideas of causation would be very unlike motor ours. It would have exactly the same idea of causation POWes that we have, in the sense in which causation is resolvable into mere “invariable and unconditional sequence ;” but it would have no idea of causation in the sense of force ; and force, as it appears to me, is the essential thing in our idea of causation. It will be seen that in this account of our original cognition of the relation of cause and effect, I ascribe it to experience, although I differ from Mill and the rest of Where I those who regard causation as nothing more than “ uni- Mill, ar form and unconditional sequence.” I agree with them in where 1 ascribing it to experience ; but they ascribe it to experience of the facts of the external world which we observe; I ascribe it to experience of the facts of the mind, of which we are directly cognizant. When we say, for instance, that “fire is the cause of heat,” we state a fact which we have learned purely from external observation. But Mr. Mill maintains that when we say that “fire is the cause of heat,” our only meaning is, that “fire always emits heat, and nothing more than the fire itself is needed in order to have heat.” I think, on the contrary, that more is meant than this. I think we apply the analogy of our own mental experience to the external world, and infer that fire causes heat in the same sense in which good news causes joy, or evidence causes belief. It may be said this analogy is plausible only to that intellectual state in which men try to explain the facts of the external world by the fancies of their own minds. I think, on the contrary, that the rejection of this analogy belongs to that exploded system of psychology in which mind and matter were re- garded as distinct and totally unlike substances. The progress of science has gradually brought us back to the spontaneous conclusion of the earliest conscious thought, before metaphysics were invented ; namely, that the mind of man is not distinct from the material world in the 150 Suminary. Belief in the in- finity of space and time. Difference between our belief of an eternal past, and of an eternal future. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. midst of which it is placed, but is the highest product of the forces of that world; and what we have discovered concerning the dynamics, both of inorganic matter and of life, makes it highly probable, if not indeed quite certain, that in every physical and every mental change there is some transformation of energy. To sum up in the fewest words possible the results of this chapter :—Time, space, and causation are facts of the universe which have become forms of thought in conse- quence of coming within the sphere of our consciousness. Our conceptions of time, space, and causation are results of the experience of the race which have become forms of thought for the individual. But though I believe this account of the matter to be true so far as it goes, I do not think it exhausts the ques- tion. Any account of our conceptions of time and space, if complete, ought to explain why we believe in the infinity of both. Those who regard these conceptions as mere results of experience, say that we have never found any limit to space, and are therefore unable to conceive of any ; and that we have never found an end of time, and are therefore unable to conceive of any. I cannot, however, think this satisfactory. We believe that time is alike without end and without beginning; and any theory of the subject ought to account for this twofold belief. Now the pure and simple experience-theory does not account for this. It accounts for the belief that time is without an end, by the fact that we have never had experience of any portion of time without another portion of time coming after it. But this will not apply to our belief that time is without a beginning; for the first time that any one’s consciousness was awakened, he had at that moment experience of a portion of time without having experience of any other portion of time coming before it; so that, for anything that mere experience can witness to, there is nothing inconceivable in a beginning of time I think 1 This difference has been pointed out to me in conversation by my friend the Rey. Dr. Reichel, Vicar of Mullingar. XXXVIII. | TIME, SPACE, AND CAUSATION. 151 this is conclusive proof that, although we obtain our first knowledge of time by direct cognition, and it has become a form of our thought by hereditary habit, yet there is something in our knowledge of its properties for which mere habit will not account, and which can be referred only to that mental intelligence which is not a result of habit. If this is true of the conception of time, it is no doubt equally true of the conceptions of space and of causation. This mental intelligence is to form the subject of the next chapter. NOTE. THE PHILOSOPHY OF KANT. I satu probably be told that I have misunderstood Kant’s philosophy ; and I admit that, like most of those who write about him, I have not any knowledge of his works at first hand. But I believe lam right. The system unfolded in his “‘ Critique The of the Pure Reason” is one of absolute idealism, deriving all the a principles of knowledge from the constitution of the mind: this “Pure _ is, and Kant perceived it to be, logically identical with pure nae oS scepticism, or that system which denies the possibility of our identical really knowing anything except that which passes within the eae mind. It is true that, in his “ Critique of Practical Reason,” he : arrived at a different conclusion, and showed how faith was pos- ‘ a sible. But I believe I am right in saying that his “‘ Pure Reason” Reason” is in no way a basis for his “ Practical Reason ;” that, on the * ue: contrary, his “ Practical Reason,” though of course it speaks ina philosophical language, is in reality nothing else than faith, building itself up in spite of the sceptical conclusions of the pure reason, or faculty of speculative philosophy. CHAPTER XXXIX. MENTAL INTELLIGENCE. The most i i my opinion, the most important question now under pe taon ok discussion in the sciences of life and mind, and I biology is think I may add the most important question that ever sepa can be debated in those sciences, is this :—Is intelligence gence is@ an ultimate primary fact, without physical cause, and with- Peet ad out any cause except Creative Power ; or only a resultant, put together out of unintelligent elements by the action of the laws of habit? In the chapter on Natural Selection Ihave I have argued, in opposition to the theories of Darwin eee and H. Spencer, that the organizing intelligence which of organ- adapts one part of the organism to another is an ultimate alleedee! fact, not to be accounted for, as those most able writers and have endeavour to account for it, by the principles of habitual sa self-adaptation and natural selection. In this chapterd shall of mental. have to argue the same of mental intelligence—namely, that it is an ultimate fact, not to be accounted for by the laws of habitual association. In the chapter on Intelligence,’ I have given my reasons for believing that organizing in- telligence and mental intelligence are only different mani- festations of one principle. Possibly, not many of my readers will agree with me in this; but it is most probable that all who think with me as to the primary and inde- pendent nature of intelligence in either of these two cases will agree with me in the other case also. It is, however, necessary to argue the question of the nature of organizing intelligence, and of mental intelligence, on totally different Difiiculty grounds. The argument as to the latter is, at least to me, of the the most difficult; but this is not because I think it less 1 Chapter XXVII. ee ee | CH. XXX1Xx.] MENTAL INTELLIGENCE. 153 certain ; it is only on account of that peculiar difficulty latter which arises when thought becomes the object of thought, 1"°°"°™ and which makes metaphysics so difficult and, in the eyes of most men, so unsatisfactory a study. None of the materials of our thoughts are innate in the There are mind ; they are all either the direct results of experience, ee as when we remember what we have seen and heard; or else they are the results of the mind’s activity in working with the results of experience, as when we infer and imagine. For, as I have already pointed out, the mind possesses no really creative power; it can only combine and recombine. And, as I have shown in the last chapter, I believe not only the materials of thought, but also such forms of thought as time, space, and causation, to be results of experience. Thus all thought begins from data of ex- Thought perience. But we have the power of reasoning, and reason- nee ing truly, from these data to conclusions that lie beyond perience. experience. Thus, for instance, the whole science of geology, as distinguished from its mere facts, consists in a mass of inferences, from the data that are visible in the rocks, concerning the state of the earth before man lived to witness it ; many of which inferences admit of no more reasonable doubt than do the events of the history of last year. Now, what is the nature of the intelligence which makes these inferences? Is it only a resultant from the laws of habitual association ; or are its principles (to use, I believe, Coleridge’s expression), not the result of experience but implied in experience? I am of Coleridge’s opinion. I believe that in the simplest inference an element of intel- Element of ligence is needed, which is not a result of experience ; or peal ? gence in other words, not to be referred to the laws of habitual in all a thought association. which is The laws of association will account for much. In the aie oe chapter on Mental Growth I have endeavoured to show experi- how, as I believe, the laws of memory, acting by associa- °"°* tion, account for such a mental process as that of learning our own or another language ; and I believe that the laws Associa- of association are quite sufficient to account for the origin some i y account of our conceptions; but that they utterly fail to account for con- 154 ceptions, but not for beliefs. Belief in the con- stancy of the order of things. How is this acquired ? Some say by habit only. I think this is no explana- tion. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [ CHAP. for our belie/s. In other words :—The laws of association will account for thé origin of our thoughts, considered merely as thoughts; but not for the belief that a thought corresponds to an external reality.’ One of the most important of all our beliefs is the belief in the constancy of the course of external things; or, as it is usually expressed, the belief in the uniformity of nature. We instinctively believe that fire will always be hot, ice always cold, and food always nourishing ; or, to use general terms instead of instances, we believe that the same or similar things will continue to have the same properties, and the same or similar causes will continue to have the same effects. All reasoning from known things to un- known is based on this expectation; not only reasoning from the past to the future, but all reasoning from known things to unknown, whether the unknown things are future, as when we endeavour to foresee the weather: pre- sent, as when we reason concerning the internal constitu- tion of the earth ; or past, as in geological questions. The axiom implied in all these three cases alike is, that the order of nature has been, is, and will be constant; there is no doubt this axiom is implied, and there is no doubt that it is true; the question is, how we acquire our belief in it.” The most obvious answer to this question, and one which has moreover satisfied many philosophers, is that this belief is a mere consequence of experience, producing mental habit. We have always found the order of things constant, and we therefore expect to find it so.? I do not wish to speak dogmatically on so controverted a point, but this appears to me no explanation at all; or, what comes to the same thing, it is an explanation which 1 See Note A at the end of this chapter. 2 See Note B at the end of this chapter. 3 Experience is what produces mental habit. Consequently, the theory referred to in the text is sometimes called the experience theory, some- times the association theory, or, as I prefer to call it, the mental habit theory. The expressions are practically synonymous ; for experience and habit are only the opposite sides of the same fact ; experience being the external or objective side, and habit the internal or subjective. Rk LX. | MENTAL INTELLIGENCE. takes for granted that which is to be explained. The question is, how are we able to reason from the known to the unknown ?—why we believe, and truly believe, that it is practicable to apply data of experience to things of which we have no experience? And the answer is, that we believe in the accustomed order of nature obtaining among the things we do not know, because we are familiar with it among the things that we do know. Surely this is no explanation at all. It is worth while, however, to look more closely into the question. To say that the belief in the constancy of the order of things is due to habit, is the same thing as to say that it is due to associa- tion; for association is simply mental habit. Now, how can the mere association between two ideas, of itself, pro- duce a belief in the association between the corresponding things? No doubt it appears to do so, but this, I think, is only because the axiom of the constancy of the order of things is habitually and unconsciously assumed. For what is the law of association? As stated in a former chapter, it is merely this: if any two things, such as lightning and thunder, have been habitually united in our experience, the ideas of them will become united in our thoughts, so that if we see lightning we shall think of thunder, and if we hear thunder we shall think of light- ning. But the thoughts of lightning and of thunder are mere impressions on the consciousness: and how can the association between two mere impressions, however in- ' separable it may be, engender the belief that the things in the external world to which those impressions on the consciousness correspond will be found in corresponding association? There is a step from thoughts to things, from the association of ideas to a belief in the association of the things corresponding to the ideas, for which, I think, no mere laws of habitual association will account. It may be said in reply to this, that, as a matter of fact, belief is in many cases obviously determined by habit, and by no other cause whatever. Most men have beliefs, especially on religious and political subjects, which have no ground whatever except habit, originating usually in 156 Belief is subject to the laws of habit, but habit cannot produce belief. Physical analogy. Objection from the incon- stancy of the weather answered, The con- stancy of the order HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAr. education. This is true: but it only shows that belief, like every other mental function, is subject to the laws of habit, and consequently that particular beliefs may be determined by habit ; it does not show that the laws of habitual association are capable of accounting for the general fact that the mind is capable of forming beliefs. This distinction may appear strained, but it is capable of being illustrated by an analogy drawn from the simplest of the physical sciences. The action of all forces is governed by the laws of motion, and yet the laws of motion will not account for the origin of force ; just so, the formation of beliefs, like all other mental actions whatever, takes place subject to the laws of association, and yet it does not follow that association is of itself able to produce belief. It may be asked whether we should have this confidence in the constancy of the order of things, if the order of things were not constant? To this I reply that I regard this supposition as not only imaginary but impossible: of the same kind of impossibility, I mean, as if it involved a mathematical absurdity. I shall have to show the grounds of this opinion further on. But, it may be said, the constancy of the order of things is not perfect ; it is perfect in the motions of the heavens, but imperfect in the changes of the weather. This is true in a very obvious sense ; and it would not be altogether relevant to reply, what is nevertheless true, that the bond _ of cause and effect is, beyond all reasonable doubt, as real and as rigid in atmospheric changes as in the celestial motions, only less traceable. I reply, that in the sense in which I speak of the constancy of nature, irregularly succeeding phenomena are as much an instance of it as regularly succeeding ones. From the fact that the changes of the weather are irregular, we have learned to expect that they will be so; and this is a case of expecting that what has been found true in the past will continue to be found true in the future. It may be said that my argument assumes the con- stancy of the course of things to be as certain as the ee . XXXIX.] MENTAL INTELLIGENCE, 157 axioms of mathematics; whereas it is not certain, but of things only highly probable. It is highly probable that the ¢ a certain, sun will rise to-morrow; it is so probable that we are but only right in acting as if it were an absolute certainty; but it cre is not so certain that the sun will rise to-morrow as it is that he rose to-day; and it cannot be regarded as even highly probable that the course of nature will continue to go on for a thousand millions of years longer. I reply, that all this is true; nevertheless, it is as certain as the bly is . . p . certain axioms of mathematics, that the course of nature will go jo pe on until it is interrupted by some cause not now in opera- Sa ea umless 1n- tion. The law of causation, which is a part of the law of terrupted. the uniformity of the order of things,” is only that the same antecedents will continue to be followed by the same consequents ; but it cannot guarantee that the antecedents will continue to be the same. Our knowledge of things is but finite, while our ignorance is infinite; and we must consequently regard all known lines of causation as being liable to be cut through by unknown ones. Of course the truth that all causes in the natural world act regularly, so that their action is in its nature capable of being predicted,? is not by any means self-evident; on the contrary, it is a discovery due to the progress of science. But the belief that every effect must have a cause is, I» what sense the think, universal among men, and among animals which law of 1 J believe that the attempt to find a numerical value for the proba- bility of the sun rising to-morrow is one of the idlest of all amusements. At the best, it is an attempt to arrive at a conclusion for which there are no possible data. But I am inclined to agree with Mr. Venn, the author of “The Logic of Chance,” that in such a_case the expression “ numerical value of the probability” has no meaning at all. 2 The uniformity of the order of things includes uniformities both of co-existence and of succession ; it is only those of succession that belong to causation. By uniformities of co-existence I mean, that the same sub- stance will always have the same properties ; as, that ice, at a temperature below freezing, will always be hard and brittle. By uniformities of succes- sion I mean, that the same causes will always have the same effects ; as, that heat will melt ice. These two classes of uniformities run into each other, as the instances just mentioned show. I doubt whether there is any really fundamental distinction between them. 3 This truth is what Mill, in his Logic, means by the law of universal causation. 158 causation is self- evident. This confi- dence is presup- posed in action, and in desire and fear. The only principles which enter into all reason- ing are those of logic. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. manifest any germ of conscious intelligence ; being implied in their universal expectation that what has been found true in the past will continue to be found true in the future. From all this I conclude, that our instinctive confidence in the constancy of the order of things is not due to habit, but is an ultimate fact, belonging to mental intelligence. If this is so, it follows that in every determination to action there is an element which is not a result of habit; for all actions whatever, and all feelings that have reference to action, such as desire and fear, presuppose the belief in the constancy of the order of things. The desire of a hungry man or animal for food, and the proverbial dread of a burned child for the fire, presuppose the belief that food will continue to satisfy hunger, and that fire will continue to burn ; and such belief, as I have stated my reasons for thinking, belongs to intelligence. The principle of confidence in the order of nature, how- ever, does not enter into all our thoughts ; it does not, for instance, so far as I can see, enter into mathematical rea- soning. The only principles which, so far as I see, enter into all reasoning without any exception whatever, are those of logic ; and when I speak of reasoning, I include not only abstract reasoning, but simple inference, including perception, which, as I have argued in the chapter on that subject, is an inference. In all reasoning whatever, the elementary axiom of logic is assumed ; namely, the axiom that a contradiction cannot be true; or what is called, in the technical language of logic, the principle of identity and contradiction. All beings that are capable of inferring and of perceiving know that this is true, though they may be unable to express it ; there is no question either of the universality of the belief or of its truth; but how has it been acquired? I have argued that mental habit or expe- rience cannot alone and of itself produce belief in the constancy of the order of nature, or any belief at all; and if my reasoning is valid for the belief in the constancy of the order of things, it is equally valid for the belief in the XXXIX. | MENTAL INTELLIGENCE. 159 universal and necessary truth of this logical principle. These are ’ Indeed, the argument is stronger for the belief in the im- Be by possibility of a contradiction being independent of expe- gence rience and antecedent to it, than for the belief in the order Nee ee of nature being independent of experience ; for our belief in the order of nature is merely that it is and will be constant, so long as no cause occurs to disturb it; but our belief in the impossibility of a contradiction is without any such qualification; under no circumstances, and in no world, can it ever be possible for a contradiction to be true. This belief, I think, cannot be the result of habit, and can only belong to intelligence. Further: I maintain that the perception of things ex- ternal to ourselves is an inference from our sensations. It is obvious that, once the idea of an external world has been suggested to us, the belief in its existence receives confirmation at every moment. But what first suggested the idea of an external world? The process of inference They are involved in perception may be thus expressed :—“ This ne sensation has not its source within me; it must there- tion. fore have its source outside of me.” This is obviously The logical a particular application of the law that a contradiction ae cannot be true; for it would be a contradiction if the source were at once within and without. But this is not a full account of the subject: for, why do we take for granted that sensations must have a source at all? or, in other words, why do we refer sensations to their objects? This is only a particular way of asking the question, what is the nature and meaning of our idea of The substance? Mr. Mill defines matter as a “permanent pire possibility of sensation:” which is obviously true, but, I think, inadequate as a definition; just as it would be an inadequate definition of the mind, or the conscious self, to call it a permanent liability to sensations and other feel- ings. In becoming conscious of our own feelings, we ” 1 Mr. Mill (Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s Philosophy) defines matter as “a permanent possibility of sensation ;” but he goes on to say (though not in these words) that it would not be an adequate definition of 160 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. become conscious of a self which has the feelings, and yet is not merely the sum-total thereof ;1 and in inferring the existence of an external world we infer, as I think, the existence not only of “permanent possibilities of sensa- tion,” but of objects to which we refer the sensations. Axioms I regard the following as axiomatic truths:—1l. That anes where there are properties there must be substance ; 2. where there is relation, there must be things related ; 3. where there is action, there must be an agent ; and Iam inclined to add, as a truth belonging to the same category, 4, that where there is an effect there must be a cause. The question whether we have any idea of substance as distinct from mere permanence is a parallel one to the question whether we have any idea of causation as dis- tinct from mere succession. In the last chapter I have stated my belief that our idea of causation is not resolvable into mere succession. I regard the four metaphysical axioms stated above, like the logical axiom that a contra- diction cannot be true, as necessary truths of intelligence ; Beliefs not and the belief in them is a result neither of mental habit, ere nor of inference from data of experience ; on the contrary, but im- jt is implied in all thought and all experience, and without lied i F : F F iGnebh it neither thought nor experience would be possible.” Belief Further: we have a belief in the veracity of memory ; in th . < : : veracity that is to say, we believe that as perception gives us’ true of memory information of present reality, so memory gives us true information of past reality. It is to be observed that the belief in a past reality as corresponding to an impression of memory is not implied in the mere presence of the mind to call it a permanent liability to feeling. I think this inconsistent: but it is not the result of any oversight on Mr. Mill’s part. 1 “ Cogito, ergo sum,” said Descartes: not meaning by this celebrated saying to prove his own existence, which neither needs proof nor admits of it; but to state the truth that it is in the act of thinking we become conscious of our own existence. 2 It is scarcely necessary to remark, that the belief, or knowledge, of these truths is not necessarily conscious knowledge, and does not imply the power of stating them in words. Men were not conscious of knowing them till they had begun to think about thinking. XXXIX. ] MENTAL INTELLIGENCE. 161 impression of memory; for a doubt often arises whether such an impression is really due to memory or only to involuntary imagination. It is generally admitted, and is I think indisputable, that this confidence in the veracity of memory is an ultimate fact, not to be accounted for by is an any other, or in any way explained. Its root and origin is coreg no doubt in the cognition of feelings as they follow each other in the mind; but this is no more an explanation of the fact, than it would be an explanation of the life of a plant to trace it back to its seed. Now, a belief which, like the belief in the veracity of memory, is an ultimate and fact of mind and not to be accounted for by the laws of pelones He habit, is to be classed as a case of mental intelligence. gence. In thus expressing the opinion that the belief in the laws of logic, the belief in the constancy of the order of nature, and the belief in the veracity of memory, are not results of experience, but @ priori conditions of all thought, without which impressions on the consciousness would be nothing higher than sensations, and could not give rise to knowledge—in expressing this opinion, I say, it may be thought that I am bringing back, under a slightly different form, that doctrine of idealism which I have disavowed in the last chapter. I do not deny the apparent resem- Resem- blance of my theory to idealism, but it is only apparent. se Idealism—at least the idealism of Kant—maintains that theory to such forms of thought as time, space, and causation belong eae, to the mind, and not to the external world. I believe, on and its the contrary, that such forms of thought as time, space, “erence and causation ; and such natural beliefs as the belief in the laws of logic, and in the constancy of the order of nature ; are laws of mind because they are laws of the external world ;—I believe they are laws of nature, which have 1 pelicye become conscious of themselves in the brain of man. In ena ao the last chapter I have endeavoured to explain by what are so means time, space, and causation have come within the nae sphere of consciousness, and consequently, from being laws laws of of the external world, have become habitual forms of pee thought. If the reasoning of this chapter be sound, the VOL, II. M 162 The question, should we expect to find nature constant if it were not so, is irrational. Intelli- gence is co-exten- sive with life, and not always conscious, Summary. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. same explanation will not apply without modification to the belief in the laws of logic, in the constancy of nature, and in the veracity of memory; for these are not results of habit, but of intelligence, antecedent to any pos- sible formation of mental habits whatever. There is, how- ever, no contradiction. To repeat the distinction which I made at the beginning of this chapter, our conceptions, among which I class those of time, space, and causation, are due to habit; but belief implies intelligence. But in the formation of both conceptions and beliefs the mind is developed in accordance with the laws of nature, and the laws of nature become conscious of themselves in mind. In other words, mind is a part of nature, and consequently its consciousness is developed in accordance with the laws of nature. It follows from this, that the question whether we should expect to find the order of nature constant if it were not really constant, is an irrational question; for if the order of nature were not constant, our minds, being part of the order of nature, would have received a totally different development, and another set of intuitions, from those which they actually have received. To my conclusion that mental intelligence is an ultimate fact, not to be accounted for by the law of habit, or ac- counted for at all, it is no objection that animals manifest it in some degree; for, as I have in many places endea- voured to show, intelligence is co-extensive with life: and the organizing intelligence which adapts each part of the organism to the rest, and the entire organism to its mode of life ; the instinctive intelligence which constructs the cells of the bee; and the mental intelligence of man; are all fundamentally the same. Intelligence is not always con- scious, and even when conscious it is not always conscious - of itself; indeed, I believe there is something unconscious about e 1] thought, except that which is formally logical. To sum up the result of the foregoing remarks : I believe that all mental determinations which go beyond the mere XXXIX.] MENTAL INTELLIGENCE, 163 remembrance, association, and recombination of ideas, and Belief _ involve belief in things external, in things past, or in things pines! future, imply intelligence as an ultimate irresolvable fact. The rudimentary form of belief in things external is perception. The rudimentary form of belief in things past is memory. Belief in things future is expectation. I con- sequently conclude, that in the simplest act of perception, memory, or expectation, an intelligence is implied which is not the result of experience, but is a necessary condition of the acquisition of experience ; just as in every act of as nutri- organic nutrition and growth an organizing power is at on and work, which is not a result of the physical and chemical any properties of the food that supplies the materials for build- power. ing up the organism, but which is a necessary condition of all nutrition and growth. But it must be remembered that intelligence is not necessarily conscious; on the contrary, it admits of all degrees from perfect unconsciousness to perfect consciousness. In the biological chapters of this work, I have several Intelli- “ s cae gence times dwelt on the fact that the evidence of organizing §o\ inmates intelligence is the strongest where the organization is the most in : fina pe tee ) . ; ,_ the highest highest—stronger, for instance, “in insect’s wing or eagle’s jife, both eye,” than in any part of a tree or of a zoophyte. No proof one is needed for the parallel fact in psychology—the fact, mental. namely, that the higher the mental nature, the greater is the influence of intelligence, and the more decided its domination. In conclusion, I have to make some remarks on the Peculiari- peculiarities of the mind of man, as distinguished from the ge Ora minds of the highest animals. So far as I am able to man. perceive, there is not any single principle to which the whole of man’s manifold superiorities are to be traced. I have already expressed my opinion that what is most characteristic of the moral nature, namely, the sense of holiness and of its opposite, sin, is due to a peculiar Sense of spiritual intelligence in man, distinct in kind from any "!"