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DARWINISM, AND OTHER
ESSAYS
By JOHN FISKE
NEW EDITION , REVISED AND ENLARGED
“Qui itaque suos affectus et appetitus ex solo libertatis amore moderari studet, is, quantum potest, nitetur, virtutes earumque causas noscere, et animum gaudio, quod ex earum vera cogm- tione oritur, implere.” — Spinoza
BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY (Cbe $toer?‘iDe Camlni&ge
Copyright, 1879 and 1886,
By JOIIN FISKE.
All rights reserved.
NIXTH EDITIOX.
The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.
To
THOMAS HENRY HUXLEY,
IN REMEMBRANCE OF THREE HAPPY DAYS AT PETERSHAM, AMONG THE BLUE HILLS OF MASSACHUSETTS, AND OF MANY
PLEASANT FIRESIDE CHATS IN LONDON,
% Dedicate
THIS LITTLE BOOK.
London, June 30, 1870.
PREFATORY NOTE
TO THE SECOND EDITION.
- » -
My dear Huxley: — In publishing a new edition of this collection of essays, which has been for some time out of print, I have taken oc¬ casion to add three articles not heretofore re¬ printed. It was with some hesitation that in originally making up the book I included the ar¬ ticle on “ Mr. Buckle’s Fallacies,” which was the first writing of mine that ever appeared in print, and naturally bears many marks of immaturity in thought and style. It was partly because so many friends had expressed a desire to see it again that I decided to include it ; partly also be¬ cause it is to me associated with the beginnings of two of the most treasured friendships of my life, — first with Herbert Spencer, and afterwards, through a somewhat longer but still unmistaka¬ ble chain of causation, with yourself. Those nodes coenceque Deum of the old times in London
vi Prefatory Note.
become more and more sacred in memory as the years pass by, even while it is hoped there may be yet others like them in reserve ; and whatever recalls them, however indirectly, becomes en¬ deared to me.
Having for such reasons, largely personal, re¬ published this article, I have found it so well re¬ ceived and so kindly mentioned that it has seemed worth while to look up and add to this somewhat miscellaneous collection three other youthful writ¬ ings. The brief remarks on “ Comte’s Positive Philosophy ” serve to explain some crude expres¬ sions in the paper on Buckle which might other¬ wise be interpreted as the words of a “ Positivist.” After twenty years of vigorous and untiring pro¬ test, I believe we may congratulate ourselves that we have got that wretched label pretty thoroughly torn off. “ Agnostic,” which seems for the time to have replaced it, is meaningless enough, and X for one no more accept it than I accepted the old epithet. But its utter vagueness renders it com¬ paratively harmless, whereas “ Positivist ” was a word brimful of meaning. It connoted almost everything in the shape of hasty superficial gen¬ eralization and overweening intellectual arro¬ gance which the true servant and interpreter of Nature instinctively and rightly abhors. We may
Prefatory Note. vii
rejoice that the time has come at last when a man may abandon old mythologies and devote himself to the disinterested pursuit of science, without being supposed to be an aider and abettor of the colossal vagaries of the vainest of modern French¬ men.
The two other early papers, on “Liberal Edu¬ cation” and “ University Reform,” deal with sub¬ jects about which we used sometimes to talk to¬ gether ; and on looking them over, they seem to contain suggestions not wholly without a bearing upon questions just now warmly discussed at our Cambridge. I have therefore added them to the book. In some of the twelve essays of the origi¬ nal edition I have made a few slight changes.
I say now, as I said before, that I wish it were a better book I were offering you. But, such as it is, it is offered with all my heart.
Ever faithfully yours,
JOHN FISKE.
Petersham, October 14, 1885.
CONTENTS
I. Darwinism Verified .
II. Mr. Mivart on Darwinism
III. Dr. Bateman on Darwinism
IV. Dr. Buchner on Darwinism
V. A Crumb for the “Modern Symposium”.
VI. Chauncey Wright .
VII. What is Inspiration ? .
VIII. Modern Witchcraft .
IX. Comte’s Positive Philosophy
X. Mr. Buckle’s Fallacies ....
XI. Postscript on Mr. Buckle . . . .
XII. The Races of the Danube
XIII. Liberal Education .
XIV. University Reform .
XV. A Librarian’s Work .
PAGE
1
33
. 40 50 . 56 79
• 111 120 . 131 143 . 207 219 . 253 287 . 332
DARWINISM AND OTHER ESSAYS.
- ♦
I.
DARWINISM VERIFIED.
It is not often that the propounder of a new and startling scientific theory has lived to see his daring innovations accepted by the scientific world in general. Harvey’s great discovery of the circulation of the blood was scoffed at for nearly a whole generation ; and Newton’s law of gravitation, though proved by the strictest math¬ ematical proof, received from many eminent men but a slow and grudging acquiescence. Even Leibnitz, who, as a mathematician hardly inferior to Newton himself, might have been expected to be convinced on simple inspection of the theory, was prevented from accepting it by the theo¬ logical objection that it appeared to substitute the action of a physical force for the direct ac¬ tion of the Deity. In France, where ideas not
of French origin are very apt to be but slowly
i
2
Danvinism and Other Essays.
apprehended, the opposition to the Newtonian theory was not silenced till 1759, when Clairaut and Lalande, by calculating the retardation of Halley’s comet, furnished such crucial proof as could not possibly be overcome. At this time Newton had been thirty-two years in his grave ; seventy-two years had elapsed since the publi¬ cation of the “ Principia,” and ninety-four since the hypothesis was first definitely conceived.
In the present age, when the number of sci¬ entific inquirers has greatly increased and the in¬ terchange of thoughts has become rapid and con¬ stant, it takes much less time for a new gener¬ alization to make its way into people’s minds. It is now barely eighteen years since Mr. Dar¬ win’s views on the origin of species were an¬ nounced in a book which purported to be only the rough preliminary sketch of a greater work in course of preparation. But, though greeted at the beginning with ridicule and opprobrium, the theory of natural selection has already won a complete and overwhelming victory. One could count on one’s fingers the number of eminent naturalists who still decline to adopt it, and the hesitancy of these appears to be determined in the main by theological or metaphysical, and therefore not strictly relevant, objections. But
Darwinism Verified. 3
it is not simply that the great bocty of naturalists have accepted the Darwinian theory : it has be¬ come part and parcel of their daily thoughts, an element in every investigation which cannot be got rid of. With a tacit consent that is almost unanimous, the classificatory relations among plants and animals have come to be recognized as representing degrees of genetic kinship. One needs but to read constantly such scientific jour¬ nals as “ Nature,” or to peer into the proceedings of scientific societies, to see how thoroughly all contemporary inquiry is permeated by the con¬ ception of natural selection. The record of re¬ search, whether in embryology, in palaeontology, or in the study of the classification and distri¬ bution of organized beings, has come to be the registration of testimony in support of Mr. Dar¬ win’s hypothesis. So deeply, indeed, has this mighty thinker impressed his thoughts on the mind of the age that in order fully to unfold the connotations of the word “ Darwinism ” one could hardly stop short of making an index to the entire recent literature of the organic sciences. The sway of natural selection in biology is hardly less complete than that of gravitation in astron¬ omy ; and thus it is probably true that no other scientific discoverer has within his own lifetime
4 Darwinism and Other Essays .
obtained so magnificent a triumph as Mr. Dar¬ win.
The comparison of the doctrine of natural selec¬ tion with the Newtonian theory is made advisedly, as I wish to call attention to some differences in the aspect of the proofs by which two such differ¬ ent hypotheses are established. First, however, as the point will not hereafter come up for con¬ sideration in this paper, it may be well to notice the theological objection which has been urged against Mr. Darwin, as it was once urged against Newton, and to show briefly why, as above hinted, it cannot be regarded as properly relevant to the discussion of the scientific hypothesis. The the¬ ological objection to natural selection, which has weight with many minds, is precisely the same objection that Leibnitz made to gravitation, — that the action of physical forces appears to be substituted for the direct action of the Deity. This has, indeed, been a very common objection to theories which enlarge and define what is called the action of secondary causes, but it has been peculiarly unfortunate in this respect, that with the progress of inquiry it has invariably been overruled without practical detriment to theism. It regularly happens that the so-called atheistical theory becomes accepted as part and
Darwinism Verified. 5
parcel of science, and yet men remain as firm theists as ever. The objection is, therefore, evi¬ dently fallacious, and the fallacy is not difficult to point out. It lies in a metaphysical miscon¬ ception of the words “force” and “cause.” “ Force ” is implicitly regarded as a sort of en¬ tity or daemon which has a mode of action distin¬ guishable from that of universal Deit\r ; other¬ wise it is meaningless to speak of substituting the one for the other. But such a personification of “ force ” is a remnant of barbaric thought, and is in no wise sanctioned by physical science. When astronomy speaks of two planets as attracting each other with a “force” which varies directly as their masses and inversely as the squares of their distances apart, it simply uses the phrase as a convenient metaphor by which to describe the manner in which the observed movements of the two bodies occur. It explains that in pres¬ ence of each other the two bodies are observed to change their positions in a certain specified way, and this is all that it means. This is all that a strictly scientific hypothesis can possibly allege, and this is all that observation can possibly prove. Whatever goes beyond this, and imagines or as¬ serts a kind of “pull” between the two bodies, is not science, but metaphysics. An atheistic
fi Darwinism and Other Essays.
metaphysics may imagine such a “ pull,” *and may interpret it as the “ action ” of something that is not Deity, but such a conclusion can find no support in the scientific theorem, which is simply a generalized description of phenomena. The general considerations upon which the belief in the existence and direct action of Deity are otherwise founded are in no wise disturbed by the establishment of any such scientific theorem. The theological question is left just where it was before. We are still at perfect liberty to main¬ tain that it is the direct action of Deity which is manifested in the planetary movements ; having done nothing more with our Newtonian hypoth¬ esis than to construct a happy formula for ex¬ pressing the mode or order of the manifestation. We may have learned something new concerning the manner of Divine action ; we certainly have not “ substituted ” any other kind of action for it. And what is thus obvious in this simple astro¬ nomical example is equally true in principle in every case whatever in which one set of phenom¬ ena is interpreted by comparison with another set. In no case whatever can science use the words “force” or “cause” except as metaphori¬ cally descriptive of some observed or observable sequence of phenomena. And consequently at
Darwinism Verified. 7
no imaginable future time, so long as the essen¬ tial conditions of human thinking are maintained, can science even attempt to substitute the action of any other power for the direct action of Deity. Darwinism may convince us that the existence of highly complicated organisms is the result of an infinitely diversified aggregate of circumstances so minute as severally to seem trivial or acciden¬ tal ; yet the consistent theist will always occupy an impregnable position in maintaining that the entire series in each and every one of its incidents is an immediate manifestation of the creative ac¬ tion of God.
From an obverse point of view it might be ar¬ gued that since a philosophical theism must regard Divine power as the immediate source of all phe¬ nomena alike, therefore science cannot properly explain any particular group of phenomena by a direct reference to the action of Deity. Such a reference is not an explanation, since it adds noth¬ ing to our previous knowledge either of the phe¬ nomena or of the manner of Divine action. The business of science is simply to ascertain in what manner phenomena co-exist with each other or follow each other, and the only kind of explana¬ tion with which it can properly deal is that which refers one set of phenomena to another set. in
8
Damvinism and Other Essays.
pursuing this its legitimate business, science does not trench on the province of theology in any way, and there is no conceivable occasion for any conflict between the two. From this and the pre¬ vious considerations, taken together, it follows not only that such explanations as are contained in the Newtonian and Darwinian theories are en¬ tirely consistent with theism, but also that they are the only kind of explanations with which sci¬ ence can properly concern itself at all. To say that complex organisms were directly created by the Deity is to make an assertion which, however true in a theistic sense, is utterly barren. It is of no profit to theism, which must be taken for granted before the assertion can be made ; and it is of no profit to science, which must still ask its question, “ How ? ” 1
Setting aside, then, the theological criticism as irrelevant to the question really at stake, the Dar¬ winian theory, like the Newtonian, remains to be tested by strictly scientific considerations. In the more recent instance, as in the earlier, the rel¬ evant question is how far the course of events as sketched by the hypothesis agrees with the ob-
1 I have repeated this argument, and surrounded it with its proper philosophical context, in The Idea of God , as affected by Modern Knowledge , section VII.
Danvinism Verified. 9
served phenomena of nature. But in the direct¬ ness with which this question can be answered there is great difference between the two theories. The Newtonian hypothesis asserted the existence of a general physical property of matter, and could therefore be tested by a single crucial instance, such as was afforded by the simple case of the planetary motions. Kepler’s three laws comprised in succinct form a very complete description of the movements of the planets ; and when it was shown that these movements were just such as must oc¬ cur according to the theory of gravitation, the theory was rightly regarded as verified. Further confirmatory instances could but repeat the same lesson, as when the irregularities of movement, due to the attractions exercised by the various planets upon each other, were likewise seen to conform strictly to the hypothesis. Nor was any alteration or enlargement of the original theory required in order to obtain the supreme triumph of verified prediction, as when Clairaut foretold the precise amount of delay in the reappearance of Halley’s comet, caused by the interfering attrac¬ tions of Jupiter and Saturn, or as when Leverrier and Adams discovered the existence of Neptune through its effects upon the motions of Uranus. In all these cases the physical principle involved
10
Darwinism and Other Essays.
was simple, and admitted of precise mathematical treatment ; and it is owing to this that the law of gravitation has become the most illustrious exam-
O
pie which the history of science can furnish of a completely verified hypothesis.
To look for similar conciseness of verification in the case of the Darwinian theory would be to mistake entirely the conditions under which sci¬ entific evidence can be procured. To estimate properly the value of any hypothesis, it is neces¬ sary that we should know what kind and degree of proof to expect ; and in the present case we must not look for a demonstration that shall be di¬ rect and simple. Instead of a universal property of matter, so conspicuous as to be recognized at once by the inspection of a few striking instances, we have in the theory of natural selection to deal with a very complex process, working results of endless diversity throughout the organic world, and often masked in its action by accompanying processes, some of which we can detect without being able to estimate their relative potency, while others, no doubt, have thus far escaped our attention altogether. Accordingly, while we may consider it as certain that natural selection is ca¬ pable of working specific changes in organisms, we may at the same time find it impossible to give a
Darwinism Verified. 11
complete account of the origin of any one particu¬ lar species through natural selection, because we can never be sure that we have taken due notice of all the innumerable concrete circumstances in¬ volved in such an event. The theory, therefore, cannot be adequately tested by any single striking instance, but must depend for its support on the cumulative evidence afforded by its general har¬ mony with the processes of organic nature.
If we consider the Darwinian theory as a whole, it must be admitted that such cumulative evi¬ dence has already been brought forward in suffi¬ cient quantity to amount to a satisfactory demon¬ stration. The convergence of proofs is too per¬ sistent and unmistakable to allow of any alter¬ native hypothesis being put in the field. But, in exhibiting this, it is desirable that there should be no confusion of thought as to the full import of the Darwinian theory. Mr. Mivart’s way of describing that theory as an attempt to account for the origin of all the various forms of life through the operation of natural selection alone is a gross misrepresentation. Mr. Darwin has never urged his hypothesis in this limited shape. The essential theorems of Darwinism are, first , that forms of life now widely unlike have been produced from a common original through the ac-
12 Danvinism and Other Essays.
cumulated inheritance of minute individual mod¬ ifications ; and, secondly , that such modifications have been accumulated mainly, or in great part, through the selection of individuals best fitted to survive and transmit their peculiarities to their offspring. But that this survival of the fittest individuals has been the sole agency concerned in bringing about the present wondrous variety of living beings Mr. Darwin has nowhere asserted or implied, having even in the earliest edition of his great work explicitly pointed out certain other agencies as involved in the complex result. Yet other agencies, hitherto unsuspected, may be dis¬ covered in the future ; but such discoveries, how¬ ever far they may go in supplementing the Dar¬ winian theory, can only strengthen the central position as regards the rise of specific differences through gradual modifications.
That natural selection is a true cause, and one capable of accumulating variations to an indefi¬ nite extent, is now held to be beyond question. The wonders wrought by artificial selection in the breeding of domestic animals and cultivated plants are such that one might well have attrib¬ uted great results to the exercise of a similar se¬ lection by Nature through countless ages, could any such process be detected. Few, however,
Darwinism Verified. 13
Bave those instructed naturalists who have fre¬ quent occasion to ponder the subject, are aware what a tremendous reality natural selection is. As I have elsewhere observed, “a single codfish has been known to lay six million eggs within a year. If these eggs were all to become adult cod¬ fishes, and the multiplication were to continue at this rate for three or four years, the ocean would not afford room for the species. Yet we have no reason to suppose that the race of codfishes is ac¬ tually increasing in numbers to any notable ex¬ tent. With the codfish, as with animal species in general, the numbers during many successive gen¬ erations oscillate about a point which is fixed, or moves but slowly forward or backward. Instead of a geometrical increase with a ratio of six mill¬ ions, there is practically no marked increase at all. Now this implies that out of the six million em¬ bryo codfish a sufficient number will survive to replace their two parents, and to replace a certain small proportion of those contemporary codfishes who leave no progeny. Perhaps a dozen may suffice for this, perhaps a hundred. The rest of the six million must die.” 1 The amount of de¬ struction is not so great as this in all parts of the animal kingdom. Among the higher birds and
1 Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy , vol. ii. p. 12.
14
Darwinism and Other Essays.
mammals the preservation of the individual bears a very much higher ratio to the preservation of the race. But with the immense classes of fishes, insects, and crustaceans, as well as the sub-king¬ dom of mollusks, — - which taken together make up by far the greater portion of the animal world, — the destruction continually going on is prob¬ ably not less than that which is described in the example cited. Even if we were to take account only of the individuals which survive the embryo or larva state, but do not succeed in leaving off¬ spring behind them, the cases of destruction would still bear an enormous ratio to the cases of pres¬ ervation. But in maintaining the characteristics of a race only those individuals can be counted who produce offspring. It is obvious, then, that each species of organisms, as we know it, consists only of a few favoured individuals selected out of countless multitudes who have been tried and re¬ jected as unworthy to live. No selection that is exercised by man compares in rigour with this. It is somewhat as if a breeder of race-horses were to choose, with infallible accuracy of judgment, the two or three fleetest out of each hundred thousand, destroying all the rest, that the high standard of the breed might run no possible risk of deterioration. In such a rigorous competition
15
Darwinism Verified.
as this, no individual peculiarity can be so slight that we are entitled to regard it as unimportant. No peculiarity is really slight that enables its possessor to survive until he transmits it to pos¬ terity.
In view of all this we see how misleading it is to describe natural selection (as Mr. Mivart does) as a process which operates only occasionally upon variations assumed to be fortuitous. We see that natural selection, like a power that slumbers not nor sleeps, is ever preserving the stability of spe¬ cies by seizing all individual peculiarities that os¬ cillate within narrow limits on either side of the mean that is most advantageous to the species, while cutting off all such peculiarities as trans¬ gress these limits. Domesticated animals, pro¬ tected from the exigencies of wild life, often exhibit great varieties in colouring, while wild animals of the same genus or species are monoto¬ nously coloured, because only one kind of colour¬ ing will aid them in catching prey or eluding ene¬ mies, and all the variations are killed out. Who can doubt that antelopes are so fleet only because all but the fleetest individuals are sure to be over¬ taken and eaten by lions ? Protected from the lions, a thousand generations might well make them as lazy and clumsy as sheep.
16
Darwinism and Other Essays.
Operating in this stern way, natural selection secures the general adaptation of each race of or¬ ganisms to the conditions of life which surround it. * And so long as a species continues surrounded by circumstances that are tolerably persistent, natural selection maintains its stability of char¬ acter. Thus what the older naturalists called the “ fixity of species ” is fully accounted for. But a “fixity of species ” that is maintained only under such conditions is really no fixity at all. Change the surrounding circumstances, and the average character of the species must change. Slight pe¬ culiarities that once insured survival will now insure destruction, and tendencies to vary that once would have been nipped short will now be encouraged and exaggerated. In this way the strong tendency, hereditary in all mammals, to¬ ward the growth of hair on the surface, was greatly exaggerated in the Siberian mammoth, while checked in his brethren, the elephants of India and Africa. In this way a peculiar curve in the contour of butterflies’ wings, which is per¬ sistently killed out in India and Java, is with equal persistency selected for preservation in Celebes. How far such alterations in the direc¬ tion of natural selection may work deep-seated changes in the structure of an organism one can-
Darwinism Verified. IT
not accurately define ; but there is no doubt that they go very far indeed, when taken in connec¬ tion with the facts of what is called “ correlation of growth.” An organism is not a mere aggre¬ gation of parts, of which one can be altered with¬ out affecting the others. Increase in the size and weight of a deer’s horns entails an increase in the size of the cervical vertebne and muscles, and indirectly modifies the shoulders and fore¬ limbs ; while all these changes, by altering the animal’s centre of gravity, cause compensating changes in the rest of the body. Increased thick¬ ness of fur modifies the efficiency of the skin as an excreting organ, and thus reacts upon the lungs, liver, and kidneys. But it is not only in these clearly traceable ways that correlation of growth is manifested. Sometimes the correla¬ tions are inexplicable. Thus, to lengthen the beak of a pigeon is to increase the size of his feet, hairless dogs have their teeth imperfect, and white tomcats with blue eyes are almost invari¬ ably deaf. In the present state of physiological knowledge we cannot account for such facts ; but it is enough for the purposes of the Darwinian theory to know that they exist. For, taken all together, they show that natural selection, oper¬ ating on even the most superficial variations, is
2
18 Darwinism and Other Essays .
quite competent to work deep-seated changes of structure and function.
When we consider, then, that the circumstances which determine what individuals shall survive are not constant in the long run for any species, though apparently constant for limited periods of time ; when we reflect that there is no one of the larger groups of plants and animals — such as orders, or families, or even genera — which have not been subjected again and again to great and complicated changes of environment, it becomes evident that anything like 44 fixity of species” is utterly out of the question. No such thing is possible or even imaginable, when once the facts of the case have been thoroughly conceived. Looking over the earth’s surface to-day, things may seem quiet and stable enough. But if we contemplate the succession of past events, as dis¬ closed by the geologist, what mainly strikes our attention is the secular turmoil. Islands aggre¬ gating into continents ; continents breaking up into archipelagoes ; rivers shifting their beds ; coast-lines changing their direction ; oceans now separated by impassable istlimus-walls, now min¬ gling their floras and faunas through new-made channels ; torrid zones becoming temperate, and temperate zones growing frigid ; marshes trans-
Darwinism Verified. 19
formed into deserts, and glaciated yalk^s thaw¬ ing into sunny lakes ; high table-lands sinking into ocean-floors, and submarine ledges rearing their heads as Alpine ranges ; deep-sea mollusks and crustaceans seeking refuge in shallow waters, while littoral organisms migrate upland to find new food and contend with new enemies ; plant- seeds carried by vagrant birds to unwonted hab¬ itats ; peaceful tribes of ruminants decimated by invading carnivores ; ceaseless conflict, and redis¬ tribution of every possible sort, — these are the things we are called upon to contemplate. Re¬ membering, then, how stability of species is main¬ tained only by the rigorous selection of a few in¬ dividuals that are best adapted to a given set of exigencies, we see that, as the combinations of exigencies are altered from time to time, the sta¬ bility of species can in general be but temporary. Now and then we may expect to find very long persistency of type where, in spite of great ter¬ restrial changes, some simple set of conditions most important to the organism remains unal¬ tered; but in the vast majority of cases such per¬ sistence is impossible. It is seldom that the life of any species extends over more than one geo¬ logical epoch ; often the duration is much shorter than this.
20
Darwinism and Other Essays.
Whether, therefore, it is practicable for us to¬ day to explain every minute peculiarity of any one particular species by an appeal to natural se¬ lection alone is not the main point to be consid¬ ered in estimating the success of the Darwinian theory. The question has a scientific interest of its own which is very great, but it is not the main question. The main point is that, admitting nat¬ ural selection to be a vera causa at all (and this no one denies), the stability of species is proved to be but a contingent and temporary affair. The old notion of an absolute fixity of species is over¬ thrown once for all, and with it the only sem¬ blance of an argument that could ever have been alleged in behalf of the hypothesis of special cre¬ ations. For in considering nearly allied forms, like the lion, tiger, and leopard, their actual con¬ sanguinity would never have been doubted for a moment but for the inability of naturalists to un¬ derstand how the type which appears so constant, when viewed through a short period of time and amid unchanging conditions, should after all be variable. Unable to imagine any probable cause or method of variation by which the descendants of a common feline ancestor should have acquired the divergent characters of lions and leo23ards, the naturalist either gave up the problem as insoluble,
Darwinism Verified. 21
or else retreated upon the assumption that leop¬ ards and lions were separately created. In either case science was equally at fault ; for, as above argued, the hypothesis of special creations, as re¬ ferring a particular group of phenomena to that Divine action which is the equal source of all phe¬ nomena, is not entitled to be considered a scien¬ tific explanation. But when Mr. Darwin called attention to the working of natural selection, the difficulty was removed, and it at once became highly probable that such allied forms had di¬ verged from a common stock through the accumu- lation of minute modifications.
Such being the conclusion to which we are led by considering the process of natural selection, it becomes desirable to inquire whether the conclu¬ sion is confirmed by the most general phenomena of organic life that have been observed and tab¬ ulated. There is no hesitation or ambiguity in the answer. Whether we consider the classifi- catory relationships of plants and animals, their embryology, their morphology, their geographical distribution, or their 'geological succession, there is not only abundance of evidence, but the evi¬ dence points wholly in one direction. With en¬ tire unanimity the phenomena in question testify that species have arisen by descent with modifi-
22
Darwinism and Other Essays .
cations, and not by disconnected acts of creation. The facts of classification alone are sufficiently decisive. By the older naturalists, who sought to arrange animals and plants in groups according to their resemblances, attempts were often made to construct a linear series in which each group should be intermediate between those which pre¬ ceded and those which followed it. All such at¬ tempts proved futile, and after a half-century of discussion and criticism it became evident that the only possible classification which correctly represents the facts is one in which organisms are arranged in divergent groups and sub-groups, like the branches and twigs of what is aptly termed a family tree. Wherever different orders, families, or genera show points of resemblance to each other, the resemblances occur always at the bot¬ tom, among their least highly developed species. Apes, bats, and rabbits are sufficiently distinct in type, but the lowest members of the orders to which these animals respectively belong are strik¬ ingly like one another. At the bottom of the mammalian class, the echidna and duck-bill have many points in common with birds and reptiles; while birds and reptiles not only draw together so that it is hard to distinguish their most primitive forms as clearly bird or clearly reptile, but these
Darwinism Verified. 23
primitive forms remind one in many ways of the batracliians. A batrachian, in turn, is an animal which ends its life as a kind of reptile after hav¬ ing begun it as a kind of imperfectly specialized fish. Again, the lowest known vertebrate, the amphioxus, usually ranked with fishes, though hardly specialized enough to be called a true fish, exhibits marks of actual relationship with the ascidian, which is nothing more than a worm of the order known as tunicata. No two animals could be less like each other than a bee and a nautilus, yet in their lowest members the two sub-kingdoms of articulata and mollusks become barely distinguishable from each other and from the worms with which the vertebrate sub-kinmlom
O
also becomes blended. It is on account of this convergence of types as we descend in the scale that naturalists have found it so difficult to clas¬ sify satisfactorily those lower organisms which Cu¬ vier roughly grouped together as radiata. Par¬ allel phenomena recur as we reach the confines of the animal and vegetal kingdoms, and meet with numbers of organisms which there is as much reason for assigning to the one kingdom as to the other. All this complicated arrangement of or¬ ganisms in groups within groups, resembling each other at the bottom of the scale, and differing
24 Darwinism and Other Essays.
most widely at the top, is just what is presupposed by the Darwinian theory of “descent with mod¬ ification, ” and on any other theory it appears to be totally inexplicable.
Precisely similar testimony as to gradual diver¬ gence is found in the facts of embryology and morphology. It is a familiar fact that the germs of all organisms are like each other, and are, moreover, very like such lowest forms of life as the amoeba and protococcus. But as a germ de¬ velops it becomes specialized and defined, first as to its sub-kingdom, then as to its class, order, family, genus, species, and variety. The germ¬ cell of a mandril is at first indistinguishable from that of a snail or lobster. The foetal ape arising therefrom is at first definable as a vertebrate, but not as a mammal ; on the other hand, it cir¬ culates its blood through a system of gills, and its nascent heart is like the heart of a fish. Pres¬ ently, with the appearance of the allantoidal membrane, the foetus seems to be on the point of becoming a reptile or bird ; but after a while it declares itself a mammal. Next it becomes ap¬ parent that it is not a rodent or insec tivore, but a primate ; next, it exhibits characteristics which define it as a true ape, and not a lemur ; still later, it is seen to be a catarrhine ape ; and finally, it
I
Darwinism Verified. 25
is born with the specific attributes of a mandril, which are, however, further intensified as it reaches maturity. Facts like these, which are invariably found in the embryonic development of organisms, tell just the same story as the facts of classification. If they do not mean that the various forms of organic life have arisen by grad¬ ual divergence from a common original, one might Tvell be excused for doubting whether the phenomena of nature have any rational meaning whatever. Of like import are many of the more special facts of embryology, such as the useless rudiments of hind limbs in many snakes, the presence of teeth in the beaks of sundry embry¬ onic birds and in the jaws of foetal whales, and the gill-like glands in the human throat. As if all this were not enough, the study of morphology discloses that all the diversified mechanical func¬ tions performed by the various animals comprised in any sub-kingdom are achieved by more or less considerable modifications of a framework that in its typical features is common to all. In embry¬ onic development the fins of the fish correspond with the legs of reptiles and mammals, and with the legs and wings of birds. To enable the bat to fly, no new mechanism is invented, but an embryonal hand develops into a wing by the
26
Darwinism and Other Essays.
elongation of its fingers and the growth of a web¬ like skin between them.
If we consider the most general features of the geographical distribution and geological succes¬ sion of organisms, we find the evidence hardly less complete and convincing. Generally speak¬ ing, the contemporary species found in an}^ geo¬ graphical area most closeW resemble the species that inhabited the same area in former ages. Thus in the Miocene age Australia abounded in marsupials, and marsupials specifically different, though nearly allied to these, make up to-day the greater part of the mammalian fauna of Austra¬ lia. There is no imaginable reason why this should be so, unless the contemporary marsupials are descended from the earlier forms. It cannot be urged that marsupials are better adapted to the conditions of life in Australia than placental mammals ; for the placental mammals latety in¬ troduced there are already beginning to supplant and exterminate the marsupials. The only possi¬ ble explanation is that, whereas marsupials once covered the terrestrial globe, and have been sup¬ planted by better adapted forms in the Old World and (with the exception of the opossum) in America, on the other hand the isolation of Australia has allowed them there to go on repro-
27
Darwinism Verified.
ducing their kind until the present day. In such an instance as this we have something very nearly like crucial proof of the theory of “ descent with modifications. ” In like manner the extinct eden- tata of South America are closely allied to the living ant-eaters, sloths, and armadilloes. So, too, the indigenous floras and faunas of islands lying near continents always resemble the floras and faunas of the continents near which they lie. The Galapagos archipelago, distant some five hun¬ dred miles from the coast of Ecuador, has a fauna which, though generically distinct from all others, is yet South American in type, and closely resem¬ bles the fauna of Ecuador. Again, among the ani¬ mals living on the different islands of this group, we find specific diversity along with generic iden¬ tity. On the Darwinian theory this is just what might be expected. The long isolation of the archipelago from the continent has given oppor¬ tunity for the rise of generic divergences between their once homogeneous faunas, while the briefer isolation of the several islands from each other lias been attended by slighter, or specific, diver¬ gences ; and, as if to complete by contrast the force of the example, we find that the only ani¬ mals on the archipelago which are not generically different from their allies on the continent are
28
Darwinism and Other Essays.
birds, able to fly back and forth over the inter¬ vening sea. Unless the Darwinian theory be true, these striking relations not only become meaningless, but it is difficult to see why any discernible relations at all should exist between these neighboring faunas. To cite all the con¬ firmatory facts of this sort would be to write an exhaustive account of the distribution of plants and animals.
In examining the geological record in general, we are struck with its corroboration of the above- cited testimony of classification and embryology. For instance, as we go back in time, we find fam¬ ilies and orders drawing more and more closely together ; we find earlier forms less specialized than their successors ; and, as we now have em¬ bryonic birds with rudimentary teeth in their beaks, so we find that formerly adult birds with such teeth existed. It is one of the most signifi¬ cant truths of palaeontology that extinct forms are generally intercalary between forms now existing; so that not only genera and families, but even orders, of contemporary animals are every now and then fused together by the discovery of ex¬ tinct intermediate forms. It is in this way that the Cuvierian orders of pachyderms and rumi¬ nants have come to be ranked as a single order,
29
Darwinism Verified.
the horse and pig being connected by numerous fossil links with the camel and antelope. Until quite lately there has been less success in the attempt to find a perfect series of transitional forms connecting some well-known animal with its generically different ancestor. But the argu¬ ment heretofore urged against the Darwinian theory, on the ground of this imperfect success, was at best a weak one, as resting merely upon the absence of evidence which further discovery might furnish at any moment. The Darwinian might candidly urge that his failure Avas due partly to the fragmentary character of the geolog¬ ical record, in which there is no reason for sup¬ posing that more than one form out of a hundred has been preserved, and partly to the fact that only a small portion of the earth's surface has been explored by the palaeontologist, and that por¬ tion but superficially. The justice of such a plea is rendered apparent, while the hostile argument is completely silenced, by the recent discoveries of Professor Marsh as to the palaeontological his¬ tory of the ancestors of the horse. As these dis¬ coveries have just been well described in Profes¬ sor Huxlev’s admirable lectures in New York, a brief mention here will suffice to show their im¬ port.
30
Darwinism and Other Essays.
One of the most striking peculiarities of the equine genus — including the horse, ass, zebra, and quagga — is the modification of the limbs, so that what appears to be the horse’s fore-knee is really his wrist, and what in the hind-limb looks like a reversed knee is really his heel, while the lower halves of the legs are really feet terminat¬ ing in the middle toe armed with its nail, which we call the hoof. The two adjacent toes are rep¬ resented only by splint-bones on either side of the middle metacarpal or metatarsal, and the ra¬ dius and ulna in the fore-limb, as well as the tibia and fibula in the liind-limb, are almost completely fused together. Now according to the Darwinian theory, such a highly specialized animal as the horse must be descended from a less specialized mammal in which the limbs were like ordinary mammalian limbs, ending in ordinary feet with five separate toes each. The embryology of the horse points to this conclusion, and here, as usual, but with unwonted emphasis, palaeontology con¬ firms the inference. Already in Europe had been found the tliree-toed hipparion, in which the two side toes were like dew-claws, and the older an- chitherium, in which all three toes were complete. But the discoveries of Professor Marsh have set before us a much more perfect series. Going
Danvinism Verified. 31
back in time, as we reach the upper Pliocene, the horse disappears, and we find the pliohippus, very much like him. In the lower Pliocene this creature is replaced by the protohippus, with three toes like the hipparion. In the upper Mio¬ cene we have the miohippus, with three well-de¬ veloped toes like the anchitherium, and with the rudiment of a fore-toe on the fore-foot. In the mesohippus of the lower Miocene this rudiment is a splint-bone, like those which represent the later-disappearing toes in the modern horse. By this time we find the ulna and fibula well devel¬ oped and distinct from the radius and tibia. Still further back, in the upper Eocene, comes the orohippus, with four complete toes on the fore¬ foot. And finally, in the lower Eocene, we get the eohippus, which shows the rudiment of a fifth toe on the front and a fourth toe on the hind foot. In the structure of the teeth — the other chief point in which the modern horse is notably spe¬ cialized — we find a similar gradation back to the ordinary mammalian tvpe.
The agreement of observed facts with the re¬ quirements of theory is here complete, minute, and specific; and Professor Huxley may well say that the history of the descent of the horse from a five-toed mammal, as thus demonstrated, sup-
32
Darwinism and Other Essays.
plies all that was required to complete the proof of the Darwinian theory. The theory not only alleges a vera causa , and is not only confirmed by the unanimous import of the facts of classification, embryology, morphology, distribution, and succes¬ sion ; but it has further succeeded in tracing the actual origination of one generic type from an¬ other, through gradual “descent with modifica¬ tions.” And thus, within a score of years from its first announcement, the daring hypothesis of Mr. Darwin may fairly claim to be regarded as one of the established truths of science.
December , 1876.
II.
MR. MIYART ON DARWINISM.
It can hardly be said that in this volume1 Mr. Mivart has brought any new contribution to the discussion of evolution and its consequences, though he has succeeded in marshalling together, in a goodly phalanx, the various doubts, objec¬ tions, and misconceptions with which the question has disturbed the peace of his mind. The book is so polemic as quite to belie its placid and deco¬ rous title. The “ Lessons from Nature ” turn out to be a series of eager assaults upon “ Darwinians ” and “ Agnostics,” mingled with jeremiads over the tendency of the times when such perverted thinkers can obtain such extensive following. Though it would be unfair to say that there is no trace of a disposition to interrogate nature calmly and accept the results, yet this disposition is well- nigh paralyzed by a strong mental bias towards considering facts only in their supposed bearing
1 Lessons from Nature , as manifested in Mind and Matter. By St. George Mivart. New York : D. Appleton & Co. 1876.
3
34
Darwinism and Other Dssays,
0
on certain assumed practical needs of theology? An evident struggle between theological predispo¬ sitions and acquired scientific habits has interfered seriously with the author’s balance of mind ; and the net result is a book by no means commenda¬ ble for scientific spirit, though it exhibits praise¬ worthy industry, and often considerable ingenuity and dialectical skill.
So far is Mr. Mivart from occupying the posi¬ tion of a disinterested student of nature that his numerous misrepresentations can be explained without necessarily charging him with a conscious willingness to be unfair. Sometimes, at least, he appears to misrepresent scientific thinkers through sheer incapacity to comprehend the motives which guide them. Mr. Darwin's candour, for example, in modifying or retracting hasty inferences im¬ plies an attitude of mind which our author seems quite unable to appreciate. The nature of Mr. Darwin’s inquiries involves him in the consider¬ ation of thousands of exceedingly complex cases of causation, for the unravelling of which a vast experience, the most delicate analytic power, and a prodigious memory for details are absolutely essential. The general sagacity of his conclusions shows that Mr. Darwin possesses these qualities in a degree rarely, if ever, surpassed by any scientific
Mr. Mivart on Darwinism.
35
inquirer ; yet once in a while lie makes a slip, forgets or overlooks some inconspicuous but im¬ portant fact, or sets down an inference without his customary caution. Ordinary writers in such cases too often prefer to stand by what they have written, quietly ignoring criticisms that are hard to dispose of, very much as Mr. Mivart, in re¬ printing his rejoinder to Mr. Chauncey Wright, takes care not to inform the reader of the surre¬ joinder which came from his powerful antagonist. But Mr. Darwin finds it easy to acknowledge himself mistaken. His interest in his personal reputation for infallibility, and his zeal in behalf of the doctrine he is defending, are held in entire subordination to the main purpose of getting the facts presented as fairly and completely as pos¬ sible. This is the true scientific spirit — the spirit in which to acquire lessons from nature, whether in the world of mind or in the world of matter ; and when a writer manifests this spirit so consistently as Mr. Darwin, he is sure to win the respect and confidence of his readers in the highest degree. An occasional error goes for lit¬ tle when weighed in the scales against entire dis¬ interestedness.
To a disinterested critic all this, one would think, should be self-evident. Yet so far is Mr.
36
Darwinism and Other Essays.
Mivart from recognizing anything of the sort that he cites Mr. Darwin’s scrupulous self-corrections as evidence of his utter untrustworthiness ! What confidence can we place, he asks, in a thinker who makes so many hasty inferences ? — overlooking the fact that, in daily experience, those who are the most rash in forming their opinions are apt to be likewise the most indisposed to reconsider them. If Mr. Mivart had any genuine sympathy with the scientific temper of mind, this particular kind of misrepresentation would never have oc¬ curred to him.
Along with this inability to appreciate disinter¬ ested thinking, Mr. Mivart has one or two other peculiarities which, taken together, give him a real genius for twisting things. He is character¬ ized by a sort of cantankerousness which prompts him to put a controversial aspect on points which properly require only a judicial estimate of the bearings of circumstances. On the question as to just how much effectiveness is to be allowed to the principle of natural selection, he approaches Mr. Darwin with the air of a lawyer browbeating a witness ; and when Mr. Darwin admits that formerly his attention was somewhat too exclu¬ sively directed toward this cause of the modifi¬ cation of species, his belligerent critic cries out
Mr. Mivart on Darivinism. 37
that here is “ a change of front in face of the enemy ! ”
Further twisting is caused by unintelligent study of the subject criticised. Mr. Mivart, for example, attributes to the evolutionists the opin¬ ion that “ virtue and pleasure are synonymous, for in root and origin they are identical.” This misrepresentation arises from imperfect apprehen¬ sion of the fact that, according to the doctrine of evolution, differences in kind result from the ac¬ cumulation of differences in degree. One might as well say that evolutionists consider the work¬ ings of Newton’s genius to be identical with re- flex action, since in its root and origin all mental activity was a kind of reflex action. Nay, one might as well say that evolutionists consider a man indistinguishable from a cuttle-fish, since in their root and origin the vertebrate and mollus- can types have been proved by Kovalevsky to be identical.
For the rest, Mr. Mivart evinces frequent want of sagacity as to the really vital points of the case in which he appears as an advocate. He takes great pains to show that some savage races have degenerated in civilization, and also that the in¬ tellectual difference between the lowest men and the highest apes far exceeds the structural differ-
38
Darwinism and Other Essays.
ence. But this is, after all, a misconception of the requirements of the argument ; for on the one hand the Darwinian theory nowhere requires an uninterrupted progress, but rather implies a complicated backward and forward movement, of which an irregular progress is the differential re¬ sult. And as to the second point, it is just one of the triumphs of Darwinism, as regards specu¬ lative consistency with facts, that it does account for the alteration in the series of effects which occurs as we approach the origin of mankind. For when intelligence has increased pari passu with physical advantages up to a certain point, the variations in intelligence begin to “become more valuable than any variations in physical constitution, and consequently become predomi¬ nantly subject to the operation of natural selec¬ tion, to the comparative neglect of purely physi¬ cal variations. A change of this sort, if prolonged for a sufficient length of time, would go far to ac¬ count for the greatness of the mental difference between men and apes, as contrasted with the smallness of the structural difference.
That Mr. Mivart should fail to appreciate this point, long since suggested by Mr. Wallace, is perhaps not to be wondered at, since he reduces the inquiry to a mere controversy in which he
Mr. Mivart on Darwinism.
39
holds a brief against the Darwinians. Whatjiis own views may be as to the origin of man he no¬ where explicitly states. But, in spite of his hos¬ tility to Mr. Darwin and his theories, he takes pains to proclaim himself an evolutionist — within such limits as a profound study of Suarez and St0 Thomas Aquinas may determine.
December , 1876.
DR. BATEMAN ON DARWINISM.1
Dr. Bateman's argument against Darwinism is based upon a fallacy which is quite commonly shared by those who have failed to comprehend the doctrine of evolution.2 This is the fallacy of supposing that the Darwinian theory can be over¬ thrown simply by insisting upon the obvious fact that the intelligence and acquirements of man are enormously — almost incommensurably — greater than the intelligence and acquirements of the highest apes. As urged in the case of language, Dr. Bateman's argument is not original with him, as he seems to suppose ; it has already been urged by Max Muller, a writer far more distin¬ guished for brilliancy of expression than for pro¬ fundity of thought. In substance it consists of three propositions : —
1 Darwinism Tested by Lanyuaye. By Frederic Bateman, M. D. With a Preface by E. M. Goulburn, D. D., Dean of Norwich. Lon¬ don. New York : Scribner and Welford. 1878.
2 On this point see my Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy , 1874, Part II., chaps, xxi., xxii.
Dr. Bateman on Darwinism. 41
“ 1. That articulate speech is a distinctive at¬ tribute of man, and that the ape and lower an¬ imals do not possess a trace of it.
“ 2. That articulate speech is a universal at¬ tribute of man ; that all races have a language, or the capacity of acquiring it.
“ 3. The immateriality of the faculty of speech.”
It is perhaps hardly correct to call this last point a “ proposition,” nor is it easy to determine precisely its purport or its relevance. We are told farther on that, although “a certain normal and healthy state of cerebral tissue is necessary for the exterior manifestation of the faculty of speech,” it by no means follows that speech is located in a particular portion of the brain, or is the “ result of a certain definite molecular condi¬ tion of the cerebral organ.” Of course it does not follow ; but the conclusion, however interesting to phrenologists and materialists, is irrelevant to the discussion of the Darwinian theory, or to that of the origin of language. In such inquiries all that any one needs to know is that the faculty of speech implies, among other things, the presence of a brain, and whether this “ faculty ” is to be called “ immaterial ” or not is quite beside the question.
Our author’s argumentation, it will be rightly
42
Darwinism and Other Essays.
inferred, is more or less rambling in character. Returning to the two propositions which really make up his argument, it is an obvious criticism that every sensible Darwinian will concede them both without a moment's hesitation. There is not the slightest evidence of the existence of a race of men destitute of articulate speech ; and if apes or any other animals do possess the slightest trace of such an acquisition, it may safely be neglected on the principle of de minimis non curat lex .1 It is only Dr. Bateman’s imaginary Darwinian who finds it difficult to admit these plain facts. The actual supporters of this 44 dangerous heresy ” have never gone out of their way to detect an historical substratum for Reynard or iEsop, or to hunt from its obscurity the Leibnitzian story of the Latin¬ speaking dog ; there are some of them, we fear, who would even, on general grounds, cast dis¬ credit on the story of Balaam. But if this be really the Darwinian state of mind, then Dr. Bateman’s work is plainly a case of ignoratio elen- chi , or what is otherwise called 44 barking up the wrong tree.”
As regards the process, psychological and phys-
1 Neglected, or conceded, by the controversialist , I mean : to the disinterested student of nature no fact, however small, is really triv.
ial.
Dr. Bateman on Darwinism. 48
iological, by which the faculty of articulate speech was acquired by mankind, no thorough explanation has yet been offered, either upon the Darwinian or upon any other theory. The so- called “bow-wow ” or onomatopoetic theory is no doubt correct, so far as it goes, as a description of facts which have attended the acquisition of speech ; but it hardly goes to the root of the mat¬ ter. The power of enunciating sounds so as to communicate ideas and feelings is certainly an art, as much as the later acquired powers of writing or drawing. For the original acquisition of such an art two conditions were requisite — the phys¬ iological capacity of the vocal organs for produc¬ ing articulate sounds, and the psychological ca¬ pacity of abstraction implied in the conception of a sign or symbol. There must also have been re¬ quired — as underlying the last-named capacity — the possession of a certain amount of mental flexibility, or inventiveness, or capability of fram¬ ing new combinations of ideas. This sort of men¬ tal flexibility is found among animals in man alone, and in his case it is the accompaniment, and probably the result, of an exceptionally long period of infancy. The significance of infancy, psychologically, is that it is a period during which a great number of all-important nervous combina-
44 Darwinism and Other Essays.
tions are formed after birth under the influence of outward circumstances which slightly vary from generation to generation. Where there is no infancy, all the most important nervous com¬ binations are established before birth, and under the unmodified influence of the powerful conserva¬ tive tendency of heredity. Where there is an in¬ fancy, many important nervous combinations are not formed until after birth, and the strictly con- servative tendency of heredity is liable to be modified by the fact that the experience of the offspring amid environing circumstances is not likely to be precisely the same as that of the par¬ ent. The prolongation of infancy, therefore, in¬ creases the opportunities for the production of a mental type more plastic than that which is wit¬ nessed in the lower animals ; it paves the way for inventiveness and for progress. It is, further¬ more, the increased variety of experience result¬ ing from this increased mental plasticity that leads to the power of abstraction and generalization — the power of marking out and isolating in thought the element that is common to different groups of phenomena.
Now, in the first employment of articulated words by inchoate man, who had hitherto only grunted or howled, the main point to be inter
Dr. Bateman on Darwinism . 45
preted psychologically is the inventive turn of mind which could establish an association be¬ tween a number of vocal sounds and a corre¬ sponding number of objects, and which could appreciate the utility of such an association in facilitating concerted action with one’s fellow- creatures ; though, as to the last point, the utility would be so enormous that the maintenance of the device, when once conceived, could never be in doubt. In the origination of language it is but the first costly step that requires considera¬ tion ; but this step obviously involved no super¬ human mystery. It was but an instance — though the greatest of all in its consequences — of that general psychical plasticity which characterizes the only animal which begins life with a consid¬ erable proportion of its nervous combinations un¬ determined.
It is not pretended that such considerations solve the problem of the origin of speech. They nevertheless go far toward putting it into its proper position, and indicating the class . of in¬ quiries with which it must be grouped if it is to be treated in that broad philosophical way which can alone connect its solution with the fortunes of the Darwinian theory. The existence of lan¬ guage is not, as Max Muller’s dicta imply, a fact
46
Darwinism and Other Essays .
in the universe that is isolated or sui generis in being incapable of scientific explanation. Im¬ mense as the fabric of human speech has grown to be, it is undoubtedly based on sundry acts of discovery or invention — not necessarily very conspicuous at the outset — among primeval semi¬ human savages. The inventive acts which led to the systematic use of vocal sounds for the inter¬ change of ideas, like the inventive acts which re¬ sulted in bows and arrows and in cookery, are to be regarded simply as instances of the general increase in psychical plasticity which has been the fundamental fact in the genesis of man in¬ tellectually. In other words, the existence of language is a fact no more wonderful than the general superiority of human over simian intelli¬ gence ; and when it shall have been shown how the rigid mind of an ape might acquire plasticity, the problem of the origin of language, along with many other problems, will have been, ipso facto , more than half solved.
A great step in this direction was taken by Mr. Wallace, when he pointed out that when variations in intelligence have become, on the whole, more useful to a race of animals than variations in physical constitution, tlien natural selection must seize upon the former to the rela«
Dr. Bateman on Darwinism.
