THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


SCIENCE  AND  CULTURE 


AND 


OTHEE   ESSAYS 


SCIENCE  AND  CULTUKE 


AND 


OTHER  ESSAYS 


BY 


THOMAS  HENRY  HUXLEY,  LL.D.,  RR.S. 


iLontron 

MACMILLAN    AND    CO. 

AND   NEW  YORK 

1888 

All  rights  reserved 


First  Edition  printed  1881 
Reprinted  1882, 1888. 


6 1 


PREFACE. 

THE  Addresses,  Lectures,  and  Essays  gathered  to- 
gether in  this  volume  have  appeared  at  intervals 
during  the  past  seven  years,  and  I  can  give  no  better 
reason  for  republishing  them  in  their  present  form, 
than  the  fact  that  three  earlier  collections  of  a  similar 
nature  have  been  received  with  favour,  and,  indeed, 
have  not  yet  ceased  to  be  in  request. 

I  beg  leave  to  offer  my  best  thanks  to  the  Editors 
and  Publishers  of  the  various  publications  in  which 
these  pieces  have  appeared,  for  their  kindly  accorded 
permission  to  reprint  them. 

LONDON.     October  1881. 


CONTENTS. 

L 

SCIENCE  AND  CULTURE. 

An  Address  delivered  at  the  Opening  of  Sir  Josiah  Mason's  Science  College, 
at  Birmingham,  on  the  1st  of  October  1880     .        Pages  1  to  23 

n. 

UNIVERSITIES  :   ACTUAL  AND  IDEAL. 

The  Inaugural  Address  of  the  Lord  Hector  of  the  University  of  Aberdeen, 
27th  February  1874. — Contemporary  Review,  1874  .       24  to  64 


m. 

TECHNICAL  EDUCATION. 

An   Address  delivered  to  the    Working   Men's  Club    and    Institute, 
1st  December  1877. — Nineteenth  Cmtury,  1878        .       65  to  85 


IV. 

ELEMENTARY  INSTRUCTION  IN  PHYSIOLOGY. 

Read  at  the  Meeting  of  the  Domestic  Economy  Congress  at  Birming- 
ham, 1877  .  .  .  .  -     86  to  93 


VU1  CONTENTS. 

V 

JOSEPH  PRIESTLEY. 

An  Address  delivered  on  the  occasion  of  the  Presentation  of  a  Statue  of 
Priestley  to  the  Town  of  Birmingham,  on  the  1st  of  August  1874. 
— Macmillan'a  Magazine,  1874  .  .  Pages  94  to  127 

VI. 

ON  THE  METHOD  OF  ZADIG. 

A  Lecture  delivered  at  the  Working  Men's  College,  Great  Ormond  Street, 
1880.— Nineteenth  Century,  1880  .  .  128  to  148 


VII. 

ON  THE  BORDER  TERRITORY  BETWEEN  THE  ANIMAL  AND  THE 
VEGETABLE  KINGDOMS. 

An  Evening  Lecture  at  the  Koyal  Institution,  Friday,  January  28, 
1876.— Macmillan's  Magazine,  1874  .  .  149  to  179 


VIII. 

ON  CERTAIN  ERRORS  RESPECTING  THE  STRUCTURE  OF  THE  HEART 
ATTRIBUTED  TO  ARISTOTLE. 

Nature,  6th  November  1879       .  .  .  -  180  to  198 


IX. 

ON  THE  HYPOTHESIS  THAT  ANIMALS  ARE  AUTOMATA,  AND  ITS 
HISTORY. 

An  Address  delivered  at  the  Meeting  of  the  British  Association  for  the 
Advancement  of  Science,  at  Belfast,  1874. — Fortnightly  Review, 
1874  .  199  to  245 


CONTEXTS.  IX 


ON  SENSATION  AND  THE  UNITY  OF  STRUCTURE  OF  THE 
SENSIFEROUS  ORGANS. 

An  Evening  Lecture  at  the  Royal  Institution,  Friday,  March  7,  1879. 
— Nineteenth  Century,  1879  .  .       Pages  246  to  273 


XL 

EVOLUTION  IN  BIOLOGY. 
The  Encyclopedia  Britannica,  Ninth  Edition,  vol.  viii.  1878   274to309 


XII. 

THE  COMING  OF  AGE  OF  "THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES." 