®* principle of organic or animal intelligence, and having no M 2 164 Power of directing thought at will. Conscious- ness of self. Use of the personal pronouns. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP. root therein.! But the intellectual superiority of man is due, as I think, to quite a distinct cause,—namely, the power of directing thought at will; on which depends the power of forming abstractions, and thence the power of abstract reasoning, which is the distinctive power of the human intellect; for animals are capable of the mental process which I have elsewhere called simple inference. There is, however, another distinctive character of the mind of man, which is not identical with the powers just mentioned, though probably closely connected with them : I mean the faculty of self-consciousness. The higher animals are conscious, but only man is conscious of self: the higher animals think, but only man is conscious that he thinks, or can think about thinking. The symbol of this consciousness of self is the use of the personal pro- nouns ; and in their use is displayed, I think, a higher kind of intelligence than any animal ever attains to, and an intelligence, moreover, which is demonstrably not a result of mere habit. A child learns to call itself J and me, no doubt, by imitating other persons who call them- selves so; and once begun, the use of those words, as of any other words, becomes habitual. But the personal pronouns, at least those of the first person, differ from all other words in this, that the child applies all other words to the same objects to which it has heard them applied by others ; but it applies the words J and me to an object— namely, itself—to which it has never heard them applied by others; so that it appears impossible for the meaning of J and me to be learned by mere habitual association, in the same way that the meaning of other words is learned. The meaning of the words dog and cat, for instance, is learned by their association with the objects dog and cat; and the names of persons are learned in the same way. But the meaning of the words Jf and me cannot be learned in this way, because the child never hears them associated with its own self; always with other persons’ selves. It learns to use them, no doubt, by imitation; but how does it know what to imitate? 1 See p. 64, XXXIX.] MENTAL INTELLIGENCE. 165 The power of perceiving the peculiar relations expressed by the words Z and me can only, I think, be ascribed to Intelli- an unconscious exercise of that intelligence which is not a Seeded for result of habit; and, though unconscious, it leads to the this. subsequent development of that consciousness of self whereof those pronouns are the symbol.’ I have now completed the part of this work which treats of the laws of life and mind. My purpose has not been to write in any way a complete treatise, but only to trace the laws of Habit, and their relation to Intelligence ; and to show the primary and irresolvable nature of the latter. NOTE A. BAIN’S THEORY OF BELIEF. On the subject of our belief in the constancy of the order of nature, Professor Bain says: “The foremost rank among the intuitive tendencies involved in belief is to be assigned to the natural trust that we have in the continuance of the present state of Quotation things, or the disposition to go on as we have once begun. This rom Bain. is a sort of law of perseverance in the human mind, like the first law of motion in mechanics. Our first experiences are to us decisive; and we go on under them to all lengths, being arrested only by some failure or contradiction.”? The italics are Professor Bain’s. This is very like an admission that the belief in the constancy of the order of nature is an ultimate fact, not to be resolved into any law of habitual association. His theory of belief, however, His theory is that belief is a result of habitual association, with the addition of belief of an active element. Now, I think it is true, and an important truth, that belief, and every other intelligent function of the mind, involves the exercise of its active powers, and is not to be 1 This is clearly and forcibly stated, though from a point of view some- - what different from mine, in Professor Ferrier’s Introduction to the Philosophy of Consciousness. 2 The Emotions and the Will, 2d edit. p. 537. 166 is no ex- planation. Belief in substance. Mill on Bain. Bain on the belief in the HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. accounted for by any modification of its passive capacity for feelings. But this is not what Professor Bain means. Stripped of its verbiage, his theory of the subject seems to me to come to nothing more than this: the germ of belief in anything consists in readiness to act on that belief ; and this is no explanation at all. I do not even admit that readiness to act on a belief has neces- sarily anything to do with the first rudimentary formation of belief, or with the origin of the power of believing. The belief that wherever there are properties there must be substance, for instance, appears to me to contain no active element whatever in Professor Bain’s sense. This argument, however, is of no weight in the estimation of Professor Bain and the school to which he belongs, as they reduce the idea of substance to that of mere permanence. Mr. Mill, in his review of Professor Bain’s work on the Emotions and the Will! truly remarks that belief is the great difficulty of the (exclusive) association theory ; that is to say, the theory which would account for all the facts of mind, other than mere sensations, by the laws of association alone. He does not express any decided opinion as to Professor Bain’s success in solving the difficulty. I think belief is not the dificulty of the association theory, regarded as a complete and exclusive theory, but its refutation. I think, as I have already stated, that habitual association will account for the origin of our concep- tions, but not of our beliefs; or, to use what is perhaps more accurate language, that the laws of habitual association will account for the power of conceiving, but not for the power of believing. If I understand Professor Bain, he goes so far as to argue that the belief in the veracity of memory is not an ultimate fact, but veracity of produced in the same way in which (according to him) any other memory. belief is produced ; that is to say, that belief in the veracity of memory is, in its germ, readiness to act on the belief that things are as we remember them. I think this is open to the objection that it is an explanation which takes for granted the thing to be explained. Of course the truth of a belief in the veracity of memory, or in anything whatever that is past, or future, or external, can be tested only by its agreement with facts. But this does not account for its original formation ; and I think the only possible germ, or root, of the belief in the veracity of 1 Mill’s Dissertations and Discussions, vol. iii. XXxIx. | MILL'S INDUCTIVE LOGIC, 167 memory is the perception of the succession of feelings in the mind. I do not say the succession of feelings, but the perception of their succession. Mr. Mill, in his “Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s will on Philosophy,” says that “the belief in the veracity of memory is the same. evidently ultimate.” If this is so, why may not other beliefs be ultimate as well ? NOTE B. MILL’S INDUCTIVE LOGIC. Mr. Mu, in his “ System of Logic, Ratiocinative and Induc- tive,” accepts the usual doctrine, that there are two kinds of reasoning: the one, inductive or analytic, ascending from parti- Inductive culars to generals ; the other, deductive or synthetic, descending an from generals to particulars. But he maintains also that the reasoning. original and elementary form of reasoning is neither from parti- culars to generals, nor from generals to particulars, but from Reasoning particulars to particulars ; as when a child, or a dog, infers that ee ay the fire which has burned it once may be expected to burn it parti- again. culars. As a mere statement of fact, this is perfectly true. It is true that men reason, and reason correctly, from one fact to another, before they learn either to infer one general truth from a number of special facts by induction, or to apply one general truth so as to prove other less general ones by deduction. But this is not a rationale of the process. Mr. Mill is well aware, and pointed out long before the present work was thought of, that all reason- ing concerning things involves the axiom that the course of nature is uniform ; or, as I have purposely expressed it in less scientific language, that what has been found true once will probably be found true again. I quote his own words: “If Quotation we throw the whole course of any inductive argument into a /°™ — series of syllogisms, we shall arrive, by more or fewer steps, at an ultimate syllogism which will have for its major premiss the principle, or axiom, of the uniformity of the course of nature. Having reached this point, we have the whole field of induction laid out in syllogisms, and every instance of inference 168 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CH. XXXIXx. exhibited as the conclusion of a ratiocination, except one; but that one, unhappily, includes all the rest. Whence came the universal major? What proves to us that nature is governed by general laws? Where are the premises of the syllogism of which this is the conclusion?” Question It is perfectly true that the constancy of the order of things is of cannot be proved by any deductive or'syllogistic reasoning. Mr. , the belief Mill thinks that our belief in it is due to association, or mental eae habit. I have stated, in the foregoing chapter, my reasons for of nature. thinking that it is an ultimate fact of intelligence. 1 Logie, vol. i. p. 373, note. . CHAPTER XL. HABIT AND VARIATION IN HISTORY. I HAVE in the foregoing chapters traced the outline of the The sciences, or rather the single science, of life and mind, ee regarded as consisting of various and manifold applications mind has of the two principles of Habit and Intelligence. That rates science, though at present in a state of very rapid advance, #4, is fully systematized; a vast number of its problems remain to be solved, but a fundamental revolution in the mode of conceiving of the problems appears as totally impossible in the science of life and mind as in dynamics or in astronomy. The same is true of all the mathematical and. physical sciences. I hope to show in a future chapter that there is a perfect series of sciences, from abstract as have logic, through mathematics, physics, and chemistry, to tose the sciences of life and mind. The ground-plan of this mathe- series has been so well laid, as regards both the principles ee of the sciences themselves and their relation to each ane ices other, that the work can never by any possibility have a to be done over again. The outline has been drawn, and what remains to be done consists exclusively in filling it up. But there is another group of sciences which have not yet been thus systematized. No doubt they admit of systematization, but the time for doing this work is, but the perhaps, not yet come. The sciences I speak of are those rN whereof the subject-matter consists of the results of the of man’s activity of the human mind, and the laws by which the ae mind acts under particular conditions. I cannot attempt ae not yet been even a complete enumeration of this group of sciences : systema- 170 tized, including those of language, art, and society. The laws of these subjects depend on the laws of mind, but the converse is not true. In lan- guage are an in- telligent and an habitual element. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. but the most important, or at least those which have been most nearly reduced to systematic form, are the science of language ; the science of the fine arts, or esthetics; and the science of society, or politics. The subjects of these three sciences—that is to say, language, art, and human society—are all products of the mind of man; and, consequently, their elementary laws must depend on the laws of mind, while the laws of mind do not in any degree depend on them. So that these sciences depend on psychology in somewhat the same way that biology depends on chemistry, or dynamics on mathe- matics. The manner in which the principles of language, art, and society depend on the laws of mind can be best shown by taking those three sciences separately. First, as to language. In all mental action whatever, as I have endeavoured to show in the last chapter, there is an habitual element and an intelligent element, which, though they may be separated in thought, are always combined in fact. Language, being a product of mental activity, may be expected to show manifest traces of these two factors ; and such is the case. It would be superfluous to argue for the obvious truth that all language involves an habitual principle: we learn to use language by habit, and by habit alone. But it is also obvious that all language, at least when it is used as the means of the most elementary reasoning, involves a logical principle : and if the conclusions of the preceding chapter are true, the logical principles that all thought involves belong to intel- ligence, and not to habit. But without going back on that metaphysical question, it is obvious that the power of learning words by memory, and the power of combining them into sentences that have a meaning, are two totally distinct powers; and even those who do not agree with me as to the absolute and fundamental difference between Habit and Intelligence, will agree that the distinction between the two in the use of language is real, and of great importance. We may briefly say—though, perhaps, not with perfect logical accuracy—that memory supplies the words, and intelligence combines them. A person #% XL.] HABIT AND VARIATION IN HISTORY. Kuyt without intelligence might know the names of things, but he could not combine the words into sentences having a meaning; and this, I believe, is the case with some idiots. A person without memory, on the contrary, might conceivably think, but for want of knowing the necessary words he could not express his thoughts in words. Memory and intelligence are thus both necessary to the use of language ; and as memory is a case of habit, it follows that habit and intelligence co-operate in the use and in the formation of language just as they do in organization and in mind. I think this cannot be disputed, whatever may be our conclusion as to the ultimate nature of intel- ligence; but in the present state of the science of language it is not so evident as it will be at some future time. The science of comparative grammar has not as yet got beyond Compa- comparative etymology ; the students of the science are at cuits present concentrating their whole attention on the habitual 1s as yet element in language, namely the words; this is needful pane! ; at present, and may probably continue to be so for a long Cyne ey time. But it may not always be so; a science of com- parative parative syntax will surely be possible, so soon as mate- {7}"**s rials enough have been accumulated. By the formation of hoped for. such a science the logical element in language will be brought into the same prominence, and may, perhaps, come to be as weli understood as the habitual, or verbal, element is now. Ido not think it is too much to hope that some fellow-countryman of Bopp and Grimm, or perhaps of Sir W. Hamilton or of Professor Boole, may yet so trace the connexion between the laws of language and the laws of logic as to throw light on both. I am not able to make a beginning at that subject. I go on to show how very close is the resemblance between the action of the habitual principle in organization and in language. Language is an organism. This is no mere metaphor. Language The definition of an organism is that it consists of parts Soa which are all in functional relation to each other; and the words of a sentence are thus functionally related. Organization is not the cause of life, but life is the 172 As life constructs the organ- ism, so thought constructs language. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. cause of organization. High organization is, however, necessary to any high development of life: life constructs the organism to be at once its dwelling and the means of its action. Just so, language is the result of thought, but a highly developed language is necessary to any high development of thought: thought has constructed the organism of language in order to use it as an instrument. Considering the unlikeness between the subjects of the analogy, the analogy itself is wonderfully close between the action of life in building up the organism, and the action of thought in constructing language: each forms an organism to be its instrument. Variability All habits are gradually variable ; and habits of using of lan- guage, both in the forms of words and their meanings, compar- able to variations in the forms of organs, particular words are peculiarly so: that is to say, the words themselves are variable. Words vary both in their forms and in their meanings. I have argued in the earlier part of this work, that the characters of organic species are variable, with little or no limit as to amount of change, if only time enough is allowed; and that all organisms which are morphologically similar, are so by reason of being descended from the same ancestors. If this is true, any difference between parts which are morphologically the same—as, for instance, between the leg of the dog and that of the horse—are due to variation in the course of their descent from their common ancestor; and such variation is a parallel fact to the variation that takes place in the form of words when a word which is fundamentally the same is found in different languages. No one doubts, for instance, that the German word Heide and the English heath are forms of the same word, and that the similarity of the two is due to their common Gothic original. I believe that the modifications, both in the organisms and in the words, are due to modification in the course of descent or derivation; and that both, consequently, are alike cases of the variation of habit. We usually speak of the descent of living races, and of the derivation of words ; but it is not a violent metaphor to speak of the deriva- tion of the former and of the descent of the latter. Words also change their meanings, even within the _—— Sa XL.] HABIT AND VARIATION IN HISTORY. 173 limits of the same language, while their forms remain ;!- and this has its parallel in the fact that organs frequently assume new functions, while their form and _ structure and in undergoes but little change, as in the case of those fishes #. whereof the swim-bladder, without differmg much from that of other fishes, assumes the function of lungs. This analogy, or a similar one, is carried much further than we might have expected to find it. We have seen that some animals have rudimentary and totally useless organs, such Rudi- as the leg-bones of some serpents and the wing-bones of the aaenee wingless birds, the only intelligible explanation of which consists in the supposition that they are inherited from ancestors which had the corresponding organs in a deve- loped and working state.2_ These rudimentary organs have been compared to the silent letters used in spelling many compar- : é 5 ae : __ able to words, especially in French and in English. This analogy .j.n¢ is not merely fanciful, but real. The silent letters were letters. once sounded ; so the rudimentary organs were once, as I believe, developed and at work. The silent letters mark the origin of the word; so, as I believe, do the rudi- mentary organs mark the descent of the species; and, as all naturalists admit, they mark its true affinities.* Further, there is another very curious parallel between the laws of organic morphology, and the laws of what 1 As the strangest instance of this that I can think of, I will mention the word implicit. Invplicit is properly opposed to explicit, and means tm- plied as opposed to expressed: but implicit faith and obedience have come to mean blind faith and obedience. The history of the change in the meaning of the word is this, that implicit faith became a theological ex- pression, signifying the faith which a man was credited with having in a doctrine to which he was too ignorant to attach any meaning, provided he believed in the authority of the Church, on the authority of which the doctrine was to be believed. Thus, a man who was too ignorant or too stupid to know what the Church taught on the subject of transubstantia- tion, would nevertheless be credited withjimplicit or implied faith in that doctrine, provided he only believed that the Church which taught it could not err. 2 See the chapter on Comparative Morphology (Chap. XX.). * I believe the time will come before very long, when it will be generally admitted that the descent of a species is what constitutes its affinities ; and that affinity in classification has no meaning except community of descent. 174 Morpho- logical correla- tions indepen- dent of function, compar- able to inflections without meaning. Morpho- logy and the science of lan- guage are both com- parative sciences, HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. may, by a very slight metaphor, be called the morphology of language, We have seen that there are some morpho- logical characters in organisms which are due to laws of correlation merely, and appear to have nothing to do with the adaptation of structure to function. Such are the facts that in umbelliferous plants there is the same deeply cloven or branched structure in the leaves and in the inflorescence; and that in man there are five toes on each foot as well as five fingers on each hand. It is as im- possible to assign any purpose for these correlations as it would be to assign a purpose for the laws of crystalline formation ; they are not adaptations, they are nothing but correlations! There are in some languages correlations which may be compared to these : the best instance is that of the inflections of Greek and Latin adjectives, which contribute nothing to the meaning, and are only added from a principle of correlation with their substantives. The analogy, I think, is perfect. The logical principle in language corresponds to the adaptive principle in organization; and we find that there are correlations in organization which are not adaptations; and correlations in language which have nothing to do with meaning, and consequently nothing to do with the logical prin- ciple; they both consist in a kind of symmetry, which appears as if it were sought for, not as a means but as an end, Since the study of organic morphology and the study of language have both become truly scientific, the analogy between them is really very remarkable. Both have be- come comparative studies: the decisive step which first made the study of language really a science was taken when the study of comparative grammar, or comparative philology, was commenced: a science of language was impossible, so long as its data were obtained from only one or two languages. In exactly the same way, the only scientific morphology is that which is based on the com- parison of forms which are widely different, but not so different as to exclude a fundamental resemblance. And 1 See the chapter on Morphology (Chap. XIX.). : 1 : 7 . . XL.] HABIT AND VARIATION IN HISTORY. 175 the more profoundly both comparative morphology and comparative grammar are understood, the more funda- mental resemblances do their students discover under the external appearance of total unlikeness. The science of anq language also resembles morphology in being a science of nel of progressive change. I do not say of development or of sive embryology, because we know nothing yet, as far as I am “Da"s* aware, about language in its embryonic state; though the ibe omy embryology of language, that is to say the history of its ae origin and earliest development, would be a subject of stage is science, and a most interesting one, if the facts could be known. ascertained. But as morphology traces not only the graduated resemblances and differences between different species and different classes, but also the progressive changes during the life of the individual; so the science of language traces not only the graduated resemblances and differences between the same or allied words in different languages, but also the progressive changes in the same language from century to century, amounting sometimes to total apparent transformation—such as, to mention one of the most remarkable of all per- fectly well-known cases, the transformation of Latin into French. The same remarks apply, without more modification Historical than the difference of the subjects renders necessary, to pelea oe the science of the Fine Arts. I speak of the scientific atts, study of their history: their theory is a different subject. Concerning the theory of the Fine Arts not much is yet established, with the exception of the theory of music, which is well understood, at least in a technical sense ; but though there must be a profound connexion between the laws both of visual beauty and of music with the laws of mind, yet the laws of this connexion have not yet be- come a subject of science, and consequently we have not yet any science of beauty ; nor have we as yet, in the truest sense, a science of those arts—namely, the Fine Arts— which consist in the embodiment of man’s ideas of beauty Te through the action of his intelligence. But a scientific ple 176 as organic morpho- logy and language. Morpho- logy of art. Its pro- gressive changes. English architec- ture. Roman, HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. treatment of the history of art is possible; and it is found to involve the same principles that obtain alike in organic morphology and in the science of language. In art, we have to do with comparative morphology, and with de- velopment and progressive gradual change. It is no metaphor to speak of morphology in art; the word is applicable with the most perfect literalness to those arts of which the object is form: architecture is perhaps the best instance. In any historical account of a style of architecture, or in any comparative account of styles which are not too unlike for comparison, especially if they have a common origin, it would be almost impossible to avoid the use of language which sounds as if it were bor- rowed from organic morphology. Thus, in describing the progressive changes of the architecture of England, we say that from the time of the introduction of the pointed arch, by which the Gothic style was constituted as a dis- tinct style, arches gradually became flatter, mouldings less bold, and ornaments more elaborate. Or in tracing the descent with modification (and in the word descent is implied an analogy with living beings),—in tracing the process of descent, I say, by which the Roman architec- Gothic,and tyre was modified into the Gothic on the one side, and Oriental architec- ture. into the Oriental or Saracenic on the other, we find that the arch, which was semicircular in the Roman style, became pointed in the Gothic, and in the Oriental acquired the “horse-shoe” form, or, in other words, became a some- what greater arc than a semicircle. We use exactly the same language when we describe how the leg of the quadruped is so modified as to be changed into the wing of the bat or into the paddle of the whale; and all these changes, those of organic morphology and the morphology of art alike, as well as the changes of language, come under the one law of the gradual variability of habit. This, I think, is self-evident, if once the origin of species by descent with modification is.admitted. There is no doubt this difference, that changes in organic morphology are due to the action of totally unconscious forces, and changes in language are due to mental forces i ee, Boe Ba as * t XL] HABIT AND VARIATION IN HISTORY. 177 acting with very little consciousness ; but changes in styles of art are made with full consciousness on the part of the artist. This difference, however, is not fundamental, if it is true, as I have elsewhere argued,! that organizing intel- ligence and mental intelligence are essentially the same. he love of slight ncvelty for its own sake, though an Love of unintelligent principle, is probably the moving or impelling mel power, though not the controlling one, in the progress of moving art, in the direction both of improvement and deterioration; bikes without this, I mean, art would be either quite stationary, gress of or subject to very few and slight changes; and this love vie of slight novelty, as I have already remarked, is probably very closely connected with the law of the gradual varia- bility of habit.2 On the other hand, the continuity which is so remarkable in the history of art,—without which, indeed, art could not be said to have a history at all,—this continuity, I say, is due to the constancy of habit, and to Habit is the mental law that great or sudden changes are disagree- ee iter ee able. It may be said that in point of fact the history of tinuity in art is less continuous than I have stated it to be. I do pe Ceaeery not deny that the history of art presents some very re- markable instances of rapid, if not quite abrupt change. Rania Some of these, however, are cases merely of the introduc- changes tion of a foreign style which has superseded the native aia one, as when the pointed Gothic architecture was intro- duced from France into Western Germany, and rapidly and completely superseded the old round-arched style. Others are due to the introduction of new materials or of new necessities: I shall have to mention a very remarkable instance of this kind further on. But the total change in Substitu- English architecture from the round-arched Norman of data Glastonbury to the Early Pointed of Salisbury is not to be of Early thus accounted for. It appears to be a case of almost total ea transformation, effected without any extraneous cause, and in a yery short time.* But this does not violate—on the See the chapter on Intelligence (Chap. XXVII.). f 2 See the chapter on the Laws of Variation (Chap. XVI.). 