47
tive neglect of the latter. This conclusion follows inevitably from the theory of natural selection as conceived by Mr. Darwin ; and it further fol¬ lows, with equal cogency, that when this point is reached an entirely new chapter is opened in the history of the evolution of life. A race which maintains itself by psychical variations can never, by natural selection, give rise to a race specifically different from itself in a zoological sense. It may go on adding increments to its intelligence until it evolves Newtons and Beethovens, while its physical structure will undergo but slight and secondary modifications. Obviously, the first be¬ ginning of such a race of creatures, though but a slight affair zoologically, was, in the history of the world, an event quite incomparable in impor¬ tance with any other instance of specific genesis that ever occurred. It constituted a new depar¬ ture, so to speak, not inferior in value to the first beginning of organic life. From Mr. Spencer’s researches into the organization of correspond¬ ences in the nervous system it follows that the general increase of intelligence cannot be carried much farther than it has reached in the average higher mammalia without necessitating the gene¬ sis of infancy. The amount of work to be done by the developing nervous system of the offspring, in reproducing the various combinations achieved
48 Darwinism and Other Essays.
by the parental nervous system, becomes so con¬ siderable that it cannot all be performed before birth. A considerable and increasing number of combinations have to be adjusted after birth ; and thus arise the phenomena of infancy. Among mammalia the point at which this change be¬ comes observable lies between the true monkeys and the man-like apes. The orang-outang is un¬ able to walk until a month old, and its period of bab\ hood lasts considerably longer.
The establishment of infancy is the most im¬ portant among the series of events which resulted in the genesis of man. For, on the one hand, the prolongation of this period of immaturity had for its direct effect the liberation of intelligence from the shackles of rigid conservatism by which the unchecked influence of heredity had hitherto con¬ fined it. On the other hand, as its indirect effect, the prolongation of the period of helplessness served to inaugurate social life by establishing the family, and thus prepared the way for the development of the moral sense. It is by follow¬ ing out this line of inquiry that we shall elucidate the question of the causes of man’s enormous in¬ tellectual superiority over his nearest zoological congeners. Meanwhile, and until further light shall have been thrown upon such incidental questions as the inventiveness displayed in the
Dr. Bateman on Darwinism. 49
origin of language, the Darwinian is in no wise debarred, by any logical necessity of his position, from fully recognizing the fact of this enormous superiority. Writers like Dr. Bateman argue as if they supposed Darwinians to be in the habit of depicting the human race as a parcel of naked, howling troglodytes. They “ point with pride ” to Parthenons and Iliads, and ask us to produce from his African forests some gorilla who can perform the like. These worthy critics should first try to grasp the meaning of the contrast, that while zoologically man presents differences from the higher catarrhine apes that are barely of generic value, on the other hand the psycholog¬ ical difference is so great as, in Mr. Mivart’s emphatic language, to transcend the difference between an ape and a blade of grass. After duly reflecting on this, with the aid to be derived from Mr. Wallace’s suggestion above cited, they will perhaps be able to comprehend how it is that the Darwinian, without ignoring the immensity of this difference, seeks, nevertheless, by working hypotheses to bring it out of the region of bar¬ ren mystery into that of scientific interpretation. When they have once got this through their heads, such trash as Dr. Bateman’s will no longer get published.
November, 1878.
IV.
DR. BUCHNER ON DARWINISM.1
The words “ materialist ” and “ atheist ” have been so long employed as death-dealing epithets in the hands of hard-hitting theological controver¬ sialists that it seems hardly kind in us to begin the notice of a somewhat meritorious book by saying that it is the work of a materialist and an atheist. We are reassured, however, by the re¬ flection that these are just the titles which the author himself delights in claiming. Dr. Buch¬ ner would regard it as a slur upon his mental fit¬ ness for philosophizing if we were to refuse him the title of atheist ; and “ materialism ” is the name of that which is as dear to him as “ liberty ” was dear to the followers of Danton and Mirabeau. Accordingly, in applying these terms to Dr. Buch¬ ner, they become divested of their old opprobri¬ ousness, and are enabled to discharge the proper
1 Man in the Past, Present , and Future. A Popular Account of the Results of Recent Scientific Research as regards the Origin , Posi¬ tion, and Prospects of the Human Race. From the German of Dr. L. Buchner, by W. S. Dallas, F. L. S. London, 1872.
Dr. Buchner on Darwinism.
51
function of descriptive epithets by serving as ab¬ stract symbols for certain closely allied inodes of thinking. Considered in this purely philosoph¬ ical way, an “atheist” is one to whom the time- honoured notion of Deity has become a meaning¬ less and empty notion ; and a “ materialist ” is one who regards the story of the universe as com¬ pletely and satisfactorily told when it is wholly told in terms of matter and motion, without ref¬ erence to any ultimate underlying Existence, of which matter and motion are only the phenome¬ nal manifestations. To Dr. Buchner’s mind the criticism of the various historic conceptions of godhood has not only stripped these conceptions of their anthropomorphic vestments, but has left them destitute of any validity or solid content whatever ; and in similar wise he is satisfied with describing the operations of nature, alike in the physical and psychical worlds, as merely the re¬ distributions of matter and motion, without seek¬ ing to answer the inquiry as to what matter and motion are, or how they can be supposed to exist as such at all, save in reference to the mind by which they are cognized.
Starting, then, upon this twofold basis, — that the notion of God is a figment, and that matter in motion is the only real existence, — Dr. Buchner
52 Darwinism and Other Essays .
seeks in the present work to interpret the facts disclosed by scientific induction concerning the origin of man, his psychical nature, his history, and his destiny as a denizen of the earth. With ref¬ erence to these topics Dr. Buchner is a follower of Mr. Darwin, especially of Mr. Darwin as amended by Professor Haeckel. His book, considered on its scientific merits only, and without regard to its philosophic bearings, is a popular exposition of the Darwinian theory as applied to the origin of the human race. Regarded simply as a sci¬ entific exposition, conducted on these fundamen¬ tal principles, there is in the book little which calls for criticism. Dr. Buchner has studied the Darwinian theory very thoroughly, and his state¬ ments in illustration of it are for the most part very accurate, showing, so far as this portion of the work is concerned, the evidences of a truly scientific spirit. He is as lucid, moreover, as Taine or Haeckel, and nothing is wanting to one’s entire enjoyment of his book, save that modesty in the presence of the limitless workings of nature in which Dr. Buchner is far more deficient than even Taine or Haeckel.
But from the scientific point of view it is not necessary for us to discuss Dr. Buchner’s book, as it is not an original scientific treatise, but only a
Dr. Buchner on Darwinism.
53
lucid exposition of the speculations and discover¬ ies of other students of nature. When we have described it as in the main lucid and accurate, we have given it all the praise which as a scientific exposition it can legitimately claim to have earned. When we consider it as a contribution to philoso¬ phy, when we ask the question whether it can be of any use to us in solving the great problem of our relations to the universe in which we live and move and have our being, we must set down quite another verdict. As an exposition of Darwinism, the work, though by no means all that could be desired, is still an admirable work. But as a vin¬ dication of the atheistic and materialistic way of explaining the universe, it is an utter failure. To suppose that the establishment of the Darwinian theory of man’s origin is equivalent to the vin¬ dication of materialism and atheism is a mistake of Dr. Buchner’s which would be very absurd were it not so very serious. Mr. Darwin’s theory only supposes that a certain aggregate of phe¬ nomena now existing has had for its antecedent a certain other and different aggregate of phenom¬ ena. The entire victory of this theory will only — like the previous victory of Newton’s theory over the doctrine of guiding angels, espoused even by Kepler — assure us that in the entire series of
54
Darwinism and Other Essays.
phenomenal manifestations of which the world is made up there is no miraculous break, no con¬ juring, no freak of the magician. And to this conclusion all modern scientific inquiry has long been leading us. It needed no Dr. Buchner to tell us this.
All this, however, cannot stir us one inch to¬ ward the philosophic doctrine of which Dr. Buch¬ ner is the advocate. Dr. Buchner shares with the theologians whom he combats the error of supposing that godhoed cannot be manifested in a regular series of phenomena, but only in fortui¬ tous miraculous surprises. When he has proved that mankind was originated through the ordi¬ nary processes of paternity from some lower form of life, he thinks he has overturned the belief in God, whereas he has really only overturned a crude and barbarous conception of the way in which God acts. And so when it is shown that all the phenomena of the world can be explained in conformity to a doctrine of evolution which originated in the study of material phenomena, our author thinks that the ground-theorem of ma¬ terialism is forever established ; quite forgetting that what we call material phenomena are, after all said and done, nothing but expressions for cer¬ tain changes occurring in a complicated series of psychical states.
Dr. Buchner on Darwinism. 55
In short, no matter how far the scientific inter¬ pretation of nature may be carried, it can reveal to us only the fact that the workings of the ulti¬ mate Existence of which Nature is the phenome¬ nal expression are different from what they were supposed to be by uninstructed thinkers of former times. And no matter how far we may carry the interpretation of natural phenomena in terms of matter and motion, we cannot escape the conclu¬ sion that matter and motion, as phenomenal man¬ ifestations, can have no genuine existence save as the correlatives of a cognizing mind. To treat of the universe of phenomena without the nou- menon God is nonsense ; and likewise to treat of matter (a congeries of attributes) without refer¬ ence to the mind in whose cognizance alone can attributes have any existence is also nonsense. However praiseworthy, therefore, Dr. Buchner’s book may be as an exposition of a particular set of scientific doctrines, we think it can have but small value as a contribution to philosophy. Its
author is one of those men who see very distinctly
«•
what they really see, but who in reality see but a very little way before them
November , 1872.
V.
A CRUMB FOR THE “MODERN SYMPOSIUM.”
No one to whom the question of man’s destiny is a matter of grave speculative concern can have read, without serious and solemn interest, the dis¬ cussion lately called forth in England by Mr. Frederic Harrison's essay on “The Soul and Fu¬ ture Life.'’ 1 In no way, perhaps, could the dark¬ ness of incomprehensibility which enshrouds the problem be more thoroughly demonstrated than by the candid presentation of so many diverse views by ten writers of very different degrees of philosophic profundity, but all of them able and fair-minded, and all of them actuated — each in his own way — by a spirit of religious faith. This last clause will no doubt seem startling, if not paradoxical, to many who have not yet come to realize how true it is that there is often more real faith in honest scepticism than in languid or tim-
1 “A Modern Symposium,” The Nineteenth Century , 1877, i. 623, 832; ii. 329, 497. The articles are all reproduced in America, in The Popular Science Monthly Supplement, Nos. 1, 2, 6, and 7, and have fceen published in book form at Toronto, Canada. 1878.
A Crumb for the “ Modern Symposium .” 57
orous assent to a half-understood creed. But no paradox is intended. I believe that there is as much of the true essence of religion — the spirit of trust in God that has ever borne men triumph¬ antly through the perplexities and woes of the world, and the possession of which, in some de¬ gree, by most of its members, is the chief differ¬ ential attribute of the human race — - 1 believe that there is as much of this spirit exhibited in the remarks of Professor Huxley as in those of Lord Blachford. In the serenity of mood with which the great scientific sceptic awaits the end, whatever it may prove to be; in the unflinching integrity with which his intellect refuses to enter¬ tain theories that do not seem properly accred¬ ited ; in the glorious energy with which, accepting the world as it is, he performs with all his might and main the good work for which he is by na¬ ture fitted — in all this I can see the evidence of a trust in God no less real than that which makes it possible for his noble Christian friend to “ be¬ lieve because he is told.” I am sure that I un¬ derstand Professor Huxley’s attitude ; I think I understand Lord Blachford’s, also ; and it seems to me that the difference between the two atti¬ tudes, wide as it is, is stiff a purely intellectual difference. It has its root in differently blended
58 Darwinism and Other Essays.
capacities of judgment and insight, and in no wise fundamentally affects the religious charac¬ ter.
It will be well for the world when this lesson has been thoroughly learned, so as to leave no further room for misapprehension. That great progress has already been made in learning it we need no other proof than the mere existence of this “ Modern Symposium ” on the subject of a future life. Three centuries ago it would have been in strict accordance with propriety for the ten disputants to have adjourned their symposium to some ecclesiastical court, preparatory to a final settlement at Smithfield. One century ago there would have been wholesale vituperation, attended with more or less imputation of unworthy mo¬ tives, and very likely there would have been some Jesuitical paltering with truth. To-day, however, the tremendous question is discussed on all sides — alike by Protestant and Catholic, by transcen- dentalist, sceptic, and positivist — with evident candour and praiseworthy courtesy ; for, in spite of Professor Huxley’s keen-edged wit and Mr. Harrison's fervent heat, there is no one so fortu¬ nate as to know these gentlemen who does not know that manly tenderness and good feeling are by no means incompatible with the ability
A Crumb for the “ Modern Symposium .” 59
to exchange good hard blows in a fair English fight.
It is with some diffidence that I venture to add my voice to a conversation carried on by such accomplished speakers, but the present seems to be a proper occasion for calling attention to some of the misconceptions which ordinarily cluster around the treatment of questions relating to the soul and a future life. In thus entering upon the discussion, I do not feel called upon to defend any particular solution of the main question at issue. Going by the “light of Nature” alone — to use the old-fashioned phrase — it will be generally conceded that the problem of a future life is so abstruse and complicated that one is quite excus¬ able for refraining from a dogmatic treatment of it. Nay, one is not only excusable, one is morally bound not to dogmatize unless one has a firmer basis to stand on than any of us are likely to find for some time to come. We may entertain hypotheses in private, but we are hardly entitled to urge them upon our friends until we feel as¬ sured, in the first place, that we have duly fath¬ omed the conditions requisite for a rational treat¬ ment of the problem.
It would appear that some of the participators in the “ Modern Symposium ” have not sufficiently
60 Darwinism and Other Essays .
heeded this obvious maxim of philosophic cau¬ tion. Loose talk about “ materialism ” is apt to imply loose thinking as to the manner in which the metaphysical relations of body and soul are to be apprehended. Perhaps Mr. Harrison, as a positivist, will say that he has nothing to do with apprehending the metaphysical relations between body and soul ; but, however that may be, there is some laxity of thought exhibited in charging Professor Huxley with “ materialism ” because he speaks of “ building up a physical theory of moral phenomena.’ ’ To try to explain conscience, with metaphysical strictness, as a result of the grouping of material molecules, is something which I am sure Professor Huxley would never think of doing ; but, unless I am entirely mis¬ taken on this point, there is no ground for Mr. Harrison’s charge of materialism.
To see Professor Huxley charged with mate¬ rialism, and in a reproachful tone withal, by a positivist who does not acknowledge the existence of a soul, save in some extremely Pickwickian sense, is a strange, not to say comical, spectacle. “ What next ?” one is inclined to ask. Positivists are apt to have, indeed, an ecclesiastical style of expression, and one would almost think, from his manner, that Mr. Harrison was making com-
A Crumb for the “ Modern Symposium” 61
raon cause with theologians. Into the explana¬ tion of this curious phenomenon I cannot here profitably enter. The reasons for it are some¬ what recondite, and are subtly linked with the general incapacity, under which positivists seem to labour, of understanding the real import of the doctrine of evolution. However this may be, the impression that the group of opinions represented by Mr. Spencer and Professor Huxley are ma¬ terialistic is so widely spread that it is worth our while to spend a few moments in ascertaining what materialism is, and how far it is involved in recent scientific speculations. Is the present drift of scientific thought really setting toward materialism, or is it not ?
No epithets are more familiarly used nowadays than “ materialism ” and “ materialist,” but their ordinary function is vituperative rather than log¬ ical. As vague terms of abuse they are hurled about with a zeal that may be praiseworthy, but with an indiscreetness that is scarcely commend¬ able, being aimed, as often as not, at the heads of writers who doubt or deny the substantial ex¬ istence of matter altogether ! Such blunders show (among other things) how difficult meta¬ physical studies are, and indicate that a little more care expended upon analysis and definition
62 Darwinism and Other Essays .
would not be thrown away. It is true that some¬ thing has already been said upon this point — enough, one would think, to obviate the necessity of turning back to slay the resuscitated ghosts of thrice-slaughtered misconceptions. On the char¬ acter of materialism as a philosophical hypothesis, Mr. Spencer has been tolerably explicit. Pro¬ fessor Huxley has summed up the case with his
s
customary felicity, at the close of that famous Edinburgh lecture which everybody is supposed to have read.1 In my work on “ Cosmic Philoso¬ phy,” I have devoted a very plain-spoken chapter to the subject. Nevertheless, as Mr. Freeman says, it is not a bad plan, when you have once got hold of a truth, to keep hammering it into peo¬ ple’s heads on all occasions, even at the risk of being voted a tedious bore or a victim of crotch¬ ets. We live in a hurried and not over-intelli¬ gent world, wherein the wariest of us do not always pay due heed to what we are told, and the keenest do not always divine its sense ; but, after we have heard it repeated fifty times that Alfred was an Englishman, and Charles the Great was not a Frenchman, we may perhaps succeed in waking up to the historical import of such statements. In this pithy though somewhat cyn-
1 “ The Physical Basis of Life,” Lay Sermons, p. 160.
A Crumb for the “ Modern Symposium .” 63
ical suggestion I shall seek an excuse for recur¬ ring here to what I have said more than once already.1
From one point of view materialism may be characterized as a system of opinions based on the assumption that matter is the only real existence. On this view the phenomena of conscious intelli¬ gence are supposed to be explicable, as momentary results of fleeting collocations of material parti¬ cles, as when a discharge between two or more cells of grey cerebral tissue is accompanied by what we call a thought. It requires but little effort to see that materialism, as thus defined, does not comport well with the most advanced philosophy of our time. Materialism of this sort has plenty of defenders, no doubt, but not among those who are skilled in philosophy. The un¬ trained thinker, who believes that the group of phenomena constituting the table on which he is writing has an objective existence independent of consciousness, will probably find no difficulty in accepting this sort of materialism. If he is de¬ voted to the study of nervous physiology, he will be very likely to adopt some such crude notion, and to proclaim it as zealously as if it were a very important truth, calculated to promote, in many
1 Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy , ii. 79. 432-451. The UnseenWorld ,
41, 53.
64
Darwinism and Other Essays.
ways, the welfare of mankind. The science of such a writer is very likely to be sound and valu¬ able, and what he tells us about woorara-poison and frogs’ legs, and acute mania, will probably be worthy of serious attention. But with his philos¬ ophy it is quite otherwise. When he has pro¬ ceeded as far in subjective analysis as he has in the study of nerves, our materialist will find that it was demonstrated, a century ago, that the group of phenomena constituting the table has no real existence whatever in a philosophical sense. For by “reality” in philosophy is meant “persistence irrespective of particular conditions,” and the group of phenomena constituting a table persists only in so far as it is held together in cognition. Take away the cognizing mind, and the colour, form, position, and hardness of the table — all the attributes, in short, that characterize it as matter — at once disappear. That something remains we may grant, but this something is unknown and unknowable : it is certainly not the group of phe¬ nomena constituting the table. Apart from con¬ sciousness there are no such things as colour, form, position, or hardness, and there is no such thing as matter. This great truth, established by Berkeley, is the very foundation of modern scien¬ tific philosophy ; and, though it has been misap-
A Crumb for the “ Modern Symposium.'1' 65
prebended by many, no one has ever refuted it, and it is not likely that any one ever will. Con¬ cerning the value of Berkeley’s idealism, when taken with all its ontological implications, there is plenty of room for disagreement; but his psy¬ chological analysis of the relation of consciousness to the external world is of such fundamental im¬ portance that, until one has mastered it, one has no light to speak on philosophical questions. It is not unfair to say that materialists, as a rule, have not mastered the Berkeleian psychology, or given much attention to it. In general, their at¬ tention has been too much occupied with fila¬ ments and ganglia, to the neglect of that close subjective analysis which they unwisely stigmatize as dreamy metaphysic. Hence, on the whole, materialism does not represent anything of pri¬ mary importance in modern philosophy ; it repre¬ sents rather the crude speculation of that large and increasing number of people who have ac¬ quired some knowledge of the truths of physical science, without possessing sufficient subtlety to apprehend their metaphysical bearings. Buchner, the favorite spokesman of this class of people, occupies a position precisely similar to that of Lamettrie in the last century, and will, no doubt, in the days of our grandchildren be as thoroughly
66 Darwinism and Other Essays.
forgotten as bis predecessor, while the same bar¬ ren platitudes will be echoed by some new writer in the scientific phraseology then current.
But there is another way of looking at material¬ ism which makes it for a moment seem important, and which serves to explain, though not to justify, the alarm with which many excellent people con¬ template the progress of modern science. A con¬ spicuous characteristic of materialism is the en¬ deavour to interpret mind as a product — as the transient result of a certain specific aggregation of matter. To a person familiar with post-Berke- leian psychology it seems clear that such an en¬ deavour is quite hopeless, and that no such in¬ terpretation of mind can ever be made. But a multitude of very respectable readers, who are not so profoundly conversant with metaphysics as Spencer and Huxley, have taken it into their heads that the doctrine of evolution is advancing with rapid strides towards just such an interpre¬ tation of mind ; and hence it is quite common to allude to Spencer and Huxley as “ materialists,” which, to my mind, is very much as if one were to allude to Mr. Wendell Phillips as a distin¬ guished pro-slavery orator.
The mistake, however, is not unnatural when we consider its causes. In point of fact the ter-
A Crumb for the “ Modern Symposium A 67
minology of science is thoroughly materialistic, though probably not more so than the language of ordinary discourse. It is intensely material¬ istic for us to speak of the table as if it had some objective existence, independent of a cognizing mind ; and yet, in common parlance, we invari¬ ably allude to the table in terms which imply or suggest such an independent existence. Just so in theoretical science. In describing the develop¬ ment of life upon the earth's surface, when we
say that consciousness appeared on the scene pari %
passu with the appearance of nervous systems, it is not strange if we are supposed to mean that consciousness is somehow produced by a peculiar arrangement of nervous tissue — that “ spirit ” is in some way or other evolved from “ matter.”
In reality, however, nothing of the kind is in¬ tended. Laxity of speech is mainly responsible for the misapprehension. The evolutionist, in describing the course of life upon the earth, is simply imparting to us, so far as he is able, a piece of historical information. Through various complex and indirect processes of inference, he has become capable of telling us, with some prob¬ ability, how things would have looked to us in the remote past if we had been there to see. He tells us that if we had been on hand in palaeozoic
68
Darwinism and Other Essays.
ages we should not have seen the phenomena of consciousness manifested in connection with a fragment of porphyry, or a handful of sand, or a tree-fern, any more than we see such things to< day, but only in connection with animals endowed with nerves. In thus extending the results of present experience to the past, the element of sequence in time is introduced in such a wray as to suggest the causation of consciousness by nerve- matter. Nevertheless, the assertion of the evolu¬ tionist is purely historical in its import, and in¬ cludes no hypothesis whatever as to the ultimate origin of consciousness; least of all is it intended to imply that consciousness was evolved from mat¬ ter. It is not only inconceivable liow mind should have been produced from matter, but it is incon¬ ceivable that it should have been produced from matter, unless matter possessed already the attri¬ butes of mind in embryo, — an alternative which it is difficult to invest with any real meaning. The problem is altogether too abstruse to be solved with our present resources. But it is curious to lidar honest theologians gravely urging against Mr. Spencer that you cannot obtain mind from the “primordial fire-mist” unless the germs of mind were somehow present already. I hope I am not accrediting Mr. Spencer with any opinion
A Crumb for the “ Modern Symposium .” 69
he does r.ot hold, and I speak subject to correc¬ tion ; but, if my memory serves me, I have more than once heard him in conversation urging this very objection to any materialistic interpretation of evolution. His wonderfully subtle chapter on “ The Substance of Mind ” 1 contains, as I under¬ stand it, the same argument ; but it is easy to miss an author’s meaning sometimes when the point expounded is so formidably abstract and general.
Be this as it may, we are not helped much by supposing the germs of mind to have been some¬ how latent in the primeval nebula. The notion is too vague to be of any use. The only point on which we can be clear is that no mere collocation of material atoms could ever have evolved the phenomena of consciousness. Beyond this we can¬ not go. We are confronted with an insoluble metaphysical problem. Of the origin of mind we can give no scientific account, but only an histor¬ ical one. We can say when (i. e., in connection with what material circumstances) mind came upon the scene of evolution ; but we can neither say whence, nor how, nor ivliy. In just the same
1 Principles of Psychology, second edition, ii. 145-162. [On refer¬ ring this point to Mr. Spencer, he desires me to add that I am quite correct in my recollection of his conversations and in my interpreta¬ tion of his position.]
70 Darwinism and Other Dssays.
way we see to-day that mind appears in connec¬ tion with certain material circumstances, but we cannot see how or why it is so. Least of all can we say that the material circumstances produce mind ; on the contrary, we can assert most pos¬ itively that they do not.
The proof of this rather dogmatic assertion is to be found in the careful study of that very doc¬ trine of the “ correlation of forces ” which superfi¬ cial materialists have exultingly claimed as their own, and which their superficial opponents have foolishly conceded to them. We have been wont to hear this doctrine — the crowning achievement of modern science — decried as lending support to materialism. If this were reallv so, we anti-ma- terialists would have a poor case, for the doctrine in question is established beyond all possibility of refutation. But it is not really so. On the con¬ trary, the final and irretrievable discomfiture of materialism follows as a direct corollary from the discovery of the correlation of forces.
By the loose phrase, “ correlation of forces,” what is strictly meant is the transformation of one kind of motion into another kind. What used to be called the “physical forces” — such as light, heat, magnetism, and electricity — are now known to be peculiar kinds of motion among the
A Crumb for the “ Modern Symposium .” 71
imperceptible molecules of which perceptible bod¬ ies are composed. The discovery of the “ correla¬ tion of forces ” was the discovery of the fact that any one of these kinds of molecular motion is con¬ stantly liable to be transformed into any one of the other kinds, or, now and then, into the molar motion of a perceptible body. Heat is all the time being converted into light, or into electric¬ ity, or into the peculiar kind of undulatory mo¬ tion known as “ nerve-force ” — and vice versa. And the law of the correlation is that, when any one of these species of motion appears, an equiva¬ lent amount of some other species disappears in producing it. Throughout the world the sum-to¬ tal of motion is ever the same, but its distribution into heat-waves, light-waves, nerve-waves, etc., varies from moment to moment.
Let us now apply these principles to the case of an organism such as the human body. All of the “ force ” — i. e ., capacity of motion — present at any moment in the human body is derived from the food that we eat and the air that we breathe. As food is turned into oxygenated blood and assimi¬ lated with the various tissues of the body — which themselves represent previously-assimilated food — the molecular movements of the food-material become variously combined into molecular move-
72 Darwinism and Other Essays.
ments in tissue — in muscular tissue, in adipose, in cellular, and in nerve tissue, and so on. Every undulation that takes place among the molecules of a nerve represents some simpler form of molec¬ ular motion contained in food that has been as¬ similated ; and, for every given quantity of the former kind of motion that appears, an equivalent quantity of the latter kind disappears in producing it. And so we may go on, keeping the account strictly balanced, until we reach the peculiar dis¬ charge of undulatory motion between cerebral ganglia that uniformly accompanies a feeling or state of consciousness.
What now occurs ? Along with this peculiar form of undulatory motion there occurs a feeling — the primary element of a thought or of an emotion. But does the motion produce the feel¬ ing, in the same sense that heat produces light ? Does a given quantity of motion disappear, to be replaced by an equivalent quantity of feeling ? By no means. The nerve-motion, in disappear¬ ing, is simply distributed into other nerve-mo¬ tions in various parts of the body, and these other nerve-motions, in their turn, become variously metamorphosed into motions of contraction in muscles, motions of secretion in glands, motions of assimilation in tissues generally, or into yet
A Crumb for the “ Modern Symposium .” 73
other nerve-motions. Nowhere is there such a thing as the metamorphosis of motion into feeling or of feeling into motion.
Of course I do not mean that the circuit, as thus described, has ever been experimentally traced, or that it can be experimentally traced. What I mean is that, if the law of the “ correlation of forces is to be applied at all to the physical pro¬ cesses which go on within the living organism, we are of necessity bound to render our whole ac¬ count in terms of motion that can be quanti¬ tatively measured. Once admit into the circuit of metamorphosis some element — such as feel¬ ing — that does not allow of quantitative meas¬ urement, and the correlation can no longer be es¬ tablished ; we are landed at once in absurdity and contradiction. So far as the correlation of forces has anything to do with it, the entire circle of transmutation, from the lowest physico-chemical motion all the way up to the highest nerve-motion and all the way down again to the lowest physico¬ chemical motion, must be described in physical terms, and no account whatever can be taken of any such thing as feeling or consciousness.
On such grounds as these I maintain that feel¬ ing is not a product of nerve-motion in anything like the sense that light is sometimes a product
74
Darwinism and Other Essays.
of beat, or that friction-electricity is a product of sensible motion. Instead of entering into the dy¬ namic circuit of correlated physical motions, the phenomena of consciousness stand outside as ut¬ terly alien and disparate phenomena. They stand outside, but uniformly parallel to that segment of the circuit which consists of neural undula¬ tions. The relation between what goes on in con¬ sciousness and what goes on simultaneously in the nervous system may best be described as a re¬ lation of uniform concomitance. I agree with Professor Huxley and Mr. Harrison that along with every act of consciousness there goes a mo¬ lecular change in the substance of the brain, in¬ volving a waste of tissue. This is not materialism, nor does it alter a whit the position in which we were left by common sense before nervous physi¬ ology was ever heard of. Everybody knows that, so long as we live on the earth, the activity of mind as a whole is accompanied by the activity of brain as a whole. What nervous ph}Tsiology teaches is simply that each particular mental act is accompanied by a particular cerebral act. In proving this, the two sets of phenomena, mental and physical, are reduced each to its lowest terms, but not a step is taken toward confounding the one set with the other. On the contrary, the
A Crumb for the “ Modern Symposium .” 75
keener our analysis, the more clearly does it ap¬ pear that the two can never be confounded. The relation of concomitance between them remains an ultimate and insoluble mystery.
I believe, therefore, that modern scientific phi¬ losophy, as represented by Spencer and Huxley, not only affords no support to materialism, but condemns it utterly, and drives it off the field altogether. I believe it is even clearer to-day than it was in the time of Descartes that no possible analytic legerdemain can ever translate thought into extension, or extension into thought. The antithesis is of God's own making, and no wit of man can undo it.
The bearing of these arguments upon the ques¬ tion of a future life may be very briefly stated. So far as I can judge, I should say that, among highly-educated people, the belief in a continu¬ ance of conscious existence after death has visibly weakened during the present century. I infer this as much from the timorousness of conserva¬ tive thinkers as from the aggressiveness of their radical opponents. In so far as this weakening of belief is due to an imperfect apprehension of the scientific discoveries which our age has wit¬ nessed in such bewildering rapidity, a word of caution may not be out of piace. For all that
76 Darwinism and Other Essays.
physiological psychology has achieved there is do more ground for doubt as to a future life to-day than there was in the time of Descartes : what¬ ever grounds of belief were really valid then are equally valid now. The belief has never been one which could be maintained on scientific grounds. For science is but the codification of experience, and it is helpless without the data which experience furnishes. Now, science may easily demolish materialism and show that mind cannot be regarded as a product of matter, but the belief in a future life requires something more than this for its support. It requires evidence that the phenomena we class as mental can sub¬ sist apart from the phenomena we class as mate¬ rial ; and such evidence, of course, cannot be fur¬ nished by science. It cannot be furnished until we have had some actual experimental knowledge of soul as dissociated from bodv, and under the conditions of the present life no such knowledge can possibly be obtained.
But this undoubted fact has a twofold import. While on the one hand it shuts us off from all scientific proof of immortality, on the other hand it shows that the absence of scientific proof affords no valid ground for a negative conclusion. If soul can exist when dissociated from body, we have no
A Crumb for the “ Modern Symposium .” 77
means of apprehending the fact ; and therefore our inability to apprehend it does not entitle us to deny that soul may have some such indepen¬ dent existence. We cannot allow the materialist even this crumb of consolation, — that, although he cannot prove that consciousness ceases with death, nevertheless the presumption is with him and the burden of proof upon his antagonists. Scientifically speaking, there is no presumption either way, and there is no burden of proof on either side. The question is simply one which science cannot touch. In the future, as in the past, I have no doubt it will be provisionally an¬ swered in different ways by different minds, on an estimate of what is called “ moral probabil¬ ity,” just as we see it diversely answered in the 44 Modern Symposium.”
For my own part, I should be much better sat¬ isfied with an affirmative answer,1 as affording perhaps some unforeseen solution to the general mystery of life. I have no sympathy with those who stigmatize the hope of immortal life as selfish or degrading, and with Mr. Harrison’s proffered substitute I confess I have no patience whatever. This travesty of Christianity by Positivism seems
1 For a more complete expression of my view of the case see The Destiny of Man , pp. 108-119.
78 Darwinism and Other Essays.
to me, as it does to Professor Huxley, a very sorry business. On the other hand, I cannot agree with those who consider a dogmatic belief in another life essential to the proper discharge of our duty in this. Though we may not know what is to come hereafter, we have at any rate all the means of knowledge requisite for making our present lives pure and beautiful. It was Jeho¬ vah’s cherished servant who declared in Holy Writ that his faith was stronger than death. There is something overwhelming in the thought that all our rich stores of spiritual acquisition may at any moment perish with us. But the wise man will cheerfully order his life, undaunted by the metaphysical snares that beset him ; learn¬ ing and learning afresh, as if all eternity lay be¬ fore him — battling steadfastly for the right, as if this day were his last. “ Disce ut semper victo¬ ries, vive ut eras moriturus
December , 1877.
VI.
CHAUNCEY WRIGHT.1
The sudden and untimely death of Mr. Chaun- cey Wright, in September, 1875, was an irrepara¬ ble loss not only to the friends whose privilege it had been to know so wise and amiable a man, but to the interests of sound philosophy in general. To some, perhaps, there may seem to be extrava¬ gance in speaking of any such loss to philosophy as irreparable ; for in the great work of the world we are accustomed to see the ranks close up as heroes fall by the way, and when we come to reckon up tlie sum of actual achievement, in our thankfulness over the calculable results obtained we seldom take heed of those innumerable unre¬ alized possibilities upon which in the nature of things we can place no just estimate. Of course it is right, as it is inevitable, that this should be so. There is, however, a point of view from which
1 Philosophical Discussions. Bv Chauncev Wright. With a Bio¬ graphical Sketch of the Author by Charles Eliot Norton. New York : Henry Holt & Co. 1876.
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Darwinism and Other Essays.
it may be fairly urged that the work which rare and original minds fall short of doing because of straitened circumstances or brevity of life does never really get done at all. Something like it gets performed, no doubt, but it gets performed in a different order of causation ; and though there may be an appearance of equivalence, the fact remains that, from the sum of human striv¬ ing, an indefinite amount of rich and fruitful life has been lost. True as this is in the case of ex¬ act science, it is still more obviously true in spec¬ ulative science or philosophy. For the work of a philosopher, like the work of an artist, is the pe¬ culiar product of endless complexities of individ¬ ual character. His mental tone, his shades of prejudice, his method of thought, are often of as much interest and value to mankind as any of the theories which he may devise ; and thus it not seldom happens that personal familiarity with the philosopher is itself a most instructive lesson in philosophy.
In the case of Chauncey Wright, none save the friends who knew the rich treasures of his mind as shown in familiar conversation are likely to realize how great is the loss which philosophy has sustained in his death. For not only was he somewhat deficient in the literary knack of ex-
81
Chauncey Wright.
pressing his thoughts in language generally intel¬ ligible and interesting, but he was also singularly devoid of the literary ambition which leads one to seek to influence the public by written expo¬ sition. Had he possessed more of this kind of ambition, perhaps the requisite knack would not have been wanting; for Mr. Wright was by no means deficient in clearness of thought or in command of language. The difficulty — or, if we prefer so to call it, the esoteric character — of his writings was due rather to the sheer extent of their richness and originality. His essays and review-articles were pregnant with valuable sug¬ gestions, which he was wont to emphasize so slightly that their significance might easily pass unheeded ; and such subtle suggestions made so large a part of his philosophical style that, if any of them chanced to be overlooked by the reader, the point and bearing of the entire argument was liable to be misapprehended. His sentences often abounded in terse allusive clauses or epithets which were unintelligible for want of a sufficient clue to the subject-matter of the allusion : in the absence of an exhaustive acquaintance with the contents of the author's mind, the reader could only wonder, and miss the point of the incidental
remark. Of such sort of obscure, though preg'
6
82 Darwinism and Other Essays .
nant, allusions we have an instance in the use made of the conception of a “ spherical intelli¬ gence ” in the essay on “ The Evolution of Self- Consciousness,’' where the brief reference to the Platonic Timaios is by no means sufficient to re¬ lieve the strain upon the reader’s attention. It is this too compact suggestiveness which makes this remarkable essay so hard to understand, and the exuberance of which half tempted Mr. Wright to give to the paper the very esoteric title of “ The Cognition of Cogito .” A writer who kept the public in his mind would not proceed in this way, but would more often give pages luminous with concrete illustrations where Mr. Wright only gave sentences cumbrous with epigrammatic terseness. If Mr. Wright did not keep the pub¬ lic in mind while writing, it was not from the pride of knowledge, for no feeling could have been more foreign to him ; and there was some¬ thing almost touching in the endless patience with which he would strive in conversation to make abstruse matters clear to ordinary minds. It was because, as a writer, he thought in solilo¬ quy, using his pen to note down the course of his reasoning, but failing to realize the difficulty which others might find in apprehending the nu¬ merous and far-reaching connotations of phrases to him entirely familiar.
83
Chauncey Wright.
It was only some such circumstances as these, joined to a kind of mental inertness which made some unusually strong incentive needful to any prolonged attempt at literary self-exposition, that prevented Chauncey Wright from taking rank, in public estimation, among the foremost philoso¬ phers of our time. An intellect more powerful from its happy union of acuteness with sobriety has probably not yet been seen in America. In these respects he reminds one of Mr. Mill, whom he so warmly admired. Though immeasurably inferior to Mill in extent of literary acquirement, he was hardly inferior to him in penetrating and fertile ingenuity, while in native soberness or balance of mind it seems to me that Wright was, on the whole, the superior. In reading Mr. Mill’s greater works, one is constantly impressed with the admirable thoroughness with which the author’s faculties are disciplined. Inflexible in¬ tellectual honesty is there accompanied by sleep¬ less vigilance against fallacy or prejudice ; and while generous emotion often kindles a warmth of expression, yet the jurisdiction of feeling is sel¬ dom allowed to encroach upon that of reason. Nevertheless there are numerous little signs which give one the impression that this wonderful equi¬ poise of mind did not come by nature altogether,
84 Darwinism and Other Essays.
but was in great part the result of consummate training, — of unremitting watchfulness over self. Some of his smaller political writings and the “ Autobiography ” entirely confirm this impres¬ sion, and show that in Mr. Mill’s mind there were not only immense enthusiasms, but even a slight tinge of mysticism. All the more praiseworthy seems his remarkable self-discipline in view of such circumstances.
Mr. Wright, though so nearly in harmony with Mr. Mill in methods and conclusions, was very different in native mental temperament. An illustration of the difference is furnished by the striking remarks in which Mr. Mill acknowledges — in common with his father — a preference for the experience-philosophy on utilitarian grounds : it obliges men to try their beliefs by tests that are perpetually subject to criticism, and thus affords no room for doctrines which, by reason of some presumed sanctity, men may find an excuse for trying to impose on one another. That there is profound truth in this no one can deny ; but prejudice and partisanship are liable to grow out of any such practical preference for a given form of philosophy, and one cannot readily imagine Mr. Wright as influenced, even slightly, in his philosophic attitude by such a consideration of
85
Chauncey Wright.
utility. His opinions were determined only by direct evidence, and to this be always accorded a hospitable reception. A mind more placid in its working, more unalloyed by emotional prejudice or less solicited by the various temptations of speculation, I have never known. Judicial can¬ dour and rectitude of inference were with him inborn. On many points his judgment might need further enlightenment, but it stood in no need of a rectifying impulse. No craving for speculative consistency, or what Comte would have called “ unity ” of doctrine, ever hindered him from giving due weight to opposing, or even seemingly incompatible, considerations. For, in view of the largeness and complexity of the uni¬ verse, he realized how treacherous the most plau¬ sible generalizations are liable to prove when a vast area of facts is to be covered, and how great is the value of seemingly incongruous facts in prompting us to revise or amend our first-formed theories.
With these mental characteristics Mr. Wright seems to have been fitted for the work of sceptical criticism, or for the discovery and illustration of specific truths, rather than for the elaboration of a general system of philosophy. As our very sources of mental strength in one direction may
86 Darwinism and Other Essays.
become sources of mental weakness in another, as we are very likely to have wlmt the French would call “ the defects of our excellences,” so we may, perhaps, count it as a weakness, or at least a limitation, in Mr. Wright that he was some what over-suspicious of all attempts at construct¬ ing ideally coherent and comprehensive systems. That there is coherency throughout the processes of Nature he would certainly have admitted, in so far as belief in the universality of causation is to be construed as such an admission. But that there is any such discernible coherency in the re¬ sults of causation as would admit of description in a grand series of all-embracing generalizations, I think he would have doubted or denied. Such denial or doubt seems, at least, to be implied in his frequent condemnation of cosmic or synthetic systems of philosophy as metaphysical “anticipa¬ tions of Nature,” incompatible with the true spirit of Baconism. The denial or doubt would have referred, perhaps, not so much to the probable constitution of Nature as to the possibilities of human knowledge. He would have argued that the stupendous group of events which we call the universe consists so largely of unexplored, or even unsuspected, phenomena that the only safe gen¬ eralizations we can make concerning it must needs
87
Ohauncey Wright.
be eminently fragmentary ; and if any one had asked whether, after all, we have not great reason to believe that throughout the length and breadth and duration of the boundless and endless uni¬ verse there is an all-pervading coherency of ac¬ tion, such as would be implied in the theorem that all Nature is the manifestation of one In¬ finite Power, — to any such question he would probably have held that no legitimate answer can be given.
In this general way of looking at things we have the explanation of Mr. Wright's persistent hostil¬ ity to the philosophy of Herbert Spencer. This hostility is declared in his earliest essay, entitled “A Physical Theory of the Universe,” and it is maintained in the paper on “ German Darwinism,” published only three days before his death, where¬ in great pains are taken to show that Mr. Spen¬ cer’s philosophy is utterly un-Baconian and un¬ scientific, as resting, not upon inductive inquiry, but upon “ undemonstrated beliefs assumed to be axiomatic and irresistible.” In the first and last of my many conversations with Mr. Wright — in July, 1862, and in July, 1875 — I found myself charged with the defence of Mr. Spencer’s phi¬ losophy against what then seemed, and still seems, to me a profound misunderstanding of its true
88 Darwinism and Other Essays.
character and purpose. As the point is one which goes as far as any other toward illustrating Mr. Wright’s philosophic position, and as it has an immediate bearing on the vexed question of sci¬ ence and religion, I will crave the reader’s in¬ dulgence while I illustrate it briefly here.
Doctors are proverbially known to disagree, whether they be doctors in philosophy or in med¬ icine ; but I have often thought that an interest¬ ing case might be made out by any one who should endeavour to signalize the half-hidden as¬ pects of agreement rather than the conspicuous aspects of difference among philosophic schools. Certainly, in the controversy which has been waged of late years concerning the sources of knowledge and the criterion of truth, one is in¬ clined to suspect that a greater amount of antag¬ onism has been brought to the surface than is altogether required b}r the circumstances. In old times, when you were asked why you believed that things would happen in future after much the same general fashion as in the past, there were two replies which you could make. If you were a believer in Locke, you would say that you trusted in the testimony of experience ; but here the follower of Leibnitz would declare that you were very unwise, since experience can only tes-
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Chauncey Wright .
tify to what has happened already, and, so far as experience goes, yon haven’t an iota of warrant for your belief that the sun will rise to-morrow morning. Your trust in the constancy of Nature must be derived, therefore, from some principle inherent in the very constitution of your mind, implanted there by the Creator for a wise and beneficent purpose.
Once this transcendentalist argument was thought to have great weight, but of late years it has fallen irredeemably into discredit. For to¬ day the empiricist retorts with crushing effect that, precisely because we are wholly dependent on experience, and have no other quarter to go to for rules of belief and conduct, we cannot apply to the future any other rules of probability than those with which our experience of the past has furnished us. If we had any criterion of belief independent of experience, then we might perhaps be able to believe that on the earth a million years hence, or on Mars to-day, a piece of red-hot iron would not burn the hand. Were we not strictly hampered by experience, we might doubt the universality of causation. But being thus strictly hampered, we must either imagine the future under the same rules as those under which we remember the past, or else subside in a kind
90 Darwinism and Other Essays.
of mental chaos and form no expectations what¬ ever. To this view of the case transcendentalism has as yet made no satisfactory rejoinder.
Our faith in the constancy of Nature results, therefore, from our inability to overcome or “go behind ” the certified testimony of experience. Such is the primary psychological fact, about which there is no reason to suppose that Mr. Wright and Mr. Spencer would disagree. But this, like many other facts, has two sides ; or at least, there are two possible ways of interpreting it, and here arises the misunderstanding. On the one hand, our belief in the constancy of Nature may be the result of an immense induction or counting up of the whole series of events which show that Nature is not capricious ; or, on the other hand, it may be the generalization of a sim¬ ple assumption which we make in every act of experience, and without which we could not carry on any thinking whatever. The first alternative is the one defended by Mr. Wright in common with Mr. Mill, while the second is the one more prominently insisted upon by Mr. Spencer. To me it seems that Mr. Spencer's view is very much the more profound and satisfactory ; but I fail to see that there is necessarily any such practical antagonism between the two as is implied in re.
Chauncey Wright. « 91
cent controversies on the subject. On the other hand, it seems clear to me that the two views are simply two complementary or obverse aspects of the same fundamental truth.
At first sight it may seem very bold to assert that in every act of our mental lives we make such a grand assumption as that of the constancy of Nature ; but it is very certain that, in some form or other, we do keep making this assump¬ tion. Every time that the grocer weighs a pound of sugar and exchanges it for a piece of silver, the practical validity of the transaction rests upon the assumption that the same lump of iron will not counterbalance one quantity of sugar to-day and a different quantity to-morrow ; and a similar assumption of constancy in weight and exchange¬ ability is made regarding the silver. The inde¬ structibility of matter and the continuity or per¬ sistence of force are taken for granted, though neither the grocer nor his customer may have re¬ ceived enough mental training to understand these axioms when stated in abstract form. Nay, more, though they may be superstitious men, believing in a world full of sprites and goblins; though they may be so ignorant as to suppose that, when wood is burned and water dried up, some portions of matter are annihilated, — yet in each of these
92 Darwinism and Other Essays.
little practical transactions of life they go upon the same assumption that the philosopher goes upon when, with his wider knowledge and deeper insight, he rules out the goblins and declares that no matter is ever destroyed. Without this as¬ sumption in some form we could not carry on the work of life for a single day. The assumption, moreover, is absolutely unconditional ; no occur¬ rence ever shakes our reliance upon it. I set my clock to-day, and depend on its testimony to-mor¬ row in starting on a journey: if I miss the train, I may conclude that the clock was not well regu¬ lated, or that it has begun to need cleaning ; but it never occurs to me that my confidence in the mechanical laws of cog-wheels and pendulums has been at all misplaced.
This universal and unqualified assumption of the constancy of Nature is, in a certain sense, a net result of experience, inasmuch as we find it tested and verified in every act of our conscious lives. Acting on the principle that “ a pound is a pound, all the world around,” we find that our mental operations harmonize with outward facts. Doubt it, if we could, and our mental operations would forthwith tumble into chaos. Experience, therefore, — by which is meant our daily inter¬ course with outward facts, — continually forces
93
Chauncey Wright.
upon us this assumption. Along with whatever else we are taught about ourselves and the world, there comes as part and parcel the ever-repeated lesson that the order of Nature may be relied on. In this sense the belief may be said to be a net result of all our experience.
But this is by no means an adequate account of the matter. The case has another aspect, to which neither Mr. Mill nor Mr. Wright has done justice. How can the constancy of Nature be said to be proved by experience, when we begin by assuming it in each of the single acts of expe¬ rience which, taken together, are said to prove it? Does not this look like reasoning in a circle? We are told that the constancy of Nature is proved for us by an unbroken series of experiences, be¬ ginning with our birth and ending with our death ; and yet not one of this series of experiences can have any validity, or indeed any existence, unless the constancy of Nature be tacitly assumed to begin with. It is the balance, we are told, which assures us that no particle of matter is ever lost ; but in weighing things in a balance we must take it for granted that the earth’s gravitative force is uniform, — is not one thing to-day and another to-morrow ; nay, we must also assume that the present testimony of our senses will continue to
94 Darwinism and Other Essays.
be consistent in principle with their past testi¬ mony. Whatever system of forces we estimate or measure in support of our implicit belief in the constancy of Nature, we must sooner or later ap¬ peal to some fundamental unit of measurement which is invariable. Without some such constant unit we cannot prove that the older of Nature is uniform : but we cannot prove the constancy of such a unit without referring it to some other unit, and so on forever; while to assume the con¬ stancy of such a unit is simply to assume the whole case.
It would seem, therefore, that our belief in the trustworthiness of Nature is not properly described when it is treated simply as a vast induction. It should rather be regarded as a postulate indispen¬ sable to the carrying on of rational thought, — a postulate ratified in every act of experience, but without which no act of experience can have any validitv or meaning. It is for taking this view of the case that Mr. Spencer is charged with rearing a system of philosophy upon “ undemonstrable beliefs assumed to be axiomatic and irresistible.” Considering that the undemonstrable belief in question is simply the belief in the constancy of Nature, one would be at a loss to see what there is so very heinous in Mr. Spencer’s proceeding,
Chauncey Wright. 95
were it not obvious that we have here struck upon a grave misconception on the part of Mr. W right. Misled, no doubt, by some ambiguity of expression, Mr. Wright supposed Mr. Spencer to be laying down some everlasting principle of universal objective validity, and quite indepen¬ dent of experience. To do this would undoubt¬ edly be to desert science for metaphysics ; but Mr. Spencer has not done anything of the kind. As I said before, there has probably been an ex¬ cess of controversy on this point. For my own part, without retreating from any position for¬ merly taken,1 I should be willing, for all practi¬ cal purposes, to waive the question altogether. Whether our belief in the uniformity of Nature be a primary datum for rational thinking or a net result of all induction, or whether, with the au¬ thors of the “Unseen Universe,” we prefer to call it an expression of trust that the Deity “ will not put us to permanent intellectual confusion,” — whichever alternative we adopt, our theories of the universe will be pretty much the same in the end, provided we content ourselves with a simple scientific coordination of the phenomena before us. And this is all that has been aimed
1 Outlines of Cosmic Philosophy, Part I., chap. iii. ; Part II., chaps, i., xvi.
96 Darwinism and Other Essays.
at in the attempt to construct a synthetic, or cos¬ mic, system of philosophy. There has been no further transcending of experience than is implied in the assumption that the order of Nature is the same in the Pleiades and in the Solar System until we learn to the contrary ; and it would be difficult to set aside Mr. Spencer’s proceedings as un Baconian without so drawing the line as to exclude Newton’s comparison of the falling moon to the falling apple, — the grand achievement which first extended the known dynamic order of Nature from the earth to the heavens.