An  evening  Lecture  at  the  Royal  Institution,  Friday,  9th  April  1880. 
— Nature,  1880    ,  .  .     310  to  324 


XIIL 
THE  CONNECTION  OF  THE  BIOLOGICAL  SCIENCES  WITH  MEDICINE. 

Aii  Address  delivered  at  the  Meeting  of  the  International  Medical 
Congress  in  London,  9th  August  1881          .  .  325  to  349 


I. 

SCIENCE  AND  CULTURE. 

Six  years  ago,  as  some  of  my  present  hearers  may 
remember,  I  had  the  privilege  of  addressing  a  large 
assemblage  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  city,  who  had 
gathered  together  to  do  honour  to  the  memory  of 
their  famous  townsman,  Joseph  Priestley;1  and,  if 
any  satisfaction  attaches  to  posthumous  glory,  we 
may  hope  that  the  manes  of  the  burnt-out  philosopher 
were  then  finally  appeased. 

No  man,  however,  who  is  endowed  with  a  fair 
share  of  common  sense,  and  not  more  than  a  fair  share 
of  vanity,  will  identify  either  contemporary  or  post- 
humous fame  with  the  highest  good ;  and  Priestley's 
life  leaves  no  doubt  that  he,  at  any  rate,  set  a  much 
higher  value  upon  the  advancement  of  knowledge, 
and  the  promotion  of  that  freedom  of  thought  which 
is  at  once  the  cause  and  the  consequence  of  intel- 
lectual progress. 

Hence  I  am  disposed  to  think  that,  if  Priestley 
could  be  amongst  us  to-day,  the  occasion  of  our 
meeting  would  afford  him  even  greater  pleasure  than 
the  proceedings  which  celebrated  the  centenary  of  his 

1  See  Joseph  Priestley,  p.  94,  infra. 
S>  B 


2  SCIENCE    AND    CULTURE.  [LECT. 

chief  discovery.  The  kindly  heart  would  be  moved, 
the  high  sense  of  social  duty  would  be  satisfied,  by 
the  spectacle  of  well-earned  wealth,  neither  squandered 
in  tawdry  luxury  and  vainglorious  show,  nor  scattered 
with  the  careless  charity  which  blesses  neither  him 
that  gives  nor  him  that  takes,  but  expended  in  the 
execution  of  a  well-considered  plan  for  the  aid  of 
present  and  future  generations  of  those  who  are  willing 
to  help  themselves. 

We  shall  all  be  of  one  mind  thus  far.  But  it  is 
needful  to  share  Priestley's  keen  interest  in  physical 
science ;  and  to  have  learned,  as  he  had  learned,  the 
value  of  scientific  training  in  fields  of  inquiry  appa- 
rently far  remote  from  physical  science ;  in  order  to 
appreciate,  as  he  would  have  appreciated,  the  value 
of  the  noble  gift  which  Sir  Josiah  Mason  has  bestowed 
upon  the  inhabitants  of  the  Midland  district. 

For  us  children  of  the  nineteenth  century,  however, 
the  establishment  of  a  college  under  the  conditions  of 
Sir  Josiah  Mason's  Trust,  has  a  significance  apart  from 
any  which  it  could  have  possessed  a  hundred  years 
ago.  It  appears  to  be  an  indication  that  we  are  reach- 
ing  the  crisis  of  the  battle,  or  rather  of  the  long  series 
of  battles,  which  have  been  fought  over  education  in 
a  campaign  which  began  long  before  Priestley's  time, 
and  will  probably  not  be  finished  just  yet. 

In  the  last  century,  the  combatants  were  the 
champions  of  ancient  literature,  on  the  one  side,  and 
those  of  modern  literature  on  the  other;  but,  some 
thirty  years 1  ago,  the  contest  became  complicated  by 

1  The  advocacy  of  the  introduction  of  physical  science  into  general 


I.]  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  3 

the  appearance  of  a  third  army,  ranged  round  the 
banner  of  Physical  Science. 

I  am  not  aware  that  any  one  has  authority  to 
speak  in  the  name  of  this  new  host.  For  it  must  be 
admitted  to  be  somewhat  of  a  guerilla  force,  composed 
largely  of  irregulars,  each  of  whom  fights  pretty  much 
for  his  own  hand.  But  the  impressions  of  a  full  pri- 
vate, who  has  seen  a  good  deal  of  service  in  the  ranks, 
respecting  the  present  position  of  affairs  and  the  con- 
ditions of  a  permanent  peaee,  may  not  be  devoid  of 
interest ;  and  I  do  not  know  that  I  could  make  a 
better  use  of  the  present  opportunity  than  by  laying 
them  before  you. 