3 [believe this change nearly coincides in date with the transformation of the Norman kingdom of England into an English one. VOL. Ii. N 178 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHap. This is contrary, it completes—the parallel between the history of Perel the morphology of art and that of the morphological ee sa changes in the development of species, if it is true, as I of species. have maintained in a previous chapter, that organic changes must have taken place at particular periods with exceptional rapidity." I have stated that although there is beyond doubt an intelligent, or logical, principle in language, yet in the present state of the science of language we know very little of the mode of its action. It is otherwise in the history of art: in the morphology of art, as well as in Intelli. organic morphology, the action of intelligence is clearly aoa traceable in modifying the results of unintelligent habit. fying the I have shown in a previous chapter how the organizing Bars ti intelligence works with the materials given to it by inet hereditary habit, so as to modify for new purposes what habit, is homologically the same organ, and yet so as to retain a ye much closer resemblance to the original model than is the con- needed for the new purposes ; as is seen, for instance, in ae °f comparing the wing of the bat with the leg of the quad- ruped2 This action has its parallel in the history of art, where the artist’s purpose, which is the intelligent principle, modifies the action of the habitual principle of traditional Instance style. The best, or at least the most curious instance of ne this that I know of, is the way in which the Gothic style tion of of architecture was modified, without losing its distinctive Gothic : : - : architec. characters, in consequence of the introduction of stained ie icsley glass; the display of which, without injury to the other of stained beauties of the style, became the object of the Gothic glass. architects.? The principles of the science of life and mind are still Politics. more remarkably applicable to politics, or the science of human society. It has become a commonplace, that “constitutions are not made, but grow ;” the same is true of language, of art, 1 See the chapter on the Rate of Variation (Chap. XXVI.). 2 See the chapter on Comparative Morphology (Chap. XX.). 3 See Fergusson’s Illustrated Handbook of Architecture, vol. ii. xii] HABIT AND VARIATION IN HISTORY. ive of society, and of every product of human activity con- tinued through successive generations; though it is not necessarily true of the product of the activity of a solitary worker or thinker. This truth is a result of the funda- mental truth, that habit is variable, but only gradually so. All the historical researches of the last half-century tend to show, more and more clearly, the continuity of all Continuity history, and the impossibility of any progress which is eta not gradual. Destructive changes, no doubt, may be gradual. sudden, and so may death ; but constructive changes must poltioal take place under the laws of life, and must be gradual, Pee because they involve, or consist in, changes of habit. It quences of has been said, with a basis of truth, though with much bate oe exaggeration, that ‘“* A thousand years scarce serve to form a state, A day may lay it in the dust.” 1 Constructive changes cannot be at once profound and sudden; when they are unquestionably sudden and appear to be profound, as in the revolutions which we have lately witnessed in Italy and in Germany, their profundity can only be tested by the durability of the result ; and if it stands this test, we may be sure that such a revolution, however sudden it may seem, has been prepared for by a gradual change in the minds of men. It is indeed a commonplace that all political change, if it is to be durable and safe, must be gradual; that constitutions must develop them- selves, and must take time todo so. This is a consequence of the law of the gradual variability of habit; and in speaking of political or constitutional growth or develop- ment, men almost unconsciously use a metaphor taken from the science of life. We thus see that the law of the gradual variability of Gradual habit is that which underlies the analogous facts of organic eerie morphology, of language, of the history of art, and_ of in mor- ie i hology, political history. Lacsvepe These analogies are very wide and general. I now go ae ae on to the subject of a remarkable special analogy, also 1 Byron. Ne 180 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHAP, Analogy of based on the law of habit, between the process of mental ae education and that of social and political progress. tomental AJ] education consists in the formation of habits, and education. Ay Sint p the acquisition of any new power as the result of education consists in the exercise of that power becoming habitual, and in a great degree independent of conscious- ness and will. Thus, the process of learning one’s own or any other language consists in the words and their mean- ings coming to suggest each other without any effort of thought, so that the reasoning process which is needed in order to understand or to form a sentence is in a great degree, if not altogether, performed in unconsciousness. By thus learning to perform as a result of unconscious habit what at first needed a conscious effort of will and thought, the immediate work to be done—whether forming a sentence, or practising an art, or whatever it may be—is done much more rapidly, while the attention is set free for other purposes. Learning an art, or a language, occupies the whole attention—that is to: say, according to what I think is the correct definition of the word attention, it absorbs the whole consciousness in so far as the conscious- ness is under the control of the will; but when the art has been thoroughly learned, it may be practised while a large share, if not the whole, of the attention is left at liberty to direct itself to other objects. Thus, a compe- tent artisan is able to converse while at his work, unless it is in any way exceptionally difficult. And for the same reason it is, I believe, comparatively useless to most persons to read books of information or of reasoning in a language with which they are not sufficiently familiar to read it without effort ;—the language absorbs too much of the attention to leave enough of it free for the subject of the book. Both con- It is a parallel truth to this, that social and political sist in the - : : k : formation Progress mainly consists in the formation of social and of habits. political habits, of which laws are in a great degree the Necessity expression ; and this progress is possible only on condition of per- of actions becoming habitual after they are once decided manence inhabits. on. It is, for instance, very important to have a good par- —_ om i et =i] HABIT AND VARIATION IN HISTORY. 181 liamentary constitution, but it is quite as important that its merits should not be constantly under discussion. Other legislation would be impossible if Parliament were always engaged in discussing projects for the reform of itself, just as the exchange of ideas would be scarcely possible if we had to be always thinking of the grammatical construction of our sentences. In a word, as education is possible only by actions becoming habitual, so political progress is pos- sible only on condition of institutions becoming in some degree permanent. They are the greatest of political bores Political who think every opportunity a right ove for opening a PT discussion on the merits of any institution whatever, though the instinctive conservatism of mankind generally prevents them from being dangerous. All this is obvious enough. There is another parallelism, between the mental development of the individual and the progress of society, which is equally real though not so obvious. It is a truth on which I have insisted in the biological part of this work, that the conscious functions Conscious are in all cases later developed than the unconscious ones, eens and are developed out of them ; and it is scarcely a meta- developed ss are both in phor to say that this is true of political development also. the jndivi- Society acts unconsciously before it learns to act con- Facet sciously, Government at first springs up spontaneously ; nations at a Tater period learn to appoint their governments by a conscious and deliberate act; but the appointment of a government by a conscious national act would never Govern- have become possible, and indeed could not have been ™™* thought of, if governments had not first grown into exist- ence as a natural development of paternal authority.1 The same is true of the origin of law. It is a truth which Law. must be understood in order to make primitive history intelligible, that custom is older than legislation :—laws originate unconsciously in custom before they can be con- sciously modified by legislation ; and legislation would be impossible if it had not a basis in customary law. This ought to be easily intelligible to those who live under the English system of law, in which common law has, or at 1s ees Dee 1 See Maine on Ancient Law, chapter v. wah 182 Habit ought to be con- trolled by intelli- gence, Conserva- tism and Liberal- ism. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [CHAP. least is supposed to have, its origin in immemorial custom, older than any statute. 1 Moralists constantly warn us against the dominance of habit, and politicians warn us against blind conservatism. They are right. Habit is an unintelligent force, and ought to be kept as far as possible under the control of intelli- gence and will; and mere blind conservatism is nothing else than the action of unintelligent habit in politics. But it is only the law of habit that makes the formation of character possible, whether in an individual or in a com- munity; and therefore what we have to do with the habitual forces is not to destroy them (for this, were it possible, would be mental suicide), but to keep them under control, so as to be capable of modification at the command of intelligence. This is true alike of the indi- vidual and of society. Politicians have been divided ever since political progress began, and will continue to be so until it has ceased, into two parties, or schools, which have borne various names at various times and places, but are known to us as those of Conservatism and Liberalism. It is felt by all that these names indicate an important and profound distinction, and it is felt by all who are anything more than mere partisans that this distinction does not coincide with the distinction of truth and falsehood, or with that of good and evil. The basis of Conservatism is in the permanence of habit: the basis of Liberalism is in the possibility of habit being controlled and modified by intelligence. The dominance of intelligence over unintelligent habit is probably imperfect in even the wisest individual men, and among nations it is well if it exists at all. Entire races, 1 The relation of written to unwritten law appears to have been some- what different in the ancient republics from what it is in England. The Twelve Tables of early Rome, and other ancient codes, according to Mr. Maine (Ancient Law, chap. i.), were not additions to the customary laws already in force, but only written expositions of them. Their usefulness consisted in their publicity : for there is reason to believe that, previous to their publication, the ruling aristocracies were the exclusive guardians of the legal traditions, and abused the power due to that function. RSS ee XL.] HABIT AND VARIATION IN HISTORY. 183 as for instance those of India, appear to regard the change of a custom or a law as impossible. To this blind conser- vatism is due the fact, which is illustrated in every page of history, that institutions have a tendency to outlive Institu- their usefulness. The best instance of this is probably the jo". pu" Papacy, which in the early Middle Ages was no doubt a usefulness. beneficial institution, but has been a noxious one ever since the time of Innocent ITI. Produc- tion of new types of charac- ter in coloniza- tion. Average difference of emi- grants from the parent stock. Direct effect of _ new cir- cnum- stances. Natural selection hy climate of a race suited thereto, CHAPTER XLI. NATURAL SELECTION IN HISTORY. 1 fe the preceding chapter I have spoken of the applica- tion of the laws of habit and variation to the facts of history. In this chapter I shall speak of the application of the law of Natural Selection to the same. I shall first speak of the physical action of natural selec- tion, in producing new types of mankind by the process of colonizing new countries. I mean colonization as it is effected now, by the voluntary emigration of individuals and of families ; not, as it took place in prehistoric and early historic times, by the migration of whole tribes together. In the first place, it is the most restless, ambitious, and energetic that emigrate ; this characteristic, like all others, tends to become hereditary ; and thus, from the very first, a difference of average character is established between the emigrant population and the parent stock. I think it is certain that this cause has much to do with that peculiarity in the character of our North American and Australian kinsmen which is sometimes called energy and sometimes restlessness. In the second place, the different physical and social circumstances of the new country from those of the old will tend in various ways to modify character, and these modifications will also tend to be inherited. Lastly, there will be some individuals and families among the emigrating population to whom the climate of their new country is congenial, and others to whom it is compara- tively unhealthy : the former will have the greatest chance of surviving and of leaving descendants, while the latter die or abandon the country, in either case leaving few or CHAP. XL. | NATURAL SELECTION IN HISTORY. 185 no children ; so that, even without taking into account any direct action of the climate in adapting the people to itself, the action of natural selection will, in the course of genera- tions, cause the colonial population to consist exclusively of persons who are suited to the climate in virtue of their physical constitution. Now, it is scarcely possible to doubt and having that with any such peculiarity of physical constitution eee some peculiarity of mental constitution will be correlated, though we know nothing of the laws of such correlations, And thus will a new national character be formed. It is true that in this process there is no moral element, and no certainty, or even preponderant probability, of the new type of character being on the whole better than that of the parent race. But variety is ensured; and variety for its own sake appears to be a part of the purpose of nature. “God fulfils Himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.” 2 The process which I have now described is a purely This 1 i hte aye * . process is physical one, and in no way peculiar to human history ; purely indeed, there can be no doubt that new races of animals physical. and of plants originate in this way, and have so originated Natural in countless instances during the course of geological time. a a 1 now go on to speak of natural selection as a law of the true of the é : . : moral moral world and a cause of historical progress. waitdt The laws of habit and variation, as we have seen, are true of both the bodily and the mental functions ; and, as I have endeavoured in the preceding chapter to show, those laws are applicable to the facts of human history. History is = : = 5 4 eter- Now, human history is determined almost exclusively, not mined by by the bodily but by the mental nature of man—not by ™@n’s Z : 2 : mental that nature which he has in common with other animals, nature. 1 According to Darwin (Origin of Species, p. 166), acclimatization is effected partly by the self-adaptation of the race to the new climate, and partly by natural, or in the case of cultivated plants by artificial, selec- tion ; and he ayows himself unable to separate the respective effects of the two causes. 2 Tennyson’s “ Morte d’Arthur.”, I have no doubt that Tennyson is perfectly aware of the thoroughly modern character of this sentiment, and of the anachronism of placing it in the mouth of a king of the heroic age. 186 Victory in human co afliets depends on moral causes. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. but by that which is peculiar to himself. The reason of this is, that the mental nature, which distinguishes man from the lower animals, is also that in which consists the superiority of one man, and of one race of men, to another. This is a case of the law which I have mentioned in several places, that mental characters are more variable than bodily ones. But though it is a case of a biological law, it is none the less the ground of the truth that history is almost entirely not a physical but a mental process—or, as we say in more familiar language, that history is associated not with the physical but with the moral sciences. It is true that such physical causes as those which belong to geography and climate have had a most powerful intluence on the course of history ; but this does not make history a physical science : just as the facts of organic life cannot be understood without reference to the external conditions of life in the earth, the waters, and the air, and yet the laws of life are distinct from those of matter. The law of natural selection implies that the life of every species is an incessant struggle for existence ; and what causes advance in organization is, that victory in the struggle falls, on the whole, to the superior races. This is as true of man as of any other species ; the whole history of man is a tale of struggle and conflict ;' but what con- stitutes the peculiarity of human history is this, that among the lower races the conditions of success are almost exclusively physical, while with man they are almost ex- clusively moral. Among animals, victory, the preservation of life, and the chance of leaving offspring, depend on such qualities as fleetness, strength, keenness of sight or of scent, or, at the highest, on sagacity and cunning. The same may have been true of man in his earliest prehistoric con- dition, when as yet he was but little removed above the higher animals. But in any state of man which history records, and doubtless for long ages before the dawn of history, victory has been determined, on the whole, by 1 What follows has been in a great degree suggested by a most able article, entitled “The Natural History of Morals,’ in the North British Review of December 1867. ~~ Se ealh XLI.] NATURAL SELECTION IN HISTORY. 187 quite a different set of qualities—not by physical but by moral superiority. This will probably be assented to as self-evident ; never- theless, I think the conditions on which depend the success and predominance of races and nations are gene- rally and systematically misunderstood. It is the most obvious, and, I suppose, the commonest notion, that victory belongs as a matter of course to the most courageous. Other things being equal, this no doubt is true. But it is very seldom that all other things are equal; and of all moral endowments, there is probably none in which men are more nearly equal than in what is significantly called “mere animal courage.” The Duke of Wellington, a very competent judge, used to say that as a general rule all men are brave; and there is no doubt of the fierce valour of many Asiatic tribes; yet, with some partial exceptions in the history of the Mahomedan conquests, Asiatics, from the time of Miltiades till now, have always given way before Europeans. The causes of victory must reside, not It does not in that lowest moral quality with respect to which men ater are comparatively on a level, but in those higher moral courage. qualities with respect to which they differ indetinitely. The most obvious and commonplace of all the conditions on which victory depends is the relative number on each side. In our times, this in no way depends on any moral superiority of the more numerous army, or of the nation that sends it forth. But it was not so at the beginning of civil society. We know that primitive tribes tend to break up into fragments, as in the case of the separation of the families of Abraham and Lot, and those of Jacob and Esau.t We have not, so far as I am aware, any direct evidence on the subject ; but from what we know of human eee nature we may safely infer that the tendency to split wp power ina will be greater among a people of selfish and contentious Ee reldha temper, while those in whom the domestic virtues are *° the : ton ; _ _ domestic more highly developed, and the civic virtues are coming virtues. 1 I believe the Book of Genesis, from Abraham forwards, to be mainly historical; ut whether it is so or not, the incidents referred to in the text are not the less characteristic of the period. 188 The political virtues. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [ CHAP. into existence, will be more likely to stay together, | to live under the same government, and consequently to form a united and powerful tribe, able to overcome and conquer those tribes which are kept in a divided state by their deficiency in the domestic and civic virtues. This cause of superiority can exist only so long as there is room for tribes to split up and separate. It will come to an end when the increase of population is sufficiently ereat to prevent them from spreading at will; when agri- culture succeeds to a pastoral. life, and tribes consolidate into nations. But when political communities are larger, and wars are waged on a larger scale, the conditions of success are even more distinctly moral. The first of these conditions are fidelity, and, what is intimately connected with this, the capacity for obedience. This subject is systematically misunderstood by Western Europeans, who often appear to think that self-assertion and untameable- ness of disposition are the best basis for the political virtues. It may be true that the greater is the difficulty of taming a race of men into civilization, the nobler is their character when they have been so tamed. This, I say, may be true, though I very much doubt it. But untameableness is simply the character of the savage, and freedom and the love of freedom are of no moral worth whatever unless they are based on loyalty and the capacity for obedience. Fidelity, loyalty, and the capacity for obedience are moral qualities of a very high order. It is these more than any others which make political and military combinations possible, and give political and unilitary power. Thus the domestic virtues which keep a tribe together are those which conduce to power and to victory at the first dawning of civil life in the nomadic and patriarchal . state ; and the political virtues are those which conduce to power and to victory in a more advanced state of society. We may perhaps say with some approximation to accuracy that the former are characteristic of pastoral life, and the latter of agricultural. But there is a third kind of virtues which are characteristic of civic life, and are called from XLI.] NATURAL SELECTION IN HISTORY. 189 them the civic virtues. It is not very easy to define in The civic what civic virtue consists, but it is happily so well known 7° among us “hat no definition is needed in order to make my meaning intelligible. It may perhaps be defined as the transference of loyalty from a superior to the community. It is shown in all history how the civic virtues form the best and surest bases of political and military power. The republics of Greece and Rome are the most conspicuous and the most familiar instances of this truth, though by no means the only ones. Holland and England in the modern world are equally good instances. Thus virtue gives political and military power. . In the Virtue strife of tribes, of races, and of nations—in the political as ere in the physical world—a process of natural selection goes on, of which the tendency is to give the victory to the best. In the earliest periods it is probable that wars were At first always wars of extermination; and under those cireum-juished stances the effect of natural selection must have been races were simply that the inferior races perished and the superior eae ones survived. This process takes place even at the present day, where the inferior races are unable to adopt the ways of civilized hfe, though not now by means of massacre. It is going on before our eyes in Australia and New Zealand, and the comparatively benevolent disposition which civi- lized men have now acquired appears unable to arrest it. This is exactly the way in which natural selection acts as between contending races of animals—namely, by the destruction of the weakest. But at a later period, when afterwards men had become less brutal and savage, wars ceased to alae, he wars of extermination, and became wars of conquest. g#ted. And when one race is thus subjugated by another without being destroyed, a new set of conditions arises, to which there is nothing at all similar in the animal world. Among men as among animals, the progress of the entire species is ensured by the destruction of the inferior races. But when the inferior races are not destroyed, but only sub- 1 On the subject of the tendency of virtue to confer political power, see aremarkable passage in Butler’s Analogy of Religion, Part I. chapter iii. (pp. 71 and 72 in Bishop Fitzgerald’s edition). 190 Political progress due to con- quest. Ulti- mately, war ceases to be an agency of progress. Peaceful progress due to competi- tion and natural selection. Justifica- tion of freedom, HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHaP. jugated, what is the effect of this on the entire species ? This is not a question for merely historic or prehistoric research, but one of the deepest political interest and importance. The answer to it is, ] think, on the whole satisfactory. Races which become dominant, whether through innate force of character or through favouring circumstances promoting their advancement in civilization, appear to have a power of raising the conquered races to their own level. The best instance of this probably is to be found in the results-of the Roman conquest of Western Europe. But when nations, as distinguished from mere empires, are consolidated, it ceases to be possible for conquest to be any longer an agency of improvement ; and thenceforward historical progress must be almost exclusively due to the arts of peace, industrial as well as political. But progress is still due to a process of natural selection, though natural selection is now applied, not to races of men, but to insti- tutions and to ideas. In the peaceful strife of our modern times, however, as in the warlike strife of the ancient, the principle to which progress is due is still the same— namely, free competition and the victory and preservation of the best. It is only on this principle that freedom can be justified. The ever-repeated argument against freedom is, that the mass of mankind, when they have attained it, do not know what to do with it. This may be true; but, even if it were proved to be true, freedom would be none the less a means of good. It is a law of the organic world that many more seeds must be produced than can possibly mature their products; and it is a law of the human world that an immensely large proportion of effort shall be wasted. But it is only by permitting freedom of effort in all directions, with its unavoidable concomitant of waste, that any valuable results can be achieved. Where careers are open, many men will struggle into positions for which they are unfit. Where industry and commerce are uncontrolled, many disastrous blunders will be made by men in the exercise of their freedom. Where the expres- sion of thought is free, much will be published that is a eel An | ha tee Rng eae adie = a hye rte ’ Xul.] NATURAL SELECTION IN HISTORY. foolish and mischievous. Hence it will always be possible to find arguments against freedom, which so far as they go are perfectly valid. The reason that modern political society is right in disregarding them is not that they are false, for they are not false; but that they are outweighed by immeasurably stronger arguments on the other side. Open careers may tempt men to waste their lives, but careers must, nevertheless, be open in order that the best men may be selected. Commercial freedom may tempt men into disastrous speculations, but commerce and industry must be free in order that it may be ascertained, by actual competition, in what way the industry of each district and each nation may be most profitably directed, and how commerce may be most successfully transacted. And freedom of thought—that is to say, freedom of discussion and publication—may lead to the dissemination of pernicious error, yet freedom of publication is necessary to the progress of knowledge, and free and fair discussion is the only means by which error can ever be killed. In a word, it is necessary that in the world of human society there should be full free- dom (within the limits of morality and public safety) for the spontaneous variation of character, action, and thought, in order that the competition may select and preserve the best results, while the worthless ones perish. In this chapter, as in the preceding, I have treated the questions under consideration in the barest outline. I have not endeavoured to exhaust the subject, but only to point out its existence. 191 CHAPTER XLII. INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION. N the last two chapters I have shown how the prin- ciples of habit, variation, and natural selection apply to the historical sciences, as well as to the sciences of life and mind. In addition to these, I purpose in this chapter Division of to speak of a special and very remarkable set of resem- labour in the organ- blances between the bodily life of an organism and the life ism and in of a society. The fundamental law of vital and of social society. Society is an organism. organization is the same; namely, division of labour. The definition of organization is functional relation between parts ; and, under this definition, a society where labour is divided—or, to speak more accurately, a society where employments are distributed—is not metaphorically but literally an organism. The expression, “ physiological divi- sion of labour,” has been borrowed by biology from political science, to signify what is called, in less suggestive lan- guage, the “specialization of functions.” But to speak of the division of labour, whether in the individual or in the social organism, expresses only half the truth. The more unlike are the members one to another, the completer is the division of labour between them, and the completer is also their mutual dependence; and the greater is the power of the entire organism, by means of tle combined action of its various unlike members, to achieve results which could not be achieved by any union of lke parts. To use technical language: the greater is the differentia- tion, the completer is also the integration. This, which is cH. xu.) INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIAL ORGANIZATION. 193 true of organic life, is equally true of social life. It is too familiar a truth to need insisting on, that the power, or efficiency, of a society depends on division of labour, and on ability to combine the several actions of the various members among which the labour is divided; and it is equally obvious to any one who has the slightest know- ledge of comparative biology, that the efficiency of the nutritive, or motor, or sensory apparatus of an organism depends on the same conditions ; namely on the distri- bution of functions between the several parts, and the consequent ability to combine the different actions of those parts. The parallel between the individual and the social organism is, however, a much closer one than the fore- going remarks imply. In the higher organisms—that is to say, in all animals except the Protozoa—there are two totally distinct sets of organs, namely the nutritive and the nervo-muscular. Nutritive Similarly, the organization of society is twofold, industrial eh aes and political: the industrial organization of society is com- organs. parable to the nutritive organization of the animal, and Industrial the political organization of society is comparable to the political nervo-muscular organization of the animal. ear There is also this resemblance, that the development of re like the community, like that of the individual organism, is organic de- from the simple to the complex! In the simplest forms ae ie of human society there is no division of labour, except from the what is determined by the differences of age and sex. to ne With social and political advance, the division of labour °°™P!