Our knowledge of the universe is no doubt well-nigh infinitely small, — how small we can¬ not know. The butterfly sailing on the summer breeze may be no farther from comprehending the secular changes in the earth’s orbit than man is from fathoming the real course and direction of cosmic events. Yet if throughout the tiny area which alone we have partially explored we every¬ where find coherency of causation, then, just be¬ cause we are incapable of transcending expe¬ rience, we cannot avoid attributing further co¬ herency to the regions beyond our ken, so far as such regions can afford occasion for thought at all. The very limitations under which thinking is con¬ ducted thus urge us to seek the One in the Many ;
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Chauncey Wright .
yet, if our words are rightly weighed, this does not imply a striving after “systematic omnis¬ cience,” nor can any theistic conception which confines itself within these limits of inference be properly stigmatized as contrary to the spirit of science.
One of the most marked features of Mr. Wright’s style of thinking was his insuperable aversion to all forms of teleology. As an able critic in “The Nation” observes, to Mr. Wright “ such ideas as optimism or pessimism were alike irrelevant. Whereas most men’s interest in a thought is proportional to its possible relation to human destiny, with him it was almost the re¬ verse.” But the antagonism went even deeper than this. Not only did he condemn the shallow teleology of Paley and the Bridgewater Treatises, but any theory which seemed to imply a discern¬ ible direction or tendency in the career of the universe became to him at once an object of sus¬ picion. As he was inclined to doubt or deny any ultimate coherency among cosmical events, he was of course indisposed to admit that such events are working together toward any assignable re¬ sult whatever. From his peculiar point of view it seemed more appropriate to look upon phe¬ nomena as drifting and eddying about in an
7
08 Darwinism and Other Essays.
utterly blind and irrational manner, though now and then evolving, as if by accident, temporary combinations which have to us a rational appear¬ ance. “ Cosmical weather ” was the tersely allu¬ sive phrase with which he was wont to describe this purposeless play of events, as if to liken the formation and dissipation of worlds to the ca¬ pricious changes of the wind. So strong a hold had this notion acquired in his mind that for once it warped his estimate of scientific evidence, and led him to throw aside the well-grounded nebular hypothesis in favour of the ill-conceived and unsupported meteoric theory of Mayer. In Mr. Wright’s mind it was an insuperable objec¬ tion to the nebular hypothesis that it seems to take the world from a definable beginning to a definable end, and such dramatic consistency, he argued, is not to be found amid the actual turmoil of Nature’s workings. It would be improbable, he thought, that things should happen so prettily as the hypothesis asserts: in point of fact, Nature does so many things to disconcert our ingenious formulas! To the general doctrine of evolution, of which the nebular hypothesis is a part, Mr. Wright urged the same comprehensive objection. The dramatic interest of the doctrine, which gives it its chief attraction to many minds, was to Mr.
Chauncey Wright. 99
Wright primd facie evidence of its unscientific character. The events of the universe have no orderly progression like the scenes of a well-con¬ structed plot, but in the manner of their coming and going they constitute simply a u cosmieal weather.”
Without pausing over the question whether dramatic completeness belongs properly to meta¬ physical theories only, of may sometimes also be found in doctrines that rightly lay claim to scien¬ tific competence, we may call attention to the in¬ teresting fact that Mr. Wright’s objection reveals a grave misunderstanding of the true import of the doctrine of evolution in general, as well as of the nebular hypothesis in particular. The objec¬ tion — if it be admitted as an objection — applies only to the crude popular notion of the doctrine of evolution, that it is all an affair of progress, wherein a better state of things (that is, better from a human point of view) keeps continually supplanting a less excellent state, and so on for¬ ever, or at least without definite limit. That Mr. Wright understood the doctrine in this crude way was evident from the manner in which he was wont to urge his anti-teleological objection both in his writings and in conversation. In criticizing the nebular hypothesis, for instance, he was sure to
100 Darwinism and Other Essays.
let fall some expression which showed that in his mind the hypothesis stood for a presumptuous at¬ tempt to go back to the beginning of the universe and give some account of its total past career in terms of progress. But the nebular hypothesis, as it is now held by evolutionists, does not make any such attempt at all. The nebular hypothesis traces, from indications in the present structure of the solar system, the ^general history of the pro¬ cess by which the system arose out of a mass of vaporous or nebulous matter. That process has been a species of evolution in so far as it has sub¬ stituted a determinate and complicated for an in¬ determinate and simple arrangement ; and in so far as it has resulted in the production of the earth or whatever other planet may be the abode of conscious intelligence, it has been a kind of progress judged with reference to human ends. But so far from this evolution or progress being set down as a universal or eternal affair, it is most explicitly regarded as local and temporary. Throughout the starry groups analogous changes are supposed to be going on, but at different stages in different systems, just as the various members of a human society coexist in all stages of youth, maturity, or decline ; while here and there are nebulae in which the first steps of devel-
101
Chauncey Wright.
opment have not yet become apparent, and cir¬ cumstances can be pointed out under which one of these masses might now and then fail to pro¬ duce a system of worlds at all. Not only is there all this scope for irregular variety, but the theory further supposes that in every single instance, but at different times in different systems, the process of evolution will come to an end, the determinate complexity be destroyed, and the dead substance of extinct worlds be scattered broadcast through space, to serve, perhaps, as the raw material for further local and temporary processes of aggrega¬ tion and evolution. This view is held as scien¬ tifically probable by many who have not been helped to it by Mr. Spencer’s general arguments ; but whoever will duly study the profound con¬ siderations on the rhythm of motion, set forth in the rewritten edition of “ First Principles,” will see that it is just this endlessly irregular alterna¬ tion of progress and retrogression, of epochs of life with epochs of decay, which the doctrine of evolution asserts as one of its leading theorems. In this respect the accepted name of the doctrine, though perhaps not unfortunate, is but imper¬ fectly descriptive, and is therefore liable to mis¬ lead. What the doctrine really maintains is the universal rhythmic alternation of evolution and
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dissolution, only that our attention is pre-emi¬ nently attracted to the former aspect of the two¬ fold process, as that which is at present upper¬ most in our own portion of the universe. In no department of Nature, whether in the heavens or on the earth, in the constitution of organic life or in the career of human society, does the doctrine of evolution assert progress as necessary, uni¬ versal, and perpetual, but always as a contingent, local, and temporary phenomenon.
But what better phrase could we desire than “ cosmical weather” whereby tersely to describe the endlessly diversified and apparently capricious course of Nature as it is thus set forth in the doc¬ trine of evolution? As the wind bloweth where it listeth, but we know not whence it came, nor whither it goes, so in the local condensations and rarefactions of cosmical matter which make up the giant careers of stellar systems we can detect neither source nor direction. Not only is there no reference to any end which humanity can rec¬ ognise as good or evil, but there is not the slight¬ est indication of dramatic progress toward any denoument whatever. There is simply the never- ending onward rush of events, as undiscriminat¬ ing, as ruthless, as irresistible, as the current of Niagara or the blast of the tropical hurricane.
103
Chauneey Wright .
This is a picture which ought to satisfy the most inexorable opponent of teleology. For my own part, I can see nothing very attractive in it, even from a purely speculative point of view, though it is as striking a statement as can well be made of the meagreness of our knowledge when confronted with the immensity of Nature. The phrase “cosmical weather” happily comports with our enormous ignorance of the real tendency of events. But as terrestrial weather is after all subject to discoverable laws, so to an intelligence sufficiently vast the appearance of fickleness in “cosmical weather” would no doubt cease, and the sequence of events would doubtless begin to disclose a dramatic tendency, though whether to¬ ward any end appreciable by us or not it would be difficult to say.1
In the discussion of such questions, called up by Mr. Spencer’s philosophy, Mr. Wright always appeared in the light of a most consistent and un¬ qualified positivist. He hardly could be called a follower of Comte, and I doubt if he even knew the latter’s works save by hearsay. But he needed no lessons from Comte. He was born a positivist, and a more complete specimen of the,
1 This point is treated from a far more advanced position in my new
%
book, The Idea of God , as affected by Modern Knowledge.
104 Darwinism and Other Essays.
positive philosopher has probably never existed. He went as far as it was possible for a human thinker to go toward a philosophy which should take no note of anything beyond the content of observed facts. He always kept the razor of Occam uncased and ready for use, and was espe¬ cially fond of applying it to such entities as “ sub¬ stance ” and “ force,” the very names of which, he thought, might advantageously be excluded from philosophical terminology. Sometimes he described himself as a positivist, but more often called himself a Lucretian, — the difference 'be¬ tween the two designations being, perhaps, not great. As a champion of Lucretius, I remember his once making a sharp attack upon Anaxagoras for introducing creative design into the universe in order to bring coherence out of chaos. What need, he argued, to imagine a supernatural agency in order to get rid of primeval chaos, when we have no reason to believe that the primeval chaos ever had an existence save as a figment of the metaphysician ! To assume that the present or¬ derly system of relations among things ever emerged from an antecedent state of disorder is, as he justly maintained, a wholly arbitrary and un¬ warrantable proceeding. No one could ask for a simpler or more incisive criticism upon that crude
105
Chauncey Wright.
species of theism which represents the Deity as a power outside the universe which coerces it into orderly behaviour.
Although, like all consistent positivists, Mr. Wright waged unceasing war against Mr. Spen¬ cer’s system of philosophy, there was yet one por¬ tion of the doctrine of evolution which found in him a most eminent and efficient defender. In spite of his objections to evolution in general, Mr. w right thoroughly appreciated and warmly es¬ poused the Darwinian theory of the origin of spe¬ cies by “descent with modifications.” His most important literary work was done in elucidation and defence of this theory. Of all his writings, by far the clearest and most satisfactory to read is the review of Mr. Mivart’s “ Genesis of Species,” which Mr. Darwin thought -it worth while to re¬ print and circulate in England. Its acute and original illustrations of the Darwinian theory give it very great value. The essay on phyllotaxy, explaining the origin and uses of the arrange¬ ments of leaves in plants, is a contribution of very great importance to the theory of natural selection. So, too, in a different sense, is the pa¬ per on the evolution of self-consciousness, which is the most elaborate of Mr. Wright’s productions, but so full of his worst faults of style that, even
106
Darwinism and Other Essays.
after much cross-questioning of the author, I never felt quite sure that I grasped bis central meaning.
It was in such detached essays or monographs as these that much was to have been expected from Mr. Wright, especially in the application of Darwinian conceptions to the study of psychol¬ ogy. Could lie have been induced to undertake an elaborate treatise, we should have seen the philosophy of Mill and Bain carried to its furthest development and illustrated with Darwinian sug¬ gestions by a writer not in sympathy with the general doctrine of evolution, — an interesting and instructive spectacle. But I doubt if Mr. Wright would ever have undertaken an extensive work. To sit down and map out a subject for systematic exploration would have been a pro¬ ceeding wholly foreign to his habits. Once launched out on a shoreless sea of speculation, he would brood and ponder for weeks, while bright determining thoughts would occur to him at seem¬ ing haphazard, like the rational combinations of phenomena in his theory of “cosmic weather.” To his suggestive and stimulating conversation this unsystematic habit gave additional charm. An evening’s talk with Mr. Wright always seemed to me one of the richest of intellectual entertain-
107
* Chauncey Wright.
ments, but there was no telling how or where it would end. At two o’clock in the morning he would perhaps take his hat and saunter home¬ ward with me by way of finishing the subject; but on reaching my gate a new suggestion would turn us back, — and so we would alternately es¬ cort each other home perhaps a dozen times, until tired Nature asserted her rights, and the newly opening vistas of discussion were regretfully left unexplored.
I never knew an educated man who set so little store by mere reading, except Mr. Herbert Spen¬ cer ; but, like Mr. Spencer, whom he resembled in little else, Mr. Wright had an incomprehensible way of absorbing all sorts of knowledge, great and small, until the number of diverse subjects on which he could instruct even trained specialists was quite surprising. There were but few topics on which he had not some acute suggestion to offer ; and with regard to matters of which he was absolutely ignorant — such as music — his general good sense and his lack of impulsiveness prevented his ever talking foolishly.
This lack of impulsiveness, a kind of physical and intellectual inertness, counted for a great deal both in his excellences and in his shortcomings. His movements were slow and ponderous, his
108
Darwinism and Other Essays.
mild blue eye never lighted with any other ex¬ pression than placid good humour, and his voice never varied its gentle monotony. His absolute freedom from egotism made him slow to take of¬ fence, and among the many accidents of contro¬ versy there was none which could avail to ruffle him. The patient deference with which he would answer the silly remarks of stupid or conceited people was as extraordinary as the untiring in¬ terest with which he would seek to make things plain to the least cultivated intelligence. This kind of patient interest, joined with his sweet¬ ness of disposition and winning simplicity of man¬ ner, made him a great favourite with children. He would amuse and instruct them by the hour together wdth games and stories and conjurer's tricks, in which he had acquired no mean pro¬ ficiency.
Aloncr with this absence of emotional excita- bility, Mr. Wright was characterized by the ab¬ sence of aesthetic impulses or needs. He was utterly insensible to music, and but slightly af¬ fected by artistic beauty of any sort. Excepting his own Sokratic presence, there never was any¬ thing attractive about his room, or indeed any¬ thing to give it an individual character. In ro¬ mance, too, he was equally deficient : after his
109
Chauncey Wright .
first and only journey to Europe, I observed that lie recalled sundry historic streets of London and Paris only as spots where some happy generaliza¬ tion had occurred to him.
But romantic sentiment, aesthetic sensitiveness, and passionate emotion, — these are among the things which hinder most of us from resting con¬ tent with a philosophy which applies the law of parsimony so rigorously as to cut away every¬ thing except the actuality of observed phenomena. In his freedom from all such kinds of extra-ra¬ tional solicitation Mr. Wright most completely realized the ideal of the positive philosopher. Ilis positivism was an affair of temperament as much as of conviction ; and lie illustrates afresh the profound truth of Goethe's remark that a man’s philosophy is but the expression of his person¬ ality. In his simplicity of life, serenity of mood, and freedom from mental or material wants, he well exemplified the principles and practice of Epiku ros ; and he died as peacefully as he had lived, — on a summer’s night, sitting at his desk with his papers before him.
It is a bitter thing to lose a thinker of this mould, just in the prime vigour of life, and at a time when the growing habit of writing seemed to be making authorship easier and pleasanter, so
110 Darwinism and Other Essays.
that in years to come we were likely to have had even richer and brighter thoughts from the pen that must now forever lie idle. The general fla¬ vour of Mr. Wright’s philosophy — unsystematic, but fruitful in hints — may be gathered well enough from the papers which Mr. Norton has carefully collected in this memorial volume. But the best that can now be done in the w&y of editing will give but an inadequate impression of Chauncey Wright to those who have not listened to his wise and pleasant talk. To have known such a man is an experience one cannot forget or outlive. To have had him pass away, leaving so scanty a record of what he had it in him to utter, is nothing less than a public calamity.
December, 1876.
VII.
WHAT IS INSPIRATION?
The word “ inspiration ” furnishes an excellent example of the way in which a whole theory of the universe may be imbedded in an etymology. In its origin the word means a “breathing in,” or suggestion from some external source, of thoughts not natural to the writer or speaker. The non- naturalness of the thought is an essential part of the definition, since, if the thought be such as would naturally arise, through ordinary logical or emotional sequence, in the mind of the writer or speaker, there is no reason for referring it to any external source. That thoughts often do come
O
into the mind unbidden, and apparently without any assignable immediate antecedent, is a matter of the commonest experience. From the purpose¬ less succession of phantasms in idle reverie up to the orderly visions of Milton, the melodious themes of Beethoven, or even the wonderful flashes of insight of Newton or Faraday, we have instances of visual or auditory images, or appre*
112
Darwinism and Other Essays.
liensions of physical truths, entering and occupy¬ ing the foreground of consciousness suddenly and without warning. The more valuable and strik- ing instances of this sort are, in modern parlance, described as cases of inspiration, though by this phrase no more is now meant than to designate some rare or admirable kind of normal mental ac¬ tion. The modern student has learned that con¬ sciousness has a background as well as a fore¬ ground, — that a number of mental processes go on within us, of which we cannot always render a full and satisfactory account. Many a link of association is buried beneath the surface, and the coveted flash of memory, of judgment, or of fancy does not always come at our bidding. To account for this group of phenomena, modern psycholo¬ gists have propounded various theories of “latent mental action’' or “unconscious cerebration;” but no one now resorts to the hypothesis that such phenomena are due to the operation of some outside spirit or intelligence acting upon the mind. Hypotheses of this sort do not harmonize with the accumulated experience of modern times, and they have become utterly and hopelessly dis¬ credited.
In ancient times, however, the case was entirely different. In one of the most enlightened and
113
What is Inspiration ?
sceptical communities of antiquity we find one of the most enlightened and sceptical minds habitu¬ ally explaining the suggestions of its own supreme common sense by ascribing them to the dictation of an indescribable external agency. The daimo - nion, or familiar warning spirit, of Sokrates shows how consonant with the general theories of the ancients was the conception of inspiration in its full and literal sense. In the stage of culture thus exemplified every bright stroke of genius was interpreted as the result of inspiration, though it was naturally in cases of supreme practical im¬ portance that the interpretation was most forcibly felt and most thoroughly believed. The poet’s invocation to the Muse was at first no doubt much more than a faded metaphor ; but it is beyond question that men like Isaiah and Mohammed be¬ lieved themselves to be mere mouth-pieces of the living word of God.
The belief in inspiration, as thus generally cherished in ancient times, seems to have grown out of a more primitive belief in possession, which is found everywhere current among savage and barbarous tribes, and which, until within a few generations, has maintained itself even in the Christian world. The subject has been treated in an elaborate and masterly manner by Mr. Ty-
114
Darwinism and Other Essays.
lor in the second volume of his great work on “ Primitive Culture.’* In the lower stages of cul¬ ture, the morbid phenomena of hysteria, epilepsy, and mania are explained by the hypothesis of a foreign spirit, which is supposed to have taken temporary possession of the body or earthly taber¬ nacle of the patient. In Christian cases of exor¬ cism, this foreign spirit was naturally supposed to be of diabolical character ; but in the cruder the¬ ory of the barbarian no such uncanny suspicion is attached to it. On the contrary, the possessed person is usually regarded as an exceptionally valuable source of information concerning the su¬ pernatural world to which the possessing spirit belongs. Alike in the medicine-man of the Amer¬ ican Indian, and in the Pythian priestess of Del¬ phi, may be seen the close theoretical connection between disease-possession and oracle-possession. The Zulu diviners ascribe their hysterical symp¬ toms to possession by “ amatongo,” or ancestral spirits ; and the Siberian shamans select epileptic children to be educated for the priesthood, which is thus “ apt to become hereditary along with the epileptic tendencies it belongs to.” In the prim¬ itive theory, the diviner or prophet can give in¬ formation from the supernatural world because his own personality is for the time being sup-
115
What is Inspiration ?
planted by the personality of the foreign spirit which has come to dwell in his body. This is the theory of oracle-possession, and from this to the theory of inspiration, as generally current in antiquity, it is evidently but a short step. Instead of supplanting the personality of the prophet, the foreign spirit has but to be conceived as swaying or influencing the prophet’s mind from without, and this step is taken ; instead of possession we have inspiration.
Thus in its origin the word “inspiration” is implicated with a whole theory of the universe, — or, to speak more appropriately, with a general way of looking at natural phenomena. In the lower stages of culture men know nothing of a universe , but they contemplate natural phenomena as under the capricious direction of innumerable ghostly beings similar to men. In most cases, in¬ deed, these demons or deities are’ supposed to be the ghosts of ancestral chieftains. The philoso¬ phy which interprets Nature in this way is ex¬ tremely crude, but it is quite intelligible and con¬ sistent with itself; and, when a barbarian speaks of his prophet as “inspired” by the tutelary de¬ ity of the tribe, we know exactly what he means. He means that the words are whispered or other¬ wise suggested to the prophet by the ghost of
116 Darwinism and Other Essays.
Borne old chief of the tribe ; and, when he himself has thoughts, waking or sleeping, which he can¬ not readily account for, he thinks that these are similarly suggested to him by some ghostly de¬ mon or deity. The daimonion of Sokrates was a specimen of just this sort of barbaric psychology.
Now, in modern times and among Christian peoples, this primitive philosophy of Nature is pretty thoroughly superseded. The tendency of modern thought is strongly towards a very strict monotheism. An imperfect monotheism had long ago driven out the general notion of innumerable ghost-deities ; but Christianity arose at a time when the primitive philosophy was still very strong, and so Christianity has always been more or less incrusted with heathen conceptions. In recent times, however, the prolonged study of physical science has begun to tell powerfully upon all our habits of thought ; and one effect of this is that we have at last really begun to grasp the conception of the unity of God, in the only sense in which such a conception can have any validity. We have begun to conceive of Divine action as uniform, incessant, and general, throughout each and every region of the universe, however vast or however tiny, so that the infinite whole is ani¬ mated forever by one immutable principle of
117
What is Inspiration ?
life; and this conception we call, in common par¬ lance, the conception of a government of law, and not of caprice. So strong has this habit become that we look with distrust upon any hypothesis which implies a conception of Divine action as in any sense local, or special, or transitory.
The hypothesis of inspiration has been retained by modern Protestant Christianity, chiefly as a means of accounting for the assumed infallibility or supernatural excellence of the literature gath¬ ered together in the canonical Scriptures. It is supposed that the writers of these works were in some way instructed by Divine action, so that their works are either entirely true in every state¬ ment, or at least may claim to be examined in accordance with different canons of criticism from those which we feel bound to apply to all other works. Now, this hypothesis most certainly im¬ plies a conception of Divine action as local, spe¬ cial, and transitory ; and, in so far as it does this, it bears the marks of that heathen mode of philos¬ ophizing which was current when Christian mono¬ theism arose, and which has incrusted Christianity with many of its conceptions. It is obviously not an hypothesis in accord with the very strict mono¬ theism towards which modern thought is so mani¬ festly tending, and it is not likely long to survive
118 Dartvinism and Other Essays.
unless upheld by very weighty evidence. Such evidence might be forthcoming if the various books of the Bible had been found able to with¬ stand every test of scientific and literary criticism that could be brought to bear upon them, and come out unscathed in every statement. Such a phenomenon would at least have been very re¬ markable, but in point of fact the outcome of Biblical criticism has been very different from this. A century of intense study and searching controversy has superabundant^ proved that the Bible not only contains much that conflicts both with modern knowledge and with modern moral¬ ity, but that the various parts of it often hope¬ lessly contradict each other in matters of fact, and sometimes present irreconcilable divergences in matters of doctrine, while minor errors of histor¬ ical or philological interpretation abound in it throughout. In view of such a conclusion there would seem to be no need for any hypothesis of special Divine action in the composition of the Bible. On the contrary, the belief in the peculiar inspiration of this collection of books should prob¬ ably be regarded as one of the incumbrances with which Christianity has been loaded by the old heathen way of looking at things.
A sad incumbrance it certainly is to any one
What is Inspiration? 119
who truly loves and reveres the Bible. To make a fetish of the best of books does not, after all, seem to be the most reverent way of treating it. Take away the discredited hypothesis of infalli¬ bility, and the errors of statement and crudities of doctrine at once become of no consequence, and cease to occupy our attention. It no longer seems worth while to write puerile essays to show that the Elohist was versed in all the conclusions of modern geology, or that the books of Kings and Chronicles tell the same story. The spiritual import of this wonderful collection of writings becomes its most prominent aspect ; and, freed from the exigencies of a crude philosophy and an inane criticism, the Bible becomes once more the Book of mankind.
August, 1878.
VIII.
MODERN WITCHCRAFT.1
On this most dismal of subjects Dr. Hammond has given us a book that is both sensible and en¬ tertaining. His survey of so-called “ spiritualis¬ tic ” phenomena is extensive, and with a large and important part of them his intimate acquaintance with abnormal states of the nervous system has enabled him to deal very successfully. The re¬ sults of a physician’s experience are, moreover, veiy happily supplemented by historical research. One of the excellent points about Dr. Hammond’s book is its frequent comparison of contemporary delusions with those of earlier times. He makes such wholesome use of the annals of witchcraft and the biographies of mediaeval saints, mystics, and charlatans, as fairly entitles his book to a prominent place on the Index Expurgatorius. The marvels countenanced from time to time bv
1 Spiritualism and Allied Causes and Conditions of Nervous De¬ rangement. By W. A. Hammond, M. D. New York: G. P. Put¬ nam and Sons. 1876.
Modern Witchcraft. 121
the Roman Church fare no better in his hands than the wonderful deeds of the Homes and the Davenports, and of these it is left doubtful whether the most marvellous part is the audacity of the performers or the gullibility of the spec¬ tators.
According to Dr. Hammond, spiritualism is for the most part barefaced imposture, the remainder being innocent delusion. By many persons who adopt this view on the whole, yet are unable to realize how great is the capacity of the human mind for being deceived, a reservation is made in behalf of divers phenomena which are alleged to take place in conformity to some undiscovered “natural law,” or to require for their explanation some species of “force” other than those with which scientific men are familiar. Dr. Hammond is not inclined to admit any such reservation as this, which, even if it were allowed, would be of small use to the spiritualists. Even if an event were admitted to be inexplicable save by an ap¬ peal to some “force” other than those that have hitherto been studied, we should still have no sort of reason for assuming any connection between this unknown “force” and the “ spirits ” of de- ceased persons. Such an assumption could hud no warrant whatever, save in a general a priori
122 Darwinism and Other Essays .
hypothesis, handed down to us from barbarous times, which has been uniformly discredited wher¬ ever there has been an opportunity for testing it. Even to describe such a 44 force” as u psychic” is to beg the whole question ; for until we have sub¬ jected it to a long course of experimentation, like that which has built up our scientific knowledge of heat and light, we can have no means of know¬ ing whether it is “ psychic ” or not.
It is, however, very unpliilosopliical at the out¬ set to appeal to any new or unknown force until we have thoroughly exhausted all means of ex¬ planation furnisliable by forces that have already been defined ; and by the advocates of spiritualism no such preliminary inquiry has ever been made or even attempted. When, therefore, Mr. Crookes finds himself unable to explain the way in which Mr. Home causes the index of a spring-balance to descend without exerting any apparent pressure on the lever, it is a very violent stretch of in¬ ference to call in an imaginary 44 psychic force ” by way of simplifying the matter. This is ap¬ pealing from the known to the unknown, and it is in no such way that discoveries are made in those physical sciences which Mr. Crookes has so carefully studied. Dr. Hammond may well say that 44 there are so many ways in which known
Modern Witchcraft. 123
forces manifest themselves, and so little is known of the laws which govern them, that Mr. Crookes might, for the present, with safety and propriety, have held his opinion in abeyance.” As Mr. Crookes’s experiment is the only one cited in which the spiritualists seem to have been able to work in broad daylight, and to dispense with the grosser forms of jugglery, a brief description of it may prove instructive.
In order to test Mr. Home’s pretensions to a power of altering the weights of bodies by “ spir¬ itual agency,” Mr. Crookes constructed a simple and ingenious apparatus “ consisting of a mahog¬ any board thirty-six inches long by nine and a half inches wide and one inch thick. At one end a strip of mahogany was screwed on, forming a foot, the length of which equalled the width of the board. This end of the board rested on [the edge of] a table, while the other end was sup¬ ported by a spring-balance” pendent from a tri¬ pod stand. Obviously, now, when Mr. Home placed the tips of his fingers lightly on the end of the board which was resting on the foot or ful¬ crum, the pointer of the balance ought to have remained perfectly stationary ; even a heavy pres¬ sure directly over the fulcrum could not alter the position of the lever. But, as a matter of fact,
124
Darwinism and Other Essays.
the pointer descended, showing that the weight or downward pull at the end of the lever sup¬ ported by the balance had been increased by from three to six pounds. In order still further to guard against the possibility of Mr. Home’s ex¬ erting any muscular* action on the board, Mr. Crookes placed a glass vessel full of water over the centre of the fulcrum, “ and by means of an iron stand, quite detached from all the rest of the apparatus, a vessel of copper was held so that it dipped into the water without touching the sides of the glass vessel, the bottom of the copper ves¬ sel being perforated with holes, in consequence of which it was partially filled with water. . . . When Mr. Home placed his hands inside the cop¬ per vessel, any force passing through his hands had to traverse the water hence no muscular ac¬ tion of his could have any effect upon the spring- balance. With the apparatus thus arranged, the lever oscillated as in his previous experiment, the average strain registered being three or four pounds.”
Such were the phenomena to explain which Mr. Crookes invoked the assistance of an un¬ known something which it pleased his fancy to call “ psychic force,” while his companion, Dr. Huggins, more wisely declined to express any
125
Modern Witchcraft.
opinion. In connection with these phenomena, Dr. Hammond calls attention to an experiment of Professor Tyndall's, in which an egg is placed in an egg-cop and a long lath balanced upon the egg : if a dry stick of sealing-wax, which has been well rubbed with a piece of woollen cloth, be held over one end of the lath, the latter, no matter how heavy, will rise to meet it. In dry weather many persons can make the finger serve the same purpose as the sealing-wax, by first shuffling their feet for a few moments over the carpet. Taking these things into consideration, Dr. Hammond arranged an apparatus like that of Mr. Crookes, and, applying the stick of sealing-wax just over the fulcrum, where Mr. Home’s finger-tips had rested, the pointer of the balance at once de¬ scended. The same result was immediately af¬ terwards obtained when, after shuffling over a thick rug, Dr. Hammond rested his finger on the same place. So far, therefore, the strain on the balance would seem to be due neither to ghosts of departed men nor to “ psychic force,” but to some peculiar manifestation of that commonplace agent, friction electricity. How far Dr. Ham¬ mond’s experiments may be conclusive, it is not in our power to say. What it concerns us to notice is that his method of going to work, by
126
Darwinism and Other Essays .
searching for some analogous case within the re¬ gion of experience, is the method of science and common sense, whereas Mr. Crookes’s method, of deserting the region of experience in quest of some “ psychic force,” is the method which char¬ acterizes alike the barbaric myth-maker and the ill-trained thinker in a civilized community. So long as scientific men are capable of doing such unscientific things, it is not to be wondered at that primitive superstitions still survive.
Some of Mr. Home’s other tricks are suggestive in another way. The feat of making a small table so heavy that the credulous bystander can¬ not stir it from the floor shows what curious re¬ sults may be obtained from highly impressionable people by riveting their attention. Dr. Ham¬ mond has himself performed this trick with entire success. Taking a small Japanese table, weigh¬ ing less than two pounds, he informed a young man that he was going to make it too heavy to be raised from the floor. For a quarter of an hour he held the tips of his fingers on it, until the young man’s attention became riveted, when he removed his hands and challenged the young man to lift the table. It proved immovable, and UI saw,” says our author, “that so far from endeavouring to lift it, as he supposed he was
Modern Witchcraft. 127
doing, he was in reality pressing it with all his might towards the floor.” Bat as soon as Dr. Hammond had waved his hand over the table and declared that it might now be lifted, the young mau lifted it with ease. Scientifically viewed, such phenomena are very interesting; they seem closely akin to the phenomena of hyp¬ notism in men and animals, so strikingly illus¬ trated in the experiments of Ivircher and Czer- mak. Hens and pigeons can easily be put into a cataleptic state by holding a cork or a bit of chalk before their eyes so as to attract their at¬ tention ; and in a similar way a frog’s attention may be so absorbed that his belly may be cut open without his seeming to notice it. Mr. Braid has similarly hypnotized men ; and Dr. Hammond produced complete anaesthesia in a lady by caus¬ ing her to look for a few moments at a cork fastened upon her forehead while her back was cauterized with a red-hot iron.
As for Mr. Home’s tricks of putting live coals into his waistcoat pocket and on other people’s bald heads with impunity, such things have so long been commonplaces with second-rate con¬ jurers that it is astonishing to find intelligent men like Mr. Wallace quoting them as instances of ghostly agency. Nothing could be easier for a
128
Darwinism and Other Essays.
clever juggler like Mr. Home than to exchange real coals for false ones, or to protect liis own pockets and the heads of his dupes with asbestos cloth, without attracting notice. Such a pro¬ ceeding would require far less skill than those of professional magicians, like Hermann or Houdin, in comparison with whose truly wonderful achieve¬ ments the best performances of spiritualists are not for a moment worthy to be named.
Still keeping to Mr. Home, his famous trick of “levitation,” or appearing to float through the air out of one third-story window into another, seems partly to illustrate the effects of intense expecta¬ tion in producing hallucination, partly to show us for the thousandth time how little unsifted human testimony is worth ; for on one occasion, while two “respectable witnesses” were sure that they saw the great “ medium ” come sailing feet fore¬ most through the window, their less gullible com¬ panion was equally positive that the levitating gen¬ tleman was sitting quietly in his arm-chair all the while ! Nothing is more common than for us to be told what people of undoubted veracity have seen. For my own part, if I were to answer frankly in such cases, I should take my cue from a cele¬ brated naturalist whose friend was recounting to him a miraculous shower of frogs from the sky.
129
Modern Witchcraft.
“ It is fortunate,” said he, “ that you have seen it, for now I can believe it. If I had seen it myself, I should not have believed it ! ” The commonest acts of perception are so liable to be warped by hypothesis (a fact which conjurers like Houdin consummately understand) that it is quite useless to conjecture what our witnesses may really have seen, unless we know much more than they are likely to tell us of the physical and mental conditions under which their seeing was done. At a meeting of spiritualists in Bos¬ ton, Mr. Robert Dale Owen once saw what he took to be an “apparition in shining raiment,” being quite clear in his mind that no deception or illusion was possible under the circumstances. But Dr. Hammond, making a diagram of the rooms from data contained in Mr. Owen’s ac¬ count, shows that, with the greatest ease, a “ woman in white ” might have been brought into the room and illuminated by means of a dark lantern without awakening suspicion. The case of Angelique Cottin, the famous “electric girl,” is equally instructive. After tipping tables, repelling books, brushes, and other small objects, and disturbing magnetic needles before numer¬ ous “ intelligent audiences,” her alleged powers
were carefully investigated by a committee of the
9
180 Darwinism and Other Essays,
Academy of Sciences, consisting of Arago, Bec- querel, Geoff roy St. Hilaire, and others. Tables, books, brushes, and magnetic needles, all kept most provokingly quiet, and the “ electric girl ” subsided into oblivion. So, numbers of people who watched the “Welsh fasting-girl” were quite sure that she subsisted without food; but, when really competent watchers were introduced, the poor creature died of starvation, destroyed by her own obstinacy and the criminal acquies¬ cence of her parents.
We have touched upon but few of the topics treated in Dr. Hammond’s book. Into his elab¬ orate discussion of the painful and often disgust¬ ing phenomena of hysteria, ecstasy, and stigmat¬ ization, we have not space to follow him. His subject is one which leads the inquirer into some of the darkest and most loathsome corners of the human mind ; but the inquiry has, nevertheless, its uses.
July , 1876.
IX.
comte’s positive philosophy.1
It is now nearly a quarter of a century since, by the publication of the last volume of the “ Cours de Philosophie Positive,” Auguste Comte completed his great task of organizing into a co¬ herent system the doctrines held and the methods of investigation pursued by scientific men. His work was not long in obtaining the recognition of advanced thinkers ; and during the period which has elapsed since its completion, its leading views — noticed with more or less approval by Mr. Mill, Mr. Grote, and Sir G* C. Lewis, explained and defended by Mr. Lewes and M. Littr6, partially adopted by Mr. Buckle, adversely criticised by Mr. Spencer, and violently attacked by the entire a 'priori school of philosophers and theologians — have seriously occupied the attention of a large part of the thinking public. The term “ positiv¬ ism ” has won for itself a place in the vocabulary
1 The Positive Philosophy of Auguste Comte. By John Stuart Mill. Boston: William V. Spencer. 1866. 12mo, pp. 182.
132
Darwinism and Other Essays.
of philosophy beside the older names u idealism ” and “scepticism,” as indicating a distinct and im¬ portant phase in the development of speculative thought. But its more recent introduction into philosophic language has not availed to protect it from those ambiguities of interpretation which envelop, as with a halo, the latter time-honoured appellations. On the contrary, so far are most persons from having a distinct idea of what they mean when they speak of positivism that it is not uncommon to hear classed as positivists men like Professors Tyndall and Huxley, the peculiar tendency of whose opinions has been but slightly, if at all, determined by the speculations of M. Comte. To call these men positivists is to neces¬ sitate such an extension of the term as to include all truly scientific investigators of phenomena, from the days of Galileo and Newton downwards. This vagueness results naturally from the circum¬ stance that many of M. Comte’s most prominent doctrines did not originate with himself, but were held by him in common with many thinkers, both of the present and of past ages. Not only as a discoverer of new truths, but as an organizer of those already discovered, did he announce himself to the world.
At the present time, when such a general inter*
Comte s Positive Philosophy . 133
est is felt in the philosophy of M. Comte, and such a wide-spread curiosity is manifested to know in what that philosophy really consists, a work like the one now before us is most welcome. Mr. Mill is admirably qualified to furnish us with a clear and trustworthy exposition of the Positive Philosophy. His own researches have led him over the same paths which were traversed by M. Comte, and the results of his meditations on the proper methods to be pursued in scientific explora¬ tion were laid before the world nearly a genera¬ tion ago, in his “System of Logic,” — a work which in our opinion is as important a contribu¬ tion to human knowledge as the “ Philosophie Positive ” itself. And while, on the one hand, the number of opinions held in common by the two, to say nothing of Mr. Mill’s well-known can¬ dour, is a sufficient guaranty for the fair treatment of the subject, on the other hand, Mr. Mill’s emi¬ nence as an original thinker prevents him from ever abdicating the position of a critic for that of a disciple.
In common with the majority of scientific think¬ ers, M. Comte asserts the universality and inva¬ riability of natural laws and he coincides in the opinion, held by one great school of psychologists since Locke, that all knowledge is derived from
134
Danvinism and Other Essays.
experience. But his emphatic and determined rejection of the methods of subjective psychology leaves him so destitute of the means for establish¬ ing this doctrine that it can hardly be regarded as a coherent, though doubtless an indispensable, portion of his system. Allied to this theorem is that of the relativity of all knowledge, which also is not peculiar to the Positive Philosophy. It has been held with more or less consistency by a vast number of thinkers from Protagoras downward, including in the list of its adherents many whose antagonism on most other points has been unqual¬ ified, — men such as Aristotle and Bruno, Aver- roes and Bacon, Hume and Kant. In relation to this dogma, M. Comte is the natural successor of Brown. As Mr. Mill truly remarks, u the doc¬ trine and spirit of Brown’s philosophy are en¬ tirely positivist, and no better introduction to positivism than the early part of his Lectures has yet been produced.” While, curiously enough, Brown’s most redoubtable opponent, Sir William Hamilton, has also verbally adopted this positive theorem, although his simultaneous assertion of the principles of Natural Dualism sufficiently shows that he never really understood it. Hume was probably its first consistent supporter, though he often pushes scepticism to the point of denial,
135
Comte s Positive Philosophy.
apparently maintaining the relativity not only of all knowledge, but of all existence likewise. Not so M. Comte, who ever implicitly recognizes the existence of noumena, while insisting upon their eternal banishment to the realm of the Unknow¬ able. We should strive, therefore, not to ascer¬ tain the causes of phenomena, either primary or final, but only to formulate the laws of their co¬ existence and sequence. With the study of phe¬ nomena as causes, i. e. as invariable antecedents of other phenomena, M. Comte has never, as it has been foolishly asserted, found fault. His phi¬ losophy is entirely concerned with the investiga¬ tion of these, in distinction from noumenal causes, the origin of phenomena, and the end for which they exist. Of this bridge of Time, which man and Nature alike are traversing, he forbids us to strain our vision in vain efforts to discern the be¬ ginning and the end, immersed as they both are in the utter darkness of eternity.
But though M. Comte did not originate the doctrine of the relativity of all knowledge, and though while ignoring psychologic research he can in no wise prove it, he has yet, as Mr. Mill observes, made it in a great measure his own doc¬ trine by his method of treating it. The first dis¬ tinctive feature of his philosophy is the assertion
136 Darwinism and Other Essays.
that, in its investigation of nature, the human mind lias passed through three essentially different stages. These are, first, the Theological stage, in which all phenomena are viewed as resulting from the volitions of supernatural agents ; second, the Metaphysical stage, in which phenomena are sup¬ posed to be determined by the existence of inher¬ ent occult causes ; and, third, the Positive stage, in which, the search for causes being abandoned, the mind rests content with grouping phenomena ac¬ cording to their relations of coexistence and suc¬ cession. The exposition of this law of intellectual development occupies a considerable portion of Mr. Mill’s volume, and is, we think, both lucid and profound. But we cannot go so far as Mr. Mill in accepting the theorem as a true and ad¬ equate statement of the course which the human mind has pursued. As such a statement, we be¬ lieve it to be imperfect and superficial, though containing a sufficient amount of truth to have made its application to the study of history result in sundry minor generalizations of the highest value. The “ positive ” method of contemplat¬ ing phenomena is doubtless becoming exclusively prevalent with scientific explorers ; and for this reason, the name “positivism,” after losing its more special connotations, is perhaps destined to
. Comte s Positive Philosophy. 137
become tlie designation of scientific thought in general. The naturalistic tendencies observable in Sokrates and Aristotle, organized by Bacon and Descartes, and represented by subsequent dis¬ coverers, might thus without inaccuracy be con¬ sidered “positive.”
The second distinctive feature of M. Comte’s philosophy is its arrangement of the sciences in such an order that those which deal with the most general and least complex relations are studied prior to those which treat of relations more spe¬ cial and involved. M. Comte distinguishes be¬ tween the abstract sciences, “ which have to do with the laws which govern the elementary facts of nature,” and the concrete sciences, which “con¬ cern themselves only with the particular com¬ binations of phenomena which are found in ex¬ istence.” Thus Physics and Chemistry are the abstract sciences corresponding to the concrete science Mineralogy, while Zoology and Botany deal with concrete examples of the abstract laws enunciated by Physiology. Leaving the concrete sciences out of consideration, M. Comte arranges the abstract sciences as follows : I. Mathematics ; II. Astronomy ; III. Physics (comprising the sci¬ ences of Weight, Heat, Sound, Light, and Elec¬ tricity) ; IV. Chemistry ; Y. Biology ; and VI.
138 Darwinism and Other JEJssays.
Sociology. In the arrangement of the subdivis¬ ions of each science, he attempts to apply the same principle of advancing from the general to the special : thus, in Mathematics, the laws of number are to be studied before those of magni¬ tude, and these again before those of equilibrium. In the arrangement of the different branches of Physics, however, this principle evidently fails ; it being impossible to assert that the phenomena of weight and pressure are less general than those of heat, or perhaps even those of light. The omission of a science of Psychology from the above scheme will be deemed by most persons a grave defect. Nor can M. Comte be said to have at all mended the matter by offering us in its stead (we blush to tell it) the wretched substi¬ tute Phrenology. In spite of these defects, the advantages of studying the sciences in this order will be disputed by no one ; it being manifest that each science furnishes almost indispensable aid to the study of its successors, while throwing comparatively little light on the subjects treated by its predecessors. Each science, too, has meth¬ ods of investigation peculiar to itself ; and it is the elaborate statement of these methods that we consider the most permanently valuable of M. Comte’s contributions to philosophy. But we do
Comte's Positive Philosophy. 139
not agree with the statement that this admirable arrangement of the sciences represents the true order of their historic development ; and that, while each science has experienced successively the application of the theological, the metaphysi¬ cal, and the positive methods, the order in which they have attained the positive stage conforms to the order in which they are here placed. We do not believe that any serial arrangement can rep¬ resent either the true relations of the sciences to each other, or the comparative rapidity with which they have advanced toward perfection. The sim¬ plicity of the phenomena with which they deal is far from being the only condition which has determined their evolution. And we therefore differ from Mr. Mill in thinking that Mr. Spen¬ cer has entirely destroyed the pretensions of M. Comte’s classification to be considered as founded in the nature of things, however valuable it may be as a help to study.
It is on his contributions to our knowledge of the laws of social evolution that M. Comte chiefly prides himself. He claims the right to be called the founder and legislator of the science of soci¬ ety. We are not among the number of those who are disposed to grant him this lofty title. We do not even think that the science of society, as a
140 Darwinism and Other Essays.
systematic whole, can yet be said to exist. Much has indeed been done to prepare the way for sucli a science. Some subordinate discoveries of ines timable value have been made, and it has been conclusively shown that social phenomena are proper objects of scientific treatment. Among the pioneers of this new science, M. Comte will always hold an honourable place. His treatment of history is eminently original and suggestive ; and his views, even when not wholly true, are rarely without a large amount of truth. His cath¬ olic spirit, and his hearty admiration for whatever is great and good in the past, are moral qualities beyond all praise.
It is impossible, in our limited space, to do more than allude to the subjects which are so admirably elucidated and commented on in Mr. Mill’s volume. To M. Comte’s later speculations we do not wish to refer, further than to express our opinion that they are a tissue of the wildest and most extravagant vagaries ever conceived out¬ side of Bedlam ; or, remembering all that the world owes M. Comte, we might less harshly and not less truly call them the most mournful exhi¬ bition furnished by the annals of philosophy of a great mind utterly shattered and ruined. It is a spectacle to which we cannot refuse our pitying
Comte $ Positive Philosophy. 141
sympathy, even while we are unable to repress our contempt. We have no criticism to make on Mr. Mill's treatment of the subject, which is in the main sober and just. But we are surprised at the remark with which he concludes the book, that M. Comte should be considered as great a thinker as either Descartes or Leibnitz* and hardly more extravagant than they. M. Comte’s achieve¬ ments have indeed been great. But neither in the amount of mental effort implied by them, nor in the magnificence of their consequences, can they ever be compared to Descartes’s application of algebra to geometry, or to Leibnitz’s discovery of the differential calculus. Our surprise is all the greater since, in his recent work on Sir Wil¬ liam Hamilton, Mr. Mill has shown himself quite capable both of appreciating the transcendent merits of Descartes, and of sympathizing with the state of mind which led to the eccentricities of Leibnitz. M. Comte might in some respects be more justly compared to Bacon ; and the rejec¬ tion of the Copern ican system, which has so often been alleged as a proof of the narrowness of the latter, seems after all a trifling blemish, when we remember how persistently M. Comte ignores all that has been achieved in the department of Psy¬ chology. The above is one of the rare cases in
142 Darwinism and Other Essays.
which Mr. Mill must be accused of haste and par¬ tiality. And we deem it not inconsistent with the respect due to his noble qualities to say that, while his aim is ever to present in the most fa¬ vourable light opinions from which he differs, he does not always succeed in maintaining the im¬ partial attitude so indispensable in a critic, and of wnich Bayle has given us perhaps the finest example.
October 1865.
X.
MR. BUCKLE’S FALLACIES.1
It has always been a favourite illusion that social changes do not, like physical changes, conform to fixed and ascertainable laws. Not only is it that philosophers of a certain class have, from the earliest times, explained histori¬ cal events as instances of the continued interpo¬ sition of an arbitrary power, exterior to and in¬ dependent of the material universe ; not only is it that thinkers of an opposite school have re¬ ferred the actions of men to a no less arbitrary power, operative in each individual as an ulti-
1 As this review of Mr. Buckle’s History of Civilisation was written and published when I was only nineteen years old, I must not now be held responsible for all the opinions expressed in it. The apparently favourable estimate of Positivism which runs through it will best be understood from the preceding article, which was written only four years later, when my view of Comte was essentially the same. It will be seen that I have never been, in any legitimate sense of the word, a positivist. I have reproduced this article without altering a single word; and have appended to it a “Postscript,” written fifteen years later, as an illustration of the change which Mr. Buckle’s repu¬ tation has undergone.
144 Darwinism and Other Essays .
mate inexplicable agent; but it is that the mass of men have ever been accustomed to look upon the phenomena of society as upon isolated facts, incapable of any scientific explanation whatever. And this is what might be expected from the great abstruseness and complexity of the subject. Since the science of human actions is the most difficult of all, and since it depends on the sim¬ pler physical sciences, it was not until these in the course of their development had been purified from the dreamy obscurities of metaphysics that the conception of a universal and undeviating regularity in the succession of historic events was rendered possible. Accordingly, when phys¬ ical science was yet in its infancy, as in ancient times, there could be no social science. The speculations of Plato upon this subject were but profitless reveries ; and even the admirable “ Pol¬ itics ” of Aristotle disclosed “ no sense of the pro¬ gressive tendencies of humanity, nor the slight¬ est glimpse of the natural laws of civilization.” 1 Coming down even to modern times, we find in the seventeenth century nothing better on the philosophy of history than the puerile “ Dis¬ course” of Bossuet. The profound remarks of Pascal and Leibnitz, in regard to the progress of 1 Comte, Philosophic Positive, tome iv. p. 240.
Mr, Buckle s Fallacies .