From  the  time  that  the  first  suggestion  to  intro- 
duce physical  science  into  ordinary  education  was 
timidly  whispered,  until  now,  the  advocates  of  scien- 
tific education  have  met  with  opposition  of  two  kinds. 
On  the  one  hand,  they  have  been  pooh-poohed  by  the 
men  of  business  who  pride  themselves  on  being  the 
representatives  of  practicality  ;  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  have  been  excommunicated  by  the  classical 
scholars,  in  their  capacity  of  Levites  in  charge  of  the 
ark  of  culture  and  monopolists  of  liberal  education. 

The  practical  men  believed  that  the  idol  whom 
they  worship — rule  of  thumb — has  been  the  source  of 
the  past  prosperity,  and  will  suffice  for  the  future 
welfare  of  the  arts  and  manufactures.  They  were  of 

education  by  George  Combe  and  others  commenced  a  good  deal 
earlier ;  but  the  movement  had  acquired  hardly  any  practical  force 
before  the  time  to  which  I  refer. 


4  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  [LECT. 

opinion  that  science  is  speculative  rubbish ;  that 
theory  and  practice  have  nothing  to  do  with  one 
another ;  and  that  the  scientific  habit  of  mind  is  an 
impediment,  rather  than  an  aid,  in  the  conduct  of 
ordinary  affairs. 

I  have  used  the  past  tense  in  speaking  of  the 
practical  men — for  although  they  were  very  formid- 
able thirty  years  ago,  I  am  not  sure  that  the  pure 
species  has  not  been  extirpated.  In  fact,  so  far  as 
mere  argument  goes,  they  have  been  subjected  to 
such  a  feu  d'enfer  that  it  is  a  miracle  if  any  have 
escaped.  But  I  have  remarked  that  your  typical 
practical  man  has  an  unexpected  resemblance  to  one 
of  Milton's  angels.  His  spiritual  wounds,  such  as  are 
inflicted  by  logical  weapons,  may  be  as  deep  as  a  well 
and  as  wide  as  a  church  door,  but  beyond  shedding  a 
few  drops  of  ichor,  celestial  or  otherwise,  he  is  no 
whit  the  worse.  So,  if  any  of  these  opponents  be  left, 
I  will  not  waste  time  in  vain  repetition  of  the  demon- 
strative evidence  of  the  practical  value  of  science ;  but 
knowing  that  a  parable  will  sometimes  penetrate 
where  syllogisms  fail  to  effect  an  entrance,  I  will  offer 
a  story  for  their  consideration. 

Once  upon  a  time,  a  boy,  with  nothing  to  depend 
upon  but  his  own  vigorous  nature,  was  thrown  into 
the  thick  of  the  struggle  for  existence  in  the  midst  of 
a  great  manufacturing  population.  He  seems  to  have 
had  a  hard  fight,  inasmuch  as,  by  the  time  he  was 
thirty  years  of  age,  his  total  disposable  funds  amounted 
to  twenty  pounds.  Nevertheless,  middle  life  found 
him  giving  proof  of  his  comprehension  of  the  practical 


L]  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  5 

problems  he  had  been  roughly  called  upon  to  solve, 
by  a  career  of  remarkable  prosperity. 

Finally,  having  reached  old  age  with  its  well- 
earned  surroundings  of  "  honour,  troops  of  friends," 
the  hero  of  my  story  bethought  himself  of  those  who 
were  making  a  like  start  in  life,  and  how  he  could 
stretch  out  a  helping  hand  to  them. 

After  long  and  anxious  reflection  this  successful 
practical  man  of  business  could  devise  nothing  better 
than  to  provide  them  with  the  means  of  obtaining 
(t  sound,  extensive,  and  practical  scientific  knowledge." 
And  he  devoted  a  large  part  of  his  wealth  and  five 
years  of  incessant  work  to  this  end. 

I  need  not  point  the  moral  of  a  tale  which,  as  the 
solid  and  spacious  fabric  of  the  Scientific  College 
assures  us,  is  no  fable,  nor  can  anything  which  I  could 
say  intensify  the  force  of  this  practical  answer  to 
practical  objections. 