&*- goes on constantly increasing. Moreover, the more highly The most organized among organisms grow to the largest size, and Mshly live the longest ; those of lowest organization are mostly emer microscopic, Pad lio for only a few days—in remarkable dese contrast with the whale, the elephant, and man. It is the lived. same in societies; the communities of savages are very small, and last for but a few generations—unlike the king- doms and republics of civilized men. I further believe 1 See the chapter on Organic Development (Chap. XI.). VOL. I. Oo 194 Constant change of material, Ground of the resem- blance. Life is in both a mode of activity. Habit. Tntelli- gence. Three differences between individual and social organiza- tion. Social organiza- tion does not depend on struc- ture. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. that the highest organisms have been derived by descent, with modification, from the lowest; and that the most highly civilized societies have been developed out of savage ones by gradual advance. Further: the material of the organism is constantly ceasing to live, and is cast off by excretion, while new matter is brought in and vitalized; so that the same organism, at successive periods, does not consist of the same matter. Just so, members of the community are constantly dying, while others are born; so that the same community, at successive periods, consists of different individuals. The parallel which I have drawn between the organic life of the individual and that of society is much too close to be accidental ; it must be due to some common ground in the nature of both. This common ground, as I think, consists in these three truths :— 1. Life, in both the individual organism and in society, is a mode of activity. Perfectly stagnant life would be a contradiction. 2. The laws of habit are operative in both; and 3. Habit and the other unintelligent forces are in both controlled by intelligence; to the action of which all advance in organization, whether individual or social, is due—organizing intelligence in the individual organism, mental intelligence in society. The mental intelligence to which social organization and social progress are due, acts for the most part with very little consciousness of the process which it effects; but organizing intelligence has no consciousness whatever. I have to remark, in conclusion, that there are three differences between individual and social organization, which ought to be clearly stated. In the individual organism, organization depends on structure; in other words, the relation of parts with respect to function depends on their relations of position and form. In societies this is not the case. In the higher animals, the sentient life is concentrated xuu. | HERBERT SPENCER ON THE SOCIAL ORGANISM. 195 in the brain; and from this concentration or centrali- In it the zation of life, it follows that the parts exist for the ve ne whole. In societies, on the contrary, the whole exists for the parts. the parts. Societies, unlike individual organisms, have no repro- It has no ductive function. The resemblance, in some shape, of the Guriive social organism to the individual is a very old speculation; function. and it has been often inferred therefrom that societies, like ae individuals, must be subject to decay and death. I think necessarily that, so far as the analogy is good for anything, it tells the eae other way; for if death is a law of individual life, so is for the birth ; and births, in a normal state of things, compen- eek sate, and more than compensate, for deaths. But if death is a law of social life, there is no law of birth to compensate. NOTE. HERBERT SPENCER ON THE SOCIAL ORGANISM. Ir will be perceived that the ideas of the foregoing chapter are borrowed from Herbert Spencer’s very ingenious and able essay on the same subject.!_ I think his leading idea is true and most My objec- valuable ; but, not satisfied with pointing out the general resem- pe a blance between the principles of organization in the individual ject to H. and the social organisms, he has attempted to draw a detailed SP? parallel between particular organs and functions in the two, in a way which IJ think utterly untenable. This will be shown by stating the various parallelisms which he discovers, in a double tabular form. I need scarcely say that Herbert Spencer has not made them out in tabular form himself. The working class. The nutritive system. The trading class. The circulating system. Commodities. Blood. 1 Republished in the second volume of his collected Essays. 02 196 Hobbes on the same subject. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. Money.? Red blood-corpuscles. Roads, canals, and railways. Blood-vessels. Double lines of rail. Double set of vessels (arteries and veins). The governing class. The nervo-muscular system. Local and executive govern- Ganglia, including the spinal ments. cord. Parliament. The cerebral ganglia. Telegraph wires. Nerve fibres. Telegraph wires used in work- Nerve fibres controlling the ing railway traffic. arteries. T cannot see that I have done any injustice to Mr. Spencer in the foregoing summary of some of his special conclusions. I do not, however, mean to imply that they are nothing more than a mass of incongruities. His general parallel between the processes of development in the individual and in the social organism is most valuable. Mr. Spencer has laid himself the more open to such a criticism as mine by quoting a passage from Hobbes, in order to show its incongruities, which, as it appears to me, are of exactly the same kind as his own. I subjoin part of it, quoting the words exactly, but putting it into tabular form. Hobbes, I must mention, regards the “great leviathan called a common- wealth” as an artificial production, not a natural growth. An artificial soul, as giving life The sovereigntyis . . . . and motion to the whole body. The magistrates and other officers of judicature and | arta joints executions Wh! Lem cae csp 1 “Silver and gold have to perform, in the organization of the state, the same function as the blood-corpuscles in the human organization. As these round discs, without themselves taking an immediate share in the nutritive process, are the medium, the essential condition of the change of matter, of the production of the heat and of the force by which the temperature of the body is kept up and the motions of the blood and all the juices are determined, so has gold become the medium of all activity in the life of the state.’”’ (Liebig, quoted by Spencer. ) The theory referred to in the above passage is, that the red blood- corpuscles are carriers of oxygen to the tissues, and of carbonic acid away from them; so that they are used in the process of nutrition without being consumed. Carpenter, however (Human Physiology, p. 198), refers to this theory as only a probable one. xui.] | HERBERT SPENCER ON THE SOCIAL ORGANISM. ey Reward and punishment, by which, fastened to the seat of the sovereignty, every joint and member is moved to perform his duty, are . The wealth and riches of all the particular members are Salus populi, the people’s safety Counsellors, by whom all things needful for it to know are suggested unto it, are Equity andlaws . . Concorde ye ke Sedition. . Ciwilwar ... . . The nerves, that do the same in the body natural. The strength. Its business. | The memory. J An artificial reason and will. Health. Sickness. Death. The incongruities of this speak for themselves. CHAPTER XLIIL THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. The Pae appropriate place for a treatise on the classifica- Deiat tion and the mutual relation of the sciences is not at naturally the beginning, but at the end of a work like the present. fees #* , A classification of the sciences is not and cannot be a the work. programme of work to be done, but only a réswmé of work that has been done; in other words, it is impossible to classify the sciences until the sciences exist. It would have been impossible for Aristotle, or Bacon, or any other man, to lay down a chart of the course which scientifie research and scientific thought would take when as yet science had scarcely begun its work. Such intellectual power as would have been needed in order to do so does not belong to man. To understand history is one of the highest attamments of man’s intellect, but it does not belong to unassisted man to utter prophecy. In this chapter it will be impossible for me to avoid repeating part of what has been said in the chapter on Organic Subordination.1 Anysuch It is to be observed at the outset that a paper classifi- ee cation of the sciences, like the paper classifications of be imper- zoology and botany, can be at the best only approximately as correct. The divisions in both are in a great degree arbi- trary, and the tabular form does not represent the real order of things with perfect accuracy. I think, however, that a much more complete and regular classification of the sciences is practicable than we could have expected. 1 Chapter XIII. CH. XLI11. | CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. us) When we seek for points of connexion between the sciences to serve as a basis for their classification, we come on this rather embarrassing fact, that there are subjects Subjects which belong to more than one science. I do not mean pelenees cases like those which occur in organic classification, where than one it is sometimes doubtful on which side of a boundary-line ier we ought to place some particular form. I mean cases where there is no doubt whatever that they belong equally to two sciences. Whether, for instance, does spectrum Spectrum analysis belong to optics or to chemistry? Whether do Osta ji the polarizing properties of crystals belong to optics or to crystals: crystallography ? Whether do the facts of electro-chemical eee decomposition and the theory of the voltaic battery belong to chemistry or to electricity? The only possible answer is, that they belong equally to both. This, then, is one kind of connexion between the sciences —namely, that one and the same subject may belong to more than one science. Another kind is when one science One gives suggestions to another—such as, to mention the best ee instance that occurs to me, the instructive and valuable sugges- idea of the physiological division of labour which the nee ‘science of human society has furnished to biology. A third kind of connexion is when one science furnishes materials or furnish- to another, as in the case of biology furnishing to che- \?S "2% mistry a variety of new substances, which constitute the another, subject of the branch of the latter science called organic chemistry. A fourth way is when one science becomes, in or supply- the literal sense, instrumental to another: I mean, when ee one science supplies another with instruments. Thus, another. optics has supplied astronomy with the telescope, thereby The enabling it to explore the depths of the heavens ; and has pees supplied biology with the microscope, thereby enabling it micro- to examine the minutest structure of the tissues. oe It may perhaps be mentally added by the reader that Connexion mathematics has become instrumental to dynamics and eaten astronomy, by supplying them with methods and formule. va é This is true, and a most important truth; but it is one basen of a different kind from the last mentioned. The con- nexion of optics with astronomy and with biology, through 200 The laws of dyna- micsimply those of mathe- matics. This kind of relation is to be the basis of the classifica- tion, which is ' to bea series. Such a series 13 only approxi- mately possible. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP- the means of the telescope and the microscope, is only, as it were, accidental; that is to say, it does not depend on the nature of the sciences themselves. If this is not quite evident, it will become so on reflecting that it is conceivably quite possible, though unlikely, for a man to understand astronomy without understanding the theory of the telescope, or to be an accomplished physiologist without understanding the theory of the microscope. But the connexion of mathematics with dynamics and astro- nomy is of a different kind from this; for it would be impossible—impossible, I mean, in the sense of involving a contradiction—to understand dynamics and astronomy without understanding mathematics. The connexion of mathematics with dynamics and with astronomy (which is but a particular application of dynamics) is not in any sense accidental, but is grounded in the nature of dyna- mics. It would be impossible so much as to state the laws of dynamics without taking some of the truths of mathematics as known. Thus, to mention an elementary instance, it would be impossible to prove or to state the theorem of the parallelogram of forces without first know- ing the geometrical properties of the parallelogram. Now, this kind of relation between sciences—namely, that in which the truths of one presuppose those of another—is the most fundamental of all relations, and is that whereon any rational classification or co-ordination of the sciences must be based.t That is to say, we have to arrange the sciences in such an order that the truths of each science presuppose and depend on the truths of that science which comes before it in the series, and are independent of all those which follow it. Thus dynamics depends on mathematies, and mathematics does not depend on dynamics or any other physical science. In classifying all the sciences, however, we cannot per- fectly attain to such an arrangement as this: we can only approximate to it. There is no possibility of so framing 1 T speak of this subject more briefly than I should otherwise do, in vonsequence of having gone into it in some detail in the chapter on Organic Subordination (Chap. XIII.). XLII. CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. 201 an encyclopedia of the sciences that each separate science can be fully treated of without any anticipatory reference to those which are to follow it. For instance :—The chemical group of sciences, as I shall have to show, comes after the dynamical group, and is dependent thereon: electricity belongs on the whole to the dynamical group, yet the facts of electro-chemistry, as already remarked, belong as much to chemical as to electrical science, so that they cannot be explained or even stated without taking some of the facts of chemistry as known. ‘The best arrangement of the sciences, however, is that in which the smallest number of such anticipatory references is needed; and we can approach much nearer to such an arrangement than could have been thought possible. The value of this arrangement is greatly increased by The order the fact that it places the simplest and most general ened subjects first, and the more complex and special ones general after these; for the more complex and special subjects ee depend on the simpler and more general ones, but the Sean simple and general do not depend on the complex and special. Thus the facts of biology are more complex than those of chemistry; and they are also more special ; for all substances have chemical properties, but only some substances are vitalized, or capable of vitalization. It is necessary to observe that, in speaking of the simplicity and generality of any set of scientific facts, I speak of the subject-matter of the science only, and not of its pro- cesses. The processes of mathematics are more intricate than those of chemistry ; but the subject-matter of mathe- matics is perfectly simple and absolutely general, consisting in the properties of space and time: while the subject- matters of chemistry are neither general nor simple; on the contrary, they are special, for every substance has its own peculiar properties ; and they are so complex and varied that no complete enumeration is yet possible of the properties of any substance whatever. What I have said on the subject of the classification Summary. of the sciences may be summed up in this formula :— 202 No single series in nature. First division, into logic and its applica- tions. Logic, unlike the other sciences, is not an organon. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHap. The arrangement we are to aim at is that in which the more simple and general subjects come before the more complex and special, and in which each science depends on those which come before it in the series, but is inde- pendent of those which come after it. I think no intelli- gent man will question that, if it is practicable, such an arrangement is the right one. The question will be whether the sciences will fit into such an arrangement ; and this is not a question for reasoning, but for trial. The only way of proving that such a classification can be made, is to make it. I admit that there is no such thing, either in the clas- sification of the sciences or anywhere else in nature, as a single linear series. All classification whatever is in groups of groups. But I think I shall show that the sciences do arrange themselves in a series of large groups, in which series the simpler and more general subjects come before the more complex and special ones, and each member of this series depends on those which go before it, but is independent of those which come after it. Proceeding on these principles, the first and most funda- mental division of the sciences is, as it appears to me, that into abstract logic on the one side, and the applications of logic on the other. Every possible science comes under one of these two heads: every science other than abstract logic consists in the application of logic to some particular class of subjects. In another way also logic is contrasted with the other sciences. All the other sciences are organa of discovery; that is to say, they make discoveries whereby we come to know what we did not know before. But logic is not an organon of discovery. It has no discoveries to make. When we master the science of logic, we do not learn anything that we were ignorant of before; we only become conscious of knowing what we previously knew unconsciously. The axioms that a contradiction cannot be true, that what is true of every one of a class is true of each one of the class, and that things which XL. ] CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. 203 co-exist with the same thing co-exist with each other,1— these have not been discovered by logicians :—logicians have not taught us these truths, but have only made us aware that we know them, and have always known them. Logic is exclusively occupied with determining the founda- tions of knowledge, and leaves the other sciences to build the superstructure; or, to use a different metaphor, logic works backward to the fundamental principles and as- sumptions of knowledge, and leaves the other sciences to work forward to inferences.” It is for this reason—namely, because logic is not an Logical en < c notation is organon of knowledge—that no logical notation can be of Wee in. any use except for the purpose of illustrating the truths strument of logic itself. The notations of arithmetic and algebra eh ing. are instruments of vast utility and power, but no notation ‘ of logic can be of the slightest use as an instrument of reasoning ; though it may be—and, I think, in Professor Boole’s hands? has been—of great use in showing the laws of reasoning.* Logic is, on every ground, to be regarded as the first of the sciences. I do not mean the first in the sense of the 1 The first of these three axioms is that which is called, in the language of technical logic, the principle of identity and contradiction ; the second is the dictum de omni et nutlo, on which the syllogism is based ; the third is that which Mr. Mill places at the foundation of his logic. 2 Questions however arise in many, perhaps in all sciences, which, like those of logic, have to do, not with extending knowledge, but with settling its basis. No one will question the great service done to science by Euclid in stating the postulates and axioms as he has done; and yet this work did not extend our knowledge : but it is always desirable, not only to extend knowledge as much as possible, but to settle its founda- tions ;—not only to infer as much as possible, but to infer it from the smallest possible number of primary principles. 3 See Boole’s Laws of Thought. 4 Tn the chapter on Mental Intelligence (Chap. XXXIX.), and in the present, I have throughout spoken of the laws of logic as being laws of the universe, and being laws of thought only because they are laws of the universe. Consequently, I altogether differ with those who would class logic as a branch of psychology ; I think it would be as rational to call mathematics a branch of psychology because space and time are forms of thought, as to call logic a branch thereof because the laws of logic are laws of thought. 204 Mathema- tical and physical sciences. Mathe- matics comes before physics. Algebra, arithme- tic, and geometry. Logic is the initial science. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. most important; I only mean that logic is the initial science—that which commences the series. Its subject- matter is perfectly simple, and it is absolutely universal in its generality ; for no inference can be made on any sub- ject whatever without involving the principles of logic: and the principles of logic do not depend on those of any other science, but the principles of all the other sciences depend on those of logic. We now !eave the subject of abstract logic, and proceed to the sciences which consist in applications of logic. Here the first and most important division of subject- matter is into the abstractions of space and time on the one side, and on the other all those things which exist in space and act in time—that is to say, all existing things whatever which are known to us. The science of the properties of space and time is mathematics ; the sciences of the properties of existing things may be called the physical sciences; though it must be understood that these include psychology and those sciences which depend on psychology, such as the sciences of language and of history. On every ground, mathematics comes in our series before the physical sciences. The subject-matter of mathematical science is the properties of time and space, and time and space are perfectly simple and abso- lutely universal; while matter, which is the primary subject of physical science, is not simple in its properties, for they are so various that no one knows them all: nor is it universal in its extent, for only part of space is occupied by matter. And, as already remarked, the truths of a large part of the physical sciences, including especially all branches of abstract and applied dynamics, presuppose those of mathematics, while the truths of mathematics do not presuppose any physical truths. The three mathematical sciences are algebra, or the science of abstract quantity; arithmetic, or the science of number; and geometry, or the science of extension and form. We now go on to the physical sciences, or those / XLu1.] CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. 205 involving real existence ; and here the first distinction is Sciences of into the sciences of matter and those of life—or, to speak "ik" #4 with more precision, into the sciences of the properties of unvitalized matter and the sciences whereof the subjects involve life. It is obvious that the sciences of life in our Those of series come after those of matter, both because the facts Bee ER. of life are more complex and less general than those of matter, and because the laws of life presuppose those of matter. The sciences of matter, again, are divided into Dynamical the dynamical group and the chemical—dynamics being pieeee the science of force and energy, and chemistry being the sciences. science of the transformations of matter. At the head of the dynamical group stands abstract or general dynamics, General which consists of the theory of force and energy in so Le far as it is applicable to all cases whatever ; and after this dynamical the secondary dynamical sciences (to use Dr. Whewell’s Gone expression) of sound, radiance, heat, electricity, and mag- netism, each of which consists in a special set of applica- tions of dynamical theory. The dynamical sciences come in our series before the The | chemical. This is partly because their subject is simpler. ™@™" Energy is one, though capable of appearing under various before the : See 5 . ., chemical. forms, of which the principal are motion, heat, electricity, and radiance. Matter is also capable of assuming various forms, solid, liquid, and gaseous; and moreover it is not one, like energy, but consists of many distinct elements, which are not capable of mutual transformation. And ~” besides, though matter and energy are functions one of the other, yet, as every one is aware who is at all conversant with this class of subjects, there are far more dynamical facts presupposed in chemical science than chemical facts presupposed in the dynamical sciences. The chemical group of sciences may be enumerated as Molecular molecular physics, chemistry, and crystallography. The ee names of the two latter need no explanation. Molecular and physics has till now been usually regarded as a part of eG chemistry, and has been treated of in the introductory chapters of works on that subject; but I think it is now time to raise it to the rank of a distinct science. It may 206 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cnar. Molecular be defined as the science of the various states of molecular Sa ageregation: it includes the theory of the gaseous or vaporous, the liquid, and the solid states of substances, and consequently of evaporation and freezing; of cohesion and capillarity, of solution, of gaseous and liquid diffu- sion, of osmose, and of various other kindred subjects. Crystallo- In strictness of definition, crystallography is a branch of eraphy: molecular physics, but the facts of crystallography are so distinct and so peculiar that it is much better to treat it as a separate science. It is sufficiently obvious that molecular physics comes before chemistry in the series, because the simplest facts of chemistry would be unin- telligible without some knowledge of molecular physics— enough, at least, to understand what is meant by solution or evaporation. Crystallography comes after chemistry, because every crystalline species is a distinct substance having its own peculiar chemical constitution, which is equally characteristic of it with its “crystallographic elements ;” and this, of course, can be learned only from chemistry ; while it is possible to understand chemistry as the science of combinations and decompositions without reference to the facts of crystallization, which indeed are referred to in chemical writings only occasionally. Two We now come to the sciences of life. These fall into crits two very well-marked groups. The subject of the first sciences group consists in the properties of organisms considered ioe merely as such: these properties belong partly to morpho- First, 3 5 : 3 those of logy, or the science of organic forms, of which science Prat systematic natural history is a part ; and partly to physio- - organisms. logy, or the science of vital functions. These two, no aaa doubt, are both parts of biology, and they run into each physio. other; but they do not, I think, run into each other more logy. than do chemistry and crystallography ; indeed, crystal- lography is a morphological science, and its relation to chemistry may be compared with the relation of organic morphology to physiology. Physiology and morphology are so distinct that systematic natural history, which is in fact comparative morphology, is not necessarily nor generally cultivated by the same persons who cultivate x1. ] CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. 207 physiology. I have defined physiology as the science of vital functions. But the conscious or mental functions are so different from the unconscious or bodily ones, that it is convenient, and indeed necessary, to treat of the former apart; or, in other words, to treat psychology as a distinct science. The second group of the sciences that involve life has Peete for subject-matter the results of the activity of the mind of cow man in language, art, and society ; and the esthetic, moral, group : and economical laws under which that activity is neces- sarily carried on. This group of sciences is much less advanced than the mathematical, physical, and mental not yet sciences, and has not yet been systematized.! apes In the foregoing brief review I have not aimed at any- thing more than an enumeration of the sciences in their order, with a statement of the subject-matter of each. It is now time to state the same in tabular form. 1 See the preceding chapter. [cHAP. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. 208 ‘pattyop WeAe 10 peyissepo yok you seouetos Jo dnois yw ‘hbopoyohisg ‘hbojoshyg ‘hbojoyd.opy > hydvuborn ship *higsvuayo ‘soashiyd woynoojo py ‘wsyaubo yy “hypaneqooygy "WoT ‘aounIpoy “punogy ‘sopmmuUhq “hLqauioay) OUPOULY ILL F “pgahy 7 “oubo'T —— snorastioa snotostooun * *aorvortdde yeroods jo sv * worjeortdde yesioatun jo sv woTjoUny 07 sv AqAyor [eyUOUL Jo sqnsox OY, ‘ “aJl] SULATOAUT ) i] suistuvs.1o Jo soryrodoad oy, J ULLOT 0} sv sSuryy BUIySTXO 04 5 * qoqqvut jo sorjzedoad ong, ‘OFT Surtapoaur you J Adious pue ddo10F Jo sotytodoad oy, *O1B0'T ‘aouds pue | OFUL PAPLATP Loy}ANY St YOIpM ‘sor~mwayyn py aw jo sonzadosd og 0} J "40R.148q V statement Tabular Xu. | CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. 