145
society, are to be deemed rather presentiments of the truth than the results of deliberate investiga¬ tion. Machiavelli was one of the first to subject social phenomena to a careful study ; but he ar¬ rived at no broad generalizations, and “ he suf¬ fered, moreover, from the serious deficiency of being too much occupied with the practical utility of his subject.” 1 The “ Scienza Nuova ” of Vico contained many new and startling views of his¬ tory, and the writings of Montesquieu presented a daring attempt to constitute a social science ; but both these great thinkers were crippled by a lack of materials, owing to the imperfect condi¬ tion of physical knowledge at the time when they wrote. Condorcet, proceeding from the sugges¬ tions of his friend Turgot, arrived at the law that the whole human race is in a course of evo¬ lution, from the less perfect to the more perfect; but his writings are encumbered with metaphysi¬ cal notions, and he had no idea of the true nature of human development. For above all his pre¬ decessors stands Voltaire, whose “ Essai sur les Moeurs ” was an immortal attempt to apply the principles of scientific investigation to the entire history of our race. Nothing more was done in this direction until the unprecedented develop-
1 Buckle, vol. i. p. 751, note 131.
10
146 Darwinism and Other Essays .
ment of physical knowledge which ushered in the present century was followed by the appearance of the “ Philosophie Positive” of Auguste Comte. In this noble work, social as well as physical changes are shown to conform to invariable laws. Comte thus founded social science, and opened a path for future discoverers. But he did not per¬ ceive, any more than previous inquirers, the fun¬ damental law of human evolution. It was re¬ served for Herbert Spencer to discover this all- comprehensive law, which is found to explain alike all the phenomena of man’s history and all those of external nature. This sublime dis¬ covery, — that the Universe is in a continuous process of evolution from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, — with which only Newton’s dis¬ covery of the law of gravitation is at all worthy to be compared, underlies not onty physics, but also history. It reveals the law to which social changes conform.
This preliminary glance is necessary, in order to comprehend the relation of Mr. Buckle’s work to the treatises on social science which have pre¬ ceded it. Mr. Buckle is one of that series of philosophers who, from Plato downwards, have studied human affairs. The Introduction to his “ History of Civilization in England” is similar
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
147
to the works we have just mentioned, in attempt¬ ing to discover the laws which regulate the prog¬ ress of society ; and in many respects it surpasses them all. Mr. Buckle, it is true, gives us no new method of research, like Comte ; nor does he, as we shall see, discover any universal law, like Spencer. Yet, in the boldness and com¬ prehensiveness of his views, and in the fearless candour with which they are stated ; in the wealth of his erudition, and in the honesty with which he applies his facts ; in the noble love of liberty which pervades his work, and in the elo¬ quence which invests all parts of it with an un¬ dying charm, he has had few equals in any age. Feeling that it is but just to pronounce our opinion at the outset, we say this with the more readiness, both because in the course of this crit¬ icism we shall be compelled to differ from him on many points of vital importance, and especially because Mr. Buckle’s work has been received with a bitter and contemptuous hostility on the part of many reviewers, which cannot have failed to excite much groundless prejudice against the author and his doctrines. Not only is it that the merits of the work have been lost sight of, while its defects have been exasperated to an enormous
148 Darwinism and Other Essays.
extent ; 1 not only is it that its tendencies have been perversely misrepresented, and that it has been accused of aiming to subvert the principles of morality and religion : but it is that some of the most obvious facts upon which its arguments are based have been disputed ; it is that the au¬ thor has been charged with inaccuracies and errors which would disgrace the composition of a school-boy. Without repeating or taking further notice of such accusations, which savour no less of ignorance than of a spirit of unfair deprecia¬ tion, we propose to examine Mr. Buckle’s leading propositions, in the hope ot' ascertaining how far they explain the phenomena of society.
Proceeding on the method of investigation pointed out by Comte, Mr. Buckle claims to have established, in the volumes now before us, four great laws, which “ are to be deemed the basis of the history of civilization.” 2
The first of these fundamental laws is “ that the progress of mankind depends on the success with which the laws of phenomena are investi¬ gated, and on the extent to which a knowledge of those laws is diffused.” In laying down this prop-
1 [I had reference to the absurd article in the Quarterly Review ; July, 1857.]
2 Buckle, vol. ii. p. 1.
Mr . Buckle s Fallacies.
149
osition, Mr. Buckle can, of course, make no claims to originality. It is simply a clear and precise statement of the position taken by all the fore¬ most thinkers of the age. For example, Mr. Lewes says, “ The evolutions of Humanity cor¬ respond with the evolutions of Thought.’' 1 Mr. Mill says, “We are justified in concluding that the order of human progression in all respects will mainly depend on the order of progression in the intellectual convictions of mankind ; that is, on the law of the successive transformations of human opinions.” 2 The same is implied in Mr. Spencer’s law of evolution,3 and in the law of the three stages of civilization announced by Comte.4 With respect to the proposition as it stands, we have no criticisms to offer. It is substantiated, not only by the numerous facts brought up in the course of Mr. Buckle’s work, but by all those furnished by the history of mankind in all ages and countries. The annals of our race are but an illustration of the law that u the evolutions of Humanity correspond with the evolutions of Thought.”
1 Philosophy of the Sciences , p. 23.
2 System of Loyic, vol. ii. p. 517, 4th edition.
3 Social Statics , pp. 409-456 Essays , pp. 1-54. First Principle i pp. 146-218.
4 Philosophic Positive , tome i. pp. 3-20.
150 Darwinism and Other Essays .
Thus far Mr. Buckle proceeds on safe ground: but when he attempts, in his second fundamental law, to go still further, and to determine how much of our civilization is due to intellectual, and how much to moral, progress, — when he at¬ tempts 1 to prove that the intellectual element in our nature is advancing, while the moral element is not, and that knowledge is the cause of progress, while good intentions are not, — he gets at once into complicated difficulties ; and his argument, when stripped of its dazzling rhetoric, is so vague, confused, and unsatisfactory that we cannot help suspecting that the author has but an imperfect comprehension of what he is arguing for. At the outset, he makes an assertion directly contradic¬ tory to the proposition which he is to prove. He says, “ There can be no doubt that a people are not really advancing, if ’ on the one hand , their increasing ability is accompanied by increasing vice , or if, on the other hand, while they are be¬ coming more virtuous they likewise become more ignorant. This double movement , moral and in¬ tellectual, is essential to the very idea of civiliza¬ tion. , and includes the entire theory of mental progress.” 2 Having thus unequivocally expressed what we shall presently perceive to be in all prob-
1 Vol. i. chap. iv. 2 Vol. i. p. 159.
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
151
ability the true state of the case, he proceeds to contradict himself, by setting to work to show that a people advance in civilization according as they advance in knowledge, leaving the moral ele¬ ment entirely out of the question. As this is one of the most important points in his whole work, and one which has excited hot discussion, we shall proceed to examine it at some length, taking up in succession the several steps of the argument.
Amid much that is obscurely stated, and much that is irrelevant to the subject, we trace the fol¬ lowing line of propositions : —
I. The native faculties of men do not improve, so that we must look for progress only in their acquisitions.
II. They acquire but few “ moral truths,” which “remain stationary;” but they acquire many “intellectual truths,” which are “continually ad¬ vancing.”
III. Because civilization cannot be regulated by the “ stationary agent,” it must be regulated solely by intellectual progress.
Let us see whether these statements will bear a critical examination.1
1 [This argument of “Intellects. Morals” was regarded bv Mr. Buckle as the fundamental position of his book. See Stuart-Glennie’s Pilgrim Memories , p. 196.J
152 Darwinism and Other Essays.
I. Mr. Buckle begins by denying that the nat¬ ural faculties of man are in a course of develop¬ ment. u Here, then, lies the gist of the whole matter. The progress is one, not of internal power, but of external advantage. The child born in a civilized land is not likely, as such, to be su¬ perior to one born among barbarians, and the dif¬ ference which ensues between the acts of the two children will be caused, so far as we know, solely by the pressure of external circumstances ; by which I mean the surrounding opinions, knowl¬ edge, associations, — in a word, the entire mental atmosphere in which the two children are re¬ spectively nurtured.” 1
This is only bringing up again the old dispute about “ the innate ” and “ the acquired,” which has raged for centuries among metaphysical thinkers, but which we thought had been satis¬ factorily settled by the physiologists some time before Mr. Buckle penned the above passage. After it had been proved that every organism is constantly advancing in the vigour and complexity of its functions in relation to the conditions which surround it, nothing more was needed. But Mr. Buckle appears to have forgotten this. He not only ignores some of the late results of physiolog-
1 Vol. i. p. 162.
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
153
ical investigation, but, still worse, in the passage just quoted, he flatly contradicts a theory which he elsewhere upholds. We refer to the doctrine, held by many naturalists, which supposes all the varieties of organic life, present and past, to have arisen from one or two primitive forms, by suc¬ cessive modifications of structure and function. With the evidence which might be brought for¬ ward in favour of this theory, we have, at pres¬ ent, no concern. It is enough to know that Mr. Buckle is himself one of its supporters, as appears from several passages in his work.1
Now, this theory supposes that all organic be¬ ings are continually advancing, not only in com¬ plexity of structure and variety of function, but also in the activity and vigour of their faculties. This may be illustrated by comparing the ex¬ tremes of the animal kingdom. The hydra, or fresh-water polyp, is little more than a mere bag. In common with all the acrita, he possesses nerv¬ ous substance, diffused in a cellular state through¬ out his body.2 Moreover, if you turn him inside
1 Vol. i. p. 806, note 130, ancl p. 822. The same is implied on p. 641. He also accepts the kindred doctrine of the unity of the organic and inorganic worlds. (See vol. ii. pp. 529-533.)
2 Or, more accurately speaking, he possesses a sensitive substance which, in more elevated beings, is specialized into nervous tissue, (See Lewes’ Seaside Studies , p. 390.)
154 Darwinism and Other Essays .
out, his skin will digest, and his interior membrane will respire; he will apparently suffer no discom¬ posure from this reversed state of affairs.1 Again, if you put him into a vessel of water, he will in¬ variably seek that part of it least exposed to the light, thus manifesting a rudimentary sensibility, which in its more developed state, in higher or¬ ganisms, we call vision.2 The lower polyps ex¬ hibit also contractility over their whole body ; and it has been supposed that they also possess, in a diffused condition, the germs of smell, taste, and even hearing.3 When now we ascend to the verte- brata, we find digestion specialized in the stomach, respiration in the lungs, contractility in the mus¬ cles, sensibility in the nerves ; taste, smell, hear¬ ing, and vision, in the mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. This difference coexists with a great increase of power in the several functions. The faculties of the mammal are, as every one knows, far supe¬ rior to those of the polyp. No one would think of comparing the rudimentary scent of the zo¬ ophyte with the developed scent of the dog, or the rudimentary sight of the acaleph with the devel¬ oped sight of the Bosjesman. Vast, indeed, is the
1 Draper’s Human Physiology , p. 501.
2 Spencer’s Psychology , p. 401.
s Ibid. pp. 394-408.
Mr. Buckle's Fallacies.
155
difference between the hydra, whose body is but one organ, feebly performing several functions, and the elephant, whose body is a community of organs, each powerfully performing its own pecul¬ iar function: so vast, that many persons, even after allowing for the accumulated influence of causes which have been in operation for countless ages, are unable to believe that the higher or¬ ganism could have come from the lower, through myriads of intermediate forms. Yet, if we are to believe this, — if we are to accept it as true, that this continuous perfecting of all the physical and mental faculties has been going on among the lower tribes ever since life first appeared on the earth, — why are we to suppose that it has not taken place in man ? Is it that, when man came upon the stage, one of the most comprehensive laws of nature was, by some miracle, suspended forever in his case? Is it that in the most per¬ fect of organized beings, exhibiting both in struc¬ ture and function the completest instance of the evolutional process, that process could no longer be carried on? If we are to accept the develop¬ ment theory at all, we must accept it without limitations. We might as well say that the hu¬ man race forms an exception to the operation of the laws of gravitation or chemical affinity as to
156 Darwinism and Other Essays .
say that it forms an exception in the case of the law of evolution, provided that law be once estab¬ lished.
We shall find our conclusion inductively con¬ firmed, on observing that the development theory explains the differences between the races of man¬ kind, as well as those between the animal tribes. Premising the fact, well known to every anato¬ mist, that change in structure is invariably accom¬ panied by change in function, we notice that the lower races, such as the Alfurus, resemble the quadrumana in having very small legs, protruding jaws, receding foreheads, thick lips, eyes wide apart and curved upwards ; that as we proceed in turn to the red Indians, the Turanians, and the Semites, this resemblance becomes much less marked, and at last scarcely perceptible ; and that, on reaching the Europeans, it can no longer be traced, except in infants. The legs have be¬ come much longer and more massive than the arms, which have diminished in length ; the jaws have retired; the forehead has advanced; the lips have become comparatively thin : the eyes have approached each other, and lost their upward cur¬ vature. These facts, so familiar to every one that it is almost needless to cite them, show that, in respect to structure, we find a marked progress
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies .
157
in the human species, no less than in the animal tribes. Even though the European is born with the structural peculiarities of the savage, he loses them almost immediately after birth ; and his possessing them at birth no more proves that his matured faculties are on the same level with those of the savage than his possessing the character¬ istics of a fish some months before birth proves that his matured faculties are on the same level with those of a fish. Unless, therefore, Mr. Buckle is prepared to deny that development in structure is necessarily attended by development in function, he cannot logically avoid the conclu¬ sion that the human species is in a course of evo¬ lution from the less perfect to the more perfect, — or, to use his own expressions, that the progress of mankind is one of “ internal power,’ as well as of “external advantage.”
We have seen that Mr. Buckle accepts the law of development ; that it is illogical to assert that man forms an exception to such a universal law ; that this law, moreover, explains the facts of hu¬ man variation, as well as those of animal varia¬ tion ; and that, consequently, Mr. Buckle's asser¬ tion that human faculties do not develop is totally inconsistent with the very theory held by himself respecting organic development in general. We
158 Darwinism and Other Essays .
have now to show that his assertion is in itself un¬ founded. But, preliminary to this, we must call attention to another point.
How it is that Mr. Buckle, who holds fast to the law of development, can reject the law of he¬ reditary transmission, we are unable to imagine. Nevertheless, reject it he does, in the following passage, which, as Mr. Lewes remarks, must ex¬ cite the astonishment of the physiologist : —
We often hear of hereditary talents, hereditary vices, and hereditary virtues ; but whoever will critically ex¬ amine the evidence will find that we have no proof of their existence. The way in which they are com¬ monly proved is in the highest degree illogical ; the usual course being for writers to collect instances of some mental peculiarity found in a parent and in his child, and then to infer that the peculiarity was be¬ queathed. By this mode of reasoning, we might dem¬ onstrate any proposition ; since, in all large fields of inquiry there are a sufficient number of empirical coin¬ cidences to make a plausible case in favour of whatever view a man chooses to advocate. But this is not the way in which truth is discovered ; and we ought to in¬ quire, not only how many instances there are of heredi¬ tary talents, etc., but how many instances there are of such qualities not being hereditary. Until something of this sort is attempted, we can know nothing about the matter inductively ; while, until physiology and
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
159
chemistry are much more advanced, we can know noth¬ ing about it deductively. These considerations ought to prevent us from receiving statements which posi¬ tively affirm the existence of hereditary madness and hereditary suicide ; and the same remark applies to he¬ reditary disease, and with still greater force does it apply to hereditary vices and hereditary virtues ; inas¬ much as ethical phenomena have not been registered as carefully as physiological ones, and therefore our con¬ clusions respecting them are even more precarious.1
All this sounds very fine ; but we do not think that our ignorance of this subject is so hopeless as Mr. Buckle supposes. Although we are at present unable to explain all the phenomena of the case, and account for all the apparent excep¬ tions that arise, we do, nevertheless, all of us know that oaks always produce oaks, oj^sters oysters, sharks sharks, dogs dogs, and men men. We should probably deem it somewhat out of the usual course of things if a cow were to give birth to a leopard. We are not accustomed to think of a greyhound as having had for his sire an Arabian steed. We do not expect, on planting a nursery of acorns, to come back and find an orchard of apple-trees. And even the most unexcitable of us would open his eyes at the sight of a barn-door
i Vol. i. p. 161, note 12.
160 Darwinism and Other Essays .
lien strutting about as the mother of a brood of eaglets. And yet, if there is no such thing as the transmission of qualities from parent to offspring, we see no reason 1 why these hypothetical cases should not exist as realities. “ Unless parents transmitted to offspring their organizations, their peculiarities and excellences, there would be no such thing as a breed or a race. The cur would run the same chance as tliq, best bred dog, of turning out valuable. The greyhound might point, and the cart-horse win the Derby. Daily experience tell us that this is impossible. Science tells us that there is no such thing as chance. Physiology tells us that the offspring always, and necessarily, inherits its organization from its par¬ ents ; and if the organization is inherited, then with it must be inherited its tendencies and aptitudes.” 2 This, from one profoundly versed in physiology, expresses what any one, not labouring to establish some preconceived theory, will at once recognize
1 Lest it should be thought that we do injustice to Mr. Buckle, in giving such a broad significance to his rejection of the law of heredi¬ tary transmission, we give a definition of that law, taken from one of the greatest thinkers of our time: “ Understood in its entirety, the law is that each plant or animal produces others of like kind with itself; the likeness of kind consisting not so much in the repetition of individual traits as in the assumption of the same generic structure.” *— Spencer’s Essays, p. 2G3.
2 Lewes’ Physioloyy of Common Life , vol. ii. p. 377.
Mr. Buclde 8 Fallacies.
161
as the real state of the case. And, indeed, since structure and function are inseparably connected ; since diversity of structure necessarily supposes diversity of function, and similarity of structure similarity of function, it follows that, as like pro¬ duces like in the case of structural forms, so also must like produce like in the case of functional peculiarities ; and as the nervous system is but a part of the organism, and must come under the same generalization as the whole, so also does the same hold true of the functions of the nervous system, that is, of thought, feeling, and the like. In other words, there must be cases not only of hereditary madness and hereditary disease, but also of hereditary vices and hereditary virtues, so long as disease and madness, virtue and vice, co¬ exist with peculiar structural states. And, as be¬ fore, unless Mr. Buckle is prepared to deny the inseparable connection of structure and function, he cannot escape this conclusion.
As we have already observed, it is passing strange that Mr. Buckle, while embracing the law of development, should spurn that of heredi¬ tary transmission, to which it is so intimately re¬ lated, and on which it, in some degree, depends for its proofs. But Mr. Buckle has a theory of his own to maintain. He wishes to show that
n
162 Darwinism and Other Essays .
the feculties of men do not improve. It is in or¬ der to do this that he rejects the law of transmis¬ sion. But it has been shown that his rejection of it is illogical, and that the law of transmission is as universal as any other, since, were it not so, there could be no such thing as a species at all. With the help of this law, it is easy to demon¬ strate that, in the very nature of things, the fac¬ ulties of men must improve.
Among that “highest class of biological truths,” which apply to all organisms whatever, is the law that, “ other things equal, development varies as function ; ” 1 that is, the growth of any organ de¬ pends upon its activity. We are everywhere met by instances of this : not only in the gymnast, who surprises us by the great size and power of his muscles ; not only in the sailor, who sees a ship in the distant offing, when the passenger can descry but a speck ; not only in the musician, who recognizes as different two sounds which to unpractised ears are alike ; but also in the man of science, who unravels with ease problems which to common apprehensions are insoluble. “ On this law are based all maxims and methods of right education, intellectual, moral, and physical.”2 Expressed in the form, “ Practice makes perfect,”
1 Spencer’s Essays , p. 262. 2 Ibid. p. 263.
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
163
it is an axiom in every one’s mouth. By exer¬ cising an organ, we increase its size and power. By neglecting to exercise it, we cause it to be¬ come diminutive, weak, inefficient.
It is evident, then, that when an individual has grown to maturity in the constant exercise of any faculty, the organ answering to that faculty will be correspondingly developed ; and that, in the natural course of things, he will transmit to his offspring that faculty in its state of increased power. Thus it is that a Philip becomes the father of an Alexander; that the son of a Ber¬ nardo Tasso gives to the world a deathless poem ; and that a family of three hundred musical gen¬ iuses at last counts among its members Johann Sebastian Bach. In individual cases, however, the operation of this law is obscured and often hindered by a concurrence of unfavourable cir¬ cumstances. It is in the case of large collections of individuals, where the disturbing causes are averaged, that we find it most strikingly exempli¬ fied. Thus we see red Indians so swift of foot ; w the telescopic-eyed Bushmen and Peruvians with sense of smell so acute that, according to Humboldt, they can distinguish by it, in the mid¬ dle of the night, to what race a man belongs.1 Ex-
1 Dunglison’s Human Physiology , vol. i. p. 729.
164 Darwinism and Other Essays.
tending our view from separate nations to the whole race, we perceive the law in still greater generality. While some nations have been devel¬ oping in some faculties, others have been develop¬ ing in others, and the total movement has been ever onward. Each generation has inherited the faculties of the preceding, still further improved by constant employment. Phoenicians have thus spread commerce through unknown seas; Greeks have educated the world ; Romans have legislated for it ; Hindus, Jews, and Arabs have given it re¬ ligions; Germans have deluged it with systems of philosophy ; Frenchmen and Englishmen have given it positive knowledge ; Americans have, by inventive genius, furnished material comforts; Italians have added the glorious embodiments of beauty, grace, and charm ; and the consensus of the whole is civilization. Retrogression nowhere meets us ; progress meets us everywhere ; and, from the considerations above adduced, we are obliged to conclude that this advance has been one as well of “ internal power ” as of “ external advantage.” Mr. Buckle’s assertion is, therefore, seen to be not only inconsistent, but also un¬ founded. «
II. Having now proved, as he thinks, that we must look for progress in “ external advantage ”
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
165
only, and not in “ internal power,” our author goes on to show the “superiority of intellectual acquisitions over moral feelings ; ” and first he asserts that all our acquisitions are either “ moral truths” or “intellectual truths,” and that the former are “ stationary,” while the latter are con¬ tinually advancing. It is noticeable that he here deplores the difficulties which arise “ from the loose and careless manner in which ordinary lan¬ guage is employed on subjects that require the greatest nicety and precision.” 1 After giving us this caution, one would naturally expect to find our author very clear and accurate in the choice of terms, and in the statement of propositions ; but, on the contrary, the loose and careless man¬ ner in which he himself employs ordinary lan¬ guage throughout the discussion is quite amazing. In the first place, he makes a verbally unintelligi¬ ble distinction between “ intellectual truths ” and “moral truths.” Scientifically speaking, there can be no such thing as a “ moral truth ; ” for every truth is a proposition, consisting of subject, predicate, and copula ; and is uttered and recog¬ nized by the intellect, not by the “ moral in¬ stinct,” which belongs to the emotional part of our nature. It is the province of intellect to
1 Yol. i. p. 159.
166 Darwinism and Other Essays.
think, of emotion to feel. Mr. Buckle falls into exactly the same error in a singular passage in his second volume, where he says : —
The emotions are as much a part of us as the under¬ standing: they are as truthful ; they are as likely to he right. Though their view is different, it is not capri¬ cious. They obey fixed laws ; they follow an orderly and uniform course ; they run in sequences ; they have their logic and method of inference. 1
All this is either strained metaphor or down¬ right nonsense. If it were true, what would be the use of making any distinction at all between intellect and feeling ? If to feel is to judge, and to experience an emotion is to lay down a prop¬ osition, why not include both under one name? Mr. Buckle is misled by the fact that, in all our mental operations, feeling and thinking are closely united. Our wishes colour our judgments. We are all led, in many cases, to believe that to be true which we wish to be true. Thus emotional states give rise to intellectual states. On the other hand, Mr. Bain lias shown that belief, when active, always leads to volition ; 2 and as volition is the final stage of emotion, we perceive that intel¬ lectual states likewise occasion emotional states.
1 Vol. ii. p. 502.
2 Bain, The Emotions and the Will, pp. 568-598.
Mr. Buckle's Fallacies. 167
But this intimate connection of the two should not lead us to confound the one with the other ; and we fall into a grave error whenever we do so. Once more we repeat, it is the province of emo¬ tion to feel, of the intellect to think and form propositions. Scientifically speaking, therefore, all truths are intellectual ; and there can be no such thing as a “ moral truth.”
But there is another sense in which the expres¬ sion “moral truths ” may be taken. It may mean “truths relative to morality.” Mr. Buckle gener¬ ally uses it in this sense, but he so often con¬ founds “ moral truths ” with “ moral feelings ” that the foregoing remarks were rendered neces¬ sary to a right understanding of his argument.
Our author then declares that the truths which we possess relating to morality have not changed for thousands of years. No, they have not. Neither have “ intellectual truths.” A truth, once established, never changes, cannot change; otherwise it would be no truth, but a falsehood. Take, for example, the law of gravitation : “ All bodies in the universe attract each other with forces directly proportional to dieir masses, and inversely proportional to the squares of their dis¬ tances apart.” We have had no occasion to alter this statement since the time of Newton. It is a
168 Darwinism and Other Essays.
demonstrated truth, and will never be susceptible of the slightest change. The same is the case with the truth, “ It is wrong to kill.” Once rec¬ ognized, this truth can experience no change, for the very reason that it is a truth, and not a false¬ hood. In a word, when a proposition has been once shown to be true it will forever remain so, whether it relates to our moral obligations, or to anything else whatever. There is no ground for Mr. Buckle’s distinction.
Nor would our author be one whit the more justified in saying, as he might say, that the inter¬ pretation put upon “ moral truths ” is unchanging as compared with that put upon “ intellectual truths.” On the contrary, it appears to us that the reverse is the case. When a truth relating to some of the simpler subjects of investigation is once received, its interpretation usually admits of little change. To employ the same example as before, the law of gravitation is received in the same acceptation now as when it was first discov¬ ered. Advancing to the more abstruse sciences, such as physiology, we find that the interpreta¬ tion put upon generally received truths suffers marked variations. The law of organic develop¬ ment has been held by the most eminent scientific thinkers since the beginning of the present cen«
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
169
tuiy ; but, since the embryological discoveries of the Germans, it is held in a form different from that in which it was held before. The followers of Spencer, Lewes, and Darwin do not put the same interpretation upon the law of development that the followers of Lamarck did, forty years ago. Coming now to the very complex subject of morality, we find, unfortunately for Mr. Buckle, that the acceptation in which its propositions are held varies with every phase of civilization. Among the American Indians, so noted for their revengeful dispositions, the obligation not to take life, if recognized, was not so construed as to in¬ clude the miserable object of the fell passion. Among the ancient Jews, the command “Thou shalt not kill ” meant “ Thou shalt not kill Jews ; ” and, from the story of Saul and Agag, we may suppose that the murder of Gentiles was consid¬ ered rather a meritorious act than otherwise. And in general, where the same “ moral truths ” have been received, it has been in as many differ¬ ent ways as there were different kinds of people to receive them. This fact, that the way in which generally received truths are understood varies as the complexity of the sciences to which they be¬ long, results from the obvious circumstance that the more complex a science is, the less we know
170 Darwinism and Other DJssays.
about it. As we know less about moral science than about any other, our opinions, even about those “moral truths ” which are universally ad¬ mitted, are more liable to change than our opin¬ ions about similarly received truths in other mat¬ ters. Mr. Buckle could have, therefore, no ground for asserting that the interpretation put upon “ moral truths ” is unchanging as compared with that put upon “ intellectual truths.”
Our author says, somewhat inconsistently, that “moral truths” receive no additions, and again that they receive fewer additions than “ intellec¬ tual truths.” We shall speedily show that the first of these statements is at variance with fact, and that the second has no logical value, and will not help his argument in the least.
It is not true that “moral truths” have re¬ ceived no additions. It is not true, as Mr. Buckle says, that “ the sole essentials of morals have been known for thousands of years, and not one jot or tittle has been added to them by all the sermons, homilies, and text-books which moralists have been able to produce.” It is not true, as Sir James Mackintosh says, that “ morality ad¬ mits of no discoveries.” It is not true, as Con- dorcet says, that “ la morale de toutes les nations a ete la meme .” It is not true, as Kant says, that
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
171
“ in der Moralphilosophie sind wir nicht weiter gekommen als die AltenF For wliat is Moral Philosophy but the science which is to determine the laws to which our conduct should conform ? And if this is the case, we need only to look into Mr. Buckle’s work itself, to find a system of morality containing truths which only two cen¬ turies ago were not even dreamed of. Take, for example, the moral law that governments shall not interfere with trade. This is as much a moral law as that which forbids stealing : but we find Mr. Buckle reckoning it among the merits of Voltaire, that he was one of the first to perceive the justice of a free system of trade.1 Its justice is even now denied by opponents of reform. This, then, is a case of a “moral truth” which has not been known for thousands of years.
Mr. Buckle may say, however, that he does not use the term “ morality ” in so wide a sense, — that he means by it merely a collection of general rules and precepts, serving as rough guides for daily conduct. Of course, if Mr. Buckle chooses to define his terms to suit himself, he can prove anything. If he defines morality so as to make it include nothing but the precepts known three thousand years ago, and then says that all moral
1 Vol. i. p. 741.
172 Darwinism and Other Essays.
truths now known were known then, he merely asserts that what was known then was known then ; a statement which probably few will be hardy enough to dispute, but which unfortunately leaves the argument just where it was before.
But supposing we accept this narrow definition of morality, what will become of our author’s statement, even then ? He himself quotes, from several authors, passages which show that there was a time when some nations did not acknowl¬ edge the moral law forbidding murder. “ Among some Macedonian tribes, the man who had never slain an enemy was marked by a degrading badge.” 1 And at the present day, among bar¬ barous tribes, as the Dyaks of Borneo, “ a man cannot marry until he has procured a human head ; and he that has several may be distin¬ guished by his proud and lofty bearing, for it constitutes his patent of nobility/’ 2 By calling up these facts, Mr. Buckle destroys his own statement that “ moral truths ” receive no addi¬ tions.
As for his other assertion, — that “ moral truths ” receive fewer additions than “ intellectual
1 Grote’s History of Greece, vol. xi. p. 397, quoted in Buckle, voL L p. 176, note 29.
2 Journal of Asiatic Society , vol. iv. p. 181.
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
173
truths,” — it means simply that fewer discoveries are made in moral science than in all the other sciences put together. It is as if he should say that “ optical truths ” receive fewer additions than “ physical truths.” As we have shown, he is not justified in using the expression “intellectual truths,” so as to exclude from it truths relating to morality, which are recognized by the intellect as much as any others. His statement, there¬ fore, merely compares a part with all the other parts of the whole to which it belongs.
We are quite willing to admit that moral science has not been enriched by as many discoveries as any one of the other sciences. This results from the circumstance that it is far more difficult and complicated than the rest. Our knowledge of morality is less complete than our knowledge of chemistry, for the same reason that our acquaint¬ ance with chemistry is less perfect than our ac¬ quaintance with astronomy. The laws express¬ ing the relations of men to one another are the most recondite of all, and the most liable to ap¬ parent exceptions. We are accordingly longer in ascertaining them.
To sum up : we. have seen that the distinction made by Mr. Buckle between “ intellectual ” and “ moral ” truths is a vague and popular one, and
174 Darwinism and Other Essays.
will not bear a critical analysis. We have throughout, however, used the expression “ moral truths ” as equivalent to “ truths relating to moral subjects,” and the expression “ intellectual truths ” as equivalent to “ truths relating to all other subjects : ” and this is admissible, because it gives tfie meaning intended by the author. We have then shown: first, that intellectual truths are as fixed and unchangeable as moral truths ; secondly, that the interpretation put upon moral truths is even less constant than that put upon intellectual truths ; thirdly, that moral truths receive additions, no less than intellectual truths ; fourthly, that the fact that moral truths receive fewer additions than intellectual truths is of no logical value, because it compares one class of truths with several ; and fifthly, that the cir¬ cumstance that moral science advances with a slower pace than the other sciences shows only that it is more complex than they are, but does not warrant us in assuming that it is radically different from them. Reviewing our conclusions in this compact form, we see that moral truths come under the same category as intellectual truths, throughout. This confirms what we said at the outset, that there is no such difference be¬ tween them as Mr. Buckle supposes, and that
Mr. Buckle’s Fallacies.
175
both should be spoken of together as truths or judgments in distinction from feelings. Mr. Buckle’s argument, then, when laid bare, is as follows : that some truths are constant, while others are not, — which is false ; and that one set of truths receives additions, while another does not, — which is also false.
But this is not all. Our author’s argument is not only untenable, but it is irrelevant to the sub¬ ject in debate. Even if he could establish his point, he would be none the more forward. Startling as this assertion may seem, it is never¬ theless indisputable. For if his reasoning hith¬ erto were valid, it would prove merely this — that our knowledge of some subjects advances, while our knowledge of others does not. But Mr. Buckle’s professed object is to show that feeling as compared with knowledge is of no account as a civilizing force. To what end, then, does he go so far out of his way in giving us this jumble of ill-digested argument to show the “ superiority ” of some intellectual acquisitions over others ? This singular aberration results from his confounding truth with feeling, the intellectual with the emo¬ tional part of our nature. He seems to forget the distinction between knowing in what duty con¬ sists and having the intention to perform it. But
176 Darwinism and Other Essays.
it is altogether one thing to wish to do right, and another thing to know what it is right to do, as many a luckless wight finds out to his cost. Far¬ ther on Mr. Buckle recognizes the distinction clearly enough.
It would, however, be rather unfortunate than otherwise for Mr. Buckle’s main argument if he could succeed in showing that “ the sole essentials of morality have been known for thousands of years.” For if it were true that men knew what was right — that they were acquainted with all the laws to which our conduct ought to conform — in ancient times as well as at the present day, and that they have nevertheless advanced in the practice of morality, we should be obliged to con¬ clude that, as the knowledge has remained station¬ ary, it must have been the development of moral feeling and the increase of good intentions alone which could have occasioned the progress. The contrast is really between moral truths and moral feelings. So that, if Mr. Buckle had succeeded in proving that “ moral knowledge ” does not ad¬ vance, and should at the same time succeed in his attempt to prove that “ moral feeling ” does not improve, he would, if consistent, arrive at the singular result that there has been no improve¬ ment at all in the actions of men.
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies. 177
It is quite a relief, on emerging from this laby¬ rinth of baseless assertion and ill-directed argu¬ ment, to find that our author at last seems to re¬ member his original object, as he sets himself to work really to show the “ superiority ” of knowl¬ edge over feeling as a civilizing agent. His rea¬ soning is here very plausible, and his illustrations drawn from the history of war and religious per¬ secution are well chosen, and appear at first quite convincing. He tells us that good intentions were of no avail in stopping persecution, because perse¬ cutors themselves have generally had the best in¬ tentions. The heathen emperors of Rome, who tor¬ tured Catholics, the Catholic Inquisitors of Spain, who tortured Protestants, all meant well enough, he argues, — they were very often men of the pur¬ est character ; but they did not knoio that it was wrong for them to interfere with the religious con¬ victions of others. So Mr. Buckle does perceive, after all, that our knowledge of our moral obliga¬ tions has increased somewhat! We are no bet¬ ter, he says, than the Inquisitors of old, but we know that religious persecution is wrong, wicked, harmful; while they, in their mistaken zeal, thought it to be right, holy, beneficial. This point he argues admirably, but he does not suc¬ ceed in absolving religious persecutors from all
12
.178
JJarwinism and Other Essays.
charge of selfish passion. Indeed, he elsewhere expresses it as his own opinion that the clergy- have been strongly influenced, in their vindictive attempts to destroy or injure those dissenting from their views, by motives of ambitious policy. We have no doubt that such motives have always been of immense power among this class of men, as well as among other classes. But we will not urge this or any similar objection against Mr. Buckle's grand argument. We will merely call attention to the circumstance that a man’s “ moral feeling,” his “ moral instinct,” his “ conscience,” or whatever any one chooses to call it, is a natural faculty. In other words, ethical emotions, being functions of the nervous svstem, are natural facul- ties. And we have already shown that the nat¬ ural faculties of mankind develop. The refuta¬ tion of Mr. Buckle’s first grand argument carries with it the refutation of the second.
III. It carries with it, likewise, the refutation of the third. For the proposition that civilization is regulated, not by the u stationary agent,” but by intellectual acquirement, can have no value, unless it be proved that moral feeling is the “ sta¬ tionary agent.” But this cannot be proved. On the contrary, it has been shown that our powers, both moral and intellectual, are continually devel-
Mr. Buckle's Fallacies .
179
oping, and that our acquisitions, both moral and intellectual, are constantly increasing. The moral element is, then, no more stationary than the in¬ tellectual ; and thus Mr. Buckle’s third grand ar¬ gument falls to the ground, and with it falls his fundamental law, which is shown to be utterly destitute of any truth whatever.
It may be well to remark, before proceeding further, that rejection of Mr. Buckle’s second law is perfectly compatible with acceptance of his first. There is no inconsistency in saying, on the one hand, that moral feeling is a civilizing agency, and, on the other hand, that the progress of civilization conforms to the successive trans¬ formations of opinion. For the ethical as well as all the other emotions enter largely into every opinion-forming process. Though our emotions do not combine into propositions the ideas which are constituent parts of our beliefs, they do none the less, as Mr. Bain has clearly proved,1 sway the intellect as it performs this operation. The emotions accordingly enter into every act of be¬ lief, and there can be no complete theory of human opinion which leaves them out of account. Thus our acceptance of Mr. Buckle’s first law confirms
1 See the whole of his admirable work on The Emotions and the
Will.
180 Darwinism and Other Essays.
our rejection of his second, and we see, more clearly than ever, that “ the double movement, moral and intellectual, is essential to the very idea of civilization,” and that, without including both elements, there can be no complete theory of progress.
It may likewise be well to remark that a dis¬ cussion of this sort has no immediate bearing on the subject of Christianity. It has been supposed by some persons that Mr. Buckle’s entire argu¬ ment is nothing but a sinister attack upon the Christian religion. We see nothing of the kind in it. Christianity is a system of belief, in which both intellectual and moral forces must co-oper¬ ate ; and a person, while denying the civilizing agency of the moral element, may with perfect consistency maintain the civilizing agency of that set of opinions in the formation of which the moral element has had but a partial share. Our author’s argument, therefore, is not to be con¬ strued into an assault upon Christianity, nor is our own argument to be construed into a defence of it. Confusion necessarily results from mixing questions which should be kept separate.
We come now to Mr. Buckle’s third1 law —
1 On the first page of his second volume, Mr. Buckle places this law second in order, and the law just considered third. But as it is
Mr. Buckle's Fallacies.
181
that scepticism “ has in every department of thought been the invariable preliminary to all the intellectual revolutions through which the human mind has passed,” and that “without it there could be no progress, no change, no civilization.” 1 In examining this proposition, it is needful, at the outset, to have a clear idea of the nature of scepticism, as understood by Mr. Buckle. The word itself has been variously interpreted ; some¬ times in a more general sense, as meaning the absolute denial of all dogmas, theories, and be¬ liefs whatever ; sometimes in a more special sense, as signifying disbelief in the peculiar doctrines of Christianity. It is in neither of these senses that Mr. Buckle uses the word. He defines scepti¬ cism as suspension of judgment, or hesitation in forming or receiving an opinion. A true sceptic, then, would neither believe nor disbelieve any¬ thing at all. He would doubt even his own doubts. History presents but few instances of a consistent and thorough-going sceptic. Pyrrho and Hume will, however, serve sufficiently well as examples. Scepticism is not to be confounded with that philosophy which, not content with
..jnvenient to examine this law in connection with the fourth, we have taken the liberty to altei Mr. Buckle’s arrangement, i Vol. i. p. 328.
182 Darwinism and Other Essays.
doubting, absolutely denies. This might be called negative philosophy, or negativism, in broad dis¬ tinction from positive philosophy, which aims at establishing from incontrovertible data a system of results comprising all that it is in the power of the human mind to know. Negativism and pos¬ itivism, then, constitute two opposite phases of human thought. As examples of negative think¬ ers, 'we have Hobbes, Voltaire, Lessing, and Rousseau ; while as instances of positive thinkers we may cite Bacon, Leibnitz, Newton, and Spen¬ cer. Scepticism is identical with neither of these philosophies, though it has some points in com¬ mon with both. Scepticism, indeed, is not a phi¬ losophy at all; it' is a no-philosophy, — a transi¬ tion state where, robbed of its belief, the mind rests not, but stays unresting, in dreary incerti¬ tude and distressful vacillation, until it finds refuge in belief again.
Bearing in mind this meaning of the word, we can safely proceed to examine the proposition before us. We do not think it altogether prob¬ able that Mr. Buckle would, on mature reflection, lay down this law about scepticism as a univer¬ sal one, operative alike in all stages of progress ; but, as he makes no limitations to it in the course of his work, we must discuss it here in relation
Mr. Buckle's Fallacies. 183
to the three stages of mental evolution, and see whether or not it is alike applicable to all.
We shall find, to begin with, that it is not ap¬ plicable to the theological state. When man first looked upon the wonders of Nature, his untaught imagination gave birth to weird, fantastic shapes innumerable, peopling the air, the streams, the forest, and the mountain-chasm. Just awakened, as it were, to self-consciousness, and feeling his own life thrilling within him, he ascribed that life to everything around him. He looked upon the wide, dark surface of the “ many-sounding sea,” and saw there a mighty, restless, earth-upheaving Power, which refinement afterwards personified, and called Poseidon. Gazing above him on the blue expanse which seemed to encompass the “plain of the earth,” he came to recognize there a Divinity of light and warmth, a Devas, a pater¬ nal Zeus. When the bright clouds flitted along the sky, it was Hermes driving the celestial cat¬ tle to the milking ; when the north-wind arose, cold and blustering, it was Boreas storming in his wrath ; when the stars came out at night, there were countless deities to whom this primitive man made sacred the days of the week. The changes of the seasons, the ceaselessly recurring death and resurrection of Nature, were typified in wild
184 Darwinism and Other Essays.
legends of Jemshid and Zohak, of Osiris and Thammuz, of Hylas and Orpheus. The whole universe was thinking, feeling, and willing. Noth¬ ing was dead or inert ; all things were endowed with life and activity. From this came sacrifices, shrines and temples, oracles, and sacerdotal or¬ ders. It would be difficult to find any traces of scepticism in all this. Belief then reigned alone in the human mind, and doubt found no place there. As long as the phenomenal was as yet harder to comprehend and more difficult to con¬ trol than the unseen and unexplored world that lay beyond it, scepticism was impossible. Not only was it impossible, but it would have been harmful. For the primitive man was barbarous, treacherous, revengeful.1 His selfish instincts
were as yet all in all. His sympathetic and so¬ cial feelings were as yet undeveloped. In such a rude condition it was only the bond of a firmly rooted and wide-spread belief — it was only the ascendency of a priestly and governmental or¬ der, thus secured — which could keep society from being disorganized. Had scepticism been
once let in, religious and political organization would have been weakened, sects and parties would have sprung up prematurely, and the 1 Spencer’s Social Statics, pp. 409-413.
Mr . Buckle's Fallacies.
185
strong check needful to curb the undisciplined passions of men would have been destroyed, civili¬ zation would have stopped, and society could no longer have existed. It was only after centuries of theocratic and monarchic rule — after the pri¬ meval nomadic mode of life had been long aban¬ doned, and agriculture and commerce had in course of time, by mingling men with each other in peaceful relations, called forth social virtues — that scepticism could safely arise. And then it did arise. We find it first showing itself in the states of Greece, where popular despots arose and were overthrown, as at Korinth, Sikyon, and Me- gara ; and where philosophers began to speculate about the first principles of things, as Thales, Xenophanes, and Herakleitos. Thenceforward scepticism increased, until it reached for a time its culmination in the universal doubts of Pyrrho. But it is not in ancient times at all that we are to look for any very prominent manifestation of scepticism. The spirit of doubting and hesitat¬ ing inquiry was of slow growth, and did not at¬ tain to its maturity until monotheism had been established in Europe for more than a thousand years. Not only, therefore, has scepticism not always been essential to progress ; not only have some important changes in human opinion — as
186 Darwinism and Other Essays.
the change from fetishism to polytheism — been accomplished without it ; but also, in the first of the three great periods of civilization it did not arise at all until very late, and was then but a secondary force in the minds of men.
It is in the metaphysical or revolutionary pe¬ riod of modern society, extending from the twelfth century to the present time, that we see the scep¬ tical spirit in full operation. To this stage of human evolution Mr. Buckle’s proposition is ap¬ plicable without any limitations. The applica¬ tion he has himself given us, with great fullness and detail, in the case of England, France, Spain, and Scotland. In the brief space to which we are here restricted, it would be vain to attempt to add to the profuse and happily chosen illustrations contained in those instructive chapters which our author has principally devoted to this portion of his subject. Nowhere else has the revolutionary period of history been so admirably portrayed. Nowhere else can we find a truer, a juster, a pro¬ founder appreciation of the workings of the scep¬ tical spirit. Here we discover no inconsistencies, no errors of statement, vitiating the whole ar¬ gument. Here Mr. Buckle reveals his wonder¬ ful power. Here he draws sure conclusions from well -ascertained data. For there can be no
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
187
shadow of doubt that in the twelfth century the sceptical spirit had begun greatly to increase its power and extend its influence ; that in the six¬ teenth it had become a mighty civilizing force ; and that in the eighteenth it had penetrated all departments of thought. It was this sceptical spirit which gave rise to the conceptualism of Abelard, the infidelity of Vanini, and the heresy of Wyclif. It became, as Mr. Buckle remarks, “ in physics, the precursor of science ; in politics, of liberty ; and in theology, of toleration.” But for the scepticism in his own mind, Luther could not have become the founder of Protestantism ; and but for the scepticism already rife in the minds of others, he could have found no followers. We find scepticism dictating the metaphysics of Descartes and the diplomacy of Richelieu. We find it inciting the English to rebellion against the despotism of the Stuarts, and striving, though vainly, in the wars of the Fronde, to establish po¬ litical liberty in France. It lay at the foundation of the sensationalism of Locke and the idealism of Berkeley, and was itself at last1 organized into an independent system by Hume. It was the opening phase of that negative philosophy which, first receiving definite shape in the deism of Her¬ bert and Bolingbroke, ended in the atheism of
188
Darwinism and Other Essays.
Diderot and Helvetius. It was the parent of the transcendentalism of Kant and Fichte, the physio- philosophic vagaries of Schelling and Caras, the absolutism of Hegel, and the pantheism of Feu¬ erbach. Carried into science, it paved the way for the immortal discoveries of Lavoisier and Bi¬ chat. Wielded by Voltaire, it broke down eccle¬ siastical power in France ; and in the hands of Rousseau swept away the vilest of despotisms by the most fearful of revolutions. It roused the Dutch to cast off the yoke of Spain, sent the Pu¬ ritans to Massachusetts, inspired the Americans in their u Declaration of Independence,” and shaped the fabric of their democratic government. What need of further examples ? It is the scep¬ tical spirit, advocating liberty in politics and tol¬ eration in religion, which has been at the bottom of every change through which humanity has passed in modern times. Mr. Buckle’s law is en¬ tirely applicable to the metaphysical period of civilization, and is the key to the explanation of its phenomena.
But the metaphysical state is not a permanent one. It constitutes a transition from that primi¬ tive belief which was the offspring of man’s early endeavours to compass and explain the Infinite about him, to that new belief which is founded
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies. 189
on a long and thorough investigation into the laws of the natural world. Giving up as hope¬ less all search for the undiscoverable, all striving to know the unknowable, science contents itself with finding out that which lies within our reach. But it was not in the power of man, on first per¬ ceiving the inadequacy and incongruity of his old belief, to pass at once to the new. No one can reject an old system of opinions, which has shaped his thoughts and guided his actions in the past, and then take up a new system, to shape his thoughts and guide his actions in the future, with¬ out going through an intermediate state of pain¬ ful and wearisome doubt. As with the individ¬ ual, so with the race. The sceptical period could not but intervene. It was only after countless attempts to explore the dark and dangerous re¬ gion of the Infinite had all proved futile — it was only after successive theories had all been weighed in the balance, and found wanting — that man could come at last to repose in the calm spirit and sure methods of scientific inquiry. Before this must necessarily have come that tumultuous sea¬ son of doubt and denial, of discord and revolu¬ tion, in which the sceptical spirit reigned su¬ preme. The rottenness of old institutions, forms and dogmas, had to be exposed before they could
190 Darwinism and Other Essays.
be given up. Then the barrenness of doubt had to make itself felt before it could be supplanted by knowledge. It was not until Hume, by carry¬ ing scepticism to its uttermost extent, had shown its unsatisfactory character and. vain results, that the germs of scientific method, implanted by Ba¬ con and Descartes, could develop and bear fruit in the positive philosophy of Comte.
As the metaphysical period is but a transition from the theological to the positive, it only re¬ mains to show that scepticism is peculiar to it, being a transition from belief to knowledge. We have here very few facts to guide us to an induc¬ tive investigation, since the positive era is only now commencing. But, if we consider the state of human thought at the present day on the vari¬ ous subjects of scientific research, we shall find that in the most advanced departments scepticism no longer finds a place. Astronomers long ago gave over doubting and asking questions of each other about the fact of the earth’s motion. It was the scepticism of Copernicus and Galileo that overthrew the old notion of its fixity ; but that scepticism speedily issued in positive certainty. Whether a man believes or disbelieves in the mo¬ tion of the earth is now a mere matter of knowl¬ edge or ignorance. There is no place for doubt,
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
191
no room for difference of opinion. So with all demonstrated facts and laws. A truth once estab¬ lished remains forever a truth. We cannot choose but accept it. And science, as a body of estab¬ lished truths, cannot admit of scepticism.
The past history of science confirms, and its future progress must also confirm, this conclusion, which might be drawn at once from the very na¬ ture of thought. When we know as much about the most complex subjects as we now know about the most simple ones, there can be no such thing as doubt at all. “ The mystic drama will be sunny clear, and all Nature’s processes will be visible to man, as a divine Effluence and Life.” 1
We have seen that in the theological stage of human development scepticism did not exist ; that in the metaphysical stage it arose and ex¬ tended its sway over every department of thought ; but that in the positive stage it is destined to decrease, until it exercises no perceptible influ¬ ence. Corresponding to these three stages of evo¬ lution are the three predominant mental states of belief, doubt, and knowledge. The three great periods into which Comte has divided the history of civilization might be named with perfect accm racy the period of credulity, the period of scep- 1 Lewes’ Seaside Studies , p. 219.
192 Darwinism and Other Essays .
ticismv and the period of science. Mr. Buckle’s law lias this much of truth in it, that the scepti¬ cal age is the necessary forerunner of the scien¬ tific ; that in the race, no less than in the indi¬ vidual, doubt must intervene between belief and knowledge.