We  may  take  it  for  granted  then,  that,  in  the 
opinion  of  those  best  qualified  to  judge,  the  diffusion 
of  thorough  scientific  education  is  an  absolutely 
essential  condition  of  industrial  progress ;  and  that 
the  College  which  has  been  opened  to-day  will  confer 
an  inestimable  boon  upon  those  whose  livelihood  is  to 
be  gained  by  the  practice  of  the  arts  and  manufac- 
tures of  the  district. 

The  only  question  worth  discussion  is,  whether 
the  conditions,  under  which  the  work  of  the  College 
is  to  be  carried  out,  are  such  as  to  give  it  the  best 
possible  chance  of  achieving  permanent  success. 


6  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  [LEOT. 

Sir  Josiah  Mason,  without  doubt  most  wisely,  has 
left  very  large  freedom  of  action  to  the  trustees,  to 
whom  he  proposes  ultimately  to  commit  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  College,  so  that  they  may  be  able  to 
adjust  its  arrangements  in  accordance  with  the  chang- 
ing conditions  of  the  future.  But,  with  respect  to 
three  points,  he  has  laid  most  explicit  injunctions 
upon  both  administrators  and  teachers. 

Party  politics  are  forbidden  to  enter  into  the 
minds  of  either,  so  far  as  the  work  of  the  College  is 
concerned ;  theology  is  as  sternly  banished  from  its 
precincts ;  and  finally,  it  is  especially  declared  that 
the  College  shall  make  no  provision  for  "  mere  literary 
instruction  and  education. " 

It  does  not  concern  me  at  present  to  dwell  upon 
the  first  two  injunctions  any  longer  than  may  be 
needful  to  express  my  full  conviction  of  their  wisdom. 
But  the  third  prohibition  brings  us  face  to  face  with 
those  other  opponents  of  scientific  education,  who  are 
by  no  means  in  the  moribund  condition  of  the  practi- 
cal man,  but  alive,  alert,  and  formidable. 

It  is  not  impossible  that  we  shall  hear  this  express 
exclusion  of  "literary  instruction  and  education" 
from  a  College  which,  nevertheless,  professes  to  give  a 
high  and  efficient  education,  sharply  criticised.  Cer- 
tainly the  time  was  that  the  Levites  of  culture  would 
have  sounded  their  trumpets  against  its  walls  as 
against  an  educational  Jericho. 

How  often  have  we  not  been  told  that  the  study 
of  physical  science  is  incompetent  to  confer  culture ; 
that  it  touches  none  of  the  higher  problems  of  life ; 


L]  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  7 

and,  what  is  worse,  that  the  continual  devotion  to 
scientific  studies  tends  to  generate  a  narrow  and 
bigoted  belief  in  the  applicability  of  scientific  methods 
to  the  search  after  truth  of  all  kinds.  How  frequently 
one  has  reason  to  observe  that  no  reply  to  a  trouble- 
some argument  tells  so  well  as  calling  its  author  a 
"  mere  scientific  specialist."  And,  as  I  am  afraid  it 
is  not  permissible  to  speak  of  this  form  of  opposition 
to  scientific  education  in  the  past  tense ;  may  we  not 
expect  to  be  told  that  this,  not  only  omission,  but 
prohibition,  of  "  mere  literary  instruction  and  educa- 
tion" is  a  patent  example  of  scientific  narrow- 
mindedness  ? 

I  am  not  acquainted  with  Sir  Josiah  Mason's 
reasons  for  the  action  which  he  has  taken  ;  but  if,  as 
I  apprehend  is  the  case,  he  refers  to  the  ordinary  class- 
ical course  of  our  schools  and  universities  by  the 
name  of  "mere  literary  instruction  and  education," 
I  venture  to  offer  sundry  reasons  of  my  own  in  sup- 
port of  that  action. 

For  I  hold  very  strongly  by  two  convictions — 
The  first  is,  that  neither  the  discipline  nor  the  subject- 
matter  of  classical  education  is  of  such  direct  value  to 
the  student  of  physical  science  as  to  justify  the  ex- 
penditure of  valuable  time  upon  either ;  and  the  second 
is,  that  for  the  purpose  of  attaining  real  culture,  an 
exclusively  scientific  education  is  at  least  as  effectual 
as  an  exclusively  literary  education. 