209 On reading over this enumeration, the most natural and probably the first remark of the reader will be that it must be very incomplete, for it omits some of the most important of the sciences. It has no place for astronomy, Position of ia] : 4 att ae oq astro- meteorology, or geology. This is true : the foregoing series sone is not a complete enumeration; it needs to be supple- meteoro- ted by another seri taining astr teoro- poy and mented by another series, containing astronomy, meteoro- geo}oay, in logy, geology, and a few others. It is in the nature of another things impossible to place all the sciences in a single series. ee Every one of the sciences enumerated in the foregoing tabular form has for its subject-matter a particular set of natural laws ; and the tabular enumeration is an attempt at a classification of natural laws—a classification which probably will be found to admit of improvements in detail, though it is, I think, beyond doubt correct in principle. But such a science as astronomy or geology has for its subject-matter, not a particular set of laws, but a par- ticular set of phenomena as actually found in nature. Now, it is evident that a science whereof the subject- whereof matter is a particular set of laws, and one whereof the te? S¥- ; i : jects are subject-matter is a particular set of phenomena, cannot not laws properly be placed in the same series. This distinction aa would not be of any importance if each set of phenomena as occurring in nature were due to only a single set of laws: if, for instance, astronomy were exclusively an application of dynamical laws, meteorology of the laws of heat, and geology of the laws of chemistry and crys- tallization. But such is not the case ; it is only approxi- mately true of astronomy and meteorology, and is not true of geology at all. Astronomy is no doubt chiefly dynamical ; but if we admit—as I think we must—the nebular theory as a legitimate branch of astronomy, it has to do also with the laws of heat and of the physical constitution of gases and vapours. The most important facts of meteorology depend on the laws of heat, but some of them are electrical and some are optical. And the facts of geology do not depend 1 It may be said that the study of the sun’s atmosphere also belongs to astronomy, and yet it does not depend on dynamics. But it is better to regard this as a part of meteorology. VOL, Il. be 210 I propose to call them the cosmic sciences. Parallel- ism of the abstract and the cosmic sciences. Its ground. Gradation of pheno- mena from HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. on any one set of natural laws, but on a vast compli- cation of them—dynamical, thermal, chemical, and even vital ; for we know that limestone and coal are organic products. I propose to call the sciences now under consideration the cosmic sciences, in opposition to those enumerated above, which are abstract ones. The subject-matter of an abstract science is a particular group of laws, under what- ever conditions or on whatever scale they may act: thus the motions of a star, the swinging of a pendulum, and the rotations of a gyroscope, all belong equally to dynamics. The subject-matter of a cosmic science, on the contrary, is a particular group of phenomena which may have no con- nexion except that they are found together: thus geology includes alike the theory of volcanoes, which (in my opinion at least, and I believe I am on the side of the best authorities) is entirely to be referred to the laws of force and heat, and the theory of the formation of coral islands, which is a vital process, though controlled by physical agencies. But, though the series of the abstract sciences and that of the cosmic sciences are not coincident, there is a kind of approximate parallelism between them. We have seen that the series of the abstract sciences begins with the simplest and most general laws, and goes on to the more complex and special ones. ‘The series of the cosmic sciences, in like manner, begins with the simplest and vastest phenomena, and goes on to the more complex and less vast ones. The parallelism between the two series rests on the fact—which, as now expressed, is almost an identical proposition—that the most general laws, which are also the simplest, are those which act on the widest scale; so that there is a series of phenomena from the widest to the minutest, parallel to the series of laws from the most general to the most special. The simplest and the vastest most general of the Jaws of nature are those of dynamics ; to the smallest. the simplest and vastest of the phenomena of nature are those of the celestial motions, which altogether depend on dynamical laws. All other phenomena are almost infinitely XLUI.] CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. smaller than these; for the subject-matters of the twin sciences of meteorology and geology are not only special to each planet, but are confined to the surface of the planet: the domain of meteorology is confined to a few miles of height above the surface, and that of geology to about as many of depth below. And the phenomena of the distribution of life, again, are for the most part incom- parably smaller than these: the largest trees are of isig- nificant size in comparison with the mountain ; coral-reefs are the only products of life that attain to geographical importance, and they are small in comparison with conti- nents. The laws of the distribution of living species on the surface of the earth are united with paleontology, or the science of the fossil remains of extinct forms of life. The subject of the distribution of living species may be called geographical biology, and paleontology may be called geological biology ; but these form the subject of a single science: the laws which determine the distribution of species in the present cannot be separated from those which have determined the distribution and the succession of species in the past. We have seen that, in the order of the vastness and the simplicity of the phenomena, astronomy comes first among the cosmic sciences. Next to astronomy are those which treat of phenomena whereof the magnitude is such as to embrace an entire planet. There are three sciences which treat of phenomena of this order of magnitude. _ First, the theory of the force of terrestrial magnetism, its distribution, and its fluctuations ;—this is not iden- tical with the abstract laws of magnetism, but is an appli- cation thereof, just as astronomy is an application of the abstract laws of dynamics. Second, meteorology, or the theory of atmospheric changes and of the laws of climate ; —this science chiefly consists of applications of the laws of heat and electricity to a great variety of circum- stances, though it has a branch which stands in the same telation to the laws of radiance, and treats of such optical phenomena as rainbows and halos. Third, oceano- P2 Astro- nomy. Terrestrial magnet- Meteoro- logy. 312 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [oHar. Oceano- graphy,' or the science which treats of the tides, the cur- staphy. vents, and other phenomena of the ocean ;—except the tides, these almost exclusively depend on the winds and on tem- peratures, so that oceanography can scarcely be separated from the theory of climate.? Next in the order of vastness and simplicity come the sciences of those phenomena which are less extensive than the entire surface of a planet : Geo- these are geography, or the determination of the outlines BerMy.” “ioe coasts, the courses of rivers, and the heights of moun- Geology. tains; and physical geology, or the science which treats of the constitution of the crust of the earth, and the causes to which that constitution is due. The facts of geology, as I have already remarked, cannot be referred to any single set of laws. Next in the order of the magnitude and Mineral- generality of the phenomena comes mineralogy, or the Beye science of the molecular structure and chemical composi- tion of the rocks: it is, in fact, the molecular, chemical, and crystallographic branch of geology, and is related to physical geology much in the same way that molecular and chemical physics are related to general dynamics. And last of all, for the special and limited character of Paleon- its phenomena, is paleontology, with the laws of the dis- ent tribution of living species: the facts of this science in distribu: a great degree depend on those of biology, though, as I species. have shown in the chapter on Distribution,’ this depen- dence is much less rigid than might have been expected. There is thus a kind of rough approximate parallelism between the two series of sciences, the abstract and the cosmic. Of course there is no cosmic science in any Corre- s 5 3 spondences W2Y corresponding to logic and mathematics. But astro- between omy pretty accurately corresponds to dynamics ; terres- the two : - F series. trial magnetism corresponds with perfect accuracy to the 1 Or what Maury calls the “physical geography of the sea.” The absurdity of the expression “geography of the sea” may be best shown by translating it into German, in which language it would be “ Erd- beschreibung des Meeres.” 2 The general theory of the tides belongs to astronomy, but those more special tidal phenomena which cannot be deduced from the general theory, but must be ascertained by observation, cannot be called astronomical, 3 Chapter XVIII. XLII. | CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES, 213 abstract theory of magnetism; meteorology and oceano- graphy nearly correspond to the sciences of heat, elec- tricity, and light—though the tides, which belong to oceanography, are purely dynamic phenomena. Geology does not correspond to any abstract science in particular, but mineralogy corresponds to the chemical group of sciences, and paleontology, with the laws of the distri- bution of species, to biology. We may now enumerate the cosmic sciences in the following tabular form :— Astronomy. Tabular T t a i 2 fe enumera- errestrial magnetism. tion of the Meteorology, with the theory of climate. ae ae Oceanography. ‘ Geography. Geology. Mineralogy, or chemical geology. Paleontology, with the laws of the distribution of living species. As Ihave said of the tabular enumeration of the abstract sciences, this enumeration also may probably admit of improvements in detail; but if the principle of the series is right, of which I think there can be no doubt, the details are of but little importance. The order in which cosmic phenomena have been enu- Imaginary merated in the foregoing list of the cosmical sciences is ae that in which they would be witnessed by a being with coming powers of perception like our own, if it were to come ee towards our world from the regions of infinite space. At sioner first it would see suns and planets as mere moving points he would of light, and could distinguish nothing about them except Paes their magnitudes and their motions. Coming nearer, it mena, would discern the phenomena on their surfaces; the spots on the sun and the peculiar currents of his atmosphere, and the clouds and winds and other phenomena of the atmosphere of the earth, with the ocean and its currents ; and if it were possessed of our means of observation, it would perceive.the magnetic properties of the earth, and 214 Chain of laws ; each link pre- supposing that which comes before it. Parallel to this in the arrange- ment of things. Living beings are small in proportion to matter. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. doubtless also of the sun and all the planets. Next in the order of descending magnitude, it would see the outlines and forms of coasts, of rivers, of lakes, of mountains, and all that forms the subject-matter of geography; and on coming a little nearer, it would see glaciers among some of the mountains, and volcanoes among others: it would see differences not only of form but of structure and composition between the masses that form the crust of the earth, and all the things which constitute the sub- ject-matter of geology. And last of all, supposing this imaginary being to have microscopic powers as well as telescopic, it would see those facts which constitute the subject-matter of mineralogy and of paleontology, and the geographical distribution of life. At every step it would see less general and more complex phenomena. As we have seen, there is a chain of laws in nature, each link presupposing that which comes before it. The laws of life presuppose the special laws of matter, espe- cially those of chemistry and heat; the special laws of matter presuppose the laws of general dynamics; and the laws of general dynamics presuppose those of mathe- matics, which are based on the properties of space and time. In the actual distribution of things, which con- stitutes the subject-matter of the cosmic sciences, there is a set of parallel relations to these. It is a necessary con- dition of life, that living beings should be surrounded with vast masses of unorganized matter in earth, water, and air. The air, the waters, and the surface of the earth are the seat of that play of forces which, with their results, constitute the subject-matter of meteorology and geology with their allied sciences: but these forces have no action except on the surfaces of the planets; their central masses are inert. And the planets and stars them- selves are but insignificant in magnitude when compared with the vast empty spaces in which they move. To state the foregoing in fewer words:—Living beings are but insignificant In mass when compared with the masses of unorganized matter that surround them. Those masses of matter on the surface of our planet whereof the ee ST ee rr XLII. ] CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. 215 changes are seen in the facts of meteorology and geology, are insignificant in mass when compared with the vast, inert, unchanging central masses of the planets. And the planets and suns are but insignificant in magnitude when Matter is compared with the vacant celestial spaces around. All comet these are cases of the general law, that the simplest pro- to space. perties and laws are in force over the widest spaces, and on the largest scale. The properties of space are simpler The widest than those of matter: the dynamical properties of matter, ae Ee which alone act in causing the celestial motions, are simplest, simpler than its thermal, electric, magnetic, and chemical properties ; and these, again, are simpler than the charac- teristic properties of living beings. The same relation of laws to each other holds good in and act time as in space. The simplest laws are the most uniform euek and the most general in their action, not only in space but donee also in time. The only truths, in any science, which we are safe in pronouncing to be absolutely unchangeable by The only . certainly any agency whatever, are the simplest and most funda- ite. mental of all truths, namely, those of logic. It is not able truths : : - ,- _ are those possible even to Omnipotence to make a contradiction ¢¢ logic. true. The properties of space and time, on the contrary, may be capable of change by the Divine will;—I do not assert that they are so; I only say we cannot assert that they are not ;—and if it is so, of course the laws of mathematics may be changed with them.! Space and 1] do not mean that it is within the power of Omnipotence to make a mathematical absurdity true ; for this would be to make a contradiction true. Omnipotence could not make two right lines enclose an area: that is to say, could not make two right lines as we understand right lines, enclose an area as we understand an area; for this would be to make either a right Jine or an area, or both, be what they are, and yet different : which would bea contradiction. But it is to me credible that Omnipo- tence might, without any contradiction being involved, have made the properties of space and time different from what they are. And I see no absurdity in thinking that the number of dimensions in space may be not three, but infinite: only that the universe to which we belong is capable of motion in but three of the dimensions; so that we have experience of but three, and cannot form a conception of any more. See the chapter on Perception (Chap. XXXVI.). « 216 Time and space were before matter. Gravita- tion is the only con- stantly acting force. Life and mind are the latest products. The highest products are the least in quantity, and the last in time. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. 2 ~ [CHAP. time, again, are conceived by us as being before matter and force came into existence: and this is actually true, if the universe had a beginning in time; which I regard as proved Among forces also, gravitation, which is the simplest, is the only one that is always in action; the molecular and chemical forces act only under favourable circumstances, but gravitation never ceases to act; and it was also the first force to work in the primeval nebula.? Finally, the most complex and special of all modes of activity, namely life, was of later origin than matter; and among the vital functions, mind was of later origin than unconscious life. Thus, in both space and time, the most complex pro- perties are the least widely distributed, and the least constantly in action. Now, as the highest results are the results of the most complex properties and forces, it follows from the necessity of the case that the highest natural products are comparatively small in quantity ; and this we have seen to be the fact ; life being a late and comparatively scanty product of nature, and mind a later and scantier product still. Thus nature may be compared to a tree, “expanding from the whole into the parts,” to quote Schiller’s ex- pression; constantly branching out into greater multi- plicity, complexity, and variety. “ All nature widens upward, Evermore The simpler essence lower lies. More complex is more perfect, owning more Discourse, more widely wise.’’ 3 And, as in the most beautiful trees the flowers come at the completion of the development of the plant, and are less abundant than the leaves, though of higher organi- zation: so in the universe, the highest products come at the end of long ages of preparation for them, and are then less abundant than the lower products, 1 See the chapter on the Motive Powers of the Universe (Chap. VI.). 2 See Chapter VI. 3 Tennyson’s Palace of Art. XLIUt.] CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. Zia It is one of the many remarkable harmonies between Harmony the mind of man and the universe of which it is the uae noblest product, that this distribution of the products of man with 3 é : B : nature. nature, both in space and in time, is that which appears , 4... beautiful to the artistic sense. It is a maxim in art that rule of the highest beauty should be introduced in relatively ens small quantity: thus, in architecture, which is perhaps least _ the best instance, such parts as cornices and capitals, which ens are at once small and conspicuous, can scarcely be too richly ornamented; but the effect would be very bad if the ornament which suits a cornice were spread over a wall, or if that which suits a capital were continued down the shaft of the column. In all art whatever, the effect of an equal distribution of beauty over every part is not good. In all art whatever, any part of a composition which rises above the general level of the whole in dignity or beauty will add dignity or beauty to the whole, pro- vided that it is properly placed; while if any part sinks below the general level, it lowers the character of the whole. These principles are applicable alike to those arts which address themselves to the eye, and those which address themselves to the ear. But in the latter—that is to say in poetry and music, in which the parts of a com- and, in position are not simultaneous but successive—this further Pee ae maxim is to be observed, that the highest beauty not only the end. , ought to be small in quantity, but ought to come last; and every previous part of the composition ought to lead up toit. In thus arranging his work, the artist, without knowing it, follows the example of nature, which, as I have already said, produces the highest results at the end of long ages of slow preparation, and then in compara- tively small quantity, If it is asked whether I believe that all things which are Not all capable of being known are capable of being included in powers the two tabular series that I have drawn out in this im the chapter, I reply that I have no such notion. In this work eee I have confined myself so far as possible to what is called ee ve positive science ; that is to say, science having its data in chapter. 218 T believe in meta- physics and theology. Opposi- tion of literature and history to science. Nature of historical science. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [CHAP. — the facts of observation, or at least in facts external to the mind. Even in psychology I have endeavoured, so far as possible, to keep clear of metaphysical questions and metaphysical methods. But this is not from any belief that metaphysics are either impossible or worthless. On the contrary, I believe both in metaphysics and in the- ology as firmly as I believe in positive science; it is not from unbelief or indifference that I have said so little about them in this work; it is rather from a con- viction of their transcendent importance that I have kept for a future work the subject of their relation to positive science.! There is also a very large portion of human knowledge which never can become scientific. Common sense is right in opposing literature and history to science. The essential matter in science is for knowledge to be reasoned and formularized, and a fact that will not fit into any for- mula simply stands over until the right formula is found. But in literature and history, the essential matter is the display of human character; and this fascinates and in- structs us most when it defies all formule most completely. It is true—at least I believe so—that such a thing is pos- sible as a science of history, and a most important science it is. But, at the most, it can never be anything more than a science of general tendencies in history; and between understanding these and really knowing history, there is exactly the same kind of difference that there is between understanding psychology as a science and understanding human nature. It is true as a general tendency that distant and prosperous colonies will probably become in- dependent, but it is not the less desirable to understand the character and the life of Washington. It is true that nations tend to become politically consolidated, but it is not the less desirable to understand the character and the life of Cavour. 1 See Preface. | rn le 8 xuu1.}] COMTE AND HUMBOLDT ON THE SCIENCES. 219 NOTE. COMTE AND HUMBOLDT ON THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. Ir will be perceived that the idea of the series of the abstract My obliga- sciences, which I have drawn out in some detail in the foregoing oe chapter, is taken from Comte’s “ Positive Philosophy.” Comte’s series of the sciences is the following :— Mathematics, including dynamics. His series Astronomy. ate = sciences, Physics. Chemistry. Biology. Sociology, or Historical and Political Science. My series is the same as this in principle, but differs in some Where my points of detail. The differences may be very briefly enumerated, ae and are as follow :— from his. I regard general dynamics as a branch, not of mathematics, position of but of physics ; meaning by physics the whole of the dynamical dynamics: group of sciences. I do not place astronomy in the series of the abstract sciences of astro- at all, but in the parallel series of the cosmic sciences ; because °™Y- astronomy, or the science of the celestial bodies, has not to do with a special set of laws, but a special set of phenomena. The force of gravitation, and the laws of motion, are exemplified in terrestrial motions as well as in celestial ones: the law of the — motion of a cannon-ball, or of a stone thrown from the hand, for instance, is of the same kind with the law of a planet’s motion. It is the error of cross division to classify the sciences partly according to the nature of their subject-matter, as in separating biology from physics and chemistry, and partly according to its locality, as in separating astronomy from terrestrial physics. With respect to the place of chemistry and biology, my ar- rangement agrees with Comte’s. Sociology, by which barbarous compound Comte means the science of history and_ politics, occupies the place in his series which I have assigned to a group of sciences not yet systematized. Historical science is one of 990 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CH. XLIII. Science of this group, and the science of language is another. It is a great language fault in Comte’s series of the sciences, though only a fault of ae bY detail and not of principle, that he has left no possible place for the science of language. My obliga- My idea of the series of the cosmic sciences is taken from tions to the first volume of Humboldt’s “ Cosmos,” though Humboldt eiuuibeld had ade given it in a tabular shape, nor has he formally separated the subject of his work into its natural divisions. Humboldt’s arrangement of his subject appears to have been thought out without any suggestion whatever derived from Comte. The parallelism between the series of abstract sciences as arranged by Comte, and the series of cosmic sciences as arranged by Humboldt, has not, so far as I am aware, been pointed out before, CHAPTER XLIV. REMARKS ON THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE. CCORDING to the principles laid down in the pre- Agree- ceding chapter, the logical order of arrangement for ee the sciences is an arrangement in series, beginning with tovcal - those whereof the subject-matter is most simple and the evolu- general, and going on to those whereof it is more com- He plex and special. with their This, which is the logical order, is also in a great degree ee the historical order. Those sciences whereof the subject- matter is simple and general have for the most part come into existence as sciences earlier than those whereof the subject-matter is more complex and special. This is what we might have expected, and for two reasons. In the first place, the simplest subject-matter is the easiest to master ; and in the second place, it is necessary to understand the more general laws before the more special ones can be understood. Thus, mathematics is necessary as the key to dynamics ; general dynamics as the key to the laws of heat and electricity ; the sciences of heat and electricity as the key to chemistry; and chemistry as the key to physiology. In a word, the most general truths were the first to be discovered. As in painting a picture, the artist [lustra- first sketches the outline, and completion does not mean Bae covering more canvas, but filling in the outline with more Picture. detail; so in the history of science the widest truths have been laid down first; and progress consists in the dis- covery of a constantly increasing number of more special truths, and in the ascertainment of their relation to the general ones. Thus, for instance, the most important 222, HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. single step which has probably been made in the pro- egress of science since the time of Newton consists in the discovery of the laws of heat, and their establish- ment as a particular case of the more general theory of force. But, like all mere illustrations, this comparison of scientific progress to the progress of a picture towards completion is only partially applicable; and it is not The truth rigidly true, but only an approximation to the truth, to sees say that the historical order in which the sciences have only ap- been successively evolved corresponds to the logical order proximate. . A ee 3 of their arrangement, beginning with the most general and simple subjects, and going on to the more special and complex. The logical order of the sciences throws a real and valuable light on their history. But it is, after all, only a logical formula; a logical formula will be always misleading if it is mistaken for actual historical fact; and this formula only explains half the facts. It is true that the progress of science is from more general truths to more special ones; but it is also true that it consists, at the same time, in the discovery of special facts and in The generalizing from them. Thus the progress of science is areee ot twofold, and in two directions at once; it is at onee down- twofold, ward, or deductive, consisting in the application of known pouumve laws to new cases; and upward, or inductive, consisting in inductive. the discovery of new laws by a process of generalizing from facts.1 These two processes of discovery, the deduc- Mathe- _ tive and the inductive, sometimes go on apart. In mathe- matics is matics, all is deduction; in chemistry, all until now has deductive, chemistry been induction, except the deductive element which enters oe into the relations of chemistry with the laws of electricity and heat. But at other times induction and deduction co- operate, as in the instance just mentioned of the ascertain- ment of the theory of heat as a particular case of the the general theory of force and energy. The laws of heat feaeae of were ascertained inductively, by experiment, and by gene- both. ralized inference from a variety of experiments; and the 1 See “ The Genesis of Science,” in vol. i. of Herbert Spencer's collected Essays. XLIV.] REMARKS ON THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE. 223 laws of force were applied by deductive reasoning to explain the laws of heat. It is, however, roughly and approximately true, that the order in which the sciences have been historically evolved corresponds to the logical order of their arrangement, be- ginning with simple and general laws and going on to more complex and special ones. But, in addition to what has been said in the last paragraph, this must be under- stood with two other important qualifications. In the first place, though each science is logically based The logical on that more simple and general science which comes 77#tonsof a science before it in the series, yet this is not always, nor generally, are not : ¢ : always apparent at the time when the study of the science is first obyious begun. Most sciences have been begun independently, ** frst. and without any reference in the minds of their founders to any other science. In most cases each science has been commenced, and has made considerable progress, before its students became aware of its relation with that science which comes next before it in the series, and on which it is logically based. This is not the case with dynamics: dynamics is unable to take a single step without the aid of mathematics. But it is true of the sciences of observation and experiment. Thus, chemistry is based on the dynamical group of sciences, especially on those of electricity and heat: but this did not prevent chemistry from making a_ beginning, A science and being in a tolerably forward state, before electro- Biieaaes chemistry and thermo-chemistry were thought of. In indepen- the same way, biology is based on chemistry ; for such tera physiological laws as those of nutrition and of respiration involve chemical laws, and cannot be stated without pre- supposing them: and yet biology had made considerable progress before this relation was perceived. Were it not possible for a science to be thus begun independently, the progress of science would have been much slower than it actually has been. The fact is, however, that most sciences and have been begun independently; and the perception of #4, the true relation of each science to the rest, and of the so. right place of each in the scientific scale, has been, not an What the early origin of a science depends on. Mathe- matics. Geometry and algebra. Chemistry. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. original condition of its commencement, but a late result of its progress. In the second place, it is only an approximation to the truth to say that the early development of a science depends on the simplicity and generality of its subject- matter. What really causes a science to be developed early is partly the accessibility of the facts which consti- tute its data, and partly the obviousness of its fundamental conceptions. This, I think, is as nearly true as a general statement of the kind can be. It is very interesting to observe that the early development of a science does not appear to be in any degree prevented by the elaborateness and intricacy of the reasoning processes which it requires. Thus, there is no other science in which the reasoning processes are so elaborate and intricate as in mathematics, and yet it was the first among the sciences, with the exception of logic, that attained to any high development: the reasons of this evidently are, that the facts which constitute its data are perfectly accessible, and its funda- mental conceptions very obvious. This is especially true of the geometrical branch of mathematics. The data of algebra, like those of geometry, are perfectly accessible ; but its fundamental conceptions are not so obvious as those of geometry, and consequently it was later in being developed. The fundamental conceptions of chemistry, on the contrary, are so obvious as to present no difficulty whatever ; but its data are not very easy of access, because they do not lie open to observation, but have to be sought out by experiment: and the same remark applies to all the experimental sciences. It is sufficiently obvious, that Sciences of if the other difficulties are equal, a science of obser- observa- tion are easier than those of experi- ment. vation will necessarily make earlier progress than one of experiment. This is not so much because experiment is laborious, as because in the infancy of a science there is hardly anything to guide it ; it is a mere searching in the dark. It would have needed more than human ingenuity to devise, @ priori and all at once, a set of experiments to discover the composition of water: while it is compara- tively easy to examine the anatomy of a limb, or to XLIV.] REMARKS ON THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE. 225 compare and classify plants and animals of various kinds. Thus organic morphology, including anatomy and syste- Morpho- matic natural history, attained to some considerable degree °° of progress at a comparatively early period in the history of science, because the more elementary of its fundamental conceptions present no difficulty, and the facts which constitute its data are open to observation. The fact that mathematics was earlier developed than any physical science, is, when properly considered, a very interesting and significant fact. Science began with mathe- science matics. It might have been expected that its beginning aera would be at some point nearer to human life and duty— most that it would have begun at biology, or psychology, or Aa politics, and not at mathematics, which of all possible 5 ae 7 studies is the remotest from human life. Socrates regarded a ou it as a useless waste of time and thought to study external pee nature, while he knew so little about the nature of man; useless: and Galileo’s contemporaries might have plausibly SL “Why do you gaze on the stars, which are far off, while you know so little of the flowers which are under your feet?” Such objections were, so far as I can see, quite unanswerable in the infancy of science; they could not be refuted, and they were overcome only by the refusal of the scientific instinct to listen to them. But now we have learned more of the external world than we shall probably ever know of man, and we have learned more of the motions of the stars than we shall probably ever know of the growth of the flowers. Science, at its origin, was too remote from human life to be obviously useful, and would never have made any progress whatever if it had waited to justify its existence by its usefulness: its first progress and still was due to its own intrinsic intellectual interest.1 And eae the same is still practically true, although the usefulness not useful- 1 Chemistry is a partial exception: the search after the process for making gold appears to have done something for its progress. But the effect of this was probably very slight; and the great discoveries of Lavoisier and his contemporaries, which really founded the science of chemistry, were made without any such stimulus. VOL. II. Q 226 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cHaP. ness, but of science is now no longer doubted by any except the most ee: ignorant: the motive power of scientific progress is still, interest. ag at the first, not its usefulness but its intellectual interest. Were science always engaged in the search after obvious and direct utilities, the highest discoveries would never be made, and the greatest utilities would in all probability be missed. “So ’twere to cramp its use, if I Should hook it to some useful end.” 4 The It was not in seeking for some rapid and certain means of telegraph. telecraphing, that the properties of the electric current were discovered. The remark, that the beginning of science was at the remotest point from human life, is true also in a somewhat different sense from that which has been insisted on above. All All science—all inorganic science, at least—depends on inorganic measurement; and all other measurements ultimately dee ondepend on the measurement of space. Now space is eats of altogether external to the mind: we think in time and space. not in space ;? yet the measurement of time depends on that of space, and not the converse ; and geometry, which is the science of the properties of space, was the earliest of the sciences, NOTE. Measure- Eguat linear spaces, or equal lines, are those which are capable apeneot of being brought alongside of each other so as to coincide. The spaces: measurement of superficial and of solid magnitudes, and all other measurements whatever, depend on this.* 1 Tennyson’s Day-dream. 2 See the Chapter on the Relation of the Mind to Space and Time (Chap. XXXVII.). 3 This remark is made in- H. Spencer’s First Principles. XLIV.] REMARKS ON THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE. 2217 Equal velocities are those which keep at the same distance of velocity: when moving in the same direction on the same line or on paralle] lines. Equal times are those in which equal velocities traverse equal of time : spaces. Equal forces are those which produce equal velocities in equal of force : times. Or (what is a corollary from this), equal forces are those which, when acting in opposite directions, neutralize each other. Equal resistances are those which neutralize equal forces. of resist- Equal quantities of energy are those which overcome equ cheney. resistances through equal spaces. The more special and complex is the subject of a science, the less is mathe- matics applicable Senge In con- nexion with this, the facts of life are in some degree in- definite. CHAPTER XLV. REMARKS ON THE LOGIC OF THE SCIENCES. vue we have seen in the preceding chapter, different methods of discovery belong to different sciences ; thus, demonstration pre-eminently belongs to mathematics, and experiment to chemistry. Mathematical methods have not yet been successfully applied to chemistry, though perhaps it may some day be found possible to do so; but we may positively assert that they never can be applied to the science of life. Indeed it may be stated as a general truth, that the more special and complex are the facts which constitute the subject-matter of a science, the less susceptible is it of mathematical treat- ment. Thus, general dynamics is altogether a mathema- tical science; the secondary dynamical sciences (sound, radiance, heat, electricity, and magnetism) are so in great part; chemistry may perhaps become so; but the sciences that involve life can never by any possibility become mathematical. This peculiarity of the sciences of life is connected with the truth that their facts, even when perfectly well ascertained, are not capable of being determined with the same kind of precision as those of the ior- ganic sciences. In chemistry, for instance, the propor- tions in which two substances combine are in many cases known with perfect numerical accuracy, and are in all cases capable of being so known. In biology, on the contrary, no such accurate determinations are possible: this is not because the quantitative relations are too difficult to determine; it is because they are variable, a a et Lee. oe, cS a *, ts CH. XLy.] REMARKS ON THE LOGIC OF THE SCIENCES. 229 within moderate limits no doubt, but without any ascer- tainable law. Thus, in that branch of biology which is most nearly connected with chemistry, it is impossible to state the effect of medicines, or of poisons, with the same kind of accuracy to which we are accustomed in chemistry. We know that laudanum will produce sleep, and that strychnine will kill; but, even if the constitution of the patient is known, it is impossible to say how much laudanum will be sufficient to cause sleep, or how much strychnine will be sufficient to kill, with the same kind of precision with which we can say how much of an acid is required in order to saturate a given quantity of alkali. But the determinations of biological science, though thus This does inferior in precision to those of the inorganic sciences, are ae imply in no sense, and in no degree, inferior to them in certainty. certainty. The same is true, and even more eminently so, in the higher branches of biology. Thus, the law that all actions tend to become habitual, is as well established as it is possible for such a law to be; but it is impossible, in any case whatever, to say how many times an action must be repeated in order to make it habitual, or, again, for how long it must be discontinued in order to destroy the habit by disuse. In the sciences of society also, in morals and The same in politics, there are laws of general tendencies, but no ae quantitative laws; consequently there is certainty without precision. It is, for instance, as certain as anything can Certainty be, that the tendency of falsehood is injurious to human uae happiness ; but it is never possible to tell how much injury any particular falsehood will do, or has done. The ethical bearing of this truth is very important, but it does not belong to the subject of this work. We may enumerate four fallacies on the subject of the Four relation of mathematics and of logic to the other sciences. renee They all, I believe, have their origin in the fact that origin: mathematics and logic were the earliest sciences in the field ; and they are relics of the time when those were almost the only sciences, and when Pascal wrote of “the geometrical spirit,’ meaning the scientific spirit. These _ four fallacies are as follow :— 230 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [CHAP. that logic 1. The fallacy that logic is an organon of discovery. eaten of Lhis was the error of the scholastic philosophy, and was discovery: that against which Bacon’s whole philosophical career was employed in contending. It is now so completely dis- credited that I need not spend many words in refuting it. I have stated in a former chapter! what is now the univer- sally received conclusion on this subject ;—namely, that the function of logic, regarded as a science, is not to extend the structure of our knowledge, but to fix its foundations. that 2. The fallacy that mathematics is the type of all ee science. Mathematics is altogether a deductive science; the type that is to say, it is a science of pure reasoning; and con- a sequently it cannot possibly be the type of sciences of observation like anatomy and histology, or sciences of experiment like chemistry. Even if chemistry hereafter becomes in part a mathematical science, as the sciences of electricity and heat have done, yet, like them, it must always continue to be in part experimental, and in so far as it is experimental, it cannot be mathematical. that 3. The fallacy that simplicity and intelligibleness are cess tests of truth. This was formularized as an axiom by igitieness Descartes, who laid down as the foundation of his philo- truth: sophy that what is conceivable with perfect clearness must be true. This was the error of a geometrician ; for, in geometry, nothing can be clearly conceived unless it is true; and whatever is true must necessarily be clearly conceived as soon as it is fully understood. In physical science,on the contrary, truth is mere truth of fact, and error consequently involves no logical absurdity; and a conception may be clear and yet not true. But though it is not true that clearness is a test of truth, yet it is true that inability to attain to clearness is a proof of imperfect knowledge. Yet even this test must be applied with caution ; for there are many subjects on which our know- ledge must always be imperfect ;—I do not mean merely limited in extent, but surrounded with a kind of haze of mystery: this is especially true of the mutual relation of the conscious and the unconscious life, and of all the facts 1 The chapter on the Classification of the Sciences (Chap. XLIII.). XLyv. | REMARKS ON THE LOGIC OF THE SCIENCES. of unconscious intelligence. It is also true that self- contradiction is a proof of error: but this test also needs caution in its application; for it is always necessary, and often difficult, to determine whether a contradiction is real or only verbal. 4, Lastly, the fallacy that precision is the criterion of certainty. I have insisted above at some length on the important truth that certainty without precision or definite- ness is characteristic of the facts of life. It is important clearly to conceive this distinction between certainty and precision, because a vague notion appears to be very com- mon, that precision is the criterion of certainty, and that no truth can be perfectly certain unless it is capable of being stated with numerical accuracy ; and consequently that the certainty which is attainable in the moral and political sciences is inferior in degree to that which is attainable in the mathematical and the physical ones. This notion is never, I think, stated as a formula; indeed, it would refute itself if it were; for were it true that no numerically indefinite proposition can be quite certain, it would follow that because no man knows how long he has to live, it is therefore not quite certain whether he is to die at all: a conclusion which it would be impossible to accept. But the notion of some necessary connexion be- tween certainty and precision is, I think, implied in such expressions as “ mathematical certainty” and “ mathe- matical precision;” and in the belief, which is often avowed and oftener implied, that no general truths are attainable concerning the social relations of man; that historical and political science are consequently impossible, and that history is, and ever must be, a mass of mere facts, and politics a chaos of mere opinions. The prevalent un- belief in the possibility of historical and political science, however, though it allies itself with the lingering notion that determinations cannot be certain unless they are also precise, is chiefly due to the fact that the political group of sciences is still in a very immature state. But, as 1 have remarked in the introduction to this work,! the time 1 Vol. I. p. 6. 231 that pre- cision is the criterion of certainty. 232 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. [cuap. Extension is coming when the use of the word science in the sense a a "° of only mathematical and physical science will be extinct, word or, if it survives, will survive merely as a relic of an extinct oo SQ ehebit of thought. We have already begun familiarly to use such expressions as the science of language, the science of history, and the science of politics: a notion still sur- vives that such a use of the word science is a somewhat inaccurate extension of the meaning of the word; but I believe that in another generation such expressions will come to be used with no more sense of inaccuracy or of paradox than we have when we speak of the science of chemistry or the science of astronomy. Double _ It is an important truth, that perfect scientific method paeied ™ consists in the co-operation of the inductive and deductive Induction methods ; and perfect scientific proof consists in the results pepe sue: of the two methods coinciding. Thus in astronomy the co-operate. results of induction and of deduction, that is to say of observation and of calculation, coincide within very small limits of error; and the same is true of the sciences of sound, radiance, heat, electricity, and magnetism. None of these sciences could have attained to anything at all comparable to their present perfection without the use of this double method: in which the calculated results of theoretical deduction are checked and verified by the results obtained by induction from observation and experi- ment; while at the same time, by the converse process, the results obtained by induction from observation and experi- ment are checked and verified by the calculated results Theory Of theoretical deduction.1 In language which is at once and obser- familiar and accurate, this is called the coincidence of vation. the results of theory with those of observation. As was 1 It is usual to call the experimental result the verification of the theo- retical one. According to Comte, in physical science the results of theory are verified by observation or experiment ; but in historical science the results are first generalized from observation, and then verified by theory (the theoretical data in this case consist, of course, in the general laws of human nature). This may be true, but it is not very important. The impor- tant and universal truth on the subject is, that the results of the theoretical and of the experimental methods each need to be verified by the other, xLy.] REMARKS ON THE LOGIC OF THE SCIENCES. 233 remarked by Paracelsus, before the time of Bacon, theory Failure of alone will lead to mere fantasy, and observation alone will aaa? ae lead to mere empiricism. The best instance of the power- lessness of observation alone is perhaps the present state of meteorology, or the science of the weather; in which Meteoro- we have a vast mass of observations, and yet, for want of logy. knowing how to bring deductive theory to bear on them, we are almost as far as ever from knowing the laws and causes on which the changes of the weather depend. The powerlessness of theory alone is best shown by the utter failure of all attempts to account for the facts of human society and historical change by merely theoretical deduc- tion from the laws of human nature. It is of course impossible that historical science can ever Historical become mathematical in form ; nevertheless I think we are ©" safe in asserting that the relation of theory to observation its method i z é is the same is the same in the historical sciences as in the mathematico- as that of physical ones, such as astronomy and the science of heat. Pivsic#! Certainty in the science of historical principles (of course T do not mean mere historical facts) is attained only when the laws generalized from the observed facts of history, and the laws theoretically deduced from the general ten- dencies of human nature, coincide so as to verify each other. As an instance of this—not perhaps the best instance that might be mentioned, but the most familiar— I will mention the conclusion which all unprejudiced men now accept, of the economical benefit of freedom of in- dustry and exchange, or what is familiarly called free Free trade. trade. This conclusion was first deduced by theory from some of the commonest facts of human nature, and has been amply verified by the experience of every state which has had the wisdom to adopt it. It may be thought that mathematics is an exception to In what the law of the necessity for verifying the results of the one "7. method by those of the other ;—it may be thought that the matics deductive results of pure or abstract mathematics need no ee verification. It is no doubt the fact that we take them as true without demanding verification ; that is to say, when we are satisfied of the accuracy of a mathematical calcula- 234 Conclu- sion. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE, [CH. XLV. tion, we are satisfied of the truth of the result, and do not need to test it by counting or measuring. But I think, though I do not wish to speak dogmatically on a question which rather belongs to metaphysics than to logic, that the reason why we do not demand verification for the results of mathematical reasoning is only that general experience assures us of their trustworthiness. But—to put a case which, though not possible, is quite conceivable—if the whole algebraic calculus had been invented before any part of it was applied to actual use, I do not think that a reasonable man would have been justified in feeling abso- lutely certain of the truth of its results until they had been tested, checked, and verified. But this is not because of anything uncertain or contingent in the nature of mathe- matical truth ; it is only because of the limitation of our powers. This remark, however, applies to all the sciences alike; it is only the limitation of human powers that makes it necessary to verify the results of theoretic de- duction by observation. We can imagine an intelligence similar in kind to ours, though very much more powerful, which should be able to calculate and predict all the special facts of nature by pure deduction from the primary laws of matter and of life, and this with such unerring certainty as to be independent of any verification by the observation of facts. I have in several places insisted on the truth, that the universal tendency of science is to establish unity of laws throughout nature ; and I believe that in the present work I have done something to extend the domain of sound scientific ideas, by showing that Habit and Intelligence are both of them co-extensive with Life, with Mind, and with History. But it is obvious that there must be somewhere a limit to such generalizations as these: it is obvious that all the facts of nature can never be brought under a single law. It can never, for instance, be possible to refer the laws of chemical combinations to those of motion and gravitation; and, as I have argued at some length, it is equally impossible to deduce Intelligence from Habit, or from any unintelligent principle whatever. APPENDIX. APPENDIX. As indicated in the title-page of this work, its principal purpose is to state what I believe to be the laws of Habit and the laws of Intelligence ; and further, to show my reasons for believing that intelligence is a distinct principle, not capable of being re- solved into habit or into any other unintelligent agency. In so far as this work is a controversial one at all, its purpose is to prove the independent and ultimate character of intelligence. This question as to the ultimate character of intelligence, however, does not stand alone. It is the second of a series of Three three closely related questions, which may be thus stated:— —‘"esttons: 1. Is life a mere result of physical and chemical forces ? or is Is life an it something transcending all chemistry, and having its origin ae directly in creative power ? 2. Are the organizing power which builds up the wondrous Are organ- structures of the body, and the intelligence of the mind, mere ere results of habit, variation, and natural selection? or are they intelli- _ both due to a principle of intelligence which is not capable of pee being resolved into any unintelligent principle ? 3. Is the moral sense to be accounted for by the laws of the Is the association of ideas—that is to say, of mental habit? or is it en altogether peculiar, and incapable of being resolved into any- ultimate thing else ? ae In this work I have answered ali these questions in the same I answer way : I have expressed my belief that life, intelligence, and the get ee moral sense are each incapable of being resolved into anything tive. lower than itself. With respect to the moral sense, I have briefly stated my Moral conviction that although it is developed out of the love of *"** pleasure and the fear of pain, yet it contains an element which 238 Intelli- gence. Life, Quotation from Huxley. HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. altogether transcends organic life and sensation.! A full discus- sion of the grounds of this belief, and of its results, would be out of place in this work ; I intend to endeavour to do justice to the subject in a future one. With respect to organizing intelligence and mental intelli- gence, the most important chapters of this work consist of an attempt to prove that they are not capable of being resolved into any unintelligent agencies. It would be needless to recapitulate my reasonings on the subject here. But with respect to life, I have somewhat more to say. In the chapter on the Chemistry of Life, I have stated my belief that “life, like matter and energy, had its origin in no secondary cause, but in the direct action of creative power ;”* giving as my principal reason that no merely chemical force appears to be capable of vitalizing matter: matter can be vitalized, and living beings can be produced, only by beings which are already alive ; and no science appears to be able to bring us to the origin of life, any more than to the origin of matter. Since the first volume of this work has been printed, Pro- fessor Huxley has published the opposite opinion to mine, in an article “‘ On the Physical Basis of Life.” ? In a question of this sort, I must request the reader not to permit Huxley’s high authority to influence his conclusion, but to weigh my reasoning against his. I quote Huxley’s words, italicising some of them :— “‘ When hydrogen and oxygen are mixed in a certain propor- tion, and an electric spark is passed through them, they disap- pear, and a quantity of water equal to the sum of their weights appears in their place. There is not the slightest parity between the passive and active powers of the water and those of the oxygen and hydrogen which have given rise to it. At 32° Fahr. and far below that temperature, oxygen and hydrogen are elastic gaseous bodies whose particles tend to rush away from one another with great force. Water at the same temperature is a strong though brittle solid, whose particles tend to cohere into definite geometrical shapes, and sometimes build up frosty imitations of the most complex forms of vegetable foliage. Nevertheless, we call these and many other strange phenomena the properties of the. water ; and we do not hesitate to believe 1 See Chapter XXII. 2 Vol,-I. p. 89, > Fortnightly Review, February 1869. _ APPENDIX. 239 that in some way or another they result from the properties of the component elements of the water. We do not assume that a something called ‘ aquosity’ entered into and took possession of the oxide of hydrogen as soon as it was formed, and then guided the aqueous particles to their places in the facets of the crystal or amongst the leaflets of the hoar-frost. On the con- trary, we live in the hope and in the faith that by the advance of molecular physics we shall by and by be able to see our way as clearly from the constituents of water to the properties of water as we are now able to deduce the operations of a watch from the form of its parts and the manner in which they are put together. Is the case in any way changed when carbonic acid, water, and ammonia disappear, and in their place, wnder the influence of pre-existing living protoplasm, an equivalent weight of the matter of life makes its appearance? It is true that there is no sort of parity between the properties of the components and the properties of the resultant, but neither was there in the case of the water. It is also true that what I have spoken of as the influence of pre-existing matter is something quite unin- telligible ; but does any one quite comprehend the modus operandi of an electrie spark which traverses a mixture of oxygen and hydrogen? What justification is there, then, for the assumption of the existence in the living matter of a something which has no representative or correlative in the not living matter which gave rise to it? What better philosophical status has ‘vitality’ than ‘ aquosity?’” This reasoning, on a first perusal, looks lucid and convincing ; but I think a thorough examination will show that its apparent lucidity is produced by leaving out the difficulties of the question. The analogy of a watch really makes against Huxley’s argu- My reply ment. It is true that we are “able to deduce the operations of *° it -a watch from the form of its parts, and the manner in which they are put together ;” and it may be true, for anything I have to say to the contrary, that if we understood an organism as well as we understand a watch, and if we understood life as well as we understand mechanics, we should be able to deduce the properties of living beings from those of carbonic acid, water, and ammonia. But here, where Huxley takes a paral- lelism for granted, there is really a wide divergence ; for the living matter, which is chiefly formed of combinations of 240 HABIT AND INTELLIGENCE. carbonic acid, water, and ammonia, has the power of organizing itself ; and in order to make the parallel a valid one, the brass and steel that compose the watch ought to have the power of putting themselves together, which they have not. If, then, the case of an organism is really analogous to that of a watch, a being who understood an organism as well as we understand a watch would be able to perceive that it has been organized by a _ power—namely life or intelligence—which is as totally unlike the properties of the mere chemical elements as the skill of the watchmaker is unlike the properties of brass and steel. Huxley’s argument about “aquosity” is less easy to answer. But I think the suggested analogy between the effect of the electric spark in producing water out of its elements, and the effect of ‘“ pre-existing living protoplasm” in vitalizing the sub- stances of the food, is altogether unsound. The only effect of the electric spark in the formation of water is probably to pro- duce heat, and the effect of heat is to enable the constituents of the water to combine according to their spontaneous affinities ; but when the substance of food is vitalized by the action of previously vitalized matter, or when vitalized matter assumes organic structure, I see no proof nor probability that this is due to any spontaneous tendency of matter. > THE END. LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS. Te ge ee 16, BEDFORD STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON. April, 1870. Macuirtan & Cols GENERAL CATALOGUE of Works in the Departments of History, Biography, Travels, Poetry, and Belles Lettres. With some short Account or Critical Notice concerning each Book. SEC LION, I HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, and TRAVELS. Baker (Sir Samuel W.).—THE NILE TRIBUTARIES OF ABYSSINIA, and the Sword Hunters of the Hamran Arabs. By Sir SAMUEL W. Baker, M.A., F.R.G.S. With Portraits, Maps, and Illustrations. Third Edition, 8vo. 21s. Sir Samuel Baker here describes twelve months’ exploration, during which he examined the rivers that are tributary to the Nile from Abyssinia, including the Atbara, Setiite, Royan, Salaam, Angrab, Rahad, Dinder, and the Blue Nile. The interest attached to these portions of Africa differs entirely from that of the White Nile regions, as the whole of Upper Egypt and Abyssinia ts capable of deveiopment, and ts inhabited by races having some degree of civilization; while Central Africa is peopled by a race of savages, whose future is more problematical. THE ALBERT N’YANZA Great Basin of the Nile, and Explo- ration of the Nile Sources. New and Cheaper Edition, with Portraits, Maps, and Illustrations. Two vols. crown 8vo. 16s. “* Bruce won the source of the Blue Nile; Speke and Grant won the Victoria source of the great White Nile; and I have been permitied to Acar. i A 1000. 4.70. 2 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Baker (Sir Samuel W.) (continued)— succeed in completing the Nile Sources by the discovery of the great reservoir of the equatorial waters, the Albert N’yanza, from which the river issues as the entire White Nile.” —PREFACE. NEW AND CHEAP EDITION OF THE ALBERT N’YANZA. I vol. crown 8vo. With Maps and Illustrations. 7s. 6d. CAST UP BY THE SEA; or, The Adventures of NED GREY. By Sir SAMUEL W. BAKER, M.A., F.R.G.S. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. cloth gilt, 75. 6d. “A story of adventure by sea and land in the good old style. It appears to us to be the best book of the kind since ‘ Masterman Ready,’ and it runs that established favourite very close.” —PALL MALL GAZETTE. “No book written for toys has for a long time created so much interest, or been so successful. Every parent ought to provide his boy with a copy.” DaILy TELEGRAPH. Barker (Lady).—STATION LIFE IN NEW ZEALAND. By Lapy BARKER. Crown 8yo. 7s. 6d. +‘ These letters are the exact account of a lady's experience of the brighter and less practical side of colonization. They record the expeditions, ad- ventures, and emergencies diversifying the daily life of the wife of a New Zealand sheep-farmer ; and, as each was written while the novelty and excitement of the scenes it describes were fresh upon her, they may succeed in giving herein England an adequate impression of the delight and free- dom of an existence so far removed from our own highly-wrought civiliza- tion.” —PREFACE. ““ We have never read a more truthful or a pleasanter little book.” ATHENZUM. Baxter (R. Dudley, M.A.).—THE TAXATION OF THE UNITED KINGDOM. By R. DuDLEY BaxTeErR, M.A. 8yo. cloth, 45. 6a. : f AISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, & TRAVELS. 3 Baxter (R. Dudley, M.A.) (continued)— The First Part of this work, originally read before the Statistical Society of London, deals with the Amount of Taxation ; the Second Part, which now constitutes the main portion of the work, is almost entirely new, and embraces the important questions of Rating, of the relative Taxation of Land, Personalty, and Industry, and of the direct effect of Taxes upon Prices. The author trusts that the body of facts here collected may be of Permanent value as a record of the past progress and present condition of the population of the United Kingdom, independently of the transitory circumstances of its present Taxation. NATIONAL INCOME. With Coloured Diagrams. 8vo. 35. 6d. Part I.—C/assification of the Population, Upper, Middle, and Labour Classes. 11.—Income of the United Kingdom. “A painstaking and certainly most interesting inquiry.” —PALL MALL GAZETTE. Bernard.—FOUR LECTURES ON SUBJECTS CONNECTED WITH DIPLOMACY. By MounTacuE BERNARD, M.A., Chichele Professor of International Law and Diplomacy, Oxford. 8vo. 95. ; Four Lectures, dealing with (1) The Congress of Westphalia ; (2) Systems of Policy ; (3) Diplomacy, Past and Present; (4) The Obligations of Treaties. Blake.