We shall now briefly consider Mr. Buckle’s fourth fundamental law, — that “ the great enemy of civilization is the protective spirit;” or in other words, “ the notion that society cannot prosper, unless the affairs of life are watched over and pro¬ tected, at nearly every turn, by the state and the church, — the state teaching men what they are to do, and the church teaching them what they are to believe.” 1 Here, as in the foregoing case, Mr. Buckle errs only in stating his law without any limitations, as if it were a universal one. It can¬ not be questioned that for several centuries the protective spirit has been extremely prejudicial to progress. The notion that government ought to control the actions and beliefs of men has, when # carried into politics, furnished a plea for despot¬ ism, and when carried into theology it has been productive of intolerance and persecution. Mr. Buckle devotes a large portion of his work to the establishment and elucidation of this fact. He
1 Vol. ii. p. 1.
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies. 193
shows that government and legislation are incom¬ petent to direct the affairs of men. He shows that politicians have injured trade by interfering with it ; that legislators have caused smuggling, with its attendant crimes ; that they have also in¬ creased hypocrisy and perjury ; and that, by their laws against usury, they have but heightened the evil they sought to prevent. He shows that the protection of literature by Augustus, by Leo X., and by Louis XIV. caused literature to decline. In each case “there was much apparent splen¬ dour, immediately succeeded by sudden ruin.” 1 The system of protecting literature was carried to its fullest extent by Louis XIV., and nowhere can we see more clearly the baneful effects of such a course. For the scientific progress which had been so marked in the reign of Louis XIII. stopped forthwith. Descartes and Pascal, Fer¬ mat, Gassendi, Riolan, Joubert, and Par6 died, and left no successors. Nothing was done in as^ tronomy, in chemistry, in physiology, or in bot-
anv. Of mechanical inventions there were none. %/
Even the fine arts soon began to decline ; and in¬ tellectual decay, the natural consequence of pat¬ ronage, was seen in every department of thought So in many other cases we see the damage eiv
1 Vol. i. p. 647.
13
194 Darwinism and Other Essays .
tailed by the interference of government. Laws fixing a minimum of wages have caused thousands of labourers to be turned out of employment.1 Laws regulating marriage have ended in increas¬ ing the number of illegitimate births.2 Laws for the establishment of sanitary supervision have spread disease, and lengthened out the mortality returns.3 Laws for the support of colonial gov¬ ernment have given rise to the most barbarous tyranny.4 Trade-union projects, economic exper¬ iments, poor - laws, education - laws, church - laws, currency-laws, have all turned out to be failures, and in many cases have inflicted upon society pos¬ itive misery, instead of conferring upon it positive benefit. Paradoxical as all this may at first seem, it is but a statement of historic facts.5 Modern history is filled with similar examples, all show¬ ing the utter incompetence of government to reg¬ ulate the affairs of men. The duty of govern¬ ment is to insure the fulfilment of the first prin¬ ciple of morality, — that no man shall infringe
1 As in the ease of the Spitalfields weavers in 1773.
2 As in Bavaria.
3 As in England, some years ago, during the cholera pestilence.
4 As in the case of the East India Company, and of the American Colonies before the Revolution.
5 See the evidence in Spencer’s Social Statics, pp. 195-406, and in Mr. Buckle’s volumes.
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
195
upon another’s sphere of action. If it but per¬ forms its duty, it will do well. But when it goes to making plans for securing the “ greatest hap¬ piness to the greatest number,” it usually con¬ trives to end up by securing the least happiness to every one, having failed in its projects, and neglected its proper function meanwhile.
But on looking back and contemplating society in its primitive state, we shall arrive at very dif¬ ferent conclusions. We shall perceive that the protective spirit, far from being prejudicial to progress, was one of its most essential conditions. Indeed, on calling to mind all those centuries of primeval history, when there was nothing to counteract the workings of the protective spirit, and when all things conspired to strengthen its power, one might reasonably ask at the outset why it was that under such circumstances the human race made such sure and unceasing prog¬ ress ; why it was that it progressed at all ; why it was that it did not even retrograde. If the protective spirit is of necessity in every age the enemy of civilization, how did it happen that we ever emerged from a state of barbarism ? How comes it that we have not remained uncivilized, mere nomads, or at best diggers of earth, living from hand to mouth, little better, on the whole,
196 Darwinism and Other Essays.
than a race of chimpanzees? For Mr. Buckle’s own facts show that the protective spirit has never been so strong as in the early ages of his¬ tory. “ In India, slavery, abject, eternal slavery, was the natural state of the great body of the people.”1 The “vast social system” of Egypt was “ based on despotism ” and “ upheld by cru¬ elty.”2 In Mexico and Peru, “there was the same utter absence of anything approaching to the democratic spirit : there was the same des¬ potic power on the part of the upper classes, and the same contemptible subservience on the part of the lower.” 3 Again, in Babylonia, Assyria, and Persia, despotism was the only form of gov¬ ernment ever experienced or thought of.4 We have evidence of the same in the case of China and Japan. We find, moreover, that in barba¬ rous countries, like Ashantee, despotism univer¬ sally prevails. Going still lower, still farther back, we see nomadic tribes always in subjec¬ tion to the will of the strong man. Now, for many thousands of years,5 civilization was advanc-
iVol.i. p. 73. 2 Ibid. p. 83.
3 Ibid. p. 101. In Peru, according to Mr. Prescott, the people could not even change their dress without a license from their rulers!
4 The passage in Herodotus, b. iii. c. 80-83, is well known to have no historical value ; see the remarks of Rawlinson, vol. ii. p. 393.
6 Bunsen’s Egypt, passim. Darwin, Origin of Species, p. 23.
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
197
ing in Egypt ; Babylonia, Persia, and many oi the other nations above-mentioned made consider¬ able progress; India even arrived at a high state of refinement, as is witnessed by her extensive and magnificent literature. All this shows that in early times progress did co-exist with the strongest possible manifestation of the protective spirit ; and when we consider that there was nothing then to counterbalance the workings of the protective spirit, that all physical causes contributed to fa¬ vour its development,1 and that scepticism, the only thing that could have weakened it, did not exist, we may suspect that the protective spirit could not have been so detrimental to the interests of civilization as Mr. Buckle supposes.
On looking at the matter deductively, it will even appear that without the protective spirit there could have been no civilization. For what but the most absolute despotism and the pro- foundest awe of the ruling power could ever have kept together the communities of the primitive men, with their cannibalism, their bloodthirsti¬ ness, their dishonesty and treachery ? As long as men could not live together peaceably, as long as they neither knew nor practised the first prin¬ ciples of morality, there must have been some
1 Buckle, vol. i. chap. 2.
198 Darwinism and Other Essays.
power sufficient to keep society from falling to pieces, or there could have been no progress at all ; and the only such power conceivable was that total subjection of the many to the few which constitutes the protective system of gov¬ ernment. As long as Persians mutilated each other, and Carthaginians burned their children, and Chinamen beat to death their wives ; as long as Hindus practised thuggee, and Spartans practised stealing, and Ionians practised piracy, there must have been “ Drakonian statutes writ¬ ten in blood,” there must have been absolute des¬ potism. Without this, society would have become a parcel of units. Imagine a republic of Tatars, a constitutional democracy of Vandals, and de¬ velop the consequences !
Thus in the primitive stage of civilization the protective spirit played the same part as universal credulity in preserving society from disintegration. Thus it becomes more evident than before that scepticism would have been harmful at that early period. It would have weakened the protective spirit and destroyed allegiance, besides causing religious dissension. Nothing of the kind was then admissible. The selfish and brutal feelings of men had to be restrained, and their social and humane feelings called forth, before the sceptical
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
199
spirit could safely commence its inroads upon the spirit of universal belief and universal submission. The protective spirit was therefore in early times the great safeguard of civilization and the all¬ essential condition of progress ; and this very important restriction must be placed upon Mr. Buckle’s law.
On looking at the subject in its broadest and most general aspect, we shall arrive at the conclu¬ sion that all systems of belief and all great insti¬ tutions are beneficial when they first spring up. Each has its functions to perform, and the more carefully we study history the more deeply shall we be convinced that it performs it in the best possible manner. But after these beliefs and in¬ stitutions have done their work and are no longer needed, after they have been stereotyped in life¬ less forms, then it is that they become produc¬ tive of evil and are prejudicial to the interests of mankind.
With the help of these considerations, we can more completely understand Mr. Buckle’s two propositions. With the restrictions here placed upon them, they might be stated thus : in the revolutionary period of modern society, scepticism has been uniformly essential to progress, and the protective spirit has been uniformly detrimental
200 Darwinism and Other Essays.
to it. This is strictly true, and needs no qualifi¬ cation.
In his second volume our author develops an¬ other fundamental law, which we have not time to consider here. It may be stated thus : in a country where the deductive method of investiga¬ tion prevails, there will be a much greater differ¬ ence in the intellectual and social condition of the upper and lower classes than in a country where the inductive method is the prevalent one. This may be illustrated by comparing Greece, Ger¬ many, and Scotland, on the one hand, with Eng¬ land and the United States on the other. The application of this law in the case of Germany and America is to be contained in the third vol¬ ume.
In conclusion, we must say a few words in re¬ gard to Mr. Buckle's application of his four great laws. The application of the first runs through the whole work. In every chapter we are met by numberless illustrations of the law that the prog¬ ress of humanity conforms to the progress of opinion. It is different, however, in the case of the second law which we have discussed. Mr. Buckle appears entirely to forget his theoretical neglect of the moral element in our nature, and to take it practically into account as much as any
/
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
201
one else. In his delineations of wars, civil revolu¬ tions, and especially of religious persecutions, he seems to believe in spite of himself that “ moral feelings ” do exercise as much power over men as “intellectual acquisitions;” and that the effects produced by the former are quite as lasting as those produced by the latter. He repeatedly rec¬ ognizes the fact that our desires and impulses in¬ fluence us strongly in the acceptance and defence of opinions. In speaking of the Scotch clergy, he attributes their tyrannical enforcement of su¬ perstitious notions to an inordinate desire for power, not to a mistaken interest in the welfare of others. After noticing the profound reverence of the Scotch people for their clergy, he observes : “ It is not surprising that the clergy, who at no period and in no nation have been remarkable for their meekness, or for a want of confidence in themselves, should, under circumstances so emi¬ nently favourable to their pretensions, have been somewhat elated, and should have claimed an authority even greater than that which was con¬ ceded to them. ... It was generally believed that whoever gainsaid the clergy would be visited, not only with temporal penalties, but also with spir¬ itual ones. For such a crime, there was punish¬ ment here, and there was punishment hereafter.
202 Darwinism and Other Essays.
The preachers willingly fostered a delusion hy ivhich they benefited. . . . They did not scruple to affirm that, by their censures, they could open and shut the kingdom of heaven. . . . The clergy, intoxicated by the possession of power, reached to such a pitch of arrogance that they did not scruple to declare that whoever respected Christ was bound, on that very account, to respect them. . . . Such was their conceit, and so greedy were they after applause, that they would not allow even a stranger to remain in their parish, unless he, too, came to listen to what they chose to say. . . . How they laboured to corrupt the national intellect , and how successful they were in that base vocation, has been hitherto known to no modern reader.” 1 He also tells us that the Scotch clergy used “ means of intimidation,” be¬ cause, being “ perfect masters of their own art,” they well knew that “ by increasing the appre¬ hensions to which the ignorance and timidity of men make them too liable ” they would also “in¬ crease their eagerness to fly for support to their spiritual advisers.” 2
All this is very significant. It shows that Mr. Buckle is unable to escape from recognizing the
1 Vol. ii. pp. 344, 347, 348, 357, 365.
2 Ibid. pp. 366, 384.
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies .
203
enormous influence of feeling in leading to belief and action. After labouring to show that perse¬ cutors are actuated only by mistaken benevolence, he here declares that the tyrannical and intolerant acts of the Scotch clergy were dictated by cun¬ ning selfishness and long-sighted craft. We think that he here commits almost as great an error as before, though in the opposite direction, by at¬ tributing too much to the selfish desires of these men, and by taking too little account of their good, but mistaken, intentions. There is glaring inconsistency in this : but when a man lays down a “ law ” so incredibly absurd as the one in ques¬ tion, we must expect to find him inconsistent in its application.
But Mr. Buckle devotes by far the largest por¬ tion of his work, thus far, to the illustration of his third and fourth laws. As he treats only of the revolutionary period, his illustrations are all ap¬ propriate and forcible. We lack words to express our admiration of these profound and instructive chapters. The inquiry into the history of the intellect in England, France, Spain, and Scotland shows an extent of learning and a depth of thought unsurpassed, so far as we know, in historical liter¬ ature. Our author traces the rise of scepticism and the decline of the royal power in England,
204 Darwinism and Other Essays.
the workings of the protective spirit in England and France, the causes, remote and proximate, of the French Revolution, all with the most consum¬ mate skill. In the case of Spain, he sets before us in vivid colours the utter impotence of govern¬ ment to direct social progress. He describes in bold outlines the course of philosophic investiga¬ tion among the Scotch, and the influence of their habits of thought upon their general condition. Everywhere, in this part of the work, we see the
touches of a master: everywhere we find some-
' */
thing to instruct and entertain. Had Mr. Buckle written nothing more, these chapters alone would suffice to make his name immortal. Considered merely as historic pictures they rival anything in Gibbon or Grote.
We have not criticized at length Mr. Buckle’s first law, because we have no restrictions to place upon it, and because it may be found demons¬ trated, as completely as possible, in Mr. Buckle’s own work. As the result of our examination into his other laws, we have found that the second contains no truth whatever, being supported by a tangled chain of sophisms, every link in which is unsound ; but that the third and fourth are strictly true, if limited to the period of which Mr. Buckle treats. The first law did not originate with him,
Mr. Buckle s Fallacies.
205
and the second he has failed to establish ; but the third and fourth may take their places as impor¬ tant additions to our knowledge of human history. This is the lasting service which Mr. Buckle has already rendered to science.
With respect to the tendency of Mr. Buckle’s work, an unprejudiced mind can have but one opinion. It is calculated to awaken independent thought, and to diffuse a spirit of scientific in¬ quiry. Written in an easy and elegant style, it will be read with pleasure by many who would not otherwise have the patience to go through with the subjects of which it treats. Thus, grand and startling in its views, impressive and charm¬ ing in its eloquence, it cannot fail to arouse many a slumbering mind to intellectual effort. Such has its tendency already been, and such it will continue to be. Indeed, with Mr. Buckle’s dili¬ gence, his honesty, his freedom of thought, his bold outspokenness, his hearty admiration for whatever is good and great in man, the tendency of his work could not well be otherwise. All these are qualities which will be remembered when his inaccuracies and errors, however great, shall be forgotten. And whatever may be thought about the correctness or incorrectness of Mr.
206 Darwinism and Other Essays.
Buckle’s opinions, the world cannot be long in coming to the conclusion that his “ History of Civilization in England ” is a great and noble book, written by a great and noble man.
September, 1861.
XL
POSTSCRIPT ON MR. BUCKLE.1
The pilgrimage of an “ infidel ” to Mount Sinai and the tomb of Christ affords a suggestive theme for meditation. It is with no disparaging intent that we use the ,vague epithet “ infidel,” for Mr. Stuart-Glennie is himself most explicit in assur¬ ing us that neither with Christianity nor with what he calls “ Christianism ” does he acknowl¬ edge any fellowship or alliance. By Christianity he means “ that great historical system which culminated in the philosophy of Scholasticism, the religion of Catholicism, and the polity of Feu¬ dalism ; ” and by Christianism he means “ that historical theory which represents Jesus of Naza¬ reth as a supernatural being, who came on earth for the good of mankind, was put to death, and rose again to sit on the right hand of God.” The historical system Mr. Stuart-Glennie perceives to
1 Pilgrim Memories ; or, Travel and Discussion in the Birth - Countries of Christianity with the late Henry Thomas Buckle. By
John S. Stuart-Glennie, M. A. New York: D. Appleton and Co. 1875.
208 Darwinism and Other Essays.
have come to an end, and the historical theory he has learned to regard as antiquated and unsound, and he therefore frankly declares himself an op¬ ponent of Christianity, and stigmatizes as dishon¬ est all description of the Christian religion as a morality, or sentiment, or ethical impulse. With the same frankness he expresses himself about beliefs which u Christianism ” has always held dear, in language, and still more in a tone, calcu¬ lated to exasperate the Christian world to the last degree, so that a leading orthodox reviewer has been led to recognize in him the “ fool ” de¬ scribed by the Psalmist who has “ said in his heart that there is no God.” This is, however, inaccurate, for Mr. Stuart-Glennie is certainly no atheist. It is the very purity and sensitiveness of his theistic instinct that leads him, like Theo¬ dore Parker, to condemn as degrading much that still finds a place in popular theology. One might, indeed, even plausibly question the pro¬ priety of Mr. Stuart-Glennie classifying himself as an anti-Christian, were it not that he is so ex- plicit in defining what he rejects as Christianity. But, in truth, such questions of nomenclature are idle, for “ Christian ” is a word of such wide and vague connotations that, however well adapted kt may be for various religious uses, it possesses
Postscript on Mr. Buckle. 209
hardly more defining value than such a word as “ philosophical ; ” and whether a given set of opin¬ ions can be grouped under such rubric or not has become a point hardly worth arguing.
While mainly a personal narrative, this book of “ Pilgrim Memories ” keeps certain ulterior ends in view. The author has projected, and in part executed, an extensive series of works to be entitled “ The Modern Revolution,” in which noth¬ ing less is aimed at than the establishment of a new law of history, a new speculative basis for religion, and a new point of departure for dra¬ matic art. The new law of history and the new speculative basis for religion we are to seek in the conception of historic development as “ a cer¬ tain Change, and Process of Change, in men’s no¬ tions of the Causes of Change.” One object of the present volume is to show how this concep¬ tion took shape in the author’s mind in the course of his journeyings and discussions with Mr. Buckle. By the Gulf of Ezion-Gebir, “ walking or riding along a shell- and coral-covered strand : on our right the sea, red with the coralline for¬ ests of its depths, and with a margin so bright and clear that, as we rode, we saw all its gem¬ like pavement ; on our left sandstone precipices
of the most magnificently-varied hues,” — amid
14
210 Darwinism and Other Essays.
this strangely beautiful scene we enter upon quite a Platonic dialogue, in which the author seeks to expound his new conception of causation, while Mr. Buckle occasionally interposes with “I do not follow you, I confess,” or “That seems philo¬ sophical enough,” quite after the manner of the cfiaLvtTcu or ovk €/xoiye SoKct of Sokrates and his in¬ terlocutors. This long conversation, or series of conversations, is perhaps the most interesting por¬ tion of the book. Yet Mr. Buckle evidently does not get a thorough hold of what Mr. Stuart-Glen- nie means by defining causation as involving “not merely the conception of Uniformity of Sequence,” but also that of “ Mutuality of Coexistence, or Mutual Determination ; ” and we must confess that to us also his meaning seems by no means distinctly set forth or adequately elucidated. It is to be hoped that in future volumes this point will be thoroughly cleared up, for we are told that the “ Change in our conceptions of the Causes of Change,” which the author has discovered to be the “ Ultimate Law of History,” is neither more nor less than “ an advance from the conception of One-sided Determination to that of Mutual De¬ termination.” That this statement is fraught with meaning for Mr. Stuart- Glennie there can be no doubt ; he recurs to it again and again, as if
Postscript on Mr. Buckle. 211
it were a sort of talismanic formula for the solu¬ tion of all manner of problems, psychological and historical. But it is just one of those formulas, like Mr. Spencer’s famous law of the change from incoherent homogeneity to coherent heterogeneity, that needs to be charged with significance by means of copious preliminary explanation in or¬ der to convey any sense at all to the mind of the reader.
To the many readers who, some twenty years since, were interested in what then bid fair to be the “ biggest of big books,” the most attractive pages in Mr. Stuart-Glennie’s volume will be those which give us glimpses of the personal pe¬ culiarities of Mr. Buckle. The sad story of Mr. Buckle’s fruitless journey in quest of health, the rapid decay of his strength, and his untimely death at Damascus has long been generally known, but it acquires fresh interest from the fuller ac¬ count now given by his fellow- pilgrim. Few would now rate the value of Mr. Buckle’s work, or the loss to science from his premature end, so highly as they were commonly rated at the time. Yet, as a fresh instance of how life is short while art is long, of how the world passes away from us while yet we are stammering over the alpha¬ bet of its mysteries, there is something infinitely
212 Darwinism and Other Essays.
pathetic in the cry which went up from the ex¬ hausted and fever-stricken traveller : “ My book, my book ! I shall never finish my book ! ” The pathos is not diminished, but perhaps rather deep¬ ened, by the reflection that the book possessed no such transcendent value as its author ascribed to it, and that in all probability the strange irony of fate, had it granted to Mr. Buckle the long life of a Carlyle or a Humboldt, would only have per¬ mitted him to survive his own reputation as a leader in the world of thought. It is seldom that so brilliant a success as Mr. Buckle’s has been even temporarily achieved by such superficial thinking and such slender scholarship. The im¬ mense array of authors cited in his book bears witness to the extent of his reading, but the loose, indiscriminate way in which they are cited shows equally how uncritical and desultory his reading was. One may ascribe this looseness to the na¬ tive impatience of temperament illustrated in his disposing of Gibbon and Hallam in ten days ; but certainly his solitary education and solitary habits of study could do little towards curing the fault. One reason why the scholarship of university- bred men is in the main so far superior to that of men who have been taught at home is that the former are regularly forced, by continual contact
Postscript on Mr. Buckle. 213
and rivalry with fellow-students, into habits of self-restraint and self-criticism in reaching con¬ clusions which only the rarest innate virtues of intellect can enable the latter now and then, in spite of their solitude, to acquire. It is but once or twice in an age that the home-taught student can receive the stimulus to patient sagacity that was afforded in the cases of Grote and Mill. The kind of unceasing criticism which university-life affords the best means of securing is in most cases indispensable. Less effective, because less direct and constant, but still very valuable, is the disci¬ pline that is gained by early and frequent author¬ ship, where a writer is so constituted as to be able to profit alike by fair and unfair public criticism. That there may be men of genius with such marked native qualities of caution and vigilance as to enable them partially to dispense with such educational aids we do not deny ; but Mr. Buckle was not one of these. He began life with his full share of the “ original sin ” of hasty generaliza¬ tion ; and nothing in his circumstances tended to check or control this disposition until, at an age when one’s mental habits are usually pretty well ingrained, he appeared before the world with the first instalment of his able and stimulating but crude and hastily-wrought book.
214 Darwinism and Other Essays.
Not only did Mr. Buckle's impatient and un¬ critical habit prevent his vast reading from re¬ sulting in sound scholarship, but his lack of sub¬ tlety and precision were so marked as to stamp all his thinking with the character of shallowness. He seized readily upon the broader and vaguer distinctions among things, the force of which the ordinary reader feels most strongly and with least mental effort, and of such raw material, without further analysis, and without suspecting the need for further analysis, he constructed his historical theories. To this mode of proceeding, aided by his warmth of temperament and the lavish pro¬ fusion of his illustrations, he undoubtedly owed the great though ephemeral success which his book attained. The average reader is much sooner stimulated by generalizations that are broad and indistinct than by such as are subtle and precise ; and if we stop to consider why Mr. Buckle’s name has been sometimes associated with those of men so far beyond his calibre as Mill and Darwin, we may see the reason in the fact that Mr. Buckle could be entirely grasped by many of those very admirers of the latter writers who least appreciate or fathom their finest and deepest mental quali¬ ties. But this essentially superficial character of Mr. Buckle’s thought is shown not onty in his ob-
Postscript on Mr. Buckle. 215
tuseness to subtle distinctions, but even more con¬ spicuously in his utter failure to seize upon any deeply significant but previously hidden relations among facts, in the work which he put forth as the “ Novum Organum ” of historical science.
If we contrast his book with some of the really great books which were contemporary with it, such as Mr. Darwin’s “ Origin of Species,” Mr. Spencer’s “ Principles of Psychology,” or Sir Henry Maine’s “Ancient Law,” the difference is striking enough. Each of these works set forth old facts in new and hitherto unsuspected connec¬ tions, and in so doing enunciated thoughts which have quite changed the aspect of the questions with which they deal. There is not a naturalist in either continent to-day whose most specific in¬ quiries do not bear some more or less conscious reference to what is known as “ the Darwinian theory.” The time-honoured contest represented by Locke and Leibnitz, or by Hume and Kant, is beginning to take a new point of departure, owing to Mr. Spencer’s suggestion of the acquire¬ ment of mental faculties through inheritance and slow variation ; and Sir Henry Maine’s lucid ex¬ position of early ideas regarding contract, prop¬ erty, and family relationship obliges us to look at all the phenomena of society from an altered
216
Darwinism and Other Essays.
standpoint. But, in marked contrast with works of this kind, we find in Mr. Buckle’s book sundry commonplace reflections of quite limited value or applicability, such as the statements that scepti¬ cism is favourable to progress, or that over-legis¬ lation is detrimental to society. No doubt such commonplaces might be so treated as to acquire the practical value of new contributions to his¬ tory. But to treat them so requires subtle analy¬ sis of the facts generalized, and all that Mr. Buckle did was to collect miscellaneous evidences for the statements in their rough, ready-made form. Of generalizations that go below the sur¬ face of things, such as Comte’s suggestive though indefensible “ Law of the Three Stages,” we find none in Mr. Buckle. The only attempt at such an analytic theory is the generalization concern¬ ing the moral and intellectual factors in social progress, wherein Mr. Buckle’s looseness and fu¬ tile vagueness of thought is shown perhaps more forcibly than anywhere else in his writings. It is not of such stuff as this that a science of historic phenomena can be wrought.
In Mr. Stuart-Glennie’s reminiscences, which seem to be most carefully and honestly reported, these characteristics of Mr. Buckle — his warm, impatient temperament and his lack of mental
Postscript on Mr. Buckle. 217
subtlety or deep penetration — are continually brought to our notice ; and all the more forcibly because of the absence of any such intent on the part of the fellow-pilgrim to whom we owe these interesting notes of discussion. To examine the details of these conversations would carry us be¬ yond our limits, and would hardly be justified by their intrinsic importance. One little point we must note as characteristic, with regard to Mr. Buckle’s temperament as a historian. While Mr. Stuart-Glennie seems to have his whole soul stirred within him by the historic associations clustering about the places visited, and is moved to reflec¬ tions always interesting and often suggestive, Mr. Buckle, on the other hand, though sufficiently alive to the beauties of nature, seems quite ob¬ livious to historic memories. At the sepulchre of Christ his thoughts were mainly on political economy, “ the state of society and the habits of the people.” In such trivial details some light is thrown, perhaps, on that lack of intellectual sym¬ pathy with the past which was one of Mr. Buckle’s most notable defects as a historian.
But with all this intellectual narrowness and looseness of texture, the narrative gives one a very pleasant impression of Mr. Buckle person¬ ally, and, furthermore, enables one to comprehend
218 Darwinism and Other Essays.
bow, with such slight qualifications, he should have become so interesting to the world. One leaves Mr. Stuart-Glennie’s book with the regret experienced on parting with intelligent and kindly companions. As we close it and lay it aside, we feel that yet another charming moment of our reading-life has gone to be numbered with the things of the past.
March , 1876.
XII.
THE RACES OF THE DANUBE.
In the famous Eastern Question, which so long has disturbed the peace of Europe, may be noted two .aspects of a process which, under great va¬ riety of conditions, has been going on over Eu¬ ropean territory ever since the dawn of authentic history. The formation of a nationality — that is, of a community of men sufficiently connected in interests and disciplined in social habits to live together peacefully under laws of their own mak¬ ing — has been the leading aspect of this pro¬ cess, in which the work of civilization has hitherto largely consisted. But along with this, as a cor¬ relative aspect, has gone the pressure exerted against the community by an external mass of undisciplined barbarism, ever on the alert to break over the fluctuating barrier that has warded it off from the growing civilization, ever threat¬ ening to undo the costly work which this has accomplished. Though the enemy has at times appeared in the shape of unmitigated tribal bar-
220 Darwinism and Other Essays.
barism, — as in the invasion of Huns in the fifth century and of Mongols in the thirteenth, — and at other times in the shape of an inferior type of civilization, as exemplified by the Arabs and Turks, the principle involved has always been the same. In every case the stake has been the continuance of the higher civilization, though the amount of risk has greatly varied, and in recent centuries has come to be very slight. At the pres¬ ent day the military strength of mankind is al¬ most entirely monopolized by the higher civili¬ zation, and it is no longer in danger of being overwhelmed by external violence. But when the Greeks confronted a social organization of inferior type at Marathon and at Salamis, the danger was considerable ; and in pre-historic times it may well have happened more than once that some germ of a progressive polity has been swept away in a torrent of conquering barbarism.
Until the rise of the Roman power the chief military business of the cultivated community had been to drive off the barbarian, to slaughter him, or reduce him to slavery ; but the more profound policy of Rome transformed him, whenever it was possible, into a citizen, and enlisted his fighting power on the side of progress. From the coi^uest of Spain by Scipio to the subjugation of Central
221
The Races of the Danube.
Germany by Charles the Great, this is the most conspicuous feature of Roman history. The area of stable nationality in Europe was continually enlarged, and the frontier to be defended against wild tribes was gradually shortened and pushed eastward to the Lower Danube. In the time of Marius, the Gaul and the German were enemies who might possibly undo all the good work that had been begun. But the Gaul very quickly be¬ came a thorough Roman in his habits and inter¬ ests, forgetting even his native language ; and the German tribes, as they acquired a foothold, one after another, within the limits of the Empire, became so far assimilated that the transformation of the Roman structure effected by them was in no respect, not even in a political sense, an over¬ throw.
In the turbulent period of the fifth century, when the debatable frontier was still at the Rhine and Upper Danube, a terrible foe appeared in Attila, with his horde of savage Huns ; and it was then mainly by the prowess of Gauls and Germans, in the memorable battle of Chalons, that the security of European civilization was decisively guaranteed. So formidable a danger has perhaps never since menaced Christendom, though Gibbon reckoned the teaching of the
222 Darwinism and Other Essays.
Koran in Oxford as one of the consequences that might have ensued had Charles the Hammer been overthrown at Tours by the Arabs. Under the grandson of this doughty hero — Charles the Great — the entire strength of Germany became enlisted in the service of the Christianized Em¬ pire, «md among the resnlts of this were the con¬ version of the newly-arriving Magyars, Poles, and Bohemians, and the conquest of Prussia by the Teutonic knights. By the thirteenth century the fabric of European civilization had become so solid that a barbaric power not inferior to Attila’s was hardly able to make any impression upon it. Batu, with his fifteen hundred thousand Mongols, gained a victory at Liegnitz in 1241, such as Attila had fought for in vain at Chalons ; but it came some centuries too late, for the contest be¬ tween stable nationality and nomadic barbarism was by this time settled forever. The most the greasy Mongol could accomplish was to check for a few generations the growth of a national life among the Slavic tribes of Russia.
But though Chalons and Tours demonstrated that Christian civilization could hold its own, whether against the barbarian or the infidel, the latter nevertheless twice succeeded in marking serious encroachments on Roman territory.
223
The Races of the Danube.
The first great wave of Mohammedan invasion not only swept away the provinces south of the Mediterranean, but overwhelmed the greater part of Spain, and cut it away from the Empire for several centuries. The disastrous effect of this long isolation upon the future history of Spain lias been often remarked, and if thoroughly treated would make an interesting study. Yet the contributions of the Mohammedan conquerors to the work of human culture, which were by no means insignificant, may perhaps be thought to have afforded some compensation for the harm done. Spain is the only instance of a country once thoroughly infused with Roman civilization which has been actually severed from the Empire ; and even here the severance, though of long dura¬ tion, was but partial and temporary. After a struggle of nearly eight centuries, the higher form of social organization triumphed over the lower, and the usurping race was expelled.
Contemporaneously with this final rescue of Spanish territory, the second great wave of Mo¬ hammedan invasion overflowed the remnants of the Byzantine Empire, and seemed for a while to threaten the security of Europe. In this second invasion, conducted by Turks, there was much more of barbarism than in the older invasion of
224 Darwinism and Other Essays.
the Arabs, and after allowing for all possible mit¬ igating considerations, it seems, difficult to regard the conquest of Constantinople and the territory south of the Danube as anything but a great ca¬ lamity. How much or how little capacity for renovation, under the influence of modern ideas, may have been latent in the Byzantine Empire, we now shall never know. But, far as it had sunk, politically and socially, toward the Asiatic type of a community, its regeneration could hardly have been as hopeless an affair as is that of its Ottoman successor. In such a society as that of the Turks there is, indeed, nothing to re¬ generate, but the work of civilization in the Eu¬ ropean sense, if it is to be done at all, must be begun from the beginning. The very germs of constitutionalism, of legality, of government by discussion, are wanting there as they have never been wanting in any European community in the worst of times. This has been the essential vice of all the Mussulman civilizations. Their theocratic type of constitution crushes out all flexibility of mind or individuality of character, and quenches all desire of change. For this reason they have invariably failed, in the long run, when brought into competition with the more mobile societies of Europe ; and for this reason, in spite of the ro*
225
The Races of the Danube .
mantic splendour and the scientific achievements which immortalize the memory of Bagdad and Cordova, we must be glad that they have failed.
There has been neither high romance nor use¬ ful performance of any sort to reconcile one to the unrighteous dominion which a tribe of Mus¬ sulman Tatars has exercised for four centuries over some of the fairest provinces of Europe. The history of that dominion has been a monoto¬ nous display of brute force without any noble ul¬ terior purpose which might redeem its vulgarity. It is the history of a race politically unteachable and intellectually incurious, which has contributed absolutely nothing to the common weal of man¬ kind, while by its position it has been able to check the normal development of a more worthy community.
The provinces which Muhamad II. wrested from the Empire had at no time been very thor¬ oughly Romanized, and such civilization as they had acquired in antiquity had fared but ill amid the everlasting turmoil to which their frontier position had subjected them. Invading swarms from the northeast, when unable to penetrate far¬ ther into Europe, halted here and wrangled for supremacy, and the ceaseless but ineffectual war¬ fare of Avars, Bulgarians, Croats, Serbs, and Mag-
15
226 Darwinism and Other Essays.
yars makes a dreary and unprofitable history. On a superficial view this whole region seems po¬ litically a Bedlam, as it is linguistically a Babel. But — as was hinted at the beginning of this paper — the complication of disorder on the lower Danube is perhaps no greater than has existed, at one time or another, in those parts of Europe that are now most thoroughly civilized. All over Spain, Gaul, and Britain, and even Italy, the con¬ flicts of races have been fierce and their intermix¬ tures extremely intricate. But under the organ¬ izing impulse of Rome, directed alike by Empire and Church, the populations of these countries long ago became so far consolidated in general in¬ terests and assimilated in manners and speech that in each country the old racial differences are but occasionally traceable in rural customs and patois , and even when plainly traceable have lit¬ tle or no political importance. It is a long time since the Iberian, the Gaul, the Roman, the Visi¬ goth, the Burgundian, the Frank, the Walloon, and the Norman disappeared politically in the Frenchman; and the Scot, whose slogan for ages was “ Death to the Sassenach ! ” is to-day the most loyal of Britons. Over three fourths of western Europe the adoption of Roman speech has obliterated old lines of demarcation until it
227
The Races of the Danube.
has even become possible to talk about a “ Latin race ” ! In like manner the Prussian of Konigs- berg, his Lettic mother-tongue forgotten for six generations, makes common cheer with the Suevi of Stuttgart and the Alemanni of Munich. In the border-land of the Danube, on the other hand, whatever chance there might have been for any such assimilation of races and dialects was cut off by perpetual incursions of Tataric tribes pre¬ venting the growth of anything like nationality. Under some circumstances the pressure exerted by a totally alien enemy might serve as a stimu¬ lus to national consolidation. But here the va¬ rious races were too recently brought together, and the pressure of barbaric attack was so great as to keep society disorganized. The races of the Danube are accordingly still so heterogeneous that it is worth while to point out their various affinities and give some brief account of their past career.
In order to get a comprehensive view of the subject, it is desirable to go back to the begin¬ ning and recall the principal features of the settle¬ ment of Europe by the people who now possess it. According to the most probable opinion, the present population of Europe is the result of the pre-historic mixture, in varying degrees, of two
228
Darwinism and Other Essays.
very different races. The first or Iberian race may be regarded as aboriginal in Europe, in the sense that we cannot tell how it got there. It was a black-haired and dark-skinned race, if we may judge from the remnant of it which still preserves its primitive language in the isolated corner of Spain between the Pyrenees and the Bay of Biscay. The second or Aryan race seems to have been fair-haired and blue-eyed, and it overran Europe in successive swarms, coming from the highlands of central Asia, where di¬ vers tribes of Tatars have since taken its place. The Aryans crowded the Iberians westward, and everywhere overcame them (save in the corner of Spain just mentioned), and intermingled with them, forcing upon them their own speech and customs. Thus the language of Europe to-day is Aryan, and its legal and social structure is Ar¬ yan, but its population is a mixture of Aryan and Iberian. In the extremities of Europe as looked at from Asia — in the three southern peninsulas, in Gaul, and in western and north¬ ern Britain — the dark aboriginal type predomi¬ nates ; while in Scandinavia, northern Germany, and northern Russia the blonde type of the in¬ vaders remains in the ascendant. It is owing to this mixture of strongly contrasted races that the
The Races of the Danube. 229
peoples of Europe present such marked varieties of complexion. -
So much, at least, is probable, though more or less hypothetical. In following the successive stages of Aryan invasion, we gradually emerge from this twilight of plausible hypothesis into the clearness of authentic history. The Aryans came, as just observed, in successive swarms. The first series of swarms got naturally the most mixed up with the Iberian aborigines, and the result of their gradual settlement was the formation of the Keltic, Italic, and Hellenic peoples. In Spain the aborigines held their own most successfully, and hence the mixture was recent enough to be rec¬ ognized by Roman historians, who called the Spaniards Kelt-Iberians ; but elsewhere it was accomplished so early as to be forgotten before people began to write history. It lias been fash¬ ionable to sneer at zealous Irish writers for their propensity to find traces of the Kelts everywhere. But there is no doubt whatever that the Kelts were once a very widely diffused people. They have left names for rivers and mountains in al¬ most every part of Europe. The name of the river Don in Russia, for example, is one of the common Keltic names for water, and so we find a river Don in Yorkshire, a Dean in Nottingham-
280 Darwinism and Other Essays.
shire, a Dane in Cheshire, and a Dun in Lincoln¬ shire. The same name appears in the Rho-cZaw- us, or Rhone, in Gaul; the Eri-cZaw-us, or Po, in Italy ; as well as in the Zbi-ieper, Dniester, and Dan- ube ; and even in the Ar e-don in the Cau¬ casus. This is one example out of hundreds by which we trace the former ubiquity of the Kelts, who as late as the Christian era were present in large numbers as far east as Bohemia.
The second series of invading Aryan swarms consisted of Germans, who began by pushing the Kelts westward, and ended by overrunning a great part of their territory and mixing with them to a considerable extent. There is some German blood in Spain, and a good deal in France and northern Italy ; and the modern English, while Keltic at bottom, are probably half Teutonic in blood, as they are predominantly Teutonic in language and manners. The Vandals, Goths, Alemanni, Suevi, Burgundians, Lombards, Franks, Saxons, and Normans, who invaded and reconstructed the Roman Empire between the fifth and eleventh centuries, were all Germans, and there is no rea¬ son to suppose that they differed except in their tribal names. From the fifth century onward these Germans encroached upon the territory of the Empire, mainly because they were pushed
231
The Races of the Danube .
forward by Aryan Slavs and Tataric Huns who attacked them from the east. Throughout the classic period of antiquity, and until the fifth century after Christ, the Teutonic family appears far to the eastward of its present position. In the time of Herodotos, and down to the age of Constantine, the inhabitants of Thrace — now the centre of European Turkey — were blue- eyed Goths, called Getce by the classic historians. Pretty much the whole of Turkey and southern Russia were German in those days ; and, as Don¬ aldson conjectured, it is possible that the people known to the ancients as Skythians may have been no other than Goths.
Thus, as if to illustrate how completely all Ar¬ yan Europe is made up out of the same race- elements, we find that the lower Danube, for at least a thousand years, was German territory ; and, except on the very improbable supposition that its old population has been entirely exter¬ minated or transferred westward, we have every reason to believe that there is much German blood there at the present day.
While this region was still in the hands of the Germans, at the beginning of the second century after Christ, the legions of the Emperor Trajan passed beyond the Danube, and, conquering the
232 Darwinism and Other Essays .
country then known as Dacia, formed a perma¬ nent settlement there. In 271 the Emperor Au- relian, finding the province difficult to defend, surrendered it to the Goths, in whose hands it remained for a long time a bulwark against the incursions of wild tribes from the northeast. The Latin language was firmly established over this territory, and is spoken to-day, in a modern¬ ized form, by six millions of “ Rumans ” in Wal- lachia, Moldavia, and Transylvania. Of this population, the Transylvanian Rumans have long formed part of the kingdom of Hungary ; the rest, under the nominal suzerainty of the Porte, are ruled by a German prince of the house of Hohenzollern ; and the racial basis of the whole is, no doubt, mainly Teutonic, with a considerable Roman and still greater Slavic admixture.
The Slavs make up the third and last division of the Aryan conquerors of Europe. Their speech has in many respects departed less widely from the forms of the common Aryan mother-tongue than the speech of the earlier invaders. In phys¬ ical characteristics they resemble most closely the northern Germans, in whom, with the central Russians and Letts, we see perhaps the purest specimens of the Aryan race ; but in the south they have been more or less modified by inter-
The Races of the Danube . 233
mixture with various strains of Tataric blood. Napoleon’s witticism, however, that you need only scratch a Russian to get at the Tatar underneath, contained little more wisdom than is usually to be found in such smart sayings based on hasty gen¬ eralization from inadequate and half-understood data. On the whole, the principal intermixture of the Slavs has been with their nearest congeners and neighbours, the Teutons. Slavonic tribes, pushing their way far into the centre of Europe, still hold Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia, while further south, in Carinthia and Istria, the Slav country comes up close to the Tyrol and to Ven¬ ice.
In the Middle Ages, this border region, from the head of the Adriatic to the mountains of Bo¬ hemia, was the seat of everlasting war ; and such immense numbers of the eastern invaders were captured from time to time and sold into slav¬ ery in all parts of Germany that their national name became the common appellative for wretches doomed to involuntary servitude. Such seems to have been the origin of our English word “ slave.” Until lately it was supposed that the vernacular meaning of the national name was “ the glorious,” as slava is a common word for “ glory ” in most of the Slavonic languages •, and frequent comment
234
Darwinism and Other Essays.
was made on the curious fate whereby the proud name of a noble race of warriors became perverted into a common noun to describe the most abject condition of humanity. It is very doubtful, how¬ ever, whether the striking contrast really exists to supply a fit subject for moralizing. It is far more probable that the name Slav is connected with slovo, “ a word,” and means the “ distinctly- speaking people ” as contrasted with the Njemetch , or “ talkers of gibberish,” by which polite epi¬ thet the Slavic races have always distinguished the Germans. This naive assumption, that it is ourselves alone who talk intelligibly, while for¬ eigners babble a meaningless jargon, has been a very common one with uninstructed people, and “ Njemetch ” is not the only national appellative that bears witness to its prevalence. The epithet “ Welsh," which the Germans apply to the Ital¬ ians, the Dutch to the Belgians, and the English to the Kymry of western Britain, has precisely the same meaning ; and so had the word “ barba¬ rian,” by which the ancient inhabitant of Hellas described indiscriminately all people who did not speak Greek.1
It was about the middle of the fifth century
1 The name “Wallach,” by which the Germans designate the in¬ habitants of Rumania, is the same word as “ Welsh.”
235
The Races of the Danube.
that the Slavonic race began to play a part in European history. Advancing from what is now southern Russia, in the rear of the Tataric hordes of Attila, various Slavic tribes overran the prov¬ inces of Moesia, Thrace, Illyricutn, and Mace¬ donia. Overcoming, and, to some extent, crowd¬ ing out, the Gothic inhabitants, they were within a century firmly established throughout the area between the Black Sea and the Adriatic, which they have ever since continued to occupy. Bat, far from attempting to set themselves up as an independent political power in this territory, they were readily brought to acknowledge the sover¬ eignty of the Empire. They no more thought of overthrowing the dominion of Rome than the Germans did : what they were after was a good share of its material advantages. To have set up a rival imperium would have been quite beyond their slender political capacity, and their imagina¬ tion did not reach so far as to conceive the idea. So long as they were allowed to retain their for¬ cibly-acquired possessions of land and cattle, they were quite ready to help to defend the Empire against Tataric Avars and other marauders. The relations thus knit between the Slavs and the government at Constantinople were similar to those established between the Germans and the
236 Darwinism and Other Essays .
imperial authorities in the West. Slavonic troops came to form a large and redoubtable element in the eastern armies, and to the infusion of new life thus received we may no doubt partly attribute the prolonged maintenance of the Byzantine Em¬ pire. It is, perhaps, not generally remembered that the greatest warrior and one of the most illustrious emperors of this part of the Roman world were of Slavic origin. The vernacular name of which Justinian is the Latin translation was Upravda, or u the Upright ; ” and his invin¬ cible general Belisarius was a Dardanian Slav named Beli-czar, or “the White Prince.” Within less than a century after this white prince had driven the Goths from Italy, the able Emperor Heraclius, contending on the one hand against the Persians while menaced on the other by the barbaric Avars, invited two Slavic tribes from beyond the Danube to aid in expelling the latter invaders. These tribes were the Croats and Serbs, and they have remained ever since in the lands which were then granted them in reward of their military services.
One reason, and perhaps the chief one, why the invading Germans and Slavs so readily became subjects of the Roman Empire is to be found in the fact that they were settled agricultural races,
237
The Races of the Danube.
and not wandering nomads. It may seem odd to speak of races as “ settled ” who moved about so extensively over the face of Europe within the short period of two centuries. But if they wan¬ dered, it was only because they were driven by enemies in the rear too strong or too numerous for them to overcome, not because their mode of life obliged them to roam over vast areas in quest of the means of subsistence. The profound phi¬ lology of the present day has shown that the Aryans, while still in their primitive Asiatic home, and long before they had become distin¬ guishable as Kelts, Graeco-Italians, Teutons, Slavs, or Indo-Persians, had advanced beyond the hunt¬ ing and exclusively pastoral stages of barbarism, and acquired a subsistence partly by tilling the soil and partly by the rearing of domestic cattle. They possessed even houses and inclosed towns, and the rudiments of what Mr. Bagehot calls “government by discussion ” were not wholly un¬ known to them. The picture of society with which we are familiar in the Germania of Tacitus and in the Homeric poems represents a condition of things in many respects similar to that which obtained among the primitive Aryans. In these respects they differed widely from the savage Tataric hordes which molested them on the east,
238 Darwinism and Other Essays.
and to whose attacks, as well as to the unman- ageable increase in their own numbers, we must
O 1
probably ascribe their gradual and long-continued migrations into southern Asia and into Europe. When after many centuries those less civilized Aryans known as Germans and Slavs were driven into collision with their more civilized brethren of the Roman Empire, their invasion was in an all- important respect very different from the inva¬ sions of Huns or Avars. The followers of Alaric, Hengist, and Clilodwig came to colonize, whereas the followers of Attila came but to riot and de¬ stroy. The vandalism of the former was inci¬ dental, while that? of the latter was fundamental.
The Teutonic and Slavic invaders, once over the first intoxication of victory, began, as by nat¬ ural instinct, to found rural estates and cultivate the soil ; and thus becoming property-holders, although their title rested on violence, it became their interest to assist in preserving the political system so far as practicable. The date 476, which the old historians made to mark the polit¬ ical fall of the Roman Empire, in reality marked nothing at all at the time except a paltry intrigue by which the German Odoacer, having got rid of a faineant emperor who was too near at hand, continued to administer the affairs of Italy under
239
The Races of the Danube.
commission from the government at Constantino¬ ple. In reality the identity of interests between the Teutonic settlers and the imperial system became more and more manifest during the three following centuries, until it was definitely declared in 800 in the coronation of Charles the Great, whereby the headship of the western world was restored to Rome, while the connection with the East was finally severed.
If we consider the eastern half of the Empire at this time — or, at least, so much of it as was com¬ prised in Europe, the remainder having been mostly torn away by the Saracens — we find it undergoing a gradual process of Slavonization quite analogous to the Teutonic reconstruction which was just culminating in the West. Pretty much the whole of what is now European Turkey had become filled with a Slavic population. For the most part this population had been converted to the Greek or so-called Orthodox form of Chris¬ tianity, though in remote parts of Serbia pagan¬ ism lingered till the thirteenth century. There was probably some sense, though slight, of a com¬ munity of race throughout the peninsula. The interests of the Slavs, on the whole, were con¬ cerned in the protection of the imperial system against external attack, although the various
240 Darwinism and Other Essays.
chiefs made war on each other and mismanaged their own affairs with as little sense of allegiance to the Byzantine suzerain as the rulers of Brit¬ tany or Aquitaine felt for their degenerate Carlo- vingian overlords. Thus on a superficial view the conditions of order and turbulence, so to speak, might have seemed very similar here to what they were in the West; and all that was needed for the growth of a new national life might seem to be the rise of a dominant tribe — after the like¬ ness of the Franks — which in due course of time should seize the falling Byzantine sceptre and as¬ sert unquestioned sway over the whole peninsula. Could something like this have happened, the Eastern Question would probably never have come up to perturb the politics of modern Europe, and the entire careers of Russia and Austria must have been essentially modified. But for the Hun¬ garians, Crim Tatars, and Turks, something of this sort might very likely have happened. As it was, however, no sooner did one Slavonic com¬ munity begin to rise to pre-eminence than some fatal combination of invaders proceeded to cripple its power, and this state of things continued un¬ til the turbaned infidel made an easy prey of the whole region.