I  need  hardly  point  out  to  you  that  these  opinions, 
especially  the  latter,  are  diametrically  opposed  to 
those  of  the  great  majority  of  educated  Englishmen, 


8  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  [LECT. 

influenced  as  they  are  by  school  and  university  tradi- 
tions. In  their  belief,  culture  is  obtainable  only  by  a 
liberal  education ;  and  a  liberal  education  is  synony- 
mous, not  merely  with  education  and  instruction  in 
literature,  but  in  one  particular  form  of  literature, 
namely,  that  of  Greek  and  Eoman  antiquity.  They 
hold  that  the  man  who  has  learned  Latin  and  Greek, 
however  little,  is  educated  ;  while  he  who  is  versed 
in  other  branches  of  knowledge,  however  deeply, 
is  a  more  or  less  respectable  specialist,  not  admissible 
into  the  cultured  caste.  The  stamp  of  the  educated 
man,  the  University  degree,  is  not  for  him. 

I  am  too  well  acquainted  with  the  generous  catho- 
licity of  spirit,  the  true  sympathy  with  scientific 
thought,  which  pervades  the  writings  of  our  chief 
apostle  of  culture  to  identify  him  with  these  opinions ; 
and  yet  one  may  cull  from  one  and  another  of  those 
epistles  to  the  Philistines,  which  so  much  delight  all 
who  do  not  answer  to  that  name,  sentences  which 
lend  them  some  support. 

Mr.  Arnold  tells  us  that  the  meaning  of  culture  is 
"  to  know  the  best  that  has  been  thought  and  said  in 
the  world."  It  is  the  criticism  of  life  contained  in 
literature.  That  criticism  regards  "  Europe  as  being, 
for  intellectual  and  spiritual  purposes,  one  great  con- 
federation, bound  to  a  joint  action  and  working  to  a 
common  result;  and  whose  members  have,  for  their 
common  outfit,  a  knowledge  of  Greek,  Roman,  and 
Eastern  antiquity,  and  of  one  another.  Special,  local, 
and  temporary  advantages  being  put  out  of  account, 
that  modern  nation  will  in  the  intellectual  and  spiritual 


I.]  SCIENCE  AND   CULTURE.  9 

sphere  make  most  progress,  which  most  thoroughly 
carries  out  this  programme.  And  what  is  that  but 
saying  that  we  too,  all  of  us,  as  individuals,  the  more 
thoroughly  we  carry  it  out,  shall  make  the  more 
progress  ? " 1 

We  have  here  to  deal  with  two  distinct  proposi- 
tions. The  first,  that  a  criticism  of  life  is  the  essence 
of  culture ;  the  second,  that  literature  contains  the 
materials  which  suffice  for  the  construction  of  such  a 
criticism. 

I  think  that  we  must  all  assent  to  the  first  pro- 
position. For  culture  certainly  means  something  quite 
different  from  learning  or  technical  skill.  It  implies 
the  possession  of  an  ideal,  and  the  habit  of  critically 
estimating  the  value  of  things  by  comparison 
with  a  theoretic  standard.  Perfect  culture  should 
supply  a  complete  theory  of  life,  based  upon  a  clear 
knowledge  alike  of  its  possibilities  and  of  its  limita- 
tions. 

But  we  may  agree  to  all  this,  and  yet  strongly 
dissent  from  the  assumption  that  literature  alone  is 
competent  to  supply  this  knowledge.  After  having 
learnt  all  that  Greek,  Eoman,  and  Eastern  antiquity 
have  thought  and  said,  and  all  that  modern  literatures 
have  to  tell  us,  it  is  not  self-evident  that  we  have  laid 
a  sufficiently  broad  and  deep  foundation  for  that  criti- 
cism of  life  which  constitutes  culture. 

Indeed,  to  any  one  acquainted  with  the  scope  of 
physical  science,  it  is  not  at  all  evident.  Considering 
progress  only  in  the  "intellectual  and  spiritual  sphere," 

1  Essays  in  Criticism)  p.  37. 


10  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  [LECT. 

I  find  myself  wholly  unable  to  admit  that  either 
nations  or  individuals  will  really  advance,  if  their 
common  outfit  draws  nothing  from  the  stores  of 
physical  science.  I  should  say  that  an  army,  without 
weapons  of  precision  and  with  no  particular  base  of 
operations,  might  more  hopefully  enter  upon  a  cam- 
paign on  the  Ehine,  than  a  man,  devoid  of  a  know- 
ledge of  what  physical  science  has  done  in  the  last 
century,  upon  a  criticism  of  life, 

When  a  biologist  meets  with  an  anomaly,  he  in- 
stinctively turns  to  the  study  of  development  to  clear 
it  up.  The  rationale  of  contradictory  opinions  may 
with  equal  confidence  be  sought  in  history. 