—THE LIFE OF WILLIAM BLAKE, THE ARTIST. By ALEXANDER GILCHRIST. With numerous Illustrations from Blake’s designs, and Fac-similes of his studies of the “Book of Job.” Two vols. medium 8vo. 32s. These volumes contain a Life of Blake; Selections from his Writings, including Poems ; Letters ; Annotated Catalogue of Pictures and Drawings, List, with occasional notes, of Blake's Engravings and Writings. There 4 GENERAL CATALOGUE. are appended Engraved Designs by Blake; (1) The Book of Fob, twenty- one photo-lithographs from the originals; (2) Songs of Innocence and Experience, sixteen of the original Plates. Bright (John, M.P.).—SPEECHES ON QUESTIONS OF PUBLIC POLICY. By Joun Bricut, M.P. Edited by Professor THOROLD RoceErs. Two Vols. 8yo. 25s. Second Edition, with Portrait. “7 have divided the Speeches contained in these volumes into groups. The materials for selection are so abundant, that I have been constrained to omit many a speech which is worthy of careful perusal. TI have naturally given prominence to those subjects with which Mr. Bright has been especially identified, as, for example, India, America, Ireland, and Parliamentary Reform. But nearly every topic of great public interest on which Mr. Bright has spoken is represented in these volumes.” EpitTor’s PREFACE. AUTHOR’S POPULAR EDITION. Extra fcap. 8vo. cloth. Second Edition. 3s. 6d. Bryce.—THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE. By James Bryce, B.C.L., Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. [Reprinting. CAMBRIDGE CHARACTERISTICS. See MULLINGER. CHATTERTON : A Biographical Study. By DANIEL WILSON, LL.D., Professor of History and English Literature in University College, Toronto. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d. The Author here regards Chatterton as a Poet, not as a mere “‘ resetter and defacer of stolen literary treasures.” Reviewed in this light, he has found much in the old materials capable of being turned to new account ; and to these materials research in various directions has enabled him to make some additions. oe Fae id (yew (apr ~ HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, & TRAVELS. 5 Clay.— THE PRISON CHAPLAIN. A Memoir of the Rev. JoHN Cray, B.D., late Chaplain of the Preston Gaol. With Selections from his Reports and Correspondence, and a Sketch of Prison Discipline in England. By his Son, the Rev. W. L. Cay, M.A. 8yo. 155. “ Few books have appeared of late years better entitled to an attentive perusal. . . . It presents a complete narrative of all that has been done and attempted by various philanthropists for the amelioration of the condition and the improvement of the morals of the criminal classes in the British dominions.” —LONDON REVIEW. Cooper.—ATHENZ CANTABRIGIENSES. By CHARLES Henry Cooper, F.S.A., and THOMPSON COOPER, F.S.A. Vol. I. 8vo., 1500—85, 18s. Vol. II., 1586—1609, 18s. This elaborate work, which is dedicated by permission to Lord Macaulay, contains lives of the eminent men sent forth by Cambridge, after the ' fashion of Anthony & Wood, in his famous “ Athene Oxonierses.” Cox (G. V., M.A.).—RECOLLECTIONS OF OXFORD. By G. V. Cox, M.A., New College, Late Esquire Bedel and Coroner in the University of Oxford. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. Ios, 6d. “ 4n amusing farrago of anecdote, and will pleasantly recall in many a country parsonage the memory of youthful days.”” —TIMES. Dilke.—GREATER BRITAIN. A Record of Travel in English- speaking Countries during 1866-7. (America, Australia, India.) By Sir CHARLES WENTWORTH DILKx, M.P. Fifth and Cheap Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6 GENERAL CATALOGUE. “Mr. Dilke has written a book which is probably as well worth reading as any book of the same aims and character that ever was written. Its merits are that it is written in a lively and agreeable style, that it implies a great deal of physical pluck, that no page of it fails to show an acute and highly intelligent observer, that it stimulates the imagination as well as the judgment of the reader, and that it is on perhaps the most interesting subject that can attract an Englishman who cares about his country.” SATURDAY REVIEW. Durer (Albrecht).—HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF AL- BRECHT DURER, of Niirnberg. With a Translation of his Letters and Journal, and some account of his works. By Mrs. CHARLES HEATON. Royal 8vo. bevelled boards, extra gilt. 315. 6d. This work contains about Thirty Illustrations, ten of which are produc- tions by the Autotype (carbon) process, and are printed in permanent tints by Messrs. Cundall and Fleming, under license from the Autotype Com- pany, Limited ; the rest are Photographs and Woodcuts. EARLY EGYPTIAN HISTORY FOR THE YOUNG. Se “‘ JUVENILE SECTION.” Elliott.—LIFE OF HENRY VENN ELLIOTT, ot Brighton. By JostaH BATEMAN, M.A., Author of ‘‘ Life of Daniel Wilson, Bishop of Calcutta,” &c. With Portrait, engraved by JEENS ; and an Appendix containing a short sketch of the life of the Rev. Julius Elliott (who met with accidental death while ascending the Schreckhorn in July, 1869.) Crown $8vo. 8s. 6d. Second Edition, with Appendix. i “<4 very charming piece of religious biography; no one can read it without both pleasure and profit.’—BRITISH QUARTERLY REVIEW. _ Fairfax.—A LIFE OF THE GREAT LORD FAIRFAX, Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the Parliament of England. By CLEMENTS R. MarkuHAm, F.S.A. With Portraits, Maps, Plans, and Illustrations. Demy 8vo. 16s. x \. “ 3 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, & TRAVELS. 7 No full Life of the great Parliamentary Commander has appeared ; and it 1s here sought to produce one—based upon careful research in con- temporary records and upon family and other documents. Forbes.— LIFE OF PROFESSOR EDWARD FORBES, F.R.S. By GeorcE Witson, M.D., F.R.S.E., and ARCHIBALD GEIKIE, F.R.S. 8vo. with Portrait, 145. “ From the first page to the last the book claims careful reading, as being a full but not overcrowded rehearsal of a most instructive life, and the true picture of a mind that was rare in strength and beauty.” —EXAMINER. Freeman.— HISTORY OF FEDERAL GOVERNMENT, from the Foundation of the Achaian League to the Disruption of the United States. By EDWARD A. FREEMAN, M.A. Vol. I. General Introduction. History of the Greek Federations. 8vo. 215. “ The task Mr. Freeman has undertaken is one of great magnitude and importance. It is also a task of an almost entirely novel character. No other work professing to give the history of a political principle occurs to us, except the slight contributions to the history of representative govern- ment that is contained in a course of M. Guizot’s lectures... . The history of the development of a principle is at least as important as the history of a dynasty, or of a race.’ —SATURDAY REVIEW. OLD ENGLISH HISTORY FOR CHILDREN. By Epwarp A. FREEMAN, M.A., late Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford. With Five Coloured Maps. Extra fcap. 8vo., half-bound. 6s. “* Tts object is to show that clear, accurate, and scientific views of history, or indeed tf any subject, may be easily given to children from the very jist... I have, I hope, shown that it is perfectly easy to teach children, from the very first, to distinguish true history alike fiom iegend and from wilful invention, and also to understand the nature of historical authorities, and 8 GENERAL CATALOGUE. to weigh one statement against another..... L have throughout striven to connect the history of England with the general history of civilized Europe, and I have especially tried to make the book serve as an incentive to a more accurate study of historical geography.” —PREFACE. French (George Russell). —SHAKSPEAREANA GENEALOGICA. 8vo. cloth extra, 15s. Uniform with the “ Cambridge Shakespeare.” Part I.—Identification of the dramatis persone 77 the historical plays, Srom King John to King Henry VIII. ; Notes on Characters in Macbeth and Hamlet; Persons and Places belonging to Warwickshire alluded to. Part IT.—The Shakspeare and Arden families and their connexions, with Tables of descent. The present is the first attempt to give a detailed de- scription, in” consecutive order, of each of the dramatis personz 77 Shak- speare’s immortal chronicle-histories, and some of the characters have been, it is believed, herein identified for the first time. A clue is furnished which, Sollowed up with ordinary diligence, may enable any one, with a taste for the pursuit, to trace a distinguished Shakspearean worthy to his lineal representative in the present day. Galileo.—THE PRIVATE LIFE OF GALILEO. Compiled principally from his Correspondence and that of his eldest daughter, Sister Maria Celeste, Nun in the Franciscan Convent of S. Matthew in Arcetri. With Portrait. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. It has been the endeavour of the compiler to place before the reader a plain, ungarbled statement of facts ; and as a means to this end, to allow Galileo, his friends, and his judges to speak for themselves as far as possible. & Gladstone (Right. Hon. W. E., M.P.).—JUVENTUS MUNDI. The Gods and Men of the Heroic Age. Crown 8vo. cloth extra. With Map. tos. 6¢. Second Edition. HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, & TRAVELS. 9 Gladstone (Right. Hon. W. E., M.P.) (continued)— This new work of Mr. Gladstone deals especially with the historic element in Homer, expounding that element and furnishing by its aid a full account of the Homeric men and the Homeric religion. It starts, after the introductory chapter, with a discussion of the several races then existing in Hellas, including the influence of the Phenicians and Egyptians. It contains chapters on the Olympian system, with its several deities ; on the Ethics and the Polity of the Heroic age; on the geography of Homer ; on the characters of the Poems; presenting, in fine, a view of primitive hfe and primitive society as found in the poems of Homer. To this New Edition various additions have been made. “GLOBE” ATLAS OF EUROPE. Uniform in size with Mac- millan’s Globe Series, containing 45 Coloured Maps, on a uniform scale and projection ; with Plans of London and Paris, and a copious Index. Strongly bound in half-morocco, with flexible back, 9s. This Atlas includes all the countries of Europe in a series of 48 Maps, drawn on the same scale, with -an Alphabetical Index to the situation of more than ten thousand places, and the relation of the various maps and countries to each other is defined in a general Key-map. All the maps being on a uniform scale facilitates the comparison of extent and distance, and conveys a just impression of the relative magnitude of different countries. The size suffices to show the provincial divisions, the railways and main roads, the principal rivers and mountain ranges. “This atlas,” writes the British Quarterly, “wll be an invaluable boon for the school, the desk, or the traveller's portmanteau.” Godkin (James).—THE LAND WAR IN IRELAND. A History for the Times. By JAMES GODKIN, Author of ‘‘Ireland and her Churches,” late Irish Correspondent of the 77mes. 8vo. 12s. A History of the Irish Land Question. Io GENERAL CATALOGUE. Guizot.—(Author of “JoHn Hatirax, GENTLEMAN.”)—M. DE BARANTE, A Memoir, Biographical and Autobiographical. By M. Guizot. Translated by the Author of “JoHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN.” Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d. “ The highest purposes of both history and biography are answered by a memoir so lifelike, so faithful, and so philosophical.” : BRITISH QUARTERLY REVIEW. HISTORICAL SELECTIONS. Readings from the best Authorities on English and European History. Selected and arranged by E. M. SEWELL and C. M. YoncE. Crown 8vyo. 6s. When young children have acquired the outlines of history from abridge- ments and catechisms, and it becomes desirable to give a more enlarged view of the subject, in order to render it really useful and interesting, a difficulty often arises as to the choice of books. Two courses are open, either to take a general and consequently dry history of facts, such as Russell’s Modern Europe, or to choose some work treating of a particular period or subject, such as the works of Macaulay and Froude. The former course usually renders history uninteresting ; the latter is unsatisfactory, because it is not sufficiently comprehensive. To remedy this difficulty, selections, continuous and chronological, have in the present volume been taken from the larger works of Freeman, Milman, Palgrave, and others, which may serve as distinct landmarks of historical reading. “We know of scarcely anything,” says the Guardian, of this volume, “which is so likely to raise to a higher level the average standard of English education.” Hole.—A GENEALOGICAL STEMMA OF THE KINGS OF ENGLAND AND FRANCE. By the Rev. C. Hoi, M.A., Trinity College, Cambridge. On Sheet, Is. The different families are.printed in distinguishing colours, thus facili- tating reference. HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, & TRAVELS. II Hole (continued)— A BRIEF BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY. Compiled and Arranged by the Rev. CHARLES HOLE, M.A. Second Edition. 18mo. neatly and strongly bound in cloth, 4s. 6d. One of the most comprehensive and accurate Biographical Dictionaries in the world, containing more than 18,000 Zersons of all countries, with dates of birth and death, and what they were distinguished for. Extreme care has been bestowed on the verification of the dates ; and thus numerous errors, current in brevious works, have been corrected. Its size adapts it Sor the desk, portmanteau, or pocket. “An invaluable addition to our manuals of reference, and, from its moderate price, cannot fail to become as popular as it ts useful.” —TIMES. Hozier.—THE SEVEN WEEKS’ WAR;; Its Antecedents and its Incidents.) By H. M. Hozier. With Maps and Plans. Two vols. 8vo. 28s. This work is based upon letters reprinted by permission from “ The Times.” or the most part it is a product of a personal eye-witness of some of the most interesting incidents of a war which, for rapidity and decisive results, may claim an almost unrivalled position in history. THE BRITISH EXPEDITION TO ABYSSINIA. Compiled from Authentic Documents. By CAPTAIN HENRY M. HozIeEr, late Assistant Military Secretary to Lord Napier of Magdala. 8vo. 9s. “¢ Several accounts of the British Expedition have been published..... They have, however, been written by those who have not had access to those authentic documents, which cannot be collected directly after the termination of a campaign..... The endeavour of the author of this sketch has been to present to readers a succinct and impartial account of an enterprise which has rarely been equalled in the annals of war.” —PREFACE. 12 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Irving.—THE ANNALS OF OUR TIME. A Diurnal of Events, Social and Political, which have happened in or had relation to the Kingdom of Great Britain, from the Accession of Queen Victoria to the Opening of the present Parliament. By JosEPH IrvinG. $8vo. half-bound. 18s. “ We have before us a trusty and ready guide to the events of the past thirty years, available equally for the statesman, the politician, the public writer, and the general reader. If Mr. Irving's object has been to bring before the reader all the most noteworthy occurrences which have happened since the beginning of Her Mazesty’s reign, he may justly claim the credit of having done so most briefly, succinctly, and simply, and in such a manner, too, asto furnish him with the details necessary in each case to comprehend the event of which he is in search in an intelligent manner. Reflection will serve to show the great value of such a work as this to the journalist and statesman, and indeed to every one who feels an interest in the progress of the age; and we may add that its value ts considerably in- creased by the addition of that most important of all appendices, an accurate and instructive index.” —T1MES. Kingsley (Canon).—ON THE ANCIEN REGIME as it Existed on the Continent before the FRENCH REVOLUTION. Three Lectures delivered at the Royal Institution. By the Rev. C. Kinestey, M.A., formerly Professor of Modern History in the University of Cambridge. Crown 8vo. 6s. These three lectures discuss severally (1) Caste, (2) Centralization, (3) The Explosive Forces by which the Revolution was superinduced. The Preface deals at some length with certain political questions of the present day. THE ROMAN AND THE TEUTON. A Series of Lectures delivered before the University of Cambridge. By Rev. C. KincsLey, M.A. 8vo. 12s. ConTENTS :—lnaugural Lecture; The Forest Children ; The Dying Empire; The Human Deluge ; The Gothic Civilizer; Dietrich’s End; The HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, & TRAVELS. 13 Nemesis of the Goths; Paulus Diaconus ; The Clergy and the Heathen ; The Monk a Civilizer ; The Lombard Laws ; The Popes and the Lombards ; The Strategy of Providence. Kingsley (Henry, F.R.G.S.).—TALES OF OLD TRAVEL. Re-narrated by HENRY KinGsLEy, F.R.G.S. With Eight Illustrations by HUARD. Crown 8vo. 6s. Contents :—WMVarco Polo; The Shipwreck of Pelsart; The Wonderful Adventures of Andrew Battel; The Wanderings of a Capuchin; Peter Carder; The Preservation of the “Terra Nova;” Spitzbergen ; D’ Erme- nonville’s Acclimatization Adventure; The Old Slave Trade; Miles Philips ; The Sufferings of Robert Everard; John Fox ; Alvaro Nunez; The Foun- dation of an Empire. Latham.—BLACK AND WHITE: A Journal of a Three Months’ Tour in the United States. By Henry LATHAM, M.A., Barrister- at-Law. 8vo. Ios. 6d. “ The spirit in which Mr. Latham has written about our brethren in America is commendable in high degree.” —ATHENEUM. Law.—THE ALPS OF HANNIBAL. By WILLIAM JoHN Law, M.A., formerly Student of Christ Church, Oxford. Two vols. 8vo. 215. “ No one can read the work and not acquire a conviction that, in addition to a thorough grasp of a particular topic, its writer has at command a large store of reading and thought upon many cognate points of ancient history and geography.” —QUARTERLY REVIEW. Liverpool.—THE LIFE AND ADMINISTRATION OF ROBERT BANKS, SECOND EARL OF LIVERPOOL, K.G. Compiled from Original Family Documents by CHARLES DUKE 14 GENERAL CATALOGUE. YONGE, Regius Professor of History and English Literature in Queen’s College, Belfast ; and Author of “ The History of the British Navy,” “‘ The History of France under the Bourbons,” etc. Three vols. 8vo. 425. Since the time of Lord Burleigh no one, except the second Pitt, ever enjoyed so long a tenure of power ; with the same exception, no one ever held office at so critical a time... . Lord Liverpool is the very last minister who has been able fully to carry out his own political views ; who has been so strong that in matters of general policy the Opposition could extort no concessions from him which were not sanctioned by his own deliberate judgment. The present work ts founded almost entirely on the correspondence left behind him by Lord Liverpool, and now in the possession of Colonel and Lady Catherine Harcourt. “ Full of information and instruction.” FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW. Maclear.—Scee Section, “ ECCLESIASTICAL History.” Macmillan (Rev. Hugh).—HOLIDAYS ON HIGH LANDS ; or, Rambles and Incidents in search of Alpine Plants. By the Rev. HuGH MacmILLan, Author of “ Bible Teachings in Nature,” etc. Crown 8vo. cloth. 6s. “ Botanical knowledge is blended with a love of nature, a pious en- thusiasm, and a rich felicity of diction not to be met with in any works of kindred character, if we except those of Hugh Miller.” —DAILy TELEGRAPH. FOOT-NOTES FROM THE PAGE OF NATURE. With numerous Illustrations. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. “ Those who have derived pleasure and profit from the study of flowers and ferns—subjects, it is pleasing to find, now everywhere popular—by descending lower into the arcana of the vegetable kingdom, will find a still more interesting and delightful field of research in the objects brought under review in the following pages.” —PREFACE. HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, & TRAVELS. 15 Macmillan (Rev. Hugh), (continued)— BIBLE TEACHINGS IN NATURE. Fourth Edition. Fcap 8vo. 6s.— See also *‘ SCIENTIFIC SECTION.” : Martin (Frederick)._THE STATESMAN’S YEAR-BOOK : A Statistical and Historical Account of the States of the Civilized World. Manual for Politicians and Merchants for the year 1870. By FREDERICK MARTIN. Seventh Annual Publication. Crown 8vo. 10s. 6d. The new issue has been entirely re-written, revised, and corrected, on the basis of official reports received direct from the heads of the leading Govern- ments of the World, in reply to letters sent to then by the Editor. “ Everybody who knows this work is aware that it is a book that is indis- pensable to writers, financiers, politicians, statesmen, and all who are directly or indirectly interested in the political, social, industrial, com- mercial, and financial condition of their fellow-creatures at home and abroad. Mr. Martin deserves warm commendation for the care he takes in making ‘ The Statesman’s Year Book’ complete and correct.” STANDARD. HANDBOOK OF CONTEMPORARY BIOGRAPHY. By FREDERICK MARTIN, Author of ‘‘The Statesman’s Year-Book.” Extra feap. 8vo. 6s. This volumeis an attempt to produce a book of reference, furnishing in a condensed form some biographical particulars of notable living men. The leading idea has been to give only facts, and those in the briefest form, and to exclude opinions. Martineau.—BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES, 1852—1868. _ By HARRIET MARTINEAU. Third Edition, with New Preface. Crown 8vo. 8s. 6d. A Collection of Memoirs under these several sections :—(1) Royal, (2) Politicians, (3) Professional, (4) Sczentific, (5) Social, (6) Literary. These Memoirs appeared originally in the columns of the “ Daily News.” 16 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Masson (Professor).—ESSAYS, BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL. See Section headed “ POETRY AND BELLES LETTRES.” LIFE OF JOHN MILTON. Narrated in connexion with the Political, Ecclesiastical, and Literary History of his Time. By Davip Masson, M.A., LL.D., Professor of Rhetoric at Edin- burgh. Vol. I. with Portraits. 8vo. 18s. Vol. II. in the Press. Ut is intended to exhibit Milton’s life in its connexions with all the more notable phenomena of the period of British history in which it was cast— its state politics, its ecclesiastical variations, its literature and speculative thought. Commencing in 1608, the Life of Milton proceeds through the last sixteen years of the reign of Fames L., includes the whole of the reign of Charles I. and the subsequent years of the Commonwealth and the Protectorate, and then, passing the Restoration, extends itself to 1674, or through fourteen years of the new state of things under Charles II. The first volume deals with the life of Milton as extending from 1608 to 1640, which was the period of his education and of his minor poems. Morison.—THE LIFE AND TIMES OF SAINT BERNARD, Abbot of Clairvaux. By JAMES CoTTER Morison, M.A. New Edition, revised. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. “ One of the best contributions in our literature towards a vivid, intel- ligent, and worthy knowledge of European interests and thoughts and feelings during the twelfth century. A delightful and instructive volume, and one of the best products of the modern historic spirit.” PALL MALL GAZETTE, Morley (John).—EDMUND BURKE, a Historical Study. By Joun Mortey, B.A. Oxon. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. “ The style is terse and incisive, and brilliant with epigram and point. It contains pithy aphoristic sentences which Burke himself would not have disowned. But these are not its best features: its sustained power of reasoning, its wide sweep of observation and reflection, its elevated ethical and social tone, stamp it as a work of high excellence, and as such we cordially recommend it to our readers.” —SATURDAY REVIEW. HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, & TRAVELS. 17 Mullinger.—CAMBRIDGE CHARACTERISTICS IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. By J. B. MuLLINGER, B.A. Crown 8yvo. 45. 6d. 5 It is a very entertaining and readable book,” —SATURDAY REVIEW. “ The chapters on the Cartesian Philosophy and the Cambridge Platonists are admirable.” —ATHEN ZUM. Palgrave.—HISTORY OF NORMANDY AND OF ENG- LAND. By Sir FRANCIS PALGRAVE, Deputy Keeper of Her Majesty’s Public Records. Completing the History to the Death of William Rufus. Four vols. 8vo. £4 45. Volume I. General Relations of Medieval Europe—The Carlovingian Empire—The Danish Expeditions in the Gauls—And the Establishment of Rollo. Volume Il. The Three First Dukes of Normandy ; Rollo, Guillaume Longue-Epee, and Richard Sans-Peur—The Carlovingian line supplanted by the Capets. Volume III. Richard Sans-Peur— Richard Le-Bon—Richard I1I.—Robert Le Diable—William the Con- gueror. Volume lV. Whilliam Rufus—Accession of Henry Beauclerc. Palgrave (W. G.).—A NARRATIVE OF A YEAR'S JOURNEY THROUGH CENTRAL AND EASTERN ARABIA, 1862-3. By WILLIAM GIFFORD PALGRAVE, late of the Eighth Regiment Bombay N.I. Fifth and cheaper Edition. With Maps, Plans, and Portrait of Author, engraved on steel by Jeens. Crown $vo. 6s. “ Considering the extent of our previous ignorance, the amount of his achievements, and the importance of his contributions to our knowledge, we cannot say less of him than was once said of a far greater discoverer. Mr. Palgrave has indeed given anew world to Europe.’ —PALL MALL GAZETTE. Parkes (Henry).—AUSTRALIAN VIEWS OF ENGLAND. By Henry Parkes. Crown 8vo. cloth. 35. 6d. “ The following letters were written during a residence in England, in the years 1861 and 1862, and were published in the ‘‘Sydney Morning B 18 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Herald” on the arrival of the monthly mails... . On re-perusal, these letters appear to contain views of English life and impressions of English notabilities which, as the views and impressions of an Englishman on his return to his native country after an absence of twenty years, may not be without interest to the English reader. The writer had opportunities of mixing with different classes of the British people, and of hearing opinions on passing events from opposite standpoints of observation.’ —AUTHOR’S PREFACE. Prichard.—THE ADMINISTRATION OF INDIA. From 1859 to 1868. The First Ten Years of Administration under the Crown, By I_ttTupus THomMAsS PRICHARD, Barrister-at-Law. Two vols. Demy 8vo. With Map. 21s. Int these volumes the author has aimed to supply a full, impartial, ana independent account of British India between 1859 and 1868—which is in many respects the most important epoch in the history of that country which the present century has seen. Ralegh.—THE LIFE OF SIR WALTER RALEGH, based upon Contemporary Documents. By EpDwarD Epwarps. To- gether with Ralegh’s Letters, now first collected. With Portrait. Two vols. 8vo. 32s. “Mr. Edwards has certainly written the Life of Ralegh from fuller zenformation than any previous biographer. He ts intelligent, industrious, sympathetic: and the world has in his two volumes larger means afforded uw of knowing Ralegh than it ever possessed before. The new letters and the newly-edited old letters ave in themselves a boon.”—PALL MALL GAZETTE. Robinson (Crabb).-—DIARY, REMINISCENCES, AND CORRESPONDENCE OF HENRY CRABB ROBINSON. Selected and Edited by Dr. SADLER. With Portrait. Second Edition. Three vols. 8vo. cloth. 36s. HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, & TRAVELS. 19 Mr. Crabb Robinson's Diary extends over the greater part of three- quarters of a century. It contains personal reminiscences of some of the most distinguished characters of that period, including Goethe, Wieland, Dz Quincey, Wordsworth (with whom Mr. Crabb Robinson was on terms of great intimacy), Madame de Staél, Lafayette, Coleridge, Lamb, Milman, &c. &c.: and includes avast variety of subjects, political, literary, ecclest- astical, and miscellaneous. Rogers (James E. Thorold).—HISTORICAL GLEAN- INGS : A Series of Sketches. Montague, Walpole, Adam Smith, Cobbett. By Rev. J. E. T. Rocers. Crown 8vo. 45. 6a. Professor Rogers's object in the following sketches is to present a set of historical facts, grouped round a principal figure. The essays are in the form of lectures. HISTORICAL GLEANINGS. A Series of Sketches. By Rev. J. E. T. RoGers. Second Series. Crown 8vo. 6s. A companion volume to the First Series recently published. Tt contains papers on Wiklif, Laud, Wilkes, Horne Tooke. In these lectures the author has aimed to state the social facts of the time in which the individual whose history is handled took part in public business. Smith (Professor Goldwin).— THREE ENGLISH STATESMEN: PYM, CROMWELL, PITT. A Course of Lectures on the Political History of England. By GoLDWIN SmiTH, M.A. Extra fcap. 8vo. Newand Cheaper Edition. 55. “A work which neither historian nor politician can safely afford to neglect.” —SATURDAY REVIEW. SYSTEMS OF LAND TENURE IN VARIOUS COUNTRIES. A Series of Essays published under the sanction of the COBDEN CLus. Demy 8yo. Second Edition. 12s. : B 2 20 GENERAL CATALOGUE. The subjects treated are:—t. Tenure of Land in Ireland; 2. Land Laws of England; 3. Tenure of Land in India; 4. Land System of Belgium and Holland; 5. Agrarian Legislation of Prussia during the Present Century; ©. Land System of France; 7. Russian Agrarian Legislation of 1861; 8. Farm Land and Land Laws of the United States. Tacitus.—THE HISTORY OF TACITUS, translated into English. By A. J. CHurcH, M.A. and W. J. BRopriss, M.A. With a Map and Notes. 8vo. 10s. 6d. The translators have endeavoured to adhere as closely to the original as was thought consistent with a proper observance of English idiom. Al the same time it has been their aim to reproduce the precise expressions of the author. This work is characterised by the Spectator as “a scholarly and faithful translation.” THE AGRICOLA AND GERMANIA. Translated into English by A. J. CuurcH, M.A. and W. J. Bropriss, M.A. With Maps and Notes. Extra fcap. 8vo. 25. 6d. The translators have sought to produce such a version as may satisfy scholars who demand a faithful rendering of the original, and English readers who are offended by the baldness and frigidity which commonly disfigure translations. The treatises are accompanied by introductions, notes, maps, and a chronological summary. The Athenzeum says of this work that it is “a version at once readable and exact, which may be perused with pleasure by all, and consulted with advantage by the classical student.” Taylor (Rev. Isaac).—WORDS AND PLACES; or Etymological Illustrations of History, Etymology, and Geography. By the Rev. Isaac Taytor. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 12s. 6d. “ Mr. Taylor has produced a really useful book, and one which stands alone in our language.” —SATURDAY REVIEW. HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, & TRAVELS. 21 Trench (Archbishop).—GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS: Social Aspects of the Thirty Years’ War. By R. CHENEVIX TRENCH, D.D., Archbishop of Dublin. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. “Clear and lucid in style, these lectures will be a treasure to many to whom the subject is unfamiliar.”—DUBLIN EVENING MAIL, Trench (Mrs. R.).—Edited by AncHBISHOP TRENCH. Remains of the late Mrs. RICHARD TRENCH. Being Selections from her Journals, Letters, and other Papers. New and Cheaper Issue, with Portrait, 8vo. 6s. Contains notices and anecdotes illustrating the social life of the period —extending over a quarter of a century (1799—¥827). Lt includes also poems and other miscellaneous pieces by Mrs. Trench. Trench (Capt. F., F.R.G.S.).—THE RUSSO-INDIAN QUESTION, Historically, Strategically, and Politically con- sidered. By Capt. TRENCH, F.R.G.S. With a Sketch of Central Asiatic Politics and Map of Central Asia. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. “ The Russo-Indian, or Central Asian question has for several obvious reasons been attracting much public attention in England, in Russia, and also on the Continent, within the last year or two... . I have thought that the present volume, giving a short sketch of the history of this question Srom its earliest origin, and condensing much of the most recent and inte- resting information on the subject, and on its collateral phases, might perhaps be acceptable to those who take an interest in it.”