In the ninth century the chronic agitation of
241
The Races of the Danube.
eastern Europe was raised to terrible fever-heat by the approach of the Hungarians, — a non-Ar¬ yan race from central Asia which has had a very different career from that of the other non-Aryan invaders of Europe. Of all such invaders these alone have established a securely permanent foot¬ hold, unless we count the cognate Finns, who were established in the far North in pre-historic times. To keep in his mind a succinct view of these eth¬ nological facts, the reader will do well to remem¬ ber that all the languages now spoken in Europe are Aryan languages descended from a common Aryan mother-tongue, with just four exceptions. The first of these is the Bask of northwestern Spain, sole remnant of the aboriginal Iberian speech. The second is the group of Finnic dia¬ lects spoken by a Tataric people which has lived from time immemorial on the eastern shores of the Baltic. The third is the Hungarian, and the fourth is the Turkish. These languages have absolutely nothing in common with the Aryan, either in grammar or vocabulary. The Bask, too, has nothing in common with the three other alien tongues. But Finnish, Hungarian, and Turkish are quite nearly related to each other, and there is also blood-relationship between the peoples who
speak these languages. Like the Turks, the Hun-
16
242
Darwinism and Other .Essays.
garians are a Tatar race ; and there cannot be a more striking commentary on the fallaciousness of explaining all national peculiarities by a cheap reference to “blood’5 than is furnished by these two peoples, the one being as highly endowed with political good sense as the other is hopelessly destitute of it. This is not the place to attempt to explain the difference in detail as due to the different circumstances amid which the two peo¬ ples have been placed ; but there is no doubt that their careers have been sufficiently different. In the ninth century the Hungarians were as great a terror to Christendom as the Turks were in the fifteenth ; but the Magyars, after failing to break through the bulwark of Christianized Germans, which the genius of Charles the Great had pre¬ pared for such emergencies, settled down quietly in Pannonia — to which they have given the name of Hungary — and became converted to the Roman form of Christianity. But in the course of this settlement the Magyars interfered seri¬ ously with the integrity of the Slavonic communi¬ ties on the Danube. They tore away a consider¬ able portion of Croatia and Serbia, and subjected so many Slavic tribes that at the present day the Slavs outnumber the Magyars, even within the limits of Hungary itself.1
1 In 1850 the population of Hungary was thus divided : Magyars,
243
The Races of the Danube .
In calling the Magyars the only non- Aryan in¬ vaders who have secured a permanent foothold in European territory, I had forgotten, for the mo¬ ment, the Bulgars who conquered lower Mcesia in the beginning of the sixth century. These Bul¬ gars were a Tatar race, known also as Ugrians, a name of which the “ ogre ” of our nursery stories is supposed to be a corruption. But the achieve¬ ments of the Bulgars, as a distinct race, were hardly of enough consequence to keep them al¬ ways in one’s memory. Though they gave the name Bulgaria to the Roman province of lower Moesia, they were soon absorbed among the Slavs, and quite lost their Tataric speech. And so, while Bulgaria played a prominent part in med¬ iaeval history, it figures only as a portion of the Slavonic world. Yet to this day, it is said, the inhabitants of Bulgaria exhibit, in their high cheek-bones, flat face, and sunken eyes, as well as in their curious attire, the characteristics of the Tatar race. In the seventh century Bulgaria was overrun by the Avars, but after these nomads wrere expelled the Bulgarian power developed rap¬ idly, and was even extended back over Bessarabia and all southern Russia as far as the Sea of Azof.
5,000,000; Slavs, 6,000,000; Germans and Jews, 1,600,000; Rumans in Transylvania, 3,000,000.
244 Darwinism and Other Essays.
These eastern conquests were not long retained, but on the other hand the semi-independent king¬ dom between the Danube and the Balkan Moun¬ tains became more and more formidable in its rivalry with the imperial government at Constan¬ tinople. In long and obstinate warfare the Bul¬ garians overcame the Serbs, and by the beginning of the tenth century they controlled nearly the whole peninsula from the Black Sea to the Adri¬ atic. At this epoch their kingdom was perhaps as civilized as any in contemporary Europe, if literary culture alone were to be taken as a cri¬ terion. Their noble youth studied Aristotle and Demosthenes in the schools of Constantinople, and the subtleties of theological controversy occu¬ pied their attention no less than the practice of military arts. In a quarrel with the emperor, their Czar Simeon laid siege to the capital and dictated terms of peace at the Golden Horn. But in the next century all this was changed. Such arrogant vassals were not to be tolerated. In a masterW campaign, though sullied by diabolical cruelty, the Emperor Basil II. overthrew the power of the Bulgarians, and, subduing the Serbs likewise, re-established the immediate authority of Constantinople as far as the Danube.
From this time forth the contest for supremacy
245
The Races of the Danube .
was carried on chiefly between the emperors and the Serbian chiefs. The pre-eminence of Serbia began about the end of the eleventh century, when Urosh was crowned grand duke. By the middle of the fourteenth century the whole coun¬ try, with the exception of Rumelia or Thrace, was in the hands of the Serbians, and it really seemed as if the degenerate Greek Empire were about to pass into the hands of the Slav. Stephen Dushan, of the house of Urosh, a profound statesman and consummate general, was the hero who aspired to re-enact in the eastern world the part of Charles the Great. In 1356 he was proclaimed Emperor of the East, and if his life had been spared he might have made good the title. But the firm¬ ness of his monarchical rule was irritating to his turbulent vassals ; and like Cassar, William the Silent, Henry IV., and Lincoln, he fell by the stupid hand of the assassin, just at the time when a few years more of life might have been of ines¬ timable value to his people and to mankind. With the death of the “ Emperor ” Stephen, the formation of a Slavic nationality under Serbian leadership was indefinitely postponed. The feudal lords who had so stupidly destroyed the only gen¬ ius which could guide them to victory were one by one overthrown by the imperial armies ; and
246 Darwinism and Other Essays.
when the Turk arrived, in the next century, there was no solid power in the peninsula which could check his baleful progress.
To recount the vicissitudes of Serbia as princi¬ pal battle-ground between Christian Austrian and infidel Turk would be a task as tedious as profit¬ less. We have seen how the Slavs of the Byzan¬ tine Empire failed to become a nation, and this is the only point which need concern us. There is neither interest nor instruction in the record of incessant fighting without definite issue ; and to the philosophic historian the career of Slavonic Turkey becomes almost a blank until the begin¬ ning of the present century, when the uprising of the Serbs against the Janissaries, under the leadership of the eccentric and infamous Kara George, reopened the Eastern Question, and per¬ haps heralded the rise of a new national life among the southern Slavs.
This sketch of the Danubian peoples has of course been but the merest outline. I have not attempted, and should indeed feel quite incompe¬ tent, to do more than define, by a few salient facts, the ethnological relations of these peoples and their position in the general history of Eu¬ rope. Even so rudimentary an outline as this, however, would be incomplete without some allu-
247
The Races of the Danube.
sion to the very important part played by the Danubian Slavs in the origination of the Protes¬ tant revolt against the ecclesiastical supremacy of Rome. The circumstances under which the Bul¬ garians were converted to Christianity were such that during their brief political and literary emi¬ nence in the tenth century they became the arch¬ heretics of Europe. The Manichgean heresy, sug¬ gested by the ancient theology of Persia, in which the Devil appears as an independently existing Principle of Evil, had always been rife in Arme¬ nia ; and it was partly by Armenian missionaries, belonging to the Manichsean sect of Paulicians, that Bulgaria was converted from heathenism. In the middle of the eighth century the Emperor Constantine Copronymus transplanted a large col¬ ony of Paulicians from Armenia into Thrace,1 and these immigrants were not long in spreading their heresy beyond the Balkans. A century later the persecuting zeal of the orthodox emperors drove Armenia into rebellion, and for a short time an independent Paulician state maintained itself on the upper Euphrates. Early in the tenth century this little state was overthrown, and such a dire-
1 See the “Historical Sketch of Bosnia,” b}r Mr. A. J. Evans, pre¬ fixed to his excellent work Through Bosnia and the Herzegovina on Foot. London. 1876. 8vo.
248 Darwinism and Other Essays.
ful persecution was inaugurated that the inhabit¬ ants in great numbers sought the shelter which the Bulgarian Czar Simeon was both able and willing to give. “From this period onward,” says Mr. Evans, “ the Paulician heresy may be said to change its nationality, and to become Slavonic.” It also acquired a new name. In their Slavonic home these heretics were called Bogomiles, from the Bulgarian Bog z’ milui , or “ God have mercy,” in allusion to their peculiar devotion to prayer. The sect now became very powerful, as the czars, in their struggle for su¬ premacy with the Byzantine overlords, could not afford to incur the displeasure of such a consider¬ able body of their subjects. Bogomilian apostles, in keen rivalry with the orthodox missionaries, carried their Manichsean doctrines westward all over Serbia. After another hundred years the catastrophe which had driven this heresy from Asia into Europe was curiously repeated in its new home. After the power of the Bulgarian czars had been finally broken down by Basil II., the orthodox emperors began once more to roast the obnoxious Paulicians. A fierce persecution under Alexius Comnenus set up a current of Bo¬ gomilian migration into Serbia, and as these im¬ migrants found no favour in the eyes of the ortho-
249
The Races of the Danube .
dox Serbian princes, their westward pilgrimage was continued into that part of Illyricum now known as Bosnia, — a hilly region inhabited, then as now, mainly by fair-haired Serbs. From the twelfth century onward Bosnia became the head¬ quarters of Manichman heresy, and was a very uncomfortable thorn in the flesh of the popes, who, with the aid of pious Hungarian kings, kept up a perpetual crusade against the stubborn little country, without ever achieving any considerable success.
The Papacy had very good grounds for its anxiety, for it was from Bosnia that the great Albigensian heresy was propagated through north¬ ern Italy and southern Gaul. This connection be¬ tween eastern and western Protestantism, though generally forgotten now, was well understood at the time. Matthew Paris states that the Albi- gensians possessed a pope of their own, whose seat of government was in Bosnia, and who kept a vicar residing in Carcassonne. By orthodox writers the western heretics were quite frequently termed “ Bulgares,” — a designation which became invested with the vilest opprobrium, — and a glance at the principal Bogomilian doctrines shows that the relationship was asserted on valid grounds. Like the Manichseans generally, the Bogomiles
250 Darwinism and Other Essays.
held that the Devil exists independent of the will of the good God, and was the creator of this evil world, which it is the work of Christ to. re¬ deem from his control. They accepted as inspired the New Testament, with the Psalms and Proph¬ ets, but set little store by the historical books of the Old Testament, and rejected the Mosaic writings as dictated by Satan. They denied any mystical efficiency to baptism, and laughed at the doctrine of transubstantiation, maintaining that the consecrated wafer is in no wise different from ordinary bread. Some of them are said to have neglected baptism altogether. They regarded image-worship as no better than heathen idolatry, and they paid no respect to the symbol of the cross, asking, “ If any man slew the son of a king with a bit of wood, how could this piece of wood be dear to the king ? ” 1 Their aversion to the worship of the Virgin was equally pronounced, and they despised the intercession of saints. They wore long faces, abstained from the use of wine, and commended celibacy. Some went so far as to refuse animal food, and in general their belief in the vileness of matter led them to the extremes of asceticism. Their ecclesiastical government was in many respects presbyterian ; in politics
1 Evans, op. cit. p. xxx.
251
The Races of the Danube.
they were generally democratic, with a leaning toward communism quite in keeping with their primitive Slavonic customs as well as with their strictly literal interpretation of the New Testa¬ ment.
When we consider that these remarkable sec¬ tarians not only set on foot the Albigensian revolt which Innocent III. overcame with fire and sword, but were also intimately associated with the later Slavonic outbreak of which John Huss and Jerome of Prague were the leaders, it becomes evident that the part played in European history by the southern Slavs is far from insignificant. As Mr. Evans observes, it is not too much to regard Bosnia as the religious Switzerland of mediaeval Europe, in whose inaccessible mountain strong¬ holds was prolonged the defiant resistance to papal supremacy which in the West repeatedly succumbed to the overwhelming power of the In¬ quisition. The sudden change which followed on the invasion of the Turks is instructive as show¬ ing the political danger attendant upon excessive persecution. As the armies of Muhamad II. were making their way toward Bosnia, King Stephen of Hungary began cutting the throats of his Bogomile subjects, some forty thousand of whom are said to have fled into the Herzegfivina, while
252 Darwinism and Other Essays.
others were sent in chains to be burned at Rome. Bosnia was again threatened with an orthodox crusade, but the people, preferring to take their chances of religious immunity with the Turk, threw themselves on him for protection, and sur¬ rendered their inexpugnable country to Muhamad without striking a blow. The surrender, indeed, went further than this ; for though the Serbs of Bosnia have several times asserted their political independence, more than a third of the popula¬ tion have become followers of the Prophet, and furnish to-day the sole example of a native Eu¬ ropean race of Mussulmans.
December, 1876.
XIII.
LIBERAL EDUCATION.1
Early in the last century Sir William Temple declared that literature is constantly degenerat¬ ing, and that the oldest books are always the best. Not only is Homer the greatest of poets and JEsop the wittiest of fabulists, but Phalaris was a letter-writer with whom Pascal and Ma¬ dame Sevigne are not fit to be compared. Thus wrote Sir W. Temple, much to his own satisfaction and to the edification of many of his contempora¬ ries. But lapse of time and changes of circum¬ stance bring about signal alterations in the opin¬ ions of men. The other day Dr. J. W. Draper — in a book entitled 44 Civil Policy of America,” and made up chiefly of disconnected statements about physical geography, Arabian chemists, and Jewish physicians — told us that 44 the grand depositories of human knowledge are not the ancient, but the modern, tongues : few, if any, are the facts worth
1 Essays on a Liberal Education. Edited by Rev. F. W. Farrar, M. A., F. R. S. London: Macmillan & Co. 3867.
254 Darwinism and Other Essays.
knowing that are to be exclusively obtained by a knowledge of Latin and Greek.” And doubtless this amusing statement will in some quarters meet with as much applause as the loose assertions of Temple met with in their time. For this old con¬ troversy about the comparative merits of the an¬ cients and the moderns has been lately resusci¬ tated, though in somewhat altered shape. Times have changed ; and what in the eighteenth cen¬ tury was considered good meat for strong men we should now regard as but indifferent milk for babes. We therefore no longer idly argue about the comparative amount of genius possessed by an¬ cient and by modern writers ; but we dispute quite zealously, and with sufficient one-sidedness, over the comparative value of ancient literature and modern science as means of mental discipline and branches of liberal education. University reform is a favourite subject of discussion. And among the multiplicity of things that may be taught un¬ der a reformed scheme of education, the problem of what must be taught is pressing ever more strongly for a definite solution. The difficulties inherent in the problem are greatly enhanced by the inevitable prejudices of the inquirers. One of the main obstacles in the way of a speedy and amicable settlement of the question arises from
Liberal Education.
255
the fact that physical investigators as a class have no well-defined idea of the benefits to be derived from classical studies, while classical scholars and literary men are too generally ignorant of the value of physical science as a means of training the intellect. Our opinions reflect our experience with tolerable accuracy, and we can hardly be ex¬ pected to have a very lively sense of the worth of pursuits in which we have never heartily engaged. If we have always smoked meerschaum we are apt to think poorly of briarwood. So when a lit¬ erary man takes up a treatise on “ Determinants ” with the casual remark that he hates the sight of such a book, we may be pretty sure that, what¬ ever else his opinions may be good for, he is no very competent judge of the educational value of mathematics. It is quite obvious that he dislikes the subject as some women dislike politics, be¬ cause he has never mastered the rudiments of it. To him a parabola is only a neat-looking curve, as to the average classical scholar a Leyden jar is only a glass bottle with a rod stuck through the cork, and to many a student of physics the Iliad is nothing but a tiresome account of the squabbles of a parcel of barbarians, “ proving nothing,” as worthy Mr. Vince would have said.
So deep-seated at present is the incapacity of
256 Darwinism and Other Essays.
our “ancients” and “moderns” to understand each other, that when a man of catholic culture, like Mr. Mill, presents both sides of the case with equal force we find either party disposed to rely upon one half of his argument, while ignoring or disparaging the other half. Dr. Youmans, for example, in the Introduction to his valuable col¬ lection of essays on “ Modern Culture,” having quoted Mr. Mill’s address in behalf of scientific studies, thinks it but fair to add that the same discourse contains a vigorous argument for the classics. “But while,” says Dr. Youmans, “Mr. Mill urges the importance of scientific studies for ally an examination of his argument for the clas¬ sics will show that it is applicable only to those who, like himself, are professional scholars, and devote their lives to philological, historical, or critical studies.” Now, possibly Mr. Mill ought to have limited his argument in this way ; but he certainly has not done so. He makes no such distinction : nowhere does he even faintly inti¬ mate that he is not putting one class of studies upon the same footing as the other. His whole magnificent Discourse is devoted to showing tlie urgent necessity which exists for a well-planned scheme of education in which both kinds of learn¬ ing shall be recognized. He believes that there is
Liberal Education .
257
no reason, except the stupidity of instructors, why classics and the sciences should not both be taught ; and he holds that our earnest recognition of the claims of the one should never blind us to the claims of the other.
In view of this, it is pleasant to meet with a book, written chiefly by classical scholars who have taken university honours, in which the just claims of physical science and the shortcomings of a merely literary education are adequately rec¬ ognized. The writers of the nine essays forming the volume now under consideration are all grad¬ uates of Cambridge, and all but one have at one time or another obtained fellowships in that uni¬ versity. Most of them, therefore, may be pre¬ sumed to be moderately acquainted with ancient literature, and to some extent sensible of the ad¬ vantages attending the study of it. The editor, Mr. Farrar, has devoted a large part of his time to philological studies, and has written a treatise on Greek syntax, besides two volumes on the ori¬ gin and development of language, all of which are works of considerable philosophical merit, though not perhaps of the highest and most ac¬ curate scholarship. Of the other writers, two at
least — Professor Seelev and Lord Houghton —
17
258
Darwinism and Other Essays.
are well known as men of wide literary culture and trained judgment.
The opinions of such men upon the subject of classical education are entitled to respectful con¬ sideration ; and when we find among them the most complete unanimity in the declaration that a large part of the classical instruction now given in English universities is utterly worthless, and ought to be replaced by a course in physical sci¬ ence, we cannot set aside the judgment on the plea of ignorant prejudice. Let not Philistinism clap its hands too hastily, however ; for the ob¬ ject of this Cambridge book is, not to supersede, but to complement, classical studies. It declares, not against the study of antiquity ( Alterthums - wissenschaft ), but against the pedantry with which that study is now carried on ; and one of the ablest essays in the volume is devoted to showing that physical science is habitually taught with quite as much pedantry as any branch of ancient learning.
The long career of irrational stultification, through defect in the method of instruction, is usually begun in our school-days. Most countries have rivers running through them ; and in study¬ ing elementary geography, we are expected duly to learn their courses. Many countries are inter-
Liberal Education .
259
sected, or are parted from their neighbours, by- chains of mountains ; and this second class of facts we are likewise called upon to master. But we are not told that the two sets of phenomena are inseparably related. We are not told that, since all rivers must run down hill, therefore their positions and courses must depend upon the posi¬ tion of mountains, so that by knowing the latter we may be helped to the knowledge of the former. We are required to learn these facts as they stand in the elementary text-books, in “godlike isola¬ tion.” We are compelled to take in a host of de-
X.
tails by a sheer effort of unintelligent memory, while the process of association, by appealing to which alone is memory made serviceable, is ap¬ pealed to as little as possible. So in grammar, when by dint of irksome mechanical repetition we have become able to state that “ a verb must agree with its nominative case in number and person,” we have learned a bare fact, which, apart from its explanation, is a useless fact ; and that it has or admits of any explanation we are rarely led to suspect.
In approaching foreign languages we become immersed still deeper in the mire of elementary unintelligibility. We commit to memory scores of intricate paradigms, containing all possible
260 Darwinism and Other Essays .
forms of the noun or verb, before we have been introduced to a single sentence in which these forms are presented. In mute dismay we con¬ template ingeniously framed rules of syntax, be¬ fore we have been shown a glimpse of the facts upon which these rules depend. We get the gen¬ eralization before the particulars, the abstract be¬ fore the concrete ; we learn to repeat formulas before we have the notions needful for filling them. As a natural result, our Latin and Greek seem very difficult. To enhance our perplex¬ ity, the same thing is generally introduced to us under different names, or, quite as often, differ¬ ent things under the same name. We are told that the genitive in Greek denotes possession, and next that it likewise denotes origin, and again that it denotes separation. We are informed that the Latin genitive, primarily denoting possession, may, however, if of the first or second declension and singular number, be used to signify place, an idea conveyed by the ablative also, which for the time being kindly neglects its proper function of expressing removal. The genitive, moreover, may express one kind of resemblance, another kind being, by a mysterious dispensation of Providence, indicated by the dative. Even if all these cum¬ brous rules for learning ancient languages were
Liberal Education.
261
correct, instead of being many of them inaccurate, and nearly all of them antiquated, they would still be worse than useless to the young student. Thrust into his mind as they are, before he has had concrete examples of them, they are utterly meaningless. He knows not how or where to ap¬ ply them. They serve only to confuse and dis¬ courage him. Nor are matters mended much when we begin to do what we should all along have been doing, — when we begin to read. We read a few sentences each day, parsing as we go along, according to the inexplicable rules just re¬ ferred to, and paying little or no attention to the meaning of our author. Seldom do we read a sufficient mass of matter consecutively to have the language take any hold upon us. Thus we read Aristophanes, and hardly suspect his con¬ summate and irresistible humour. We read De¬ mosthenes, and remain ignorant of Athenian poli¬ tics. And a few years after leaving college we are able, by dint of much thumbing of the dic¬ tionary, and with occasional reference to the grammar, to pick out the meaning of Latin and Greek sentences. This is too often the sorry re¬ sult which is dignified by the name of a classical education.
Yet perhaps our scientific education, as at pres-
262 Darwinism and Other Essays .
ent carried on by means of text-books, is not much better. We take up a book on physics, and are told that the Newtonian theory is still one of the great rival theories of light, although it was utterly overthrown at the beginning of the pres¬ ent century. We take up a book on astronomy, and are told that the earth is 95,000,000 miles distant from the sun, although the researches of M. Foucault have shown that the distance is only 91,000,000. We take up a book on physiology, and read about “ a vital principle which suspends natural laws,” although every competent physiol¬ ogist well knows that any such “ principle ” is as much a distorted figment of the fancy as the basi¬ lisks which in old times were supposed to haunt secluded cellars. We hear grave lectures on psy¬ chology, in which the systems of Locke or Kant are laboriously expounded, while of the recent in¬ novations made by writers like Bain and Mauds- ley we get not the slightest hint. So in history and philology we are too often taught as if Momm¬ sen and Grote had never written. Grimm’s magnificent researches, throwing light upon the whole structure of language, and presenting the history of human thought under an entirely new aspect, are .non-existent to the mind of the stu¬ dent. He pursues the even tenour of his way in
Liberal Education .
263
blissful ignorance of Sir G. C. Lewis, and sees no absurdity in the mythological theories of Eu- hemeros.
Now it seems to us that the reform which is most urgently needed in our system of liberal education consists not in the substitution of one branch of studies for another so much as in the more liberal, rational, and intelligent pursuit of various branches. In the main, fairness of mind, accuracy of judgment, and shrewdness of per¬ ception are to be secured as much by one kind of research as by another kind. The alleged nar¬ rowness and torpidity — the “ Kronian ” charac¬ teristics (to use an Aristophanic word) — of classical scholars are due far more to the irra¬ tional method in which they have pursued their studies than to those studies themselves. Let the student really fathom who Julius Caesar was, what he thought, what he did, wherein he differed from Cato or Pompey, why his policy succeeded, and what its effects have been upon all subse¬ quent generations down to our time, — let him duly fathom all this, and he will have gone far toward getting as good a political education as a man needs to have. Let him, again, justly esti¬ mate the value of ancient chronology ; let him once have critically examined the works of Bum
264
Darwinism and Other Essays .
sen and Lepsius until he has fairly detected their weak points, and he will be as little likely to sur¬ render himself to any current delusion as the man who has studied astronomy or chemistry. The real difficulty is that our scheme of classical edu¬ cation does not provide for any adequate knowl¬ edge, even of classical subjects. Its energies are entirely devoted, during eight or ten years, to the imperfect acquirement of two languages which ought to be very well learned in four or five ; and then no time is left for anything else.
Our system of classical education has come down to us from the close of the Middle Ages, — from a time when nearly all that was valuable in literature was to be found in the writings of an¬ cient authors. Until toward their close, the Mid¬ dle Ages had accomplished little in literature worthy to be compared with the great works of Greek and Roman antiquity. And when, in the fifteenth century, the expulsion of Greeks from Constantinople and the invention of printing brought about the rapid dissemination of ancient literature among people at last socially prepared to welcome it, the effect was as if a new continent had been opened to view in the mental world as vast and inviting as that discovered by Columbus beyond the Atlantic. The exploration of the one
Liberal Education.
265
was carried on as keenly as that of the other. For a long time there could be no better or more profitable study than that of ancient literature. Before a new career of progress could be inaugu¬ rated, old forgotten acquisitions must be recovered and earnestly studied in the light of new political, social, and intellectual circumstances. Accord¬ ingly, in those days there were classical scholars of gigantic calibre. From the fifteenth to the seventeenth century we have the names of Eras¬ mus, Budseus, the Scaligers, Grotius, Reuchlin, Salmasius, Casaubon, Lipsius, Selden, Bentley, and Huet, representatives of a mighty and astonishing style of scholarship, which doubtless, from the absence of the proper social conditions, will never be seen again. Philosophers, like Bacon, Des¬ cartes, and Leibnitz, bent upon mastering the sum of human knowledge, could do no better than to read with critical eyes the writings of Plato and Aristotle. In light literature, as represented by Rabelais, Montaigne, Ben Jonson, and Burton, classical learning was equally conspicuous. And in social intercourse Latin, and to some extent Greek, held the place since usurped by French and other modern tongues. While modern lan¬ guages were but little studied, the common dia¬ lect of educated Europeans was formed by the
266 Darwinism and Other Essays.
tongues of antiquity. These languages were therefore learned to be written and spoken, not to be dozed over, dabbled in, and forgotten. They were learned in the natural way, by concrete examples, and by assiduous practice, not out of grammars bristling with inexplicable abstrac¬ tions. Homer and Virgil were read for their lit¬ erary interest, not as the text for monotonous parsing-lessons and useless disquisitions on syl¬ labic quantity.
The changes which classical education has since undergone are narrated by Mr. Parker in the first essay contained in the volume before us. We have not space to rehearse the interesting details which are there given, but must call attention to the striking remarks of Mr. Farrar and Professor Seeley upon the method of teaching the classics now prevalent in the English universities. Mr. Farrar’s essay is devoted to exposing the worth¬ lessness of Greek and Latin verse-making as a means of culture. If there be in our day, says Mr. Farrar, any kind of achievement which is at once impossible to do and useless when done, it is the writing of good Latin or Greek verses. Our American universities, so far as we know, do not require it to be done. Once in a while they en¬ courage students to attempt these nugoe difficiles ,
• k , ft
Liberal Education . 267
in the hope of obtaining prizes or a college reputa¬ tion, in case of success. But in our best colleges any student can graduate, and most do gradu¬ ate, without ever having written Latin or Greek except in more or less halting prose. In Eng¬ land, however, there lingers in many quarters a queer superstition, that the chief end of clas¬ sical education is to enable its votaries to beguile their leisure hours by stringing together hexa¬ meters. As the result of this system, we have some pretty poems in the “ Arundines Cami,” Mr. D’Arcy Thompson’s “Prolusiones Homericas,” Lord Lyttelton’s “ Samson Agonistes,” and many hundred reams of detestable trash, written in a dialect such as Aristophanes would hardly have thought fit for the silliest geese and cockatoos of his Cloudcuckooville. In the time now wasted in verse composition in each college career, the methods and leading results of several physical sciences might easily be learned. This is the kind of “ instruction ” which our essayists would be glad to see done away with. They hold that the chief end of classical education is, beside af¬ fording scope for the exercise of sagacity in rea¬ soning, to enlarge our minds by making us ac¬ quainted with the ideas, feelings, and customs of a time when men thought, felt, and acted very
268 Darutinism and Other Essays.
differently from now. The man who thoroughly knows Alterthumswissenschaft, or the science of Greek and Roman antiquity, differs from the man who does not, in much the same way that the man who has travelled all over the world with his eyes open differs from the man whose knowledge of the world is limited to what is going on in his own village. But how a knowledge of ancient civilization is to be got by vain attempts to imi¬ tate the diction of Ovid or Theokritos it would be difficult to say. The proposal to study the life of modern Germany, to get an accurate idea of its political and social condition, its literature, its do¬ mestic habits, its contributions to human improve¬ ment, and the predominant sentiments which ac¬ tuate its people, by writing quatrains in imitation of the hymns in “Faust,’' would be saluted with peals of inextinguishable laughter. Yet it would be about as sensible as the method of studying antiquity adopted by the verse-makers.
The subject of verse-making, as we have said, does not concern us so intimately as our brethren across the water, England being alone among civ¬ ilized nations in the importance which she at¬ taches to this pursuit. But though our schools and colleges do not require the writing of verses, they often waste a great deal of time and energy
Liberal Education.
269
in teaching the rules of prosody, as well as by the cumbrous and inefficient method in which they conduct classical instruction in general, and par¬ ticularly by their habit of beginning at the wrong end. We learn French and German with ease, because we begin with concrete examples. In studying Latin and Greek, on the other hand, we begin with abstract rules, and are not seldom com¬ pelled to memorize what we cannot understand.’ Hence the difficulties under which we labour are so great that, by the time they are conquered, we have too often neither leisure nor interest left for other studies. By this process the mind is in many cases stupefied rather than quickened ; and the system, far from producing liberally educated men, fails even to produce good classical scholars. We believe that the only efficient way to learn foreign languages, ancient or modern, is to learn them as we learn our own in childhood. We can¬ not indeed have Greek and Roman nurses, but we can at least have the living phenomena of language presented to our minds, instead of the dead formulas of grammar. If this natural method were to be duly inaugurated, we believe that Greek and Latin might be thoroughly learned in one third of the time now spent in learning them superficially. We should again have excellent
270 Darwinism and Other Essays.
Hellenists and Latinists, — not, perhaps, scholars like Erasmus and Scaliger, for we no longer need the same sort of work that was needed once, and Donaldson’s notion that learned works should still be written in Latin may safely be pronounced a chimera ; but we should have men among us capable of reading ancient literature with ease and pleasure, — men capable of extracting from it an amount of historical and philosophical knowl¬ edge to which the great scholars of the Renais¬ sance were utter strangers. The scholarship of the present day is necessarily of a quite different type from that of three centuries ago. It has been reacted upon by physical, political, and his¬ torical science. Its ideal consists in the thorough knowledge of ancient life, manners, moral ideas, and superstitions, as an essential part of the whole history of mankind. Its representatives are men like Grote, Littre, and Mommsen. Properly pur¬ sued, it enlarges our sympathies, shows us the people of bygone times as men like ourselves, alike yet different, actuated by like passions, but guided by different opinions and different con¬ ceptions. It forbids us to judge of them by the standard of our own age ; it corrects the preju¬ dices inseparable from ignorance of history ; it gives us lessons in political conduct ; it makes us
Liberal Education.
271
cosmopolitan and hospitable in mind. These are reasons why classical learning should not be given up. They are reasons why it will never be given up, but will be rationalized in its method and ex¬ tended in its province.
To illustrate more fully what is meant by say¬ ing that the proper way to teach is to begin with the concrete, we shall take the case of one of the natural sciences as it has been skilfully treated by Mr. Wilson, in his contribution to the present volume. His essay shows that science is often quite as cumbrously taught as the classics ; but it also shows how it ought to be taught.
Botany and experimental physics, according to Mr. Wilson, are of all branches of science the most interesting and the most intellectually profitable to children. Let us suppose, then, that we have a class of moderately intelligent children to start in botan}r : how shall we begin the subject in order that it may be made at once interesting and intel¬ lectually profitable ? Text-books will not help us much. For instance, Dr. Gray’s excellent little book, “ How Plants Grow,” begins as follows : —
Plants are chiefly made up of three parts, namely, of root, stem , and leaves. These are called the plant’s organs ; that is, its instruments. And as these parts are all that any plant needs for its growth, or vegeta¬ tion, they are called the organs of vegetation.
272 Darwinism and Other Essays.
Plants also produce jlowers , from which comes the fruit , and from this the seed. These take no part in nourishing the plant. Their use is to enable it to give rise to new individuals, which increase the numbers of that kind of plant ; to take the place of the parent in due time, and keep up the stock, — that is, to reproduce and perpetuate the species. So the flower, with its parts, the fruit and the seed, are called the plant’s organs of REPRODUCTION.
Now this is very pleasant reading for grown people, who know something about the subject, are slightly familiar with the conceptions of nu¬ trition, heredity, and genesis, and have learned, however rudely, to classify their notions. But for boys and girls who begin .botany at the age when it ought to be begun, this would be neither pleasant nor profitable. If set to learn the above passage by rote, in the ordinary way, they would be likely to find it irksome, and would certainly fail to gain accurate ideas corresponding to all the expressions employed in it. And, above all, those who learned their lesson would have taken the first step towards acquiring the pernicious habit of accepting statements' upon authority. If ques¬ tioned concerning their grounds for believing that the organs of vegetation in a plant are its root, stem, and leaves, they would perforce reply that
Liberal Education.
273
they believed it because it was so written in the book. Here is the fatal vice of our common methods of education. They appeal to faith, and not to reason. It is supposed that children are properly instructed if they are told that certain things are so and so, and understand what is told them sufficiently to repeat the words of it. Noth¬ ing can be more erroneous. No mental discipline, worthy of the name, can be secured in this way. We are benefited, not by the truths which we passively accept, but by those which we actively find out. It makes little difference whether a child is told that “ a plant consists of root, stem, and leaves,” or that “a verb must agree with its nominative case in number and person.” The former proposition is the more intelligible ; but in either case the child is taught to accept on author¬ ity a generalization which he should be taught to make for himself from a due comparison of in¬ stances. With the traditional let us now contrast the rational method of studying botany. We cannot possibly do this better than in Mr. Wil¬ son’s own words : —
Suppose, then, your class of thirty or forty boys before you, as they sit at their first botanical lesson : some curious to know what is going to happen, some re¬ signed to anything, some convinced that it is all a folly.
18
274 Darwinism and Other Essays.
You hand round to eacli boy several specimens, say of the herb Robert; and taking one of the flowers, you ask one of them to describe the parts of it. ‘ Some pink leaves,’ is the reply. ‘How many?’ ‘Five.’ ‘Any other parts?’ ‘ Some little things inside.’ ‘Any¬ thing outside?’ ‘Some green leaves.’ ‘How many?’ ‘Five.’ ‘Very good. Now pull off the five green leaves outside, and lay them side by side ; next pull off the five pink leaves, and lay them side by side ; and now ex¬ amine the little things inside: what do you find?’ ‘ A lot of little stalks or things.’ ‘ Pull them off, and count them.’ They find ten. Then show them the little dust-bags at the top, and finally the curiously con¬ structed central column and the carefully concealed seeds. By this time, all are on the alert. Then we re¬ sume: The parts in that flower are, outer green envel¬ ope, inner coloured envelope, the little stalks with dust¬ bags, and the central column with the seeds. Then you give them all wall-flowers ; and they are to write down what they find. By the end of the hour they have learned one great lesson, — the existence of the four floral whorls, though they have not yet heard the name.
Here, let it be noted, the students are making their own way. They are not told that a flower consists of four whorls, but they find it out for themselves, and know it henceforth on the evi¬ dence of their own senses. If they were to see or
Liberal Education .
275
hear the fact disputed, they would be incredu¬ lous ; they would no longer bow to authority. In the next place, they are gaining ideas before they are dosed with words. They are not wasting their energies in conning half-understood formu¬ las about sepals, petals, stamens, and pistils ; but they take note of the green leaves, the pink leaves, the stems with dust-bags, and the column with seeds in it ; and by and by they find it conven¬ ient to describe these things by one word for each, thus avoiding circumlocution and waste of breath. In this way the terms calyx , corolla , etc., come to have a definite meaning ; and are in no danger of being used emptily, without reference to the ideas which they ought to convey. The besetting sin of human reasoning is the employ¬ ment of words without regard to their full con¬ notation and exact meaning; and for this our systems of early education are in part responsible. It should be recognized as an inflexible rule that the student is not to be taught to use a word until he feels the need of it in order to express his ideas more readily.
Next, Mr. Wilson would let his pupils guess about the uses of the parts of the flower, — what the green leaves are for, what the central column is for, what the dust-bags are for ; and would tell
276 Darwinism and Other Essays.
them just enough to help them to hit upon the answer. Then he would give them an unsymmet- rical flower, like the pelargonium or the garden geranium, which, on picking to pieces, they would discover to be formed on the same general plan. Then would come the daisy and dandelion, where the outer green envelope and the little dust-bags are not so easy to find. Then he would call at¬ tention to the spiral arrangement of leaves ; the overlapping of sepals in the rose ; and the alter- nance of parts ; and from this to Goethe’s mag¬ nificent generalizations there would be but a step, and that a step easy to be taken.
Taught in this way, whatever flower a boy sees, after a few lessons, he looks at with interest, as modi¬ fying the view of flowers he has attained to. He is tempted by his discoveries : he is on the verge of the unknown, and perpetually transferring to the known. All that he sees finds a place in his theories, and in turn reacts upon them, for his theories are growing. lie is fairly committed to the struggle in the vast field of ob¬ servation, and he learns that the test of a theory is its power of including facts. He learns that he must use his eyes and his reason, and that then he is equipped with all that is necessary for discovering truth. He learns that he is capable of judging of other people’s views, and of forming an opinion of his own. He learns
Liberal Education .
277
that nothing in the plant, however minute, is unimpor¬ tant; that he owes only temporary allegiance to the doc¬ trines of his master, and not a perpetual faith.
Only contrast this with the common practice of loading a boy’s memory with cellules and paren¬ chyma, protoplasm and chlorophyll, rhizomes and bulbs , endosmose and exosmose, before he has any definite and abiding conception of how a plant is put together !
Mr. Wilson’s method carries with it its own recommendation ; and his method of teaching bot¬ any is the method upon which all teaching, if it is to discipline the intelligence, should be conducted. First the facts, then the generalization, lastly the nomenclature. All the knowledge which in the conduct of life we are able to use to any good purpose is necessarily acquired in this way. If we had no knowledge of human nature save what might be gained by the memorizing of abstract ethical formulas, we should never acquire the knack of dealing sensibly with our fellow-crea¬ tures. But we notice how men act under given circumstances ; day by da}% and year by year, we gather and collate such facts of observation into general opinions, crude indeed as compared with the exhaustive generalizations of physical science, yet as far as they go embodying the results of
278
Darwinism and Other Essays .
genuine experience. Thus our knowledge of men gradually acquires the accuracy and precision needful, in order that we may act upon it se¬ curely. In gathering such knowledge, — in learn¬ ing how to live rightly, — our early education ought to help us. Reasoning is reasoning, and its canons are substantially the same, whether flowers, or triangles, or participles, or human na¬ ture constitute the matter reasoned about. By reasoning out what we know, we make knowledge lead to wisdom ; we become civilized as we grow older. If the vast body of truths constituting modern science could have been miraculously told to our mediaeval ancestors, an imposing quantity of pretentious scholarship might have been called into existence, but the world would not have become civilized much the sooner. It is the con¬ scious effort put forth in making all these dis¬ coveries which lias worked the profound modifi¬ cation of mind and character called civilization. Humanity could not, after toilfully elaborating the laws of gravitation and chemical affinity, re¬ main as "barbarous and untutored as before. This was in part what Lessing had in his mind, when he said that if God wrere to hold in his right hand perfect truth, and in his left hand the untiring search for truth, he would unhesitatingly choose
Liberal Education.
279
the latter. It is upon discovery, not upon rote¬ learning, that humanity has thrived. And if — to adopt another idea of that incomparable man — civilization is but the education of the race, it is after the course of civilization that a rational course of education should in miniature be pat¬ terned.
To Professor Seeley’s excellent essay on Com¬ petitive Tests we can only briefly allude. The state of things at Cambridge which it describes is exceedingly instructive. At Cambridge, if any¬ where in the world, the system of competition has been put to a crucial test. The examinations are formidable, alike from their severity and from their rigid accuracy. Immense rewards await the successful scholar, and all possible means for ob¬ taining a creditable position are placed at the dis¬ posal of the ambitious student. Yet the results thus far obtained from the competitive system are by no means brilliant. It does not apparently increase the number of eminent scholars, or even of thoroughly educated men, produced by the university. The complaint is even made that England has ceased to produce great scholars, that in point of erudition she is falling behind the Continental nations ; and it is frequently re¬ marked as a significant fact that the most learned
280 Darwinism and Other Essays.
of Englishmen in the present age — men like Mill and Huxley, Garnett and Grote — have not been educated at the universities. But this accusation is exaggerated and somewhat irrelevant ; for the competitive system is a very modern institution, and the great scholars just mentioned are in no way the contemporaries of those brought up un¬ der it. Yet, if we are to reason in this way, it must be said that England has no cause to be ashamed of the array of illustrious scholars which she has to show for the nineteenth century. And most of them have been university men who have graduated either with high honours, or at least with credit.
It is not so much, however, by the number of great scholars which it turns out, as by the gen¬ eral standard of intelligence among its graduates, that the system of a university is to be judged. A man who lives to edit Lucretius or Aristotle, as Mr. Munro and Sir A. Grant have done, will most likely in his college days study for the sake of study, and the competitive or any other system can exert but a transient effect upon him. The English universities afford great facilities to a young man who desires to study in earnest, and is already a scholar in embryo. But the question which here especially concerns us is, What is the
Liberal Education.
281
worth of the competitive system now in use as a wholesome incentive to the average young man who does not passionately love knowledge for its own sake ? Does it tend to widen and render more thorough the education which he will get at the university ? Experience is beginning to tell us plainly that the reverse is the case. The edu¬ cation of young men in the English universities is narrowed and rendered more superficial by the competitive system. Whatever results may be brought forth by comparing the lists of great scholars which England and the Continental na¬ tions can respectively furnish, there can be no doubt that the average college graduate in France or Germany attains to a far higher degree of knowledge and culture than the average graduate of Oxford or Cambridge. He does not ordinarily manifest that preternatural ignorance of every¬ thing except the classics which characterizes the English student. And his study of the classics has usually enriched him with a more or less val¬ uable stock of literary, critical, and philosophical ideas, which the Englishman, absorbed in verse- writing and prize-getting, has never caught sight of. He knows a greater number of authors, and he knows them to more profit. Now for this su¬ perficiality and narrowness of English education
282 Darwinism and Other Essays.
the competitive system is directly responsible. It transforms the means into the end. It makes the student think more of winning the prize than of mastering the subject in hand according to his
own intellectual needs. And that there is all the
*
difference in the world between mastering a sub¬ ject and making a brilliant show with it at an examination every scholar well knows. Professor Seeley has graphically described the results of the system at Cambridge. The object of the tri¬ pos examinations being to distinguish accurately the merit of the students, it follows that those sub¬ jects in which attainments can be tested with pre¬ cision take precedence of subjects in which they cannot. These latter subjects, “ however impor¬ tant they may be, gradually cease to be valued, or taught, or learned, while the former come into re¬ pute, and acquire an artificial value. This cannot take place without an extraordinary perversion of views both in the taught and the teachers. They learn to weigh the sciences in a perfectly new scale, and one which gives perfectly new results. They reject as worthless for educational purposes the greatest questions which can occupy the hu¬ man mind, and attach unbounded importance to some of the least.” Philosophy, for instance, is rejected, while the useless details of grammar and
Liberal Education.
283
prosody are made much of. On the one hand, young men may graduate with signal honour, and yet never know what great principles were at stake in the Peloponnesian War; while, on the other hand, these same young men are taught to be “ ashamed of falling short of perfect knowl¬ edge in the genders of Latin nouns, which involve no principles at all, and in which a minute ac¬ curacy can hardly be attained without a certain frivolity or eccentricity of memory ! ”
Still worse, the competitive system vulgarizes the mind of the student. Scholarly enthusiasm, an exalted opinion of the value of knowledge, faith in culture as such, — u divine curiosity,” in a word, — should be the student’s incentives to la¬ bour. These are the only motives which can ever lead to any culture worthy of the name. The competitive system tends to destroy these mo¬ tives, replacing them by the vulgar desire to out¬ shine one’s companions.
Instead of enlarging the range of the student’s an¬ ticipations, it narrows them. It makes him careless of his future life, regardless of his higher interests, and concentrates all his thoughts upon the paltry examina¬ tion upon which perhaps a fellowship depends, or suc¬ cess in some profession is supposed to depend. It is well known that any one who asks himself the question,
284 • Darwinism and Other Essays.
‘Is this course of study good for me? does it favour my real progress, my ultimate success?’ is not fit for the tripos. Thinking of any kind is regarded as dangerous. It is the well-known saying of a Cambridge private tu¬ tor : ‘If So-and-so did not think so much, he might do very well.’ I may content myself with remarking that the particular student who did think too much, and who, perhaps as a consequence, was beaten in the tripos, now stands in scientific reputation above all his contempo¬ raries.
An adequate examination of Professor Seeley’s arguments, and especially of the practical expedi¬ ents by which he would do away with the evils just mentioned, would carry us far beyond our limits. The volume before us is not one which can easily be epitomized and furnished with a running commentary. So many suggestions are made and questions opened in it that any at¬ tempt to treat it thus thoroughly would end in the production of a companion volume rather than a brief article. But from what has been said it will be seen that our essayists do not belong to the number of those who disparage classical stud¬ ies as unfit for the needs of our time. The Phi¬ listinism which regards everything as useless that is not utilitarian need seek for no encouragement in this book. The claims of physical science are
Liberal Education.
285
urged from considerations of general culture, and not of narrow utility. And for this we heartily commend the writers. There is no reason what¬ ever why Philistinism should be allowed the ex¬ clusive protectorship of physical science. To as¬ sail or defend the study of it, while taking into account only its utilitarian aspects, is wholly to ignore the true state of the question. It is to commit a mistake like that committed by Ma¬ caulay in his eloquent but superficial essay on Bacon. The study of science, properly conducted, is by no means subservient to objects of narrow utility. The utilitarian point of view, in the lim¬ ited sense of the word, is not at all apparent in Laplace's explanation of the perturbed motions of the planets, in Gerhardt’s theory of atomicity, in Cuvier’s classification of animals, or in Darwin’s investigations into the principles of variation. Indeed, that profound but somewhat chimerical writer, Auguste Comte, expressly finds fault with contemporary followers of science because they do not sufficiently confine themselves to investi¬ gations which have a perceptible bearing upon the interests of society. In his pontifical fashion, he authoritatively warns us against pursuing such useless inquiries as those which concern stellar astronomy, the cellular structure of organic be-
286
Darwinism and Other Essays .
ings, the origin of species, etc. But we have no fear that the investigating world will take heed of his misapplied caution. That inborn curiosity which, according to the Semitic myth, has al¬ ready made us “ like gods, knowing good and evil,” will continue to inspire us until the last secret of nature is laid bare ; and doubtless in the untiring search we shall uncover many priceless jewels in places where we least expect to find them. The legitimate claim which science makes is that, while drawing the mind toward investi¬ gation and activity for its own sake, it confers upon humanity unlooked-for rewards.
But in order that either a literary or a scien¬ tific education shall produce worthy results, it must be rationally conducted, with a single eye to the greatest possible perfection of culture. Noth¬ ing will be gained by giving up Greek composi¬ tion, and studying botany or chemistry as a mere collection of “ useful ” details. The adversaries of a classical and literary culture will do well to bear this in mind. It is not by throwing over¬ board a valuable portion of the cargo, but by adopting improved methods of navigating the ship, that we shall make a successful voyage.
June , 1868.
XIV.
UNIVERSITY REFORM.
It seems to be quite generally felt that the present time is a favourable one for entertaining and discussing various projects for the improve¬ ment of the University at Cambridge. To the question of reform, in its general outlines, the at¬ tention of our readers has already been directed by able hands.1 It is here proposed to pursue the subject more into detail, and to deduce from a few general principles the rudiments of a sys¬ tematic scheme of reform.
Note, first, that the idea of reform is to be kept distinctly separate from that of revolution, and that, while advocating the former, all encourage¬ ment to the latter will here be strictly withheld. The improvements from time to time aimed at should as far as possible be brought about with¬ out effacing the distinctive characteristics of the
1 See F. H. Hedge’s article in the Atlantic Monthly , September, 1866. The important change in the constitution of the university, by which the Board of Overseers became an elected body, had just been effected.
288
Damvinism and Other Essays.
original system. We are unable to sympathize with the radical spirit which would make a bon¬ fire of all churches because the Pentateuch does not teach geology, or which would upset an in¬ digenous and time-honoured government because certain social evils co-exist with it. And we can¬ not but think that an attempt to revolutionize our university, by assimilating it to sister institutions in England or Germany, would be productive of at least as much harm as good. If, for instance, in the hope of obtaining a perfect university, we were to abolish our dormitories, obliterate the dis¬ tinction between classes, abandon the entire sys¬ tem of marking, and transfer the task of main¬ taining order from the Parietal Committee to the civil police, we should no doubt be as much dis¬ appointed as the men of 1789, who attempted to make English institutions grow on French soil, and got a Bonaparte dynasty for their pains. There is a place as well as a time for all things, and a great deal will always have to be conceded to the habit which men have of getting used to old institutions and customs, and of disliking to see them too roughly dealt with. A German uni¬ versity is little else than an organized aggregate of lecture -rooms, libraries, laboratories, and other facilities for those who desire to study, — resem-
University Reform . 289
bling in this respect our scientific and professional schools. Our New England colleges, founded in a Puritan environment, less imbued with the modern spirit, and in many cases even dating from an earlier period, have always combined with their instruction more or less of coercion ; and have laid claim to a supervision over the de¬ meanour of their students, in the exercise of which the liberty of the latter is often egregiously inter¬ fered with. The freedom of the undergraduate at Harvard is hampered by restrictions, many of which, if once justifiable, have in the lapse of time grown to be quite absurd, and should cer¬ tainly be removed with all possible promptness : of these we shall speak presently. But to re¬ move all restrictions whatever with one and the same sweep of our reformatory besom would ex¬ cite serious and extensive popular distrust. The New England mind, which tolerates Maine liquor- laws and Sabbatarian ordinances and protective tariffs, would not regard with favour such a revo¬ lutionary measure. So much liberty would bear an uncanny resemblance to license, — a resem¬ blance which, we freely admit, might not at first be wholly imaginary. The college would lose much of its popularity ; young men would be
sent elsewhere to pursue their studies ; and thus
19
290 Darwinism and Other JSssays.
great injury would be manifestly wrought to the cause of university reform, which must needs be supported to a considerable extent by popular sentiment in order duly to prosper. A large amount of discretion must therefore be used, even in the removal of those features wherein our col¬ leges compare unfavourably with those of other countries. But there are some respects in which the American university may claim a superiority quite unique, — some cases in which a radical change must ever be earnestly deprecated. That arrangement by virtue of which each student is a member, not only of the university, but of a particular class, is fraught with such manifold benefits that any advantages to be derived from giving it up must disappear when brought into comparison. No graduate needs to be told what a gap would be made in his social and moral cul¬ ture, if all the thoughts and emotions resulting from his relations to his classmates were to be stricken from it. For the genial nurture of the sympathetic feelings, the class system affords a host of favourable conditions which can ill be dispensed with. By means of it, the facilities of the university for becoming a centre of social no less than of intellectual development are greatly enhanced. On the other hand, it is not to be
291
University Reform.
denied that, in requiring students of all degrees of mental ability and working power to complete the same course of study in the same length of time, there is much irrationality as well as some in¬ justice. This evil, which is so seriously felt in American colleges, does not afflict the universities of England and Germany, where the class system is not in use. To obviate it, however, it is for¬ tunately not necessary to resign the advantages which that system alone is competent to secure. Partly by allowing greater option in the selection of studies, partly by extending the privilege, at present occasionally granted to students, of taking their degrees one or two years after the termina¬ tion of the regular course, sufficient recognition can be given to differences of mental capacity, without essentially infringing upon the individu¬ ality of the successive classes. Here, then, is a clear case in which a judicious reform might at¬ tain all the ends sought by a sweeping revolution, without incurring the grievous detriment which the latter would inevitably entail. We believe that the same principle will apply in nearly every case ; that it is possible to secure all the most valuable benefits conferred by European systems, without sacrificing: the fundamental elements of our own ; and that, by uniformly shaping our
292 Darwinism and Other Essays.
ameliorative projects with conscious reference to such an end, the efficiency of our university will be most successfully maintained, and its prosper¬ ity most thoroughly insured.
Next, in order to impart to our notions of re¬ form the requisite symmetry and coherence, the legitimate objects of university education must be clearly conceived and steadfastly borne in mind. The whole duty of a university toward those who are sheltered within its walls may be concisely summed up in two propositions. It consists, first, in stimulating the mental faculties of each stu¬ dent to varied and harmonious activity, — in sup¬ plying every available instrument for sharpening the perceptive powers, strengthening the judg¬ ment, and adding precision and accuracy to the imagination ; secondly, in providing for all those students who desire it the means of acquiring a thorough elementary knowledge of any given branch of science, art, or literature. In a word, to teach the student how to think for himself, and then to give him the material to exercise his thought upon, — this is the whole duty of a uni¬ versity. Into that duty the inculcation of doc¬ trines as such does not enter. The professor is not fulfilling his proper function when he incon¬ tinently engages in a polemic in behalf of this or
University Reform. 293
that favourite dogma. His business is to see that the pupil is thoroughly prepared and equipped with the implements of intellectual research, that he knows how to deduce a conclusion from its premise, that he properly estimates the value of evidence and understands the nature of proof ; he may then safely leave him to build up his own theory of things. His first crude conclu¬ sions may indeed be sadly erroneous, but they will be worth infinitely more, than the most sal¬ utary truths acquired gratis, or lazily accepted upon the recommendation of another. It is de¬ sirable that our opinions should be correct, but it is far more desirable that they should be ar¬ rived at independently and maintained with intel¬ ligence and candour. Sceptical activity is better than dogmatic torpor ; and our motto should be, Think the truth as far as possible, but, above all things, think. When a university throws its in¬ fluence into the scale in favour of any party, re¬ ligious or political, philosophic or sesthetic, it is neglecting its consecrated duty, and abdicating its high position. It has postponed the interests of truth to those of dogma. These are matters which our own university should seriously pon¬ der. It does not always strive so earnestly to make its students independent thinkers as to
294 Darwinism and Other Essays.
imbue them with opinions currently deemed wholesome. But science will never prosper in this way. Political economy will gain nothing by one-sided arguments against Mai thus and Ri¬ cardo ; sound biological views will never be fur¬ thered by undiscriminating abuse of Darwinism ; nor will the interests of religion be ever rightly subserved by threatening heretics with expulsion.
An endless amount of discussion has been wasted over the question whether a mathemati¬ cal or a classical training is the more profitable for the majority of students. The comparative advantages of spending all one’s time upon one favourite pursuit, and of devoting more or less at¬ tention to various branches of study, have also supplied the text for much vague and unsatisfac¬ tory discourse. By the view of university edu¬ cation here adopted, these questions are placed in a somewhat favourable position for getting disposed of. The office of the university is not to enforce doctrine, but to point out method. It is not so much to cram the mind of the student with divers facts, which in after life it may be useful for him to have learned, as to teach him the proper mode of searching for facts, and of dealing with them when he has found them. As
295
University Reform.
Jacobs says, “ It is of less importance in youth what a man learns than how he learns it.” 1 A fact considered in itself is usually a very stupid and quite useless object. Viewed in relation to other facts, as the illustration of a general prin¬ ciple, or as an item of evidence for or against a theory, it suddenly becomes both interesting and valuable. If the truth is to be told, by far the greater number of facts which are to be encoun¬ tered in the various departments of nature are to most persons utterly insignificant and unattrac¬ tive ; chiefly, because they have never been fur¬ nished with the means of estimating their illus¬ trative and evidentiary value. Universal logic, therefore, — the relations of phenomena to each other, and the methods of investigation and modes of proof applicable to widely different subjects, — should occupy an important place in college teaching. And that this end can be secured by studying any one kind of science alone is of course impossible.
The advocate of the utility of mathematical studies, when confronted with the insurmountable fact that very little use is made of algebra and geometry in ordinary life, is wont to shelter him¬ self behind the assertion that nevertheless these
♦
1 Vermischte Schr[ften , III., § 27, p. 254.
296 Darwinism and Other Essays.
studies “discipline the mind.” Though exqui- sitel}r vague, as thus expressed, this favourite apology is doubtless essentially valid. The al¬ most universal distaste for mathematics,1 co-exist¬ ing as it does in many persons with excellent reasoning powers, proves that the faculty of imagining abstract relations is ordinarily quite feebly developed. Not reason, but imagination, is at fault. The passage from premise to con¬ clusion could easily be made, if the abstract rela¬ tions of position or quantity which are involved could be accurately conceived and firmly held in the mind. Now the ability to imagine relations is one of the most indispensable conditions of all precise thinking. No subject can be named, in the investigation of which it is not imperatively needed ; but it can nowhere else be so thoroughly acquired as in the study of mathematics. This fact alone is sufficient to justify the university in requiring its students to devote some attention to such a study. But the excellence of mathematics as an instrument of mental discipline by no means
1 Which probably attained its sublimest expression some years ago in the case of a Sophomore who, coming from Harvard Hall, where his “annual” had goaded him to desperation, was heard to declare, in language equally with Caligula’s deserving immortality, his wish that the whole of mathematical science might be condensed into a sin¬ gle lesson, that he might “ dead” on it all at once!
297
University Reform.
ends here. It is indeed a fallacy to suppose that greater certainty is attainable in geometry than elsewhere. Not greater certainty, but greater precision, is that which distinguishes the results obtained by mathematical deduction. Dealing constantly with definite or determinable magni¬ tudes, its processes are characterized by quantita¬ tive exactness. It is not obliged to pare off and limit its conclusions, to make them tally with concrete facts ; but can treat of length as if there were no such thing as breadth, and of plane sur¬ faces just as if solidity were unknown. It is thus the most perfect type of deductive reasoning; and if logical training is to consist, not in re¬ peating barbarous scholastic formulas or mechan¬ ically tacking together empty majors and minors,
ft
but in acquiring dexterity in the use of trust¬ worthy methods of advancing from the known to the unknown, then mathematical investigation must ever remain one of its most indispensable implements. Once inured to the habit of accu¬ rately imagining abstract relations, recognizing the true value of symbolic conceptions, and fa¬ miliarized with a fixed standard of proof, the mind is equipped for the consideration of quite other objects than lines and angles. The twin treatises of Adam Smith on social science, where-
298 Darwinism and Other Essays.
in, by deducing all human phenomena first from the unchecked action of selfishness and then from the unchecked action of sympathy, he arrives at mutually - limiting conclusions of transcendent practical importance, furnish for all time a bril¬ liant illustration of the value of mathematical methods and mathematical discipline.
If magnitudes and quantities thus contemplated in the abstract yield such wholesome pabulum for the intellect, no less beneficial in many respects is the study of the direct applications of mathe¬ matics to the concrete phenomena of mechanics, astronomy, and physics. Not only do the numer¬ ous devices by which algebraic expressions are utilized in the solution of physical problems af¬ ford extensive scope for inventive ingenuity, but some familiarity with quantitative conceptions of^ the action and interaction of forces is eminently conducive to the entertainment of sound philo¬ sophic views. The reorganization of mechanics by Lagrange, and the beautiful construction by Fourier of a mathematical doctrine of heat, were innovations in philosophy as well as in science ; and although the student can hardly be expected to gain even a rudiinentaiy knowledge of these recondite subjects, he may at least with profit to himself be enabled to form some general notion
299
University Reform .
of the symbolic conceptions of force which they systematically embody. Of especial importance is the study of astronomy, both philosophically, as imparting a knowledge of the cosmic relations of our planet, and logically, as exhibiting in its highest perfection the deductive investigation of concrete phenomena. The right use of that in¬ dispensable but dangerous weapon of thought, hypothesis, can nowhere be so conveniently or so satisfactorily learned as in astronomy, where hypotheses have been more skilfully framed and successfully applied than in any other province of scientific research.
But it is not by the study of mathematics and its applications alone that a comprehensive logical training can be acquired. There are other kinds of proof than mathematical proof ; and the deduc¬ tive method is not the only method of reason¬ ing. In estimating the comparative advantages of mathematical and of classical discipline, too slight and too feeble recognition has been extended to the great body of inductive science, which has grown up and attained to philosophic significance only in quite modern times. Chemistry and con¬ crete physics have their means of arriving at truth, very different from those employed in mathematics, but quite as essential to sound
300 Darwinism and Other Essays.
scientific thinking. To acquire expertness and elegance in the use of deductive methods, while remaining contentedly ignorant of the fundamen¬ tal canons of induction, is to secure but a lame and one-sided mental development. It is often remarked that many men, whose opinions upon any subject with which they are familiar are sober enough, do not scruple to utter the most childish nonsense upon topics with which they are only partially acquainted. The reason is that they have learned to think correctly after some par¬ ticular fashion, but know nothing of the general principles on which thinking should be conducted. They are what is fitly called narrow-minded ; and since each branch of knowledge is more or less closely interlaced with every other branch, a searching scrutiny will usually show that even in their control of their own specialty there is ample room for improvement. Each science has its log¬ ical methods and its peculiar species of evidence; and to insure an harmonious development of the mental powers, there is no practicable way except to obtain a knowledge of all.
To acquire such a command of scientific meth¬ ods, it is not necessary, even were it possible, to devote much study to the details of each separate science. To master the details of any single sci-
301
University Reform.
ence is a task for the accomplishment of which a lifetime is much too short. Recollecting, how¬ ever, that not doctrine, but method, is for the student the thing above all others needful, it will be seen that our scheme does not make too great demands even upon the limited time em¬ braced in a university course. The principles of investigation involved in every one of the induc¬ tive sciences might easily be learned in the time now devoted to the acquisition of facts in chem¬ istry alone. The college now attempts to teach chemistry as if each student might possibly come to be a physician, metallurgist, or pharmaceutist in after life. And the amount of time spent upon it is out of all proportion to that allotted to the other natural sciences, some of which, as anatomy and geology, are not even included in the regular course of electives. But total ignorance of or¬ gans and tissues is too great a price to pay for even an extensive acquaintance with acids and salts. The study of chemical details should be reserved for the elective course, of which we shall presently treat. The fundamental principles of chemistry, its relation to kindred sciences, the scope which it affords for observation and exper¬ iment, the philosophical value of its unrivalled nomenclature, — these are matters of universal
302 Darwinism and Other Essays.
importance, and tlieir study forms an inseparable part of a catholic education. As thus conducted, the study of chemistry need not consume more than one third of the time at present assigned it, and other sciences, now sadly neglected, might assert their just claims to attention.
Chemistry and molecular physics constitute the proper field for the employment of the purely inductive method. As we arrive at the organic sciences, deduction again assumes a prominent position. Of our three principal instruments for interrogating Nature, — observation, experiment, and comparison, — the second plays in biology a quite subordinate part. But while, on the one hand, the extreme complication of causes involved in vital processes renders the application of ex¬ periment altogether precarious in its results, on the other hand, the endless variety of organic phenomena offers peculiar facilities for the suc¬ cessful employment of comparison and analogy. Zoology and botany are pre-eminently the sciences of classification ; and if skill in the use of this powerful auxiliary of thought is ever to be ac¬ quired, it must be sought in the comparative study of the vegetable and animal kingdoms. Theoretical logic may divide and sub-divide as much as it likes ; but genera and species are dull
303
University Reform .
and lifeless things, when contemplated merely in their places upon a logical chart. To become cor¬ rect reasoners, it is not enough that we should know what classes and sub-classes are ; wTe should also know how to cunningly make them. From pure considerations of discipline, therefore, biol¬ ogy should form one of the regular studies of the university course, and some proficiency in it should be expected of every candidate for a bach¬ elor’s degree. Practical considerations also join in urging that steps should be taken to raise the organic sciences from the insignificant position now assigned them. If some sagacious traveller from a distant world, like Voltaire’s Micromegas, were to visit Harvard College, he would doubtless give vent to unpleasant sarcasms concerning the profound anatomical ignorance of its graduating classes. He would pronounce it hardly creditable to the institution that men who have received its honours should be guilty of classifying cuttle-fishes with the vertebrata (we state facts), and should betray even less acquaintance with the structure of their own bodies than with the physical con¬ figuration of the moon. The scientific study of life has its practical as well as its speculative advantages. For want of sound views of biolog¬ ical method, intelligent persons are daily seen
304 Darwinism and Other Essays.
yielding faith to unscientific fallacies like those embodied in homoeopathy, or to wretched delu¬ sions like cranioscopic phrenology.
It is therefore recommended that the time re¬ quired for the study of chemistry be limited to one term, instead of extending over three; that in the second term, along with the botany now taught, some instruction be given in general and comparative anatomy ; to be followed, in the third, by a brief but comprehensive survey of physiology ; while such knowledge of geology as is needful for the better understanding of these subjects might be simultaneously imparted by means of lectures. An arrangement of this sort would possess the signal advantage of throwing the organic sciences into their proper place, be¬ tween chemistry, upon which they partially de¬ pend, and psychology, to which they constitute the natural introduction.
There is the less need for insisting upon the value of psychology, metaphysics, and logic, as instruments of mental discipline, since few per¬ sons are disposed to call it in question. In fol¬ lowing a difficult metaphysical discussion, all the intellectual faculties are brought into healthful activity ; and although men may reason well without understanding the nature of the psychi*
305
University Reform.
cal processes, there is no doubt that an acquaint¬ ance with psychology guarantees its possessor against the adoption of many a plausible fallacy. After the student has acquired, through his scien¬ tific studies, some dexterity in the use of logical methods, he will approach, with all the more in¬ terest and enthusiasm, the study of those methods as organized into a coherent system. In view of what has already been said, it is almost unneces¬ sary to add that we do not regard the science of logic as consisting solely of the doctrine of the syllogism. It will no longer do to ignore the fact that induction has its tests and canons, as well as deduction. Mr. Mill’s great treatise has been be¬ fore the public for nearly a quarter of a century ; and though far too learned and ponderous for a text-book, its introduction into the college course, in an epitomized form, would be attended with happy results. As for metaphysics, much of its value in education depends upon the catholicity of the spirit in which it is taught. Metaphysical doctrines are not so incontrovertibly established as the leading theorems of physical science. On nearly every question there are at least two mu¬ tually incompatible opinions, while on some points there are scores of such. The latest speculations
do not, as usually happens in science, render an-
20
306 Darwinism and Other Essays.
tiquated the older ones ; and accordingly, in teach¬ ing metaphysics, extensive use should be made of the historical method of presentation. Recita¬ tions from the text-book might profitably be com¬ bined or alternated with lectures upon the history of philosophy, in which the aim should be to in¬ dicate as graphically as possible the relations sus¬ tained by each system to its predecessors. In de¬ fault of any such arrangement, the university already possesses, in the works of Sir William Hamilton, with their profound historical con¬ sciousness, as fair a substitute as mere text-books can furnish.
The study of history, with reference to the scientific methods involved in it, would in a uni¬ versity be utterly impracticable. That there is a causal sequence, which must sooner or later admit of being formulated, in the tangled and devious course of human affairs, we not only readily grant, but we also steadfastly maintain. But speculations of this sort are too hopelessly ab¬ struse, and require too vast and minute a knowl¬ edge of details, to be profitably included even in the most advanced undergraduate course. His¬ torical laws cannot, like physical laws, be obtained from the inspection of a few crucial instances. The enormous heterogeneity of social phenomena
307
• University Reform .
forbids their becoming amenable to any such pro¬ cess. Only in political economy, and to some ex¬ tent in ethics, where the action of certain moral forces is independently treated, can the student be expected to comprehend general truths. Far from being in a condition to appreciate general views of historic evolution, he is usually ignorant of most of the leading facts upon which they are founded. Historical instruction, therefore, must continue to consist chiefly in the exposition of details. It is important, however, that the atten¬ tion should be principally directed toward those events which have constituted turning-points in human progress. It is better to confine the atten¬ tion to a few cardinal epochs, like the rise of the Holy Roman Empire, the Crusades, the Refor¬ mation, or the Revolt of the Netherlands, than to try to commit to memory a compendium like Michelet’s “ Precis,” which is nothing but a dis¬ jointed chronological table, a potpourri of un¬ meaning dates and unexplained occurrences, wherein trivial anecdotes and events of eternal significance are incontinentlv huddled together,
O 4/ o 7
without the slightest attempt at historical per¬ spective. Above all, the essential unity and con¬ tinuity of ancient and modern history should be kept steadily in view ; and to this end, far more
308 Darwinism and Other Essays.
importance should be assigned to the history of Imperial Rome than is now the case. Ancient history will always, as at present, be best studied in connection with ancient languages and litera¬ ture. And this remark suggests the last of the subjects requiring notice in our brief survey, in proceeding to consider which let it be premised that the most inestimable benefits arising from the study of history are here passed over, as im¬ plied in what we shall have to say about the classics.
If we have reserved the last place for the men¬ tion of classical studies, it is not because we es¬ teem them least in value. After what has been said concerning the advantages of mathematical and scientific training, our assertion of the para¬ mount importance of the classics will incur no risk of being ascribed to one-sided prejudice. We therefore make no scruple of recording our opin¬ ion that, both in quantity and in qualit}% the mental discipline obtainable from the intelligent study of the Greek and Latin languages equals that which can be acquired by any other educa¬ tional means whatever. To which it may be added that, if accuracy and precision are most thoroughly imparted by the study of exact science, on the other hand practical sagacity, catholic
309
University Reform .
sympathies, and breadth of view are the qualities most completely developed by philological and literary pursuits. Indeed, were it not for the amount of attention so generally bestowed upon the literatures and dialects of Greece and Rome, our intellectual sympathies would become con¬ tracted to a deplorable degree. As Dr. William Smith has observed, “ their civilization may be said to be our civilization, their literature is our literature, their institutions and laws have moulded and modified our institutions and laws ; and the life of the western nations of Europe is but a continuation of the life of Greece and Rome.” The reasons habitually adduced for studying the history of our own country and that of England, from which our political institutions most directly emanate, apply with scarcely inferior cogency to the study of that antique civilization, whence the best and most enduring elements of our social structure, our science, laws, and litera¬ ture, even most of our religious ideas, are ulti¬ mately derived. And how much or how little of ancient life can be comprehended without a knowledge of ancient languages we are willing to let every classically educated man declare for himself. There is thus a profound reason for the fact that universities have ever made the classic
310 Darwinism and Other Essays.
languages the basis of their instruction. The progress of modern discovery may greatly modify the circumstances under which this arrangement was originally made, but it can never entirely do away with them. Sanskrit, for instance, the im¬ mense importance of which we would be the last to underrate, can never be placed upon an equal footing; with Latin and Greek. Yalmiki and Kal- idasa, says Mommsen, are the precious treasures of literary botanists, but Homer and Sophokles bloom in our own garden. With Indian civili¬ zation we are but remotely connected ; and our obligations to Ceesar, Paul, and Aristotle will ever be infinitely greater than to Kanada or Sak- yamuni. The noble thoughts of Hellenic philos¬ ophers and Roman jurists have not only helped to inaugurate modern civilization, but have since continually reacted upon it. The impulse given to jurisprudence by the discovery of Justinian’s Pandects at Amalfi may have been exaggerated by uncritical historians, as Hallam and Savigny have maintained. But the Renaissance, with its innumerable consequences, will remain forever an abiding refutation of the detractors of classical studies. Well might the renewal of intercourse with antiquity be called a new birth for the mod¬ ern mind ; it nerved it with vigour for its greatest
311
University Reform.
achievements. The spirit of Aristotle and Galen dwelt not with the stupid schoolmen who, parrot¬ like, repeated their doctrines, but with Galileo and Harvey, who overthrew them.
Not only does classical scholarship ripen the judgment and widen the sympathies ; it also af¬ fords unrivalled scope for the exercise of practical sagacity. In order to acquire tolerable proficiency in the use of an ancient language, it is necessary to go through with an endless amount of reason¬ ing, classifying, and guessing. Hypotheses must be skilfully framed, inferences must be correctly drawn, probabilities must be carefully balanced ; a high degree of shrewdness must continually be applied to the solution of questions for the mo¬ ment of practical importance, and to the removal of constantly occurring practical difficulties. It is a grave error to suppose that all this mental exertion can take place without beneficial effect upon the after life of the student. Even if he is so unwise .or so unfortunate as to allow his classi¬ cal attainments to slip from his memory, he will be the better fitted for all the business of life, by
reason of the exercise which they have entailed.
»
Whatever native keenness and capacity for pa- tient drudgery he may have in him will show it¬ self developed and strengthened, just as his alert-
312
Darwinism and Other Essays.
ness and muscular vigour will be the better for his early rowing and cricket-playing, though he may never touch bat or oar again. Impatient utili¬ tarianism, in directing all education to immediate practical ends, and in turning universities into polytechnic schools, sacrifices more than it gains. The example of Rawlinson, as it has been well observed, proves that a soldier does not fight the worse at Candahar because he has deciphered cuneiform inscriptions at Ecbatana : to which it may be added that Julius Caesar was not the worse general because he wrote on philology even in the midst of his wonderful campaigns ; that men like Gladstone and Lewis are not worse, but better, statesmen because of their consummate classical scholarship ; and that Henry Sumner Maine is not likely to prove less competent as a member of the Supreme Council of India because he is the author of the profoundest treatise ex¬ tant upon legal and social archaeology.
Lastly, the current argument against classical studies, that, though imparting vigour and keen¬ ness to the mind, they are not immediately appli¬ cable to practical or professional purposes, is pre- , cisely one of * the strongest arguments in their favour. 44 In proportion as the material interests of the present moment become more and more
313
University Reform.
engrossing, more and more tyrannical in their ex¬ actions, in the same proportion it becomes more necessary that man should fall back on the com¬ mon interests of humanity, and free himself from the trammels of the present by living in the past.” In this age of hurry and turmoil, these words of the lamented Donaldson are daily assuming more and more of vital significance. If there is ever to be a limit to the minute sub-division of labour, if the excessive specialization of employments is not to go on unchecked by counter-processes, if man is not to be degraded into a mere producing and manufacturing automaton, if individuality of character is destined to reassert its antique pre¬ eminence, this must be brought about by sedu¬ lously fostering those pursuits which are not di¬ rectly subservient to objects of narrow utility. And to this end, no studies can be more needful and appropriate than the studies of history, lan¬ guage, literature, and archaeology, — those studies which Steinthal, with reference to their effect upon the mind, has classified together and aptly entitled 44 retrospective.” 1 They enlarge our mental horizon ; they reveal our indebtedness to the patient thinkers and workers who have gone before us, and to whom we owe most of our pres-
1 De Pronomine Relativo, pp. 4. 5.
314 Darwinism and Other Essays.
ent comforts ; they cultivate our sympathy with the joys and sorrows, the hopes and disappoint¬ ments, of past generations ; they preserve us from the worst effects of the petty annoyances and carting anxieties of daily life, — the /x epL/xval /3uo- TLKai, against which the highest religious and eth¬ ical teaching has solemnly warned us. These are benefits too priceless to be thrown away, in order that our young men may gain a year or two for their professional labours ; and they are amply sufficient to justify the university in continuing, as it has always done, to make classical scholar¬ ship an indispensable part of a liberal education.
Our hasty survey of these various departments of study brings' to light claims on the part of each one which cannot wisely be ignored. In order adequately to perform its first great duty of evoking the mental capacities, the university must extend some recognition to all. Some pro¬ ficiency in mathematics, in each of the physical and moral sciences, in history, and in classics should be demanded of every student who wishes to take a degree. The amount of work needful to be done in each of these branches in order to satisfy the requirements of a liberal education, it is for professors and tutors to determine. But
University Reform. 315
we may here extend to all required studies the suggestion already made in regard to chemistry, that only a minimum of attainment should be expected of the whole body of students. In the case of the sciences, only so much attention should be given to details as is requisite for the compre¬ hension of methods and general results. For this purpose, some knowledge of special facts is of course requisite. We cannot understand the atomic theory or the doctrine of definite propor¬ tions without knowing something about oxygen, hydrogen, and the other elements ; but it is not necessary to learn all the ways in which the metals are extracted from their ores. To under¬ stand methods and results in biology, we need to be acquainted with organs, fluids, and tissues, and to have some knowledge of function as well as of structure ; but we need not enter into the mer¬ its and shortcomings of Mr. Gulliver’s theory of inflammation, or be particular as to the proper classification of the Bryozoa. The mathemati¬ cal course might perhaps be allowed to close with plane trigonometry,, and the course in classics might be materially abridged. Far less attention might be given to supremely useless matters, like Greek prosody ; and the time now spent in com¬ mitting to memory arbitrary rules for the scan-
316
Darwinism and Other Essays.
ning of choral passages in ^Eschylus would thus be saved for the study of ancient history and pol¬ itics, in which important branches the require¬ ments of the university have not yet attained even a respectable minimum. Doubtless in many other respects the amount of compulsory study might be curtailed. But these hints are merely thrown out by way of illustration. In a matter demand¬ ing so much circumspection, only the wisdom and experience of practised instructors are competent to decide. Satisfactory results could easily be obtained, if the head of each department were to fix the minimum to be required in his own spe¬ cialty, subject to the concurrence of the repre¬ sentatives of all the other departments. The course of study, thus regulated, would slightly resemble what at Oxford is called the “ pass- course,” and all parts of it should be made com¬ pulsory for all students.
In advocating the adoption of a required course so extensive and yet so elementary, our aim is not to encourage crude smattering or vain scio¬ lism, but to enable the student to approach his own special subject in the light thrown upon it by widely different subjects, and with the varied mental discipline which no single study is com¬ petent to furnish. Nature is not a mere juxtapo*
317
University Reform.
sition of parts, but a complex organic whole ; and
the different branches of science are so closely
* J
allied that, without a general knowledge of all, we cannot have a complete comprehension of any. From the lack of a well-defined knowledge of the boundaries which divide chemistry from phys¬ iology, many eminent chemists of the present century, including such men as Raspail, Berthol- let, and even Liebig, have attempted to treat physiological questions by methods of investiga¬ tion applicable only to chemical questions. There has thus arisen an ill-digested mass of specula¬ tion, embracing some inquiries which are purely chemical, and others which are purely physiolog¬ ical, to which has been given the name of Or¬ ganic Chemistry. The amount of misdirected theorizing which resulted from this confusion of subjects and methods it would be no light task to estimate. The doctrine of definite proportions was assailed, the distinction between ultimate and immediate analysis was lost sight of, and theories of respiration and animal heat were propounded, whose rare beauty and artistic symmetry of con¬ ception rendered only the more palpable and de¬ plorable their extreme logical deficiency. This example, out of many which might be given, will suffice to illustrate our present position, that uni-
318 Darwinism and Other Essays.
versal philosophic culture is essential to the right understanding of any one science.
But a general elementary training we deem serviceable only in so far as it is ancillary to the intelligent study of special subjects; and in pro¬ viding for the former, our scheme of education is only half completed. Provision must also be made for the latter. Along with the pass-course at Oxford, there is another system of study, mak¬ ing quite different demands upon the energies of the student, and called the class-course. Our system of minimums likewise needs to be supple¬ mented by a course entailing far greater labour, and crowned with still higher results. In re¬ ducing, as here recommended, the amount of work in the required studies, in uniformly postponing doctrine to method, in contemplating scientific truths only in their general bearings, and in ex¬ tending its instruction over so wide a field, the university will have secured but one of its great educational ends. It will have supplied the in¬ struments for investigation ; it must now supply the material. In order to discharge its second great duty of providing each student with the means of thoroughly conducting special duties, the university should introduce an extensive and well-regulated system of electives. For this we
319
University Reform.
have an obvious analogue in the usage of our an¬ cestral institution in England. We allude, of course, to the triposes of the University of Cam¬ bridge, so called, not from anything triple or tripartite in their structure, but because of the “ stool or tripos on which the bachelor of the day sat before the proctors during the disputations on Ash- Wednesday.” Along with the course of required studies, remodelled according to the principles here laid down, a series of triposes should be instituted. The classic languages, with ancient history and ancient philosophy, would naturally constitute one tripos ; a second might be made up of pure and applied mathematics ; a third, of chemistry and the organic sciences; a fourth, of psychology, logic, and the history of philosophy ; a fifth, of modern history, political economy, and elementary law ; while a sixth might be assigned to modern languages and general phi¬ lology. At the beginning of the Sophomore year, — when, as we shall presently see, matriculation should be granted and the proper university course should commence, — the student should be al¬ lowed to select one or more of these triposes, in which to pursue his studies until graduation. As in each tripos the degree of proficiency requisite in order to graduate with honour should obviously
320
Darwinism and Other Essays.
be placed very high, few students would think it advisable to take up more than one. Thus or¬ ganized, the system of triposes would for all prac¬ tical purposes correspond to the Oxford class- course.
Many students will in every year be found will¬ ing to content themselves with the pass-course. They have no desire to do more than the mini¬ mum of work needful in order to get through col¬ lege without disgrace. Or perhaps they are feeble in health, or have been imperfectly trained at school, and cannot therefore expect to do justice to the severe requirements of a tripos. These should be allowed to act their pleasure : the edu¬ cation they will get from the pass-course is vastly better than none ; and there are better means than direct compulsion for inducing the student to follow the more laborious and profitable path. Either a higher degree should reward the perse¬ verance of the class-man, as some have already suggested, or the maximum of credit should, for the pass-man, be reduced by one half or even by two thirds. In any case, all the honours of the university, all its scholarships, prizes, and emolu¬ ments, should be strictly reserved for those who have distinguished themselves in a tripos. Be¬ sides this, for the class-men, the constraint of com-
321
University Reform .
pulsory attendance upon recitations and lectures should be materially diminished. Every one pos¬ sessed of the requisite experience knows that, for the able and diligent student, too frequent recita¬ tion is not only a hardship, but a hindrance. The explanations of the professor, adapted as they must be to the comprehension of all his hearers, are often entirely superfluous to any one who has properly gone over the subject beforehand; while listening to the awkward blunders of dull or lazy classmates is not only a waste of time, but an irri- • tation to the nerves. Nor could any class-man be expected to acquit himself satisfactorily upon his final examination, if three hours were to be sub¬ tracted from his time for study each day. Four ✓
or five recitations every week in the studies of the tripos would be amply sufficient. The class- man should also be exempted from pursuing that portion of the pass-course covered by the subjects embraced in his tripos. Obviously, he who se¬ lects Latin and Greek for his special studies will gain nothing by following the instruction given upon those subjects to the pass-men, though in all other departments he must keep up to the minimum required. As a further means of re¬ lieving class-men from the distractions of contin¬ ual recitation, and in order to provide all stu-
21
822 Darwinism and Other Essays.
dents with a wholesome incentive to exertion, a conditional exemption from recitations might be granted in the studies of the pass-course. For example, all persons attaining a certain standard of excellence in the monthly examination might be required to attend only half the stated num¬ ber of recitations for the month following. The next examination would afford both a test of the faithfulness with which the student had employed the time thus left to his control, and an occasion for withdrawing the privilege in case of its abuse. Some such system as this might be put into oper¬ ation even in the present state of affairs. Its merits, in creating a powerful yet thoroughly nat¬ ural motive for promptness and diligence, are perfectly apparent. It goes far toward obviating the defects of the system of compulsory attend¬ ance, while it does not ignore the value of that discipline which can only be got from occasional intercourse with tutors and fellow-students in the recitation-room.
The advantages of solving problems, constru¬ ing an ancient author, or rehearsing the results of one’s reading in the presence of classmates and subject to professorial criticism are indeed suffi¬ ciently obvious. Skill in acquiring knowledge ought certainly to be accompanied by skill in re-
323
University Reform.
producing it ; nor would the student be likely to do credit to himself in the examination, who should fail previously to test his powers of an¬ swering questions on the spur of the moment. But the business of recitation should not be con¬ fined to going over in public what has already been gone over in private. The instructor’s su¬ perior knowledge and more extensive sources of information should be applied to the elucidation of the subject in hand. Questions should be freely asked, and discussion, wherever relevant, should be encouraged. Thus conducted, the recitation would fulfil its appropriate function of making good the shortcomings inherent in a system of merely private study, of supplying illustrations which cannot be found in text-books, and of smoothing the difficulties which from time to time beset the student in his progress.
Viewed in this light, the recitation is properly an auxiliary to study, rather than a gauge of the student’s attainments. The latter purpose can be adequately subserved only by the examinations, on which the rank assigned to the student should exclusively depend. The marks given on indi¬ vidual recitations are nearly worthless as an index of scholarship. By dint of “cramming,” the use of keys, translations, and other abominations, a
824
Darwinism and Other Essays.
delusive show of knowledge can easily be pro¬ duced, which may answer the demands of the mo¬ ment, but which a shrewd examination will inevi¬ tably dispel. If recitations were not allowed to influence rank, and were conducted in the con¬ versational manner here recommended, the chief temptation to the employment of these wretched subterfuges would be at once removed. Accuracy of scholarship can never be looked for in a man who refuses to grapple with obstacles himself ; and to translations in particular it may be ob¬ jected that, being not always executed by com¬ petent scholars, their interpretations of difficult passages are often quite untrustworthy. Any system of conducting recitation, whose tendency is to banish these treacherous guides from the precincts of the university, is by that circum¬ stance alone recommended at the outset.
The object of the triposes is to encourage mi¬ nute and thorough scholarship. To this end, the distribution of honours should be determined by the results of a competitive examination held at the close of the college course, in which the re¬ quirements should be so great, and the questions so searching, as to render hopeless all attempts at succeeding by surreptitious means. At Oxford, for instance, the final class-papers in mathematics
University Reform . 325
include questions covering the whole subject of pure and mixed mathematics; and there is no reason why our standard of proficiency should not be equally high, since in a purely optional course neither inability nor distaste for the subject can reasonably be pleaded. From the classical stu¬ dent, besides thorough familiarity with the text and subject-matter of at least ten difficult authors, we should, demand a knowledge of ancient history at once extensive and accurate, as well as some skill in treating the higher problems of philology and criticism. And in the other class examina¬ tions the requirements should be similar. With such an organization, it would be strange if the university did not each year send forth a consid¬ erable number of persons in every way prepared to become finished scholars. With the compul¬ sory system reduced to the lowest practicable minimum, and the elective system carried out with the greatest possible completeness, the chief ends of a liberal education can most effectually be secured ; and the most excellent features of the European university will thus be adopted without resigning any single point of superiority possessed by the American college.
As already hinted, the existing constitution of the freshman year should not be materially in-
326 Darwinism and Other Essays.
fringed. A course of study like the one here de- scribed cannot profitably be undertaken without more thorough elementary preparation than the student is likely to obtain at school. In such a country as England, where a dense population is confined to a small area, and where a considerable degree of uniformity prevails in the civilization of different localities, all the necessary work pre¬ liminary to a university career can easily be per¬ formed in the great public schools. If, however, the present population of England were loosely spread over all the country between the Atlantic and the Dnieper, and if, while some parts were as highly educated as London, other parts were as poorly educated as Dalmatia, the state of things would be analogous to that which now exists in our own country. It is in conformity with these different circumstances that our system of edu¬ cation must be organized. We have no Eton or Rugby ; but we have hundreds of schools for el¬ ementary education, scattered over an immense tract of country, and differing widely in the amount and quality of the instruction which they impart to their pupils. The social environment in which they are situated is usually very differ¬ ent from that of Cambridge ; and the especial preparation of students for Harvard College can-
327
University Reform.
not, except, perhaps, in Massachusetts, be re¬ garded as one of the ends for which they exist. While the student coming from New England or any of the adjacent states is likely to be well prepared to begin his studies at Harvard, the stu¬ dent who comes from the West or from the South is equally likely to be ill prepared. These dis¬ advantages are now to a great extent compen¬ sated under the regime of the freshman year, and the circumstances by which they are occa¬ sioned furnish a sufficient reason for retaining that year as a period of probation, instead of giving it up altogether, or of making it a part of the regular university course. It should there¬ fore, we think, be retained in its present form, with an examination both at its beginning!; and at its close, upon the latter of which the attainment of matriculation should be made to depend.
Our brief sketch of a university reform would not be complete without a few remarks upon the numerous police restrictions by which, at Harvard and elsewhere, the American student is gratui¬ tously harassed.1 When the university under¬ takes to prescribe the colour of the student’3 dress, to determine when and where he shall smoke his cigar in the streets, and under what 1 Statutes of Harvard College, ch. x., § 101.
328 Darwinism and Other Essays.
conditions he shall keep a dog or a horse, it is not only exceeding its proper functions, but it is also forgetting its own dignity. Years ago, when black broadcloth was generally considered the only suitable material for a gentleman’s coat, and when none but truckmen and coal-heavers smoked in the streets, these laws might have been rea¬ sonable, though they were not even therefore necessarily justifiable. Now they have neither reason nor justice to recommend them. The state of things to meet which they were framed has entirely passed away, and the result of maintain¬ ing and even partially enforcing them is to widen, instead of closing, the social gulf which is fixed between instructors and students. Only when this chasm is removed bv more familiar inter-
%j
course, and by the abolition of the petty re¬ straints which have in times past caused students to regard with distrust and suspicion the officers placed over them, can the graver evils of college life, such as hazing and rowdyism, be effectually done away with. The self-respect awakened in the mind of the student by treating him as a gen¬ tleman will go much farther toward insuring his gentlemanly behaviour than all the censorial laws which corporations can frame and proctors ex¬ ecute. That undergraduates have too often de.
329
University Reform.
meaned themselves like grown-up children follows naturally from the circumstance that they have to an extent only too great been regarded as such.
That a limited amount of penal legislation is needful, under the present constitution of our colleges, we have already admitted. If the sys¬ tem of compulsory attendance upon lectures, reci¬ tations, and the roll-call — currently known as “ morning prayers ” — is not entirely to be given up, some penalty must await non-attendance. But that this penalty should interfere with the rank of the student, should affect his apparent scholar¬ ship, is utterly absurd. There is conspicuous ab¬ surdity in the state of things which allows a man who has attained an average mark of seven eighths to graduate without honour, because of his irregular attendance upon college exercises. His low rank is considered by the public to be an evidence of inferior scholarship ; nor will any amount of mere explanation suffice to remove the impression. The old system of fining would be far preferable to this. As for rioting, sedition, and gross indecorum, they should, after due warn¬ ing, be visited with expulsion. Further than this, the penal legislation of the university cannot le¬ gitimately extend.
330 Darwinism and Other Essays .
Such in its leading outlines is the scheme of university reform which has long been present, with more or less distinctness, to the mind of the writer. We are not sufficiently vain or sanguine to hope that it will at once recommend itself to those in whose hands the work of reform has been placed. We have throughout, however, avoided the discussion of Utopian measures for the attain¬ ment of ideal excellence, and have proposed no innovations for which we do not consider the times to be fully ripe, and the means of execution en¬ tirely at command. If our suggestions shall have at all contributed to fix and give shape to the floating ideas of any graduate who may be now first approaching the subject of reform, their end will be amply subserved. Something would have been said, had space allowed, on the important subject of a post-graduate course. But for the present we must be content with directing the at¬ tention of the alumni and the public to the im¬ perative need which exists for an arrangement whereby those graduates who desire it shall be enabled to pursue their studies indefinitely, under the shadow of the university. Only under such a system can we make due provision for thorough scholarship. Our literature cannot hope to com¬ pete with that of other countries, so long as our
University Reform. 331
young men of literary taste and ability have no choice but to embark in an active profession, or engage in mercantile employments. To institute a number of fellowships — the essential condition of a post-graduate course — will require, no doubt, a much greater revenue than the university has now at its disposal. But the end which is not straightway attainable should still be kept stead¬ ily in view. A system of post-graduate instruc¬ tion is, we repeat, the great need both of the uni¬ versity and of the country. Literature, science, and high scholarship have never prospered where they have not been recognized as legitimate spe¬ cial pursuits. Individual zeal and genius may in¬ deed perform wonders, but they cannot supply the place of systematic organization. Our mother university has in recent days enriched mankind by the labours of a Donaldson, a Munro, and a Merivale ; and when we, by means of a well- organized system of fellowships, are able to do likewise, our country also may hope to rival its mother in learning and scholarship, as it now idvals her in material prosperity.
October , 2866.
XV.
A librarian’s work.
I AM very frequently asked what in the world a librarian can find to do with his time, or am perhaps congratulated on my connection with H arvard College Library, on the ground that, “ being virtually a sinecure office (!), it must leave so much leisure for private study and work of a literary sort.” Those who put such ques¬ tions, or offer such congratulations, are naturally astonished when told that the library affords enough work to employ all my own time, as well as that of twentv assistants ; and astonishment is
%j 7
apt to rise to bewilderment when it is added that seventeen of these assistants are occupied chiefly with “ cataloguing ; ” for generally, I find, a li¬ brary catalogue is assumed to be a thing that is somehow “made” at a single stroke, as Aladdin’s palace was built, at intervals of ten or a dozen years, or whenever a “ new catalogue ” is thought to be needed. “ How often do you make a cata¬ logue ? ” or, “ When will your catalogue be com-
A Librarian s Work .
333
pleted ? ” are questions revealing such transcen¬ dent misapprehension of the case that little but further mystification can be got from the mere answer, “ We are always making a catalogue, and it will never be finished.” The “ doctrine of spe¬ cial creations,” indeed, does not work any better in the bibliographical than in the zoological world. A catalogue, in the modern sense of the term, is not something that is “ made ” all at once, to last until the time has come for it to be superseded by a new edition, but it is something that “grows,” by slow increments, and supersedes itself only through gradual evolution from a lower degree of fulness and definiteness into a higher one. It is perhaps worth while to give some general explana¬ tion of this process of catalogue-making, thus an¬ swering once for all the question as to what may be a librarian’s work. There is no better way to begin than to describe, in the case of our own li¬ brary, the career of a book from the time of its delivery by the expressman to the time when it is ready for public use.
New American books, whether bought or pre¬ sented, generally come along in driblets, two or three at a time, throughout the year ; large boxes of pamphlets, newspapers, broadsides, trade-cata¬ logues, and all manner of woful rubbish (the ref-
334
Darwinism and Other Essays.
use of private libraries and households) are sent in from time to time ; and books from Europe ar¬ rive every few weeks in lots of from fifty to three or four hundred. It is in the case of foreign books that our process is most thoroughly systematized, and here let us take up our illustrative example.
When a box containing three or four hundred foreign books has been unpacked, the volumes are placed, backs uppermost, on large tables, and are then looked over by the principal assistant, with two or three subordinates, to ascertain if the books at hand correspond with those charged in the invoice. As the titles are read from the in¬ voice, the volumes are hunted out and arranged side by side in the order in which their titles are read, while the entry on the invoice is checked in the margin with a pencil. These pencil-checks are afterwards copied into the margins of the book in which our lists of foreign orders are regis¬ tered, so that we may always be able to deter¬ mine, by a reference to this book, whether any particular work has been received or not. This order-book, with its marginal checks, is the only immediate specific register of accessions kept by us, as our peculiar system entails considerable delay in bringing up the “ accessions-catalogue.”
After this preliminary examination and regis*
A Librarian s Work.
335
try, the books are ready for me to look over, and I must first decide to what “fund ” each book en¬ tered on the invoice must be charged. The uni¬ versity never buys books with its general funds, but uses for this purpose the income of a dozen or more small funds, given, bequeathed, or sub¬ scribed, expressly for the purchase of books. Sometimes the donors of such funds allow us to get whatever books we like with the money, but more often they show an inclination to favour the growth of departments in which they feel a per¬ sonal interest. Thus the munificent bequest of the late Mr. Charles Sumner is appropriated to the purchase of works on politics and the fine arts, while Dr. Walker’s bequest provides more especially for theology and philosophy, and the estate of Professor Farrar still guards the inter¬ ests of mathematics and physics. Under such circumstances, it is of course necessary to keep a separate account with each fund, and the data for such an account are provided by charging every new book as it arrives. On the margin of the invoice the names of the different funds are writ¬ ten in pencil against the entries, while the assist¬ ants separate the books into groups according to the funds to which they are charged. Five or six more assistants now arriving on the scene, the work of “ collating ” begins.
836 Darwinism and Other Essays.
Properly speaking, to u collate ” is to compare two tilings with each other, in order to estimate or judge the one by a reference to the other taken as a standard. In our library usage the word has very nearly this sense when duplicate copies of the same work are collated, to see whether they coincide page for page. But as we currently use the word, to collate a book is simply to examine it carefully from beginning to end, to see whether every page is in its proper place and properly numbered, whether any maps or plates are miss¬ ing or misplaced, whether the back is correctly lettered, or whether any leaves are so badly torn or defaced as to need replacing. In English cloth- bound books this scrutiny involves the cutting of the leaves, — a tedious job which in half-bound books from the Continent is seldom required. En revanche , however, the collating of an English book hardly ever brings to light any serious de¬ fect, while in the make-up of French and German books the grossest blunders are only too common. Figures are unaccountably skipped in numbering the pages ; plates are either omitted or are so bunglingly numbered that it is hard to discover whether the quota is complete or not ; title-pages are inserted in the wrong places; sheets are wrongly folded, bringing the succession of pages
A Librarian’s Work. 337
into dire confusion ; sometimes two or three sheets are left out, and sometimes, where a work in ten volumes is bound in five, you will find that the first of these contains two duplicate copies of Yol. I., while for any signs of a Yol. II. you may seek in vain. In all bungling of this kind the Ger¬ mans are worse than the French; but both are bad enough when contrasted with the English, either of the Old World or of the New.
This work of collating is in general of lower grade than the work of cataloguing, and can be entrusted to the less experienced or less accom¬ plished assistants ; but to some extent it is shared by all, and where difficulties arise, or where some book with Arabic or Sanskrit numbering turns up, an appeal to headquarters becomes necessary. When a book has been collated, the date of its reception and the name of the fund to which it has been charged are written in pencil on the back of the title-page, and at the bottom of the title-page, to the left of the imprint, is written some modification of the letter C, C', C°, C1, etc., which is equivalent to the signature of the assist¬ ant who has done the collating and is responsible for its accuracy.
After this is all over, the books, still remaining
grouped according to their “ funds,” are ready to 22
838 Darwinism and Other Essays.
have the “seals” put in. The seal is the label of ownership, bearing the seal of the university and the name of the fund or other source from which the book has been procured, and is pasted on the inside of the front cover. Above it, in the left corner, is pasted a little blank corner-piece, on which is to be marked in pencil the number of the alcove and shelf where the book is to be placed, or “set up.”
To set up a book on a shelf is no doubt a very simple matter, yet it involves something more than the mere placing of the volume on the shelf. Each alcove in the library has a “ shelf-cata¬ logue,” or list of all the books in the alcove, ar¬ ranged by shelves. Such a catalogue is indispen¬ sable in determining whether each shelf has its proper complement of volumes, and whether, at the end of the year, all the books are in their proper places. When the book is duly entered on this shelf-catalogue, and has its corner-piece marked, it is at last ready to be “ catalogued.” After our lot of three or four hundred books have been treated in this way, they are delivered to the principal assistant, who parcels them out among various subordinate assistants for catalogu¬ ing.
Here we enter upon a very wide subject, and
A Librarian s Work.
339
one that is not altogether easy to expound to the uninitiated. A brief historical note is needed, to begin with. In 1830 Harvard University pub¬ lished a printed catalogue (in two volumes, oc¬ tavo) of all the works contained in its library at that date. In 1833 a supplement was published, containing all the accessions since 1830, and these made a moderate-sized volume. Here is the es¬ sential vice of printed catalogues. Where the number of books is fixed once for all,- — as in the case of a private library, the owner of which has just died, and which is to be sold at auction, — nothing is easier than to make a perfect catalogue, whether of authors or of subjects. It is very dif¬ ferent when your library is continually growing. By the time your printed catalogue is completed and published, it is already somewhat antiquated. Several hundred books have come in which are not comprised in it, and among these new books is very likely to be the one you wish to consult, concerning which the printed catalogue can give you no information. If you publish an annual supplement, as the Library of Congress does, then your catalogue will become desperately cumbrous within five or six years. When you are in a hurry to consult a book, it is very disheartening to have to look through half a dozen alphabets,
340 j Darwinism and Other Essays.
besides depending after all on the ready memory of some library official as to the books which have come in since the last supplement was published.