—AUTHOR’S PREFACE. Trevelyan (G.O., M.P.).—CAWNPORE. Illustrated with Plan. By G. O. TreveLtyANn, M.P., Author of “ The Com- petition Wallah.” Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. “Tn this book we are not spared one fact of the sad story; but our feelings are not harrowed by the recital of imaginary outrages. It is good for us at home that we have one who tells his tale so well as does Mr. Trevelyan.” —PALL MALL GAZETTE. 22 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Trevelyan (G.O., M.P.) (continuea)\— THE COMPETITION WALLAH. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. ‘* The earlier letters are especially interesting for their racy descriptions of European life in India... .. Those that follow are of more serious import, seeking to tell the truth about the Hindoo character and English influences, good and bad, upon it, as well as to suggest some better course of treatment than that hitherto adopted.” —EXAMINER. Vaughan (late Rev. Dr. Robert, of the British Quarterly). MEMOIR OF ROBERT A. VAUGHAN. Author of “ Hours with the Mystics.” By RoBERT VAUGHAN, D.D. Second Edition, revised and enlarged. Extra fcap. 8vo. 5s. “ Tt deserves a place on the same shelf with Stanley's ‘ Life of Arnold,’ and Carlyle’s * Stirling? Dr. Vaughan has performed his painful but not all unpleasing task with exquisite good taste and feeling.” —NONCON- FORMIST. Wagner.—MEMOIR OF THE REV. GEORGE WAGNER, M.A., late Incumbent of St. Stephen’s Church, Brighton. By the Rey. J. N. SrmpKinson, M.A. Third and Cheaper Edition, cor- rected and abridged. 5s. “<4 more editying biography we have rarély met with.’ —LITERARY CHURCHMAN. Wallace.—THE MALAY ARCHIPELAGO: the Land of the Orang Utan and the Bird of Paradise. A Narrative of Travel with Studies of Man and Nature. By ALFRED RussEL WALLACE. With Maps and Illustrations. Second Edition. Two vols. crown 8vo. 245. “A carefully and -eliberately composed narrative... . We advise our readers to do as 7 have done, read his book through.” —TIMES, HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, & TRAVELS. 23 Ward (Professor).—THE HOUSE OF AUSTRIA IN THE THIRTY YEARS’ WAR. Two Lectures, with Notes and Illus- trations. By AporpHus W. WaArD, M.A., Professor of History in Owens College, Manchester. Extra fcap. 8vo. 25. 6d. “ Very compact and instructive.” —FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW. Warren.—AN ESSAY ON GREEK FEDERAL COINAGE. By the Hon, J. LEICESTER WARREN, M.A. 8vo. 2s. 60. “‘ The present essay is an attempt to illustrate Mr. Freeman's Federal Government by evidence deduced from the coinage of the times and countries therein treated of.’—-PREFACE. Wilson.—A MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON, M.D., F.R.S.E., Regius Professor of Technology in the University of Edinburgh. By his Sisrer. New Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. “ An exquisite and touching portrait of a rare and beautiful spirit.” — GUARDIAN. Wilson (Daniel, LL.D.).—PREHISTORIC ANNALS OF SCOTLAND. By DanieEL WILSON, LL.D., Professor of History and English Literature in University College, Toronto. New Edition, with numerous Illustrations. Two vols. demy 8yo. 36s. This elaborate and learned work is divided into four Parts. Part I. deals with The Primeval or Stone Period : Adoriginal Traces, Sepulchral Memorials, Dwellings, and Catacombs, Temples, Weapons, &c. &¢.5 Part If, The Bronze Period: The Metallurgic T: ransition, Primitive Bronze, Personal Ornaments, Religion, Arts, and Domestic Habits, with other topics ; Part IT, The Iron Period: 77 he Introduction of Iron, The Roman Invasion, Strongholds, &c. &c.; Part IV., The Christian Period : Historical Data, the Norrie’s Law felis, Primitive and Medieval Ecclesiology, Ecclesiastical and Miscellaneous A ntiguities. Ihe work is furnished with an elaborate Index. 24 ' GENERAL CATALOGUE. Wilson (Daniel, LL.D.) (continued )— PREHISTORIC MAN. New Edition, revised and partly re-written, with numerous Illustrations. One vol. 8vo. 21s. This work, which carries out the principle of the preceding one, but with a wider scope, aims to “view Man, as far as possible, unaffected by those modifying influences which accompany the development of nations and the maturity of a true historic period, in order thereby to ascertain the sources Jrom whence such development and maturity proceed.” It contains, for example, chapters on the Primeval Transition ; Speech; Metals; the Mound-Builders ; Primitive Architecture; the American Type; the Red Blood of the West, &c. &c. CHATTERTON: A Biographical Study. By DANIEL WILSON, LL.D., Professor of History and English Literature in University College, Toronto. Crown 8yvo. 6s. 6d. The Author here regards Chatterton as a Poet, not as a ‘‘ mere resetter and defacer of stolen literary treasures.” Reviewed in this light, he has found much in the old materials capable of being turned to new account ; and to these materials research in various directions has enabled him to make sone additions. a SEC PION “FE POETRY AND BELLES LETTRES. Allingham.—LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND; or, the New Landlord. By WiLi1AM ALLINGHAM. New and Cheaper Issue, with a Preface. Fcap. 8vo. cloth, 45. 6d. In the new Preface, the state of Lreland, with special reference to the Church measure, ts discussed. “¢ Tt is vital with the national character. . . . It has something of Pope's point and Goldsmith’s simplicity, touched to a more modern issue.”— ATHEN2UM. Arnold (Matthew).—POEMS. By MarrHew ARNOLD. Two vols. Extrafcap. 8vo. cloth. 12s. Alsosold separately at 6s. each. Volume L. contains Narrative and Elegiac Poems; Volume LI. Dra- matic and Lyric Poems. The two volumes comprehend the First and Second Series of the Poems, and the New Poems. NEW POEMS. Extra fcap. $vo. 65. 6d. In this volume will be found“ Empedocles on Etna ;” “ Thyrsis” (written in commemoration of the late Professor Clough); ‘‘ Epilogue to Lessing's Laocoon ;” ‘* Heinés Grave;” ‘‘ Obermann once more.” All these poems are also included in the Edition (two vols.) above-mentioned. 26 CENERAL CATALOGUE. Arnold (Matthew) (continued)— ESSAYS IN CRITICISM. New Edition, with Additions. Extra feap. 8vo. 6s. CONTENTS :—Preface ; The Function of Criticism at the present time ; The Literary Influence of Academies; Maurice de Guerin; Eugenie de Guerin ; Heinrich Heine ; Pagan and Medieval Religious Sentiment ; Joubert ; Spinoza and the Bible; Marcus Aurelius. ASPROMONTE, AND OTHER POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. cloth extra. 45. 6d. CONTENTS :—Poems for Italy ; Dramatic Lyrics ; Miscellaneous. “Uncommon lyrical power and deep poetic feeling.” —LITERARY CHURCHMAN. Barnes (Rev. W.).—POEMS OF RURAL LIFE IN COM- MON ENGLISH. By the Rev. W. Barnes, Author of “© Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect.” Feap. $vo. 6s. “Tn a high degree pleasant and novel. The book is by no means one which the lovers of descriptive poetry can afford to lose.” —ATHENAUM. Bell.—ROMANCES AND MINOR POEMS, By Henry GLASSFORD BELL. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. “ Full of life and genius.’—CouRT C1iRCULAR. Besant.—STUDIES IN EARLY FRENCH POETRY. By WALTER BESANT, M.A. Crown. 8vo. 8s. 6d. A sort of impression rests on most minds that French literature begins with the ‘‘siécle de Louis Quatorze;” any previous literature being for the most part unknown or ignored. Few know anything of the enormous literary activity that began in the thirteenth century, was carried on by Rulebeuf, Marie de France, Gaston de Foix, Thibault de Champagne, and Lorris ; was fostered by Charles of Orleans, by Margaret of Vatlers, by Francis the First ; that gave a crowd of versifiers to France, enriched, strengthened, developed, and fixed the French language, and prepared the way for Corneille and for Racine. The present work aims to afjerd ee POETRY & BELLES LETTRES. 27 information and direction touching the early efforts of France in poetical literature. “Tn one moderately sized volume he has contrived to introduce us to the very best, if not to all of the early French poets.” —ATHEN ZUM. Bradshaw.—AN ATTEMPT TO ASCERTAIN THE STATE OF CHAUCER’S WORKS, AS THEY WERE LEFT AT HIS DEATH. With some Notes of their Subsequent History. By HENRY BrapsHAw, of King’s College, and the University Library, Cambridge. [/x the Press. Brimley.— ESSAYS BY THE LATE GEORGE BRIMLEY, M.A. Edited by the Rev. W. G. Crarx, M.A. With Portrait. Cheaper Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 35. 6d. Essays on literary topics, such as Tennyson's ‘* Poems,” Carlyle’s “ Life of Stirling,” ‘* Bleak House,” &c., reprinted from Fraser, the Spectator, and like perioaicals. Broome.—THE STRANGER OF SERIPHOS. A Dramatic Poem. By FREDERICK NAPIER BRoomME. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. Founded on the Greek legend of Danae and Perseus. “Grace and beauty of expression are Mr. Broome’s characteristics ; and these qualities are displayed in many passages.” —ATHEN UM. Church (A. J.).\—HORA TENNYSONIANA, Sive Ecloge e Tennysono Latine reddite. Cura A. J. CHuRCH, A.M. Extra feap. $8vo. 65. Latin versions of Selections from Tennyson. Among the authors are the Editor, the late Professor Conington, Professor Seeley, Dr. FHessey, Mr. Kebbel, and other gentlemen. 28 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Clough (Arthur Hugh).—THE POEMS AND PROSE REMAINS OF ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. With a Selection from his Letters and a Memoir. Edited by his Wife. With Portrait. Two vols. crown 8vo. 21s. Or Poems sepa- rately, as below. ~ The late Professor Clough is well known as a graceful, tender poet, and as the scholarly translator of Plutarch. The letters possess high interest, not biographical only, but literary—discussing, as they do, the most important questions of the time, always in a genial spirit. The “¢ Remains” include papers on “ Retrenchment at Oxford ;” on Professor F. W. Newman's book “* The Soul ;” on Wordsworth ; on the Formation of Classical English ; on some Modern Poems (Matthew Arnold and the late Alexander Smith), &c. &c. THE POEMS OF ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH, sometime Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford. With a Memoir by F. T. PALGRAVE. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. “ From the higher mind of cultivated, all-questioning, but still conser- vative England, in this our puzzled generation, we do not know of any utterance in literature so characteristic as the poems of Arthur Hugh Clough.” —F RASER’S MAGAZINE. Dante.—DANTE’S COMEDY, THE HELL. Translated by W. M. Rossetti. Fcap. 8vo. cloth. 5s. “ The aim of this translatwn of Dante may be summed up in one word —Literality. . .. To follow Dante sentence for sentence, line for line, word for word—neither more nor less—has been my strenuous endeavour.” —AUTHOR’S PREFACE. De Vere.—THE INFANT BRIDAL, and other Poems, By AUBREY DE VERE. Fcap. 8vo. 7s. 6d. “* Mr. De Vere has taken his place among the poets of the day, Pure and tender feeling, and that polished restraint of style which is called classical, are the charms of the volume.” —SPECTATOR. POETRY & BELLES LETTRES. 29 Doyle (Sir F. H.).—Works by Sir Francis Hastincs Dove, Professor of Poetry in the University of Oxford :— THE RETURN OF THE GUARDS, AND OTHER POEMS. Feap. 8vo. 7s. “ Good wine needs no bush, nor good verse a preface; and Sir Francis Doyle's verses run bright and clear, and smack of a classic vintage. . fis chief characteristic, as it is his greatest charm, is the simple manliness which gives force to all he writes. It is a characteristic in these days rare enough,” —EXAMINER. LECTURES ON POETRY, delivered before the University of Oxford in 1868. Crown 8vo. 3,5. 6d. THREE LECTURES :—(1) Zraugural ; (2) Provincial Poetry ; (3) Dr. Newman's “ Dream of Gerontius.” “ Full of thoughtful discrimination and fine insight: the lecture on ‘ Provincial Poetry’ seems to us singularly true, eloquent, and instructive.” — SPECTATOR. Evans.— BROTHER FABIAN’S MANUSCRIPT, AND OTHER POEMS. By SrEBasTIAN Evans. Fcap. 8vo, cloth. 6s. “ Tn this volume we have full assurance that he has ‘ the vision and the faculty divine”... Clever and full of kindly humour.”— GLOBE. Furnivall.—LE MORTE D’ARTHUR. Edited trom the Harleian M.S. 2252, in the British Museum. By F. J. FURNIVALL, M.A. With Essay by the late HERBERT COLERIDGE. Fcap. 8vo. 7s. 6d. Looking to the interest shown by so many thousands in Mr. Tennyson's Arthurian poems, the editor and publishers have thought that the old version would possess considerable interest. It is a reprint of the celebrated FHarleian copy ; and is accompanied by index and glossary. 30 * GENERAL CATALOGUE. Garnett.—IDYLLS AND EPIGRAMS. Chiefly from the Greek Anthology. By RIcHARD GARNETT. Fcap. 8yo. 25. 6d. “A charming little book. For English readers, Mr. Garnett’s transla- lations will open a new world of thought.’—WESTMINSTER REVIEW. GUESSES AT TRUTH. By Two Broruers. With Vignette, Title, and Frontispiece. New Edition, with Memoir. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. “The following year was memorable for the commencement of the * Guesses at Truth.’ He and his Oxford brother, living as they did in constant and free interchange of thought on questions of philosophy and literature and art; delighting, each of them, in the episrammatic terseness which is the charm of the ‘ Pensées’ of Pascal, and the ‘ Caracteres’ of La Bruyere—agreed to utter themselves in this form, and the book appeared, anonymously, i two volumes, tz 1827.” —MEMOIR. Hamerton.—A PAINTER’S CAMP. By Puivip GILBERT HAMERTON. Second Edition, revised. Extra feap. 8vo. 6s. Book I. Juz England; BooK Xl. Zn Scotland; Book Ill. J France. This is the story of an Artist’s encampments and adventures. The headings of a few chapters may serve to convey a notion of the character of the book: A Walk on the Lancashire Moors; the Author his own Flouseheeper and Cook ; Tents and Boats for the Highlands ; The Author excamps on an uninhabited Island; A Lake Voyage; A Gipsy Yourney to Glew Coe; Concerning Moonlight and Old Castles; A little French City ; A Farm in the Autunois, &c. &c. “His pages sparkle with happy turns of expression, not a few well-told anecdotes, and many observations which are the fruit of attentive study and wise reflection on the complicated phenomena of human life, as well as of unconscious nature.’ —\NESTMINSTER REVIEW. ETCHING AND ETCHERS. A Treatise Critical and Practical. By P. G. HAMERTON. With Original Plates by REMBRANDT‘, CALLoT, DUJARDIN, PAUL Porrer, &e. ~ Royal 8vo. Half morocco, 31s. 6d. POLE TRV AE BELLS LET TRIES: 31 “Tt is a work of which author, printer, and publisher may alike feel proud. It is a work, too, of which none but a genuine artist could by pos- sibility have been the author.’—SATURDAY REVIEW. Helps.—REALMAH. By Arruur HeE.ps. Cheap Edition. Crown 8yvo. 6s. Of this work, by the Author of ‘* Friends in Council,” the Saturday Review says. “‘ Underneath the form (that of dialogue) ts so much shrewd- ness, fancy, and above all, so much wise 2indliness, that we should think all the better of a man or woman who likes the book.” Herschel.—THE ILIAD OF HOMER. Translated into English Hexameters. By Sir JOHN HERSCHEL, Bart. 8vo. 18s. A version of the Iliad in English Hexameters,. The question of Homeric tvanslation ts fully discussed in the Preface. “Tt ts admirable, not only for many intrinsic merits, but as a grea man’s tribute to Genius.” —ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEws. HIATUS: the Void in Modern Education. Its Cause and Antidote. By OuTis. 8yo. 8s. 6d. The main object of this Essay is to point out how the emotional element which underlies the Fine Arts ts disregarded and undeveloped at this time so far as (despite a pretence at filling it up) to constitute an Educational ffiatus. HYMNI ECCLESIA. See “THEOLOGICAL SECTION.” Kennedy.— LEGENDARY FICTIONS OF THE IRISH CELTS. Collected and Narrated by PATRICK KENNEDY. Crown 8vo. With Two Illustrations. 7s. 6d. **4 very admirable popular selection of the Irish fairy stories and legends, in which those who are familiar with Mr. Croker’s, and other selections of the same kind, will find much that is fresh, and full of the peculiar vivacity and humour, and sometimes even of the ideal beauty, of the true Celtic Legend.’ —SPECTATOR. eT ae EE ne EN 32 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Kingsley (Canon).— Sz also ““Hisroric SECTION,” “Works OF Fiction,” avd “ PHILOSOPHY ;” also “JUVENILE Books,” and “ THEOLOGY.” THE SAINTS’ TRAGEDY: or, The True Story of Elizabeth of Hungary. By the Rev. CHARLES KincsitEy. With a Preface by the Rev. F. D. Maurice. Third Edition. Feap. 8vo. 5s. ANDROMEDA, AND OTHER POEMS. Third Edition. Feap. 8vo. 55. PHAETHON; or, Loose Thoughts for Loose Thinkers. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 2s. Kingsley (Henry).—sSz “Works oF FIcTION.” Lowell (Professor).—AMONG MY BOOKS. Six Essays. By James RussELL LoweELt, M.A., Professor of Belles Lettres in Harvard College. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. Six Essays: Dryden; Witchcraft; Shakespeare Once More; New England Two Centuries ago; Lessing; Rousseau and the Senti- mentalists. UNDER THE WILLOWS, AND OTHER POEMS. By JAMEs RussELL LOWELL. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. “Under the Willows zs one of the most admirable bits of idyllic work; - short as it is, or perhaps because it is short, that have been done in our gene- ration.” —SATURDAY REVIEW. Masson (Professor).—ESSAYS, BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL. Chiefly on the British Poets. By Davip MAsson, LL.D., Professor of Rhetoric in the University of Edinburgh. 8vo. 12s. 6d. “* Distinguished by a remarkable power of analysis, a clear statement of the actual facts on which speculation is based, and an appropriate beauty of Language. These essays should be popular with serious men.” — ATHEN ZUM. ee ee ee POETRY & BELLES LETTRES. 33 Masson (Professor) (continued)— BRITISH NOVELISTS AND THEIR STYLES. Being a Critical Sketch of the History of British Prose Fiction. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d. “ Valuable for its lucid analysis of fundamental principles, its breadth of view, and sustained animation of style.” —SPECTATOR. MRS. JERNINGHAM’S JOURNAL. Extra feap. 8vo. 35. 6d. A Poem of the boudoir or domestic class, purporting to be the journal of a newly-married lady. “* One quality in the piece, sufficient of itself to claim a moment's atten- tion, is that it is unique—original, indeed, is not too strong a word—in the manner of its conception and execution.” —PALL MALL GAZETTE. Mistral (F.).—MIRELLE: a Pastoral Epic of Provence. Trans- lated by H. CRIcHTON. Extra feap. 8vo. 6s. “ This is a capital translation of the elegant and richly-coloured pastoral epic poem of M. Mistral which, in 1859, he dedicated in enthusiastic terms to Lamartine..... . It would be hard to overpraise the sweetness and pleasing freshness of this charming epic.” —ATHENEUM. Myers (Ernest).—THE PURITANS. By Ernest MYERs. Extra feap. 8vo. cloth. 2s. 6d. “© 7¢ is not too much to call it a really grand poem, stately and dignified, and showing not only a high poetic mind, but also great power over poetic expression.” —LITERARY CHURCHMAN. Myers (F. W. H.).—ST. PAUL. A Poem. By F. W. H. Myers. Second Edition. Extra fcap. $vo. 2s. 6d. “°7¢ breathes throughout the spirit of St. Paul, and with a singular stately melody of verse.” —FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW. Nettleship.— ESSAYS ON ROBERT BROWNING’S POETRY. By Joun T. NETTLEsHIP. Extra feap. 8vo. 6s, 64. 34 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Noel.—BEATRICE, AND OTHER POEMS. By the Hon. RODEN NoEL. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. ‘* Beatrice zs 7 many respects a noble poem; it displays a splendour of landscape painting, a strong definite precision of highly-coloured descrip- tion, which has not often been surpassed.” —PALL MALL GAZETTE. Norton.—THE LADY OF LA GARAYE. By the Hon. Mrs. Norton. With Vignette and Frontispiece. Sixth Edition. Feap. 8vo. 45. 6d. “ There ts no lack of vigour, no faltering of power, plenty of passion, much bright description, much musical verse... . Full of thoughts well- cxpressed, and may be classed among her best works.” —TIMES. Orwell.—THE BISHOP’S WALK AND THE BISHOP’S TIMES. Poems on the days of Archbishop Leighton and the Scottish Covenant. By ORWELL. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. ** Pure taste and faultless precision of language, the fruits of deep thought, insight into human nature, and lively sympathy.’ —NONCONFORMIST. Palgrave (Francis T.).—ESSAYS ON ART. By Francis TURNER PALGRAVE, M.A., late Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford. Extra fcap. 8vo. 65. Mulready—Dyce—Holman Hunt—Herbert—FPoetry, Prose, and Sen- sationalism in Art—Sculpture in England—The Albert Cross, &c. SHAKESPEARE’S SONNETS AND SONGS. Edited by F. T. PALGRAVE. Gem Edition. With Vignette Title by JEENS. 3s. 6d. ** For miniute elegance no volume could possibly excel the ‘Gem Edition.” —SCOTSMAN. j POETRY & BELLES LETTRES. 35 Patmore.— Works by Coventry PaTMoRE :— THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. Book I. Zhe Betrothal; Book Il. The Lspousals ; Boox III. Faithful for Ever... With Tamerton Church Tower. Two vols. Feap. 8vo. 12s. *,* A New and Cheap Edition in one vol. 18mo., beautifully printed on toned paper, price 2s. Od. THE VICTORIES OF LOVE. Fcap. 8vo. 45. 6d. The intrinsic merit of his poem will secure it a permanent place in literature. . . . Mr. Patmore has fully earned a place in the catalogue of poets by the finished idealization of domestic life.” SATURDAY REVIEW. Rossetti.—Works by CHRISTINA RossETTI :— GOBLIN MARKET, AND OTHER POEMS. With two Designs by D. G. Rossetti. Second Edition, Feap. 8vo. 5s. “ She handles her little marvel with that rare poetic discrimination which neither exhausts it of its simple wonders by pushing symbolism too far, nor keeps those wonders in the merely fabulous and capricious stage. Ln fact she has produced a true children’s poem, which is far more delightful to the mature than to children, though it would be delightful to all.”— SPECTATOR. THE PRINCE’S PROGRESS, AND OTHER POEMS, With two Designs by D. G. RossETTI. Fcap. 8vo. 6s. “ Miss Rossetti’s poems are of the kind which recalls Shelley's definition of Poetry as the record of the best and happiest moments of the best and happiest minds. . . . They are like the piping of a bird on the spray in the sunshine, or the quaint singing with which a child amuses itself when it forgets that anybody ts listening.” SATURDAY REVIEW, (ory 36 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Rossetti (W. M.). DANTE’S HELL. See ‘‘ DANTE.” FINE ART, chiefly Contemporary. By WuiLi1AM M. Rossetti. Crown 8yo. 10s. 6d. This volume consists of Criticism on Contemporary Art, reprinted from Fraser, The Saturday Review, The Pall Mall Gazette, axd other pub- dications. Roby.—STORY OF A HOUSEHOLD, AND OTHER POEMS, By Mary K. Rosy. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. Shairp (Principal).—KILMAHOE, a Highland Pastoral, with other Poems. By JoHN CAMPBELL SHAIRP. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. “ Kilmahoe ts a Highland Pastoral, redolent of the warm soft air of the Western Lochs and Moors, sketched out with remarkable grace and pic- turesgueness.” —SATURDAY REVIEW. Smith.—wWorks by ALEXANDER SMITH :— A LIFE DRAMA, AND OTHER POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6. CITY -POEMS. Fcap. 8vo. 5s. EDWIN OF DEIRA. Second Edition. Feap. 8vo. 55. ‘4A poem which ts marked by the strength, sustained sweetness, and compact texture of veal life.-—NORTH BRITISH REVIEW. Smith.—POEMS. By CATHERINE BARNARD SMITH. Feap, 8vo. 55. “* Wealthy in feeling, meaning, finish, and grace ; not without passion, which is suppressed, but the keener for that.” —ATHENEUM. Smith (Rev. Walter).—HYMNS OF CHRIST AND THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. By the Rev. WALTER C. SmirH, M.A. Feap. Svo. 6s. POETRY & BELLES LETTRES. 37 “* These are among the sweetest sacred poems we have read for a lone time. With no profuse imagery, expressing a range of feeling and expression by no means uncommon, they are true and elevated, and their pathos is profound and simple.’—NONCONFORMIST. Stratford de Redcliffe (Viscount).—SHADOWS OF THE PAST, in Verse. By VISCOUNT STRATFORD DE RED- CLIFFE. Crown 8vo. Ios. 6d. “* The vigorous words of one who has acted vigorously. They combine the fervour of politician and poet.” —GUARDIAN. Trench.—wWorks by R. CHENEVIX TRENCH, D.D., Archbishop ot Dublin. Sze also Sections ‘‘ PHILOSOPHY,” ‘‘ THEOLOGY,” &c. POEMS. Collected and arranged anew. Fcap. 8vo, 7s. 6d. ELEGIAC POEMS. Third Edition. Fcap. $vo. 2s. 6d. CALDERON’S LIFE’S A DREAM: The Great Theatre of the World. With an Essay on his Life and Genius. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d, HOUSEHOLD BOOK OF ENGLISH POETRY. Selected and arranged, with Notes, by R. C. TRENCH, D.D., Archbishop of Dublin. Extra fcap. 8vo. 55. 6d. This volume is called a *‘ Household Book,” by this name implying that it is a book for all—that there is nothing in it to prevent it from being confidently placed in the hands of every member of the household. Speci- mens of all classes of poetry are given, including selections from living authors. The Editor has aimed to produce a book ‘‘which the emigrant, finding room for little not absolutely necessary, might yet find room for in his trunk, and the traveller in his knapsack, and that on some narrow shelves where there are few books this might be one.” *¢ The Archbishop has conferred in this delightful volume an important gift on the whole English-speaking population of the world,”—PALL MALL GAZETTE. 38 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Trench (Archbishop) (continued)— SACRED LATIN POETRY, Chiefly Lyrical. Selected and arranged for Use. Second Edition, Corrected and Improved. F cap. 8vo. iss “* The aim of the present volume is to offer to members of our English Church a collection of the best sacred Latin poetry, such as they shall be able entirely and heartily to accept and approve—a collection, that is, in which they shall not be evermore liable to be offended, and to have the current of their sympathies checked, by coming upon that which, however beautiful as poetry, out of higher respects they must reject and condemn—in which, too, they shall not fear that snares are being laid for them, to entangle them unawares in admiration for ought which is inconsistent with their faith and fealty to their own spiritual mothcr. —PREFACE. Turner.—sSONNETS. By the Rev. CHARLES TENNYSON ‘TURNER. Dedicated to his brother, the Poet Laureate. Fcap. 8vo. 4s. 6d. “ The Sonnets are dedicated to Mr. Tennyson by his brother, and have, independently of their merits, an interest of association. They both love to write in simple expressive Saxon; both love to touch their imagery in epithets rather than in formal similes; both have a delicate perception of rhythmical movement, and thus Mr. Turner has occasional lines which, Sor phrase and music, might be ascribed to his brother. . . He knows the haunts of the wild rose, the shady nooks where light quivers through the leaves, the ruralities, in short, of the land of imagination.” —ATHEN=UM. SMALL TABLEAUX. Fceap. 8vo. 45. 6d. “ These briet poems have not only a peculiar kind of interest for the student of English poetry, but are intrinsically delightful, and will reward acareful and frequent perusal. Full of naivete, piety, dove, and knowledge of natural objects, and each expressing a single and generally a simple subject by means of minute and original pictorial touches, these sonnets have a place of their own.” —PALL MALL GAZETTE, POETRY & BELLES LETTRES. 39 Vittoria Colonna.—LIFE AND POEMS. By Mrs. Henry RoscoE. Crown 8vo. 9s. The life of Vittoria Colonna, the celebrated Marchesa di Pescara, has received but cursory notice from any English writer, though in every history of Italy her name is mentioned with great honour among the poets of the sixteenth century. “In three hundred and fifty years,” says her biographer, Visconti, “there has been no other Italian lady who can be compared to her.” “Tt is written with good taste, with quick and intelligent sympathy, occasionally with a real freshness and chdim of style.-—PALL MALL GAZETTE. Webster.— Works by AucusTa WEBSTER :— DRAMATIC STUDIES. Extra fcap. 8vo. 5s. “4 volume as strongly marked by perfect taste as by poetic power.”— NONCONFORMIST. PROMETHEUS BOUND OF A2SCHYLUS. Literally translated into English Verse. Extra fcap. 8vo. 35. 6d. “ Closeness and simplicity combined with literary skill.” —ATHENEUM. MEDEA OF EURIPIDES. Literally translated into English Verse. Extra feap. 8vo. 35. 6a. “ Mys. Websters translation surpasses our utmost expectations. It is a photograph of the original without any of that harshness which so often accompanies a photograph.” —W ESTMINSTER REVIEW. A WOMAN SOLD, AND OTHER POEMS. Crown $vo. 7s. 6d. “ Mrs. Webster has shown us that she is able to draw admirably from the life; that she can observe with subtlety, and render her observations with delicacy ; that she can inupersonate complex conceptions, and venture into which few living writers can follow her.” —GUARDIAN, 40 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Webster (continued)— PORTRAITS. Fcap. 8vo. 35. 6d. “« Mrs. Webster's * Dramatic Studies’ and ‘ Translation of Prome- theus’ have won for her an honourable place among our female poets. She writes with remarkable vigour and dramatic realization, and bids fair to be the most successful claimant of Mrs. Browning's mantle,” —BRITISH QUARTERLY REVIEW. Woolner.—MY BEAUTIFUL LADY. By Tuomas WooLneR. With a Vignette by ARTHUR HuGHEs. Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo, 55. “Tt is clearly the product of no idle hour, but a highly-conceived and faithfully-executed task, self-imposed, and prompted by that inward yearn- ing to utter great thoughts, and a wealth of passionate feeling which is poetic genius. No man can read this poem without being struck by the fitness and finish of the workmanship, so to speak, as well as by the chas- tened and unpretending loftiness of thought which pervades the whole.” — GLOBE. WORDS FROM THE POETS. Selected by the Editor of ‘‘ Rays of Sunlight.” With a Vignette and Frontispiece. 18mo, Extra cloth gilt. 25. 6d. Cheaper Edition, 18mo. limp., 1s. GLOBE EDITIONS. UNDER the title GLOBE EDITIONS, the Publishers are issuing a uniform Series of Standard English Authors, carefully edited, clearly and elegantly printed on toned paper, strongly bound, and at a small cost. The names of the Editors whom they have been fortunate enough to secure constitute an indisputable guarantee as to the character of the Series. The greatest care has been taken to ensure accuracy of text; adequate notes, elucidating historical, literary, and philological points, have been sup- plied ; and, to the older Authors, glossaries are appended. The series is especially adapted to Students of our national Literature ; while the small price places good editions of certain books, hitherto popularly inaccessible, within the reach of all. Shakespeare.—THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. Edited by W. G. CLARK and W. ALDIS WRicHT. Ninety-first Thousand. Globe 8vo. 35. 6d. “*A marvel of beauty, cheapness. and compactness. The whole works— Plays, poems, and sonnets—are contained in one small volume: yet the page ts perfectly clear and readable. . . . For the busy man, above all Sor the working Student, the Globe Edition is the best of all existing Shakespeare books.” —ATHENAUM. 42 GENERAL CATALOGUE. Morte D’Arthur.—sIR THOMAS MALORY’S BOOK OF KING ARTHUR AND OF HIS NOBLE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE. The Edition of Caxton, revised for Modern Use. With an Introduction by Stk EDWARD STRACHEY, Bart. Globe 8vo. 35. 6d. New Edition. “* Tt is with the most perfect confidence that we recommend this edition of the old romance to every class of readers.” —PALL MALL GAZETTE. Scott.—THE POETICAL WORKS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. With Biographical Essay, by F. T. PALGRAVE. Globe 8vo. 3s. 6d. New Edition. “As a popular edition it leaves nothing to be desired. 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