This inconvenience is so great that printed catalogues have gone into discredit in all the principal libraries of Europe. Catalogues are in¬ deed printed, from time to time, by way of pub¬ lishing the treasures of the library, and as biblio¬ graphical helps to other institutions ; but for the use of those who daily consult the library, man¬ uscript titles have quite superseded the printed catalogue. In European libraries this is done in what seems to us a rather crude way. Their catalogues are enormous brown paper blank- books or scrap-books, on the leaves of which are pasted thin paper slips bearing the titles of the books in the library. Large spaces are left for the insertion of subsequent titles in their alpha¬ betical order ; and as a result of this method, the admirable catalogue of the library of the British Museum fills more than a thousand elephant folios ! An athletic man, who has served his time at base-ball and rowing, may think little of lifting these gigantic tomes, but for a lady who wishes to look up some subject one would think it desirable to employ a pair of oxen and a wind- lass.
A Librarian1 s Work.
341
All the libraries of western Europe which I have visited seem to have taken their cue from the British Museum. But in America we have hit upon a less ponderous method. To accom¬ plish this end of keeping our titles in their proper alphabetical order, we write them on separate cards, of stiff paper, and arrange these cards in little drawers, in such a way that any one, by opening the drawer and tilting the cards therein, can easily find the title for which he is seeking. Our new catalogue at Cambridge is a marvel of practical convenience in this respect. At each end the row of stiff cards is supported by bevelled blocks, in such a way that some title lies always open to view; and by simply tilting the cards with the forefinger, any given title is quickly found, without raising the card from its place in the drawer.
In September, 1833, our library began its sec¬ ond supplement, consisting of two alphabetical manuscript catalogues. Volumes received after that date were catalogued upon stiff cards ar¬ ranged in drawers, while pamphlets were cata¬ logued, after the European fashion, on slips of paper pasted into great folio scrap-books. This distinction between pamphlets and volumes was a most unhappy one. To a librarian the only prac-
842 Darwinism and Other Essays.
tical difference between these two kinds of book is that the latter can generally be made to stand on a shelf, while the former generally tumbles down when unsupported. This physical fact makes it necessary to keep pamphlets in files by themselves until it is thought worth while to bind them. But for the purposes of cataloguing it makes no difference whether a book consists of tweitfy pages between paper covers or of five hundred pages bound in full calf* If you wish to find M. Leon de Rosny’s “ Apercpi general des Langues semitiques,” you do not care, and very likely do not know, whether it is a “ pamphlet ” of fifty pages or a “volume” of three hundred, and you naturally grumble at a system which sends you to a second alphabet in order to maintain a purely arbitrary and useless distinction. In prac¬ tice this double catalogue was found to be so in¬ convenient that in 1850, after the pamphlet titles had come to fill eight cumbrous volumes, it was abandoned, and henceforth pamphlets, as well as maps and engravings, were placed on the same aljfiiabet with bound volumes.
Before long, however, it began to be felt neces« sary to reform this whole cumbrous system. To ascertain whether a given work was contained in the library, one had now to consult four different
A Librarian s Work .
343
alphabets, — the old printed catalogue, the first or printed supplement, the second or card supple¬ ment, and the eight ugly folios of pamphlet titles. These later supplements, moreover, being accessi¬ ble only to the librarian and his assistants, were of no use to the general public, who, for the 135,000 titles added since 1833, were obliged to get their information from some of the officials. To remedy this state of things, a new card cata¬ logue, freely accessible to the public, and destined to embrace in a single alphabet all the titles in the library without distinction, was begun in 1861 by my predecessor, Professor Ezra Abbot. This catalogue was not intended to supersede the pri¬ vate card supplement begun in 1833, which for many reasons it is found desirable to keep up. But for the use of the public it will, when fin¬ ished, supersede everything else, and become the sole authoritative catalogue of the library. Since 1861 all new accessions have been put into this catalogue, while the work of adding to it the older titles has gone on with varying speed ; in 1869 it came nearly to a standstill, but was resumed in 18T4, and is now proceeding with great rapidity. About fifty thousand titles of volumes, and as many more of pamphlets, still remain to be added
344
Darwinism and Other Essays.
before this new catalogue can become the index to all the treasures of the library.1
Another great undertaking was begun simul¬ taneously in 1861. The object of an alphabetical catalogue like those above described is “ to enable a person to determine really whether any particu¬ lar work belongs to the library, and, if it does, where it is placed.” If you are in search of Lloyd’s “ Lectures on the Wave-Theory of Light,” you will look in the alphabetical catalogue under “ Lloyd, Humphrey.” Now this alphabetical ar¬ rangement is the only one practicable in a public library, because it is the only one on which all catalogues can be made to agree, and it is the only one sufficiently simple to be generally under¬ stood. For the purpose here required, of finding a particular work, an arrangement according to subject-matter would be entirely chimerical. Nothing: short of omniscience could ever be sure of finding a given title amid such a heterogeneous multitude. Every man who can read knows the order of the alphabet, but not one in a thousand can be expected to master all the points that de¬ termine the arrangement of a catalogue of sub¬ jects, — as, for example, why one of three kindred
1 About seventeen thousand of these old titles were added during the two years ending in July, 1877.
A Librarian’ s Work. 345
treatises should be classed under the rubric of Philosophy, another under Natural Religion, and a third under Dogmatic Theology.1 But while it would thus be impracticable to place our final re¬ liance on any other arrangement than an alpha¬ betical one, it by no means follows that a subsidi¬ ary subject-catalogue is not extremely useful. He who knows that he wants Lloyd’s book on the undulatory theory is somewhat more learned in the literature of optics than the majority of those who consult libraries. For one who knows as much as this, there are twenty who know only that they want to get some book about the un¬ dulatory theory. Now a subject-catalogue is pre¬ eminently useful in instructing such people in the literature of the subject they are studying. They have only to open a drawer that is labelled “ Op¬ tics,” and run along the cards until they come to a division marked “ Optics — Wave- Theory” and there they will find perhaps a dozen or fifty titles of books, pamphlets, review articles, and memoirs of learned societies, all bearing on their subject, and enabling them to look it up with a minimum of bibliographical trouble. Such a classified cata¬ logue immeasurably increases the usefulness of a
1 See the excellent remarks of Professor Jevons in his Principles of Science , ii. 401.
346 Darwinism and Other Essays .
library to the general public. At the same time, the skilful classification of books presents so many difficulties and requires so much scientific and literary training that it adds greatly to the labour of catalogue-making. For this reason great libra¬ ries rarely attempt to make subject -catalogues. At every library which I have happened to visit in England, France, Germany, and Italy, I have received the same answer: “ We do not keep any subject-catalogue, for we shrink from so formida¬ ble an undertaking.” With a boldness justified by the result, however, Professor Abbot began such a catalogue of the Harvard library in 1861, and carried out the work with the success that might have been expected from his truly stupen¬ dous erudition and most consummate ingenuity.
It is sometimes urged that, in deference to the feebleness of human memory, an ideal library should have yet a third catalogue, arranged alpha¬ betically, not according to authors, but according to titles. This is to accommodate the man who knows that he wants “Lectures on the Wave- Theory of Light,” but has forgotten the author’s name. In an “ideal” library this might perhaps be well. But in a real library, subject to the ordi¬ nary laws of nature, it is to be remembered that any serious addition to the amount of catalogue-
A Librarian'' s Work. 34T
room or to the labour of the librarian and assist¬ ants is an expense which can be justified only by the prospect of very decided advantages. In most cases, the subject-catalogue answers the purposes of those who remember the title of a work, but have forgotten the author. In the very heteroge¬ neous classes of Drama and Fiction, where this is not so likely to be the case, the exigency is pro¬ vided for in Professor Abbot’s system by a full set of cross-references from titles to authors.
From this account it will be seen that any new book received to-day by our library must be en¬ tered on three catalogues, — first on the card sup¬ plement which continues the old printed cata¬ logue, secondly on the new all -comprehensive alphabet of authors, thirdly on the classified in¬ dex of subjects. In our technical slang the first of these catalogues is known under the collective name of “ the long cards,” the second as 44 the red cards,” the third as “ the blue cards,” — names referring to the shape of the cards and to certain peculiarities of the lines with which they are ruled. When our lot of three or four hundred books is portioned out among half a dozen assist¬ ants to be catalogued, the first thing in order is to write the “long cards.” Each book must have at least one long card ; but most books need more
348 Darwinism and Other Essays.
than one, and some books need a great many. Suppose you have to catalogue Mr. Stuart-Glen- nie's newly-publislied “ Pilgrim Memories.” This is an exceedingly easy book for the cataloguer, but it requires two cards, because of the author’s compound name. The book must be entered under “ Stuart-Glennie,” because that is the form in which the name appears on the title-page, and which the author is therefore supposed to prefer. It is very important, however, that a reference should be made from “ Glennie” to “ Stuart-Glen¬ nie,” else some one, remembering only the last half of the name, would look in vain for “ Glen¬ nie,” and conclude that the book was not in the library.
Suppose, again, that your book is Jevons on “ Money and the Mechanism of Exchange.” This belongs to the “ International Scientific Series,” and therefore needs to be entered under “ Jev¬ ons,” and again on the general card which bears the superscription “ International Scientific Se¬ ries.” Without such a general entry, books are liable to be ordered and bought under one head¬ ing when they are already in the library and cata¬ logued under the other heading. The risk of such a mishap is small in the case of the new and well-known series just mentioned, but it is con-
A Librarian’s Work. 349
siderable in the case of tlie different series of “ British State Papers,” or the “ Scelta di Curio¬ sity Italiane and of course one rule must be fol¬ lowed for all such cases. Suppose, again, that your book is Grimm’s “Deutsches Woerterbuch,” be¬ gun by the illustrious Grimm, but continued by several other hands. Here you must obviously have a distinct entry for each collaborator, and each of these entries requires a card.
In writing the long card, the first great point is to ascertain every jot and tittle of the author’s name ; and, as a general rule, title-pages are very poor helps toward settling this distressing ques¬ tion. For instance, you see from the title-pages of “ Money ” and “ Pilgrim Memories ” that the au¬ thors are “IF. Stanley Jevons,” and “John S. Stu- art-Glennie ; ” but your duty as an accurate cat¬ aloguer is not fulfilled until you have ascertained what names the IF. and S. stand for in these cases. In the alphabetical catalogue of a great library, it is a matter of the first practical im¬ portance that every name should be given with the utmost completeness that the most extreme pedantry could suggest. No one who has not had experience in these matters can duly realize that the number of published books is so enormous as to occasion serious difficulty in keeping apart the
850 Darwinism and Other Essays.
titles of works by authors of the same name. “Stanley Jevons ” and “ Stuart - Glennie ” are very uncommon combinations of names ; yet the occurrence of two or three different authors in an alphabetical catalogue, bearing this uncommon combination of names, would not be at all surpris¬ ing.
Indeed, — to say nothing of the immense num¬ ber of accidental coincidences, — I think we may lay it down as a large comprehensive sort of rule, that any man who has published a volume or pamphlet is sure to have relatives of the same name who have published volumes or pamphlets. Such a fact may have some value to people, like Mr. Galton, who are interested in the subject of hereditary talent, and who have besides a keen eve for statistics. I have never tabulated the statistics of this matter, and am stating only a general impression, gathered from miscellaneous experience, when I say that the occurrence of al¬ most any name in a list of authors affords a con¬ siderable probability of its re-occurrence, asso¬ ciated with some fact of blood-relationship. One would not be likely to realize this fact, in collect¬ ing a large private library, because private libra¬ ries, however large, are apt to contain only the classical works of quite exceptional men and the
A Librarian s Work.
351
less important works which happen to be specially interesting or useful to the owner. But in a pub¬ lic library^ the treasures and the rubbish of the literary world are alike hoarded; and the works of exceptional men whom everybody remembers are lumped in with the works of all their less distin¬ guished cousins and great-uncles, whose names the world of readers has forgotten.
A librarian has the opportunity for observing many curious facts of this sort, but he will seldom have leisure to speculate about them. For while a great library is an excellent place for study and reflection, for everybody except the librarian, his position is rather a tantalizing one. In the midst of the great ocean of books, it is “ water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.”
To make up for the extreme vagueness with which authors customarily designate themselves on their title-pages is the work of the assistants who write the long cards, and it is apt to be a very tedious and troublesome undertaking. Bio¬ graphical and bibliographical dictionaries, the catalogues of our own and other libraries, uni¬ versity-catalogues, army-lists, clerical directories, genealogies of the British peerage, almanacs, “ conversations -lexicons,” literary histories, and volumes of memoirs, — all these aids have to be
352 Darwinism and Other Essays.
consulted, and too often are consulted in vain, or give conflicting testimony which serves to raise the most curious and perplexing questions. To the outside world such anxious minuteness seems useless pedantry ; but any sceptic who should serve six months in a library would become con¬ vinced that without it an alphabetical catalogue would soon prove unmanageable. “ Imagine the heading 4 Smith, J.,’ in such a catalogue ! ” says Professor Abbot. Where a name is very com¬ mon, we are fain to add whatever distinctive epithet we can lay hold of ; as in the case of six entries of “ Wilson, William,” which are differ¬ enced by the addition of “ Scotch Covenanter,” “ poet, of London,” “ M. A., of Musselburgh,” “ of Poughkeepsie,” “Vicar of Walthamstow,” “Pres, of the Warrington Nat. Hist. Soc.” 1
New difficulties arise when the title-page leaves it doubtful whether the name upon it is that of the author, or that of an editor or compiler. The names of editors and translators are often omitted, and must be sought in bibliographical dictionaries. Dedicatory epistles, biographical sketches, or in¬ troductory notices are often prefixed, signed with
1 Sometimes these headings are very odd, as in the case of a host of “John Jacksons,” one of whom is neatly distinguished as “Jack, son, John, murderer” — the work thus catalogued being the “con. fession ” of one John Jackson who had murdered his wife.
A Librarian' s Work. 353
exasperating initials, for a clue to which you may perhaps spend an hour or two in fruitless inquiry. In accurate cataloguing, all such adjuncts to a book must be noticed, and often require distinct reference - cards. Curious difficulties are some¬ times presented by the phenomena of compound or complex authorship, as in works like the Bol- landist “ Acta Sanctorum,” conducted by a group of men, some of whom are removed by death, while their places are supplied by new collabora¬ tors. Some other immense work, like Migne’s “Pa- trologiae Cursus Completus,” will give rise to nice questions owing to the indefiniteness with which its various parts are demarcated from each other. Many German books, on the other hand, are troublesome from the excessive explicitness with which they are divided, with sub-titles and sub¬ sub-titles innumerable, in accordance with some subtle principle not always to be detected at the first glance. The proper mode of entry for re¬ ports of legal cases and trials, periodicals, and publications of learned societies, governments, and boards of commissioners, is sure to call for more or less technical skill and practical discrim¬ ination. Anonymous and pseudonymous works are very common, and even the best bibliograph¬ ical dictionaries cannot keep pace with the issue
23
854 Darwinism and Other Essays.
of them Where we can find, by hook or by crook, the real name of the author of a pseudony¬ mous work, it is entered under the real name, with a cross-reference from the pseudonym. Otherwise it is entered provisionally under the fictitious name, as, for example, “ Veritas, yseudon .” Anonymous works are entered under the first word of the title, neglecting particles; and the head-line is left blank, so that if the au¬ thor is ever discovered, his name may be inserted
there, enclosed within brackets. In former times
*
it was customary for the cataloguer to enter such works under what he deemed to be the most im¬ portant word of the title, or the word most likely to be remembered ; but in practice this rule has been found to cause great confusion, since people are by no means sure to agree as to the most im¬ portant word. To some it may seem absurd to en¬ ter an anonymous “ Treatise on the Best Method of preparing Adhesive Mucilage” under the word “Treatise” rather than under “Mucilage;” but it should be remembered that he who consults an alphabetical catalogue is supposed to know the title for which he is looking; and, in our own li¬ brary at least, any one who remembers only the subject of the work he is seeking can always refer to the catalogue of subjects.
A Librarian s Work.
355
To treat more extensively of such points as these, in which none but cataloguers are likely to feel a strong interest, would not be consistent with the purpose of this article. For those who wonder what a librarian can find to do with his time, enough hints have been given to show that the task of “ just cataloguing a book ” is not, per- haps, quite so simple as they may have supposed. These hints have nevertheless been chosen with reference to the easier portions of a librarian’s work, for a description of the more intricate problems of cataloguing could hardly fail to be both tedious and unintelligible to the uninitiated reader. Enough has been said to show that a cataloguer’s work requires at the outset consider¬ able judgment and discrimination, and a great deal of slow, plodding research. nhe facts which we take such pains to ascertain may seem petty when contrasted with the dazzling facts which are elicited by scientific researches. But in reality the grandest scientific truths are reached only after the minute scrutiny of facts which often seem very trivial. And though the little details which encumber a librarian’s mind do not minis¬ ter to grand or striking generalizations, though their destiny is in the main an obscure one, yet if they were not duly taken care of the usefulness
356 Darwinism and Other Essays .
of libraries as aids to high culture and profound investigation would be fatally impaired. To the student’s unaided faculties a great library is simply a trackless wilderness ; the catalogue of such a library is itself a kind of wilderness, albeit much more readily penetrated and explored ; but unless a book be entered with extreme accuracy and fulness on the catalogue, it is practically lost to the investigator who needs it, and might al¬ most as well not be in the library at all.
In the task of entering a book properly on the alphabetical catalogue, the needful researches are for the most part made by the assistants ; but the questionable points are so numerous, and so unlike each other, that none of them can be considered as finally settled until approved at headquarters. After the proper entry has been decided on, the work of transcribing the title is comparatively simple in most cases. The general rule is to copy the whole of the title with strict accuracy, in its own language and without translation, including even abbreviations and mistakes or oddities in spelling. Mottoes and other really superfluous matters on the title-page are usually omitted, the omission being scrupulously indicated by points. As regards the use of capital letters, title-pages do not afford any consistent guidance, being usu-
A Librarian' s Work.
357
ally printed in capitals throughout. Our own practice is to follow in capitalizing the usage of the language in which the title is written ; but many libraries adopt the much simpler rule of re¬ jecting capitals altogether except in the case of proper names, and this I believe to be practically the better because the easier method,1 though the result may not seem quite so elegant.
After the transcription of the entire title, the number of volumes, or other divisions of the book, is set down ; and next in order follows the “ imprint,” or designation of the place and date of publication. Finally, the size of the book (whether folio, or quarto, octavo, etc.) is desig¬ nated, after an examination of the “ signature marks ; ” the number of pages (if less than one hundred or more than six hundred) is stated ; 2 plates, woodcuts, maps, plans, diagrams, photo¬ graphs, etc., are counted and described in general terms. Any peculiarities relating not to the edi¬ tion, but to the particular copy catalogued, are
1 Since this article was written, I have adopted the simpler rule, applying the French system of capitalization to all languages, with the sole concession to our English prejudices of capitalizing proper ad¬ jectives in English titles. Much time is thereby saved, and much ut¬ terly useless vexation avoided.
2 In order to point out books of an exceptionally large or small size. I believe, however, it would be better to state the number of pages in every case.
358 Darwinism and Other Essays .
added below in a note ; such as the fact that the book is one of fifty copies on large paper, or has the author’s autograph on the fly-leaf. In many cases it is found desirable to add a list of the con¬ tents of the work ; and if it be a book of miscel¬ laneous essays, each essay often has an additional entry on a card of its own.1
These details make up the sum of what is en¬ tered on the body of the long card ; but in addi¬ tion to all this, the left-hand margin contains the date of reception of the book, the fund to which it is charged, or the name of the donor, and the all-important “ shelf-mark,” which shows where the book is to be found; while on the right-hand margin is written a concise description of the ap¬ pearance of the book ( i.e . “5 vol., green cloth”), and a note of its price. When all this is finished, the book is regarded as catalogued, and is sent, with its Card in it, to the principal assistant for revision. From the principal assistant it is passed on to me, and it is the business of both of us to see that all the details of the work have been done correctly. A pencil-note on the margin of the card shows the class and sub-class to which
1 Where the essays are by different authors, a separate entry for each is of course always necessary, though this is not always made on the long cards.
A Librarian s Work.
359
the book is to be assigned in the catalogue of sub¬ jects ; and then the card is separated from the book. The book goes on to its shelf, to be used by the public ; the card goes back to some one of the assistants, to be “ indexed.” In our library- slang, “ indexing ” means the writing of the “ red ” and “ blue ” cards which answer to the “ long ”
card ; in other words, the entry of the title 1 on
*
the new alphabetical and subject- catalogues be« gun in 1861. For the most part this is merely a matter of accurate transcription, requiring no re¬ search. When these “red” and “blue” cards have been submitted to a special assistant for proof-reading, they are returned to me, and after due inspection are ready to be distributed into their catalogues. But for the original “ long card ” one further preliminary is required before it can be put into its catalogue.
Besides the various catalogues above described, our library keeps a “ record-book ” or catalogue of accessions arranged according to dates of re¬ ception. This accessions - catalogue was begun October 1, 1827, and records an accession for that year of one volume , price ten shillings and six¬ pence ! In 1828, according to this record, the
1 The marginal portions of the long card are not transcribed in in¬ dexing.
860 Darwinism and Other Essays.
library received twenty -one volumes, of which eighteen were gifts, while three were bought at a total cost of 814.50 ! But either these were ex¬ ceptionally unfruitful years, or — what is more likely — the record was not carefully kept, for the ordinary rate of increase in those days was by no means so small as this, though small enough when compared with the present rate. The ac¬ cessions - catalogue has grown until it now fills twenty-one large folio volumes. The entries in it are made with considerable fulness by transcrip¬ tion from the long cards. Usually a month’s ac¬ cessions are entered at once, and when this has been done the long card is ready to take its place in the catalogue.
In this account of the career of a book, from its reception to the time when it is duly entered on all the catalogues, we find some explanation of the way in which a librarian employs his time. For while the work of cataloguing is done almost entirely by assistants, yet unless every detail of it passes under the librarian’s eye there is no ade¬ quate security for systematic unity in the results. The librarian must not indeed spend his time in proof-reading or in verifying authors’ names ; it is essential that there should be some assistants who can be depended upon for absolute accuracy
A Librarian' s Work .
361
in such matters. Nevertheless, the complexity of the questions involved requires that appeal should often be made to him, and that he should always review the work, for the correctness of which he is ultimately responsible. As for the designation of the proper entry on the subject-catalogue, the cases are rare in which this can be entrusted to any assistant. To classify the subject-matter of a book is not always in itself easy, even when the reference is only to general principles of classifica¬ tions ; but a subject-catalogue, when once in ex¬ istence, affords a vast mass of precedents which, while they may lighten the problem to one who has mastered the theory on which the catalogue is constructed, at the same time make it the more unmanageable to any one who has not done so. To assign to any title its proper position, you must not merely know what the book is about, but you must understand the reasons, philosophical and practical, which have determined the place to which such titles have already been assigned. It is a case in which no mere mechanical following of tradition is of any avail. No general rules can be laid down which a corps of assistants can fol¬ low ; for in general each case presents new fea¬ tures of its own, so that to follow any rule se¬ curely would require a mental training almost as
362 Darwinism and Other Essays .
great as that needed for making the rule. Hence when different people work independently at a classified catalogue, they are sure to get into a muddle.
Suppose, for example, you have to classify a book on the constitution of Massachusetts. I put such books under the heading “ Law — Mass. — Const.,” but another person would prefer “ Law
— Const. — Mass.,” a third would rank them un¬ der “ Law — U. S. — Const. § Mass.,” a fourth under “ Law — U. S. — (Separate States) § Mass.
— Const. ,” a fifth under “Law — Const. § U. S.
— Mass.” and so on, through all the permutations and combinations of which these terms are sus¬ ceptible. Yet each of these arrangements would bring the title into a different part of the cata¬ logue, so that it would be quite impossible to dis¬ cover, by simple inspection, what the library con¬ tained on the subject of constitutional law in Massachusetts ; and to this extent the catalogue would become useless. Many such defects are now to be found in our subject-catalogue, greatly to the impairment of its usefulness ; and they prove conclusively that the work of classifying must always be left to a single superintendent who knows well the idiosyncrasies of the cata* logue. This work consumes no little time. The
A Librarian a Work.
363
titles of books are by no means a safe index to their subject-matter. To treat one properly you must first peer into its contents ; and then, no matter how excellent your memory, you will often have to run to the catalogue for precedents.
As a rule, comparatively few cards are written by the librarian or the principal assistant. Only the most difficult books, which no one else can catalogue, are brought to the superintendent’s desk. Under this class come old manuscripts, early printed books without title-pages, books with Greek titles, and books in Slavonic, or Ori¬ ental, or barbarous languages. Early printed books require special and varying kinds of treat¬ ment, and need to be carefully described with the aid of such dictionaries as those of Hain, Panzer, and Graesse. One such book may afford work for a whole day. An old manuscript is likely to give even more trouble. There is nothing espe¬ cially difficult in Greek titles, save for the fact that our assistants are all women, who for the most part know little or nothing of the language.1 In general these assistants are acquainted with French, and with practice can make their way through titles in Latin and German. There are
1 We have since, I am glad to say, found an exception to this rule, and Greek titles are now disposed of in regular course.
364 Darwinism and Other Essays.
some who can deal with any Romanic or Teutonic language, though more or less advice is usually needed for this. But all languages east of the Roman - German boundary require the eye of a practised linguist. To decipher a title, or part of a preface, in a strange language, it is necessary that one should understand the character in which it is printed, and should be able to consult some dictionary either of the language in question or of some closely related dialect. One day I had to catalogue a book of Croatian ballads, and, not finding any Croatian dictionary in the library, set up a cross-fire on it with the help of a Serbian and a Slovenian dictionary. This served the purpose admirably, for where a cognate word did not hap¬ pen to occur in the one language it was pretty sure to turn up in the other. Sometimes — in the case, say, of. a hundred Finnish pamphlets — the labour is greater than it is worth while to under¬ take; or somebody may give us a volume in Chinese or Tamil, which is practically undeci¬ pherable. In such cases we consider discretion the better part of valour, and under the heading “ Finnish ” or “ Chinese ” write “ One hundred Finnish pamphlets,” or “A Chinese book,” trust¬ ing to the future for better information. Some¬ times a polyglot visitor from Asia happens in, and
A Librarian' s Work. 365
is kind enough to settle a dozen such knotty ques¬ tions at once.
Another part of a librarian’s work is the order¬ ing of new books, and this is something which cannot be done carelessly. Once a year a coun¬ cil of professors, after learning the amount of money that can be expended during the year, de¬ cides upon the amounts that may be severally ap¬ propriated to the various departments of litera¬ ture. Long lists of desiderata are then prepared by different professors, and handed in to the li¬ brary. Besides this a considerable sum is placed under the control of the librarian, for miscella¬ neous purchases, and any one who wishes a book bought at any time is expected to leave a written request for it at my desk. As often as we get materials for a list of two or three hundred titles, the list is given, before it is sent off, to one of our most trustworthy assistants, to be compared with the various catalogues as well as with the record of outstanding orders. To ascertain whether a particular work is in the library, or on its way thither, may seem to be a very simple matter ; but it requires careful and intelligent research, and on such a point no one’s opinion is worth a groat who is not versed in all the dark and crooked ways of cataloguing. The fact that a
366 Darwinism and Other Essays .
card-title is not to be found in the catalogue proves nothing of itself, for very likely the card may be “ out ” in the hands of some assistant. Nothing is more common than for a professor to order some well-known work in his own depart¬ ment of study which has been in the library for several years, and so long as the art of cataloguing is as complicated as it now is such misunder¬ standings cannot be altogether avoided. Very often this is due to the variety of ways in which one and the same book may be described, and cannot be ascribed to any special cumbrousness or complexity of our system. All this necessitates a thorough scrutiny of every title that is ordered, for to waste the library’s money in buying dupli¬ cates is a blunder of the first magnitude. Yet in spite of the utmost vigilance, it is seldom that a case of two or three hundred books arrives which does not contain two or three duplicates. One per cent, is perhaps not an extravagant allowance to make for human perversity, in any of the af¬ fairs of life in which the ideal standard is that of complete intelligence and efficiency.
The danger of buying a duplicate because a card-title does not happen to be in its place is one illustration of the practical inconvenience of card- catalogues. The experience of the past fifty years
A Librarian $ Work.
367
has shown that on the whole such catalogues are far better than the old ones which they have superseded ; but they have their shortcomings, nevertheless, and here we have incidentally hit upon one of them. Besides this, a card-catalogue, even when constructed with all the ingenuity that is displayed in our own, is very much harder to consult than a catalogue that is printed in a volume. On a printed page you can glance at twenty titles at once, whereas in a drawer of cards you must plod through the titles one by one. Moreover, a card-catalogue occupies an enormous space. Professor Abbot’s twin catalogue of au¬ thors and subjects, begun fourteen years ago, is now contained in three hundred and thirty -six drawers occupying a case fifty-one feet in length ! During the past six weeks some four thousand cards have been added to it. What will its di¬ mensions be a century hence, when our books will probably have begun to be numbered by millions instead of thousands ? Gore Hall is to-day too small to contain our books : will it then be large enough to hold the catalogue? Suppose, again, that our library were to be burned ; it is disheart¬ ening to think of the quantity of bibliographical work that would in such an event be forever ob¬ literated. For we should remember that while a
368 Darwinism and Other Essays .
catalogue like ours is primarily useful in enabling persons to consult our books, it would still be of great value, as a bibliographical aid to other li¬ braries, even if all our own books were to be de¬ stroyed.1 This part of its function, moreover, it cannot properly fulfil even now, so long as it can be consulted only in Gore Hall. Our subject- catalogue, if printed to-day, would afford a noble conspectus of the literature of many great depart¬ ments of human knowledge, and would have no small value to many special inquirers. Much of this usefulness is lost so long as it remains in manuscript, confined to a single locality.
For such reasons as these, I believe that the card-system is but a temporary or transitional ex¬ pedient, upon which we cannot always continue to rely exclusively. By the time Professor Ab¬ bot’s great catalogue is finished (i. e. brought up to date) and thoroughly revised, it will be on all accounts desirable to print it. The huge mass of cards up to that date will then be superseded, and might be destroyed without detriment to any one. But the card-catalogue, kept up in accordance with the present system, would continue as a sup-
1 Thus I often find valuable information in the printed catalogue of the Bodleian Library, and wish that the splendid catalogue of the million books in the British Museum were as readily accessible.
A Librarian s Work.
869
plement to the printed catalogue. The cum* brousness of consulting a number of alphabets would be reduced to a minimum, for there would be only two to consult : the printed catalogue and its card supplement. Then, instead of issuing numberless printed supplements, there might be published, at stated intervals (say of ten years), a new edition of tl^e main catalogue, with all the added titles inserted in their proper places. On this plan there would never be more than two alphabets to consult ; and of these the more volu¬ minous one would be contained in easily manage¬ able printed volumes, while the smaller supple¬ ment only would remain in card-form.
It is an obvious objection that the frequent printing of new editions of the catalogue, accord¬ ing to this plan, would be attended with enor¬ mous expense. This objection would at first sight seem to be removed if we were to adopt Professor Jewett’s suggestion, and stereotype each title on a separate plate. Let there be a separate stereo- type-plate for each card, so that in every new edition new plates may be inserted for the added titles ; and then the ruinous expense of fresh com¬ position for every new edition would seem to be avoided. It is to be feared, however, that this show of having solved the difficulty is illusory.
370 Darwinism and Other Essays.
For to keep such a quantity of printer’s metal lying idle year after year would of itself entail great trouble and expense. The plates would take up a great deal of room and would need to be kept in a fire-proof building ; and the interest lost each year on the value of the metal would by and by amount to a formidable sum. It is per¬ haps doubtful whether, in the long run, anything would be saved by this cumbrous method. Pos¬ sibly — unless some future heliographic invention should turn to our profit — the least expensive way, after all, may be to print at long intervals, without stereotyping, and to depend throughout the intervals on card-supplements. But this ques¬ tion, like many others suggested by the formi¬ dable modern growth of literature, is easier to ask than to answer.
In this hasty sketch many points connected with a librarian’s work remain unmentioned. But in a brief paper like this, one cannot expect to give a complete account of a subject embracing so many details. As it is, I hope I have not wearied the reader in the attempt to show what a libra¬ rian finds to do with his time.
November , 1875.
INDEX
A.
Abbot, Ezra, 343-346. Albigensians, 249.
Alexius Comnenus, 248. Amatongo, 114.
Amoeba, 24.
Amphioxus, 23. Anaxagoras, 104.
Ancients and moderns, 253. Antelopes and lions, 15. Arabs in Spain, 223. Aristotle's “ Politics,” 144. Armenian heresies, 247. Aryan race, 228.
Ascidian, 23.
Atheism, 50.
Attila, 222, 235.
Aurelian, 232.
Australian fauna, 20.
B.
Bach, J. S., 163.
Basil II., 244, 248.
Bask language, 241 Bateman, Dr., his ignoratio elenchi , 42.
Batrachians, 23.
Bat's wings, 25.
Battle of life, 13.
Batu, 222.
Bayle, P., 142.
Beaks and feet of pigeons, 17. Belisarius, 236.
Berkeley's psychology, 65. Bibliolatry, 117.
Biology, study of, 302.
Birds and reptiles, 22.
Blachford, Lord, 57.
Blue-eyed tomcats, 17.
Bogomiles, 248.
Bosnia, 249.
Bossuet, 144.
Botany for children, 271-277. Bow-wow theory, 43.
Brain and mind, 70-75.
British Museum catalogue, 340. Brown, Thomas, 134.
Buchner, Louis, 50-56, 65.
Buckle, II. T., his History of Civili¬ zation, 143-206 ; his death at Da¬ mascus, 211 ; his mental impatience, 212; his lack of subtlety, 214. Bulgarian heresy, 249.
Bulgars, 243.
Butterflies in Java and Celebes, 16.
C.
Candour of Mr. Darwin, 34
('oil c n K
Chalons,’ battle of, 222.
Chaos and order, 104.
Charles the Great, 222, 239.
Charles the Hammer, 222. Christianity and “ Christianism,” 207.
Clairaut, 2, 9.
Class-system in American colleges, 290.
Classics, study of, 263, 308. Classifications of organisms, 22 ; of the sciences, 223.
Codfish, multiplication of, 13. Collating. 336.
Colours of animals, 15.
Competitive tests, 279-284.
Comte. A., 131-142, 285 ; his “ law of the three stages,” 136, 216. Condorcet, 145.
Constantine Copronymus, 247. Correlation of forces, and the materi¬ alistic hypothesis, 70.
Correlation of growth, 17.
“ Cosmical weather," 98.
Cottin, Ang41ique, 129.
Crookes on “ psychic force,1' 122.
372
Index
d.
Dacia, 232.
Dnimonion of Sokrates, 113, 116.
Darwinian theory compared with Newtonian, 1-10 ; theistic objec¬ tion to it, 4 ; misrepresented by Mi- vart, 11, 33-39 ; does not assert universal or continuous progress, 38.
Deaf tomcats, 17.
Delphic oracle, 114.
Descartes, 75.
Destruction of life, 13.
Domestication, 12.
Dramatic tendencies in nature, 98- 103.
Draper, J. W. , 253.
Dyak morality, 172.
E.
Early authorship, 213. Echidna and duck-bill, 22. Edentata, 27.
Electric girls, 129.
Elephant and mammoth, 16. Embryology, 24.
Emotion and reason, 166. Epilepsy, 114.
Ethnology of Europe, 227. Exorcism, 114.
F.
Farrar, F. W., 257.
Fasting girls, 130.
Fellowships, 331.
Fetishism, 183.
Finns, 241.
Fixity of species, 16.
Force, illegitimate use of the term, 5. Freeman, E. A., on the advantages of iteration, 62.
Frogs, shower of, 128.
Future life, 75-78.
G.
Galapagos Islands, 27.
Galton, F., 350.
Genius, 112.
Geographical distribution and geo¬ logical succession of organisms, 26.
Getse and Goths, 231.
Gills in human throat, 25.
Goethe, 109.
Gorillas and Parthenon.®, 49.
H.
Haeckel, 52.
Hair and teeth of dogs, 17.
Halley’s comet, 2, 9.
Hamilton, Sir W., 134, 306. Hammond, W. A., 120-130.
Harrison, F., 56, 60, 77.
Ileraclius, 236.
Heredity in book-making, 350 ; Mr. Buckle's loose talk about heredity, 159.
Hermann, the magician, 128.
Hermes, 183.
History, study of, 307.
Home, the charlatan, 122.
Horse, pedigree of, 30.
Houdin, R., 128.
Huggins on “ psychic force,’’ 124. Hungarians, 241.
Huns, 221.
Huxley, T. II., 29, 31, 57, 58, 60, 61, 62, 66, 74, 78, 132, 280.
Hypnotism, 127.
Hysteria, 114.
I.
Iberian race, 228.
Immortality of the soul, 75-78. Imperfections in geological record, 29.
Infancy, and the origin of mankind,
43-48.
Inspiration, 111-119.
Intellectual and moral progress, 151-
180.
Isaiah, 113.
J.
Justinian, 236.
K.
Kara George, 246. Keltiberians, 229. Keltic race, 229. Kepler, 9, 53. Kovalevsky, 37.
L.
Lalande, 2.
Lamettrie, 65.
Language, origin of, 45. Leibnitz, 2, 88, 144. Lessing, G. E., 278.
Index ,
373
“Levitation,” 128.
Lewes, G. H., 149, 158, 160, 191. Liegnitz, battle of, 222.
Lions and antelopes, 15.
Lions and leopards, 20.
Locke, 88.
Louis XIV., his injurious influence on science and literature, 193.
M.
Machtavelli, 145.
Mackintosh, Sir J., 170.
Maine, Sir II., 215, 312.
Mammoth, 16 Mandril, foetal life of, 24.
Mania, 114.
Manichasans, 247.
Marathon, battle of, 220.
Marius, 221.
Marsh's discovery of pedigree of the horse, 29-31.
Marsupials in Australia, 26. Materialism, 50, 60-77 Mathematical studies, utility of, 296. Mayer’s meteoric theory, 98.
Medicine men, 114
Mill, J. S., 133, 141, 256, 305 : com¬ pared with Chauncey Wright, 83. Mind as a product of evolution, 67-70. Mivart, St. G., misrepresents Darwin¬ ism, 11, 33-39 ; attacked by Wright, 105 ; ignores Wright's surrejoinder, 35.
Mohammed, 113.
Mongols, 220.
Monotheism, 116.
Montesquieu, 145.
Morphology, 25.
Muller, Max, 40, 45.
N.
Names of authors, 349.
Napoleon I. on Russian ethnology 233.
Natural selection, 11 ; misunderstood by Mivart, 15, 36.
Nature, constancy of, 88.
Nebular hypothesis, 98.
Neptune, discovery of, 9.
Newtonian theory slowly received 2. Njemetch, 234.
O.
Odoacer, 238.
Ogre, 243. Onomatopoeia, 43.
Opossum, 26.
Orang-outang, infancy of, 48.
Owen, R. D., duped by spiritualists, 129.
P.
Pachyderms and ruminants, 28. Pamphlets and volumes, 341.
Pascal, 144 Pass and class, 318.
Paternal theory of government, 193 Paulicians, 247.
Persecution, 177.
Peruvian sense of smell, 163. Philistinism and science, 285. Phillips, Wendell, 66.
Phrenology, 138, 304.
Physics and chemistry, 299-302 Poseidon, 183.
Positivism and Lucretianism, 104. Positivists and their droll ecclesias¬ tical tone, 60, 77.
Possession by spirits, 113.
Protective spirit, 193.
Protococcus, 24.
“ Psychic force,” 122.
K.
Radiata, 23.
Recitations, 322.
Renaissance, 264, 310.
Retrospective studies, 313.
Rhythm of motion, 101.
River-names in Europe, 229.
Roman policy toward barbarians, 220. Rudimentary organs, 25.
Rumania, 232.
Russia’s growth checked by Mongols,
222
S.
Sal amis, battle of, 220.
Saul and Agag, 169.
Scepticism, 181.
Scholarship, modern, 270. School-books, stupidity of, 259-262. Schools, preparatory, 326.
Science and theology, 7.
Scotch clergy, 201.
Seeley, J. R., 279.
Serbia, 245.
Shamans, 114.
Sheep and antelopes, 15.
Siberian mammoth, 16.
Simeon of Bulgaria, 244, 248. Skythians, 231.
Slave, etymology of the word, 234.
\ Slavic race, 232.
374
Index
Smell, Peruvian sense of, 163.
Snakes with hind limbs, 25.
Sokrates, 113, 116.
South American fauna, 27.
Spanish civilization, 223.
Spanish ethnology, 229.
Species, fixity of, 16.
Spencer, H. , v., 47, 61, 62, 66, 68, 69, 87, 90, 94, 95, 101, 103, 107, 131, 139, 146, 149, 160, 182, 184, 194, 215.
“ Spherical intelligence,” 82. Spiritualism, 120-130.
Stephen Dushan, 245.
Struggle for existence, 13. Stuart-Glennie, J. S., 207-218. Subject-catalogues, 344.
Survival of the fittest, 14.
T.
Table-tipping, 120-130.
Taine, H. A., 52.
Tatars, 233.
Teeth and hair of dogs, 17.
Teeth in embryonic birds, 25, 28. Teleology, 97, 103.
Temple, Sir W., 253.
Test of truth, 88.
Teutonic knights, 222.
Teutonic race, 230.
Theistic objection to Darwinism, 4. Thrace, 231.
Three stages, Comte’s theory of, 136, 216.
Title pages, slovenliness of, 349, Tours, battle of, 222.
Trajan, 231.
Triposes, 319.
Tunicata, 23.
Turks, 223.
Tylor, E. B., 113.
Tyndall, J., 132.
U.
Unconscious cerebration, 112.
Universe, how little we know of it,
96.
University education and its advan¬ tages, 212, 280, 294-314.
Unseen Universe , 95.
Urosh of Serbia, 245.
V.
Verse-making, Greek and Latin, 266. Vico, 145.
Virtue and pleasure, 37.
Voltaire, 145.
W.
Wallace, A. R. , on causes of man's intellectual supremacy, 38, 46 ; his surprising credulity as to spiritual¬ ism, 127.
Wallach, 234.
Weather, cosmical, 93.
Welsh, 234.
Wright, Chauncey, 79-110; his crit¬ icism of Mivart, 35, 105 ; his diffi¬ cult stylo, 81 ; compared with J . S. Mill, 83 ; his distrust of broad gen¬ eralizations, 86 ; his hostility to Spencer’s philosophy, 87-104 ; his aversion to teleology, 97 ; “ cos¬ mical weather,” 98 ; his objections to nebular hypothesis, 98 ; his pos¬ itivism, 103 ; his attack on Anax¬ agoras, 104 ; his personal qualities, 106-109.
Y.
Yocmans, E. L., 256.
Z.
Zeus, 183.
Zulu diviners, 114.
THE WRITINGS OF JOHN FISKE.
THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA.
With some Account of Ancient A merica and the Span¬ ish Conquest. With a steel portrait of Mr. Fiske, reproductions of 7nany old maps , several modern 7naps , facsi77iiles , and other illustratio7is. 2 vols. crow 71 8 vo, $ 4.00 .
This work forms the beginning of Mr. Fiske’s history of America. It is, perhaps, the most important single portion yet completed by him, and gives the results of vast research.
THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
With Plans of Battles , a7id a 7tew Steel Portrait of Washington, e7igraved by Willcox fro7n a tniniature 7iever before reproduced. 2 vols. crow n 8vo, gilt top, $4.00.
The reader may turn to these volumes with full assurance of faith for a fresh rehearsal of the old facts, which no time can stale, and for new views of those old facts, according to the larger framework of ideas in which they can now be set by the master of a captivating style and an expert in histori¬ cal philosophy. — Hew York Event )ig Post.
The freshness and vivid interest of the narrative and the comprehensive generalization which springs naturally from the author’s plan of a large work on American history, of which the two volumes now published are no more than a third or a fourth part, make it a book of new and permanent interest. — Springfield Republica7i.
CIVIL GOVERNMENT IN THE UNITED STATES
Co7isidered with some Reference to its Origms. With Questio7is 07i the Text by PYank A. Hill, and Biblio¬ graphical Notes by Mr. Fiske. i2mo, $1.00, 7iet.
If this admirable volume (Fiske’s “Civil Government ”) can be fairly taught to our rising generation, the future, we be¬ lieve, will show that Mr. Fiske has never done more use¬ ful work than in its preparation. — The Congregatio7ia..r* * (Boston).
THE CRITICAL PERIOD OF AMERI¬ CAN HISTORY. 1783-1789.
With Map , Notes , etc. Crown 8vo , $2.00.
The author combines in an unusual degree the impartiality of the trained scholar with the fervor of the interested nar¬ rator. . . . The volume should be in every library in the land. — The Congregationalist (Boston),
An admirable book. . . . Mr. Fiske has a great talent for making history interesting to the general reader. — New York Times.
THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENG¬ LAND ;
Or , the Puritan Theocracy in its Relations to Civil and Religious Liberty. Crown 8vo , $2.00.
It deals with the early colonial history of New England in the entertaining and vivid style which has marked ail of Mr. Fiske’s writings on American history, and it is distinguished, like them, by its aggressive patriotism and its justice to all parties in controversy. . . . The whole book is novel and fresh in treatment, philosophical and wise, and will not be laid down till one has read the last page, and remains impatient for what is still to come. — Boston Post.
THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.
In Riverside Library for Young People. With Maps.
i6mo , 7J cents.
John Fiske’s “War of Independence” is a miracle. . . . A book brilliant and effective beyond measure. ... It is a statement that every child can comprehend, but that only a man of consummate genius could have written. — Mrs. Caro¬ line FI. Dall, in the Springfield Republican.
The story of the Revolution, as Mr. Fiske tells it, is one of surpassing interest. His treatment is a marvel of clearness and comprehensiveness ; discarding non-essential details, he selects with a fine historic instinct the main currents of history, traces them with the utmost precision, and tells the whole story in a masterly fashion. His little volume will be a text¬ book for older quite as much as for young readers. — Chris¬ tian Union (New York).
OUTLINES OF COSMIC PHILOSOPHY
Based on the Doctrine of Evolution, with Criticis?ns on the Positive Philosophy. In two volumes. 8vo , $ 6.00 ,
“ You must allow me to thank you for the very great inter¬ est with which I have at last slowly read the whole of your
work. ... I never in my life read so lucid an expositor (and therefore thinker) as you are; and I think that I understand nearly the whole, though perhaps less clearly about cosmic theism and causation than other parts. It is hopeless to at¬ tempt out of so much to specify what has interested me most, and probably you would not care to hear. It pleased me to find that here and there I had arrived, from my own crude thoughts, at some of the same conclusions with you, though I could seldom or never have given my reasons for such com elusions.” — Charles Darwin.
This work of Mr. Fiske’s may be. not unfairly designated the most important contribution yet made by America to philosophical literature. — The Academy (London).
DARWINISM, AND OTHER ESSAYS.
12 mo, $2.00.
If ever there was a spirit thoroughly invigorated by the “joy of right understanding ” it is that of the author of these pieces. Even the reader catches something of his intellec¬ tual buoyancy, and is thus carried almost lightly through dis¬ cussions which would be hard and dry in the hands of a less animated writer. ... No less confident and serene than his acceptance of the utmost logical results of recent scientific discovery is Mr. Fiske’s assurance that the foundations of spiritual truths, so called, cannot possibly be shaken thereby.
— The Atlantic Monthly (Boston).
THE UNSEEN WORLD,
And Other Essays. 121110, $2.00.
To each study the writer seems to have brought, besides an excellent quality of discriminating judgment, full and fresh special knowledge, that enables him to supply much informa¬ tion on the subject, whatever it may be, that is not to be found in the volume he is noticing. To the knowledge, analytical power, and faculty of clear statement, that appear in all these papers, Mr. Fiske adds a just independence of thought that conciliates respectful consideration of his views, even when they are most at variance with the commonly accepted ones.
— Boston Advertiser .
EXCURSIONS OF AN EVOLUTIONIST.
121110, $2.00.
Among our thoughtful essayists there are none more bril¬ liant than Mr. John Fiske. His pure style suits his clear thought. He does not write unless he has something to say; and when he does write he shows not onlv that he has thor¬ oughly acquainted himself with the subject but that he has
to a rare degree the art of so massing his matter as to bring out the true value of the leading points in artistic relief. It is this perspective which makes his work such agreeable read¬ ing even on abstruse subjects, and has enabled him to play the same part in popularizing Spencer in this country that Littre performed for Comte in France, and Dumont for Ben- tham in England. The same qualities appear to good ad¬ vantage in his new volume, which contains his later essays on his favorite subject of evolution. . . . They are well worth reperusal. — The Nation (New York).
MYTHS AND MYTH-MAKERS.
Old Tales and Superstitions interpreted by Compara¬ tive Mythology. i2mo , $ 2.00 .
Mr. Fiske has given us a book which is at once sensible and attractive, on a subject about which much is written that is crotchety or tedious. — W. R. S. Ralston, in Athenceum (London).
A perusal of this thorough work cannot be too strongly recommended to all who are interested in comparative my¬ thology. — Revue Critique (Paris).
THE DESTINY OF MAN,
Viewed in the Light of his Origin. i6mo, gilt top. $1.00.
Mr. Fiske has given us in his “Destiny of Man” a most attractive condensation of his views as expressed in his va¬ rious other works. One is charmed by the directness and clearness of his style, his simple and pure English, and his evident knowledge of his subject. . . . Of one thing we may be sure, that none are leading us more surely or rapidly to the full truth than men like the author of this little book, who reverently study the works of God for the lessons which he would teach his children. — Christian Union (New York).
THE IDEA OF GOD,
/i ^ A ffected by Modern Knowledge. i6mo, gilt top, $1.00.
The charms of John Fiske’s style are patent. The secrets of its fluency, clearness, and beauty are secrets which many a maker of literary stuffs has attempted to unravel, in order to weave like cloth-of-gold. ... A model for authors and a delight to readers. — The Critic (New York).
For sale by all Booksellers. Sent by mail , postpaid , on receipt of price by the Publishers ,
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
4. Park Street , Boston ; 11 East ipth Street , New York.
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