It  is,  happily,  no  new  thing  that  Englishmen 
should  employ  their  wealth  in  building  and  endowing 
institutions  for  educational  purposes.  But,  five  or 
six  hundred  years  ago,  deeds  of  foundation  expressed 
or  implied  conditions  as  nearly  as  possible  contrary 
to  those  which  have  been  thought  expedient  by  Sir 
Josiah  Mason.  That  is  to  say,  physical  science  was 
practically  ignored,  while  a  certain  literary  training 
was  enjoined  as  a  means  to  the  acquirement  of  know- 
ledge which  was  essentially  theological. 

The  reason  of  this  singular  contradiction  between 
the  actions  of  men  alike  animated  by  a  strong  and 
disinterested  desire  to  promote  the  welfare  of  their 
fellows,  is  easily  discovered. 

At  that  time,  in  fact,  if  any  one  desired  knowledge 
beyond  such  as  could  be  obtained  by  his  own  observa- 
tion, or  by  common  conversation,  his  first  necessity 


t]  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  11 

was  to  learn  the  Latin  language,  inasmuch  as  all  the 
higher  knowledge  of  the  western  world  was  contained 
in  works  written  in  that  language.  Hence,  Latin 
grammar,  with  logic  and  rhetoric,  studied  through 
Latin,  were  the  fundamentals  of  education.  With 
respect  to  the  substance  of  the  knowledge  imparted 
through  this  channel,  the  Jewish  and  Christian  Scrip- 
tures, as  interpreted  and  supplemented  by  the  Komish 
Church,  were  held  to  contain  a  complete  and  infallibly 
true  body  of  information. 

Theological  dicta  were,  to  the  thinkers  of  those 
days,  that  which  the  axioms  and  definitions  of  Euclid 
are  to  the  geometers  of  these.  The  business  of  the 
philosophers  of  the  middle  ages  was  to  deduce  from 
the  data  furnished  by  the  theologians,  conclusions  in 
accordance  with  ecclesiastical  decrees.  They  were 
allowed  the  high  privilege  of  showing,  by  logical 
process,  how  and  why  that  which  the  Church  said 
was  true,  must  be  true.  And  if  their  demonstrations 
fell  short  of  or  exceeded  this  limit,  the  Church  was 
maternally  ready  to  check  their  aberrations,  if  need 
be,  by  the  help  of  the  secular  arm. 

Between  the  two,  our  ancestors  were  furnished 
with  a  compact  and  complete  criticism  of  life.  They 
were  told  how  the  world  began  and  how  it  would 
end;  they  learned  that  all  material  existence  was 
but  a  base  and  insignificant  blot  upon  the  fair  face 
of  the  spiritual  world,  and  that  nature  was,  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  the  playground  of  the  devil; 
they  learned  that  the  earth  is  the  centre  of  the  visible 
universe,  and  that  man  is  the  cynosure  of  things 


12  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  [LECT. 

terrestrial ;  and  more  especially  was  it  inculcated  that 
the  course  of  nature  had  no  fixed  order,  but  that  it 
could  be,  and  constantly  was,  altered  by  the  agency 
of  innumerable  spiritual  beings,  good  and  bad,  accord- 
ing as  they  were  moved  by  the  deeds  and  prayers  of 
men.  The  sum  and  substance  of  the  whole  doctrine 
was  to  produce  the  conviction  that  the  only  thing 
really  worth  knowing  in  this  world  was  how  to  secure 
that  place  in  a  better  which,  under  certain  conditions, 
the  Church  promised. 

Our  ancestors  had  a  living  belief  in  this  theory  of 
life,  and  acted  upon  it  in  their  dealings  with  educa- 
tion, as  in  all  other  matters.  Culture  meant  saintli- 
ness — after  the  fashion  of  the  saints  of  tljose  days ; 
the  education  that  led  to  it  was,  of  necessity,  theolo- 
gical ;  and  the  way  to  theology  lay  through  Latin. 

That  the  study  of  nature — further  than  was  requi- 
site for  the  satisfaction  of  everyday  wants — should 
have  any  bearing  on  human  life  was  far  from  the 
thoughts  of  men  thus  trained.  Indeed,  as  nature  had 
been  cursed  for  man's  sake,  it  was  an  obvious  conclu- 
sion that  those  who  meddled  with  nature  were  likely 
to  come  into  pretty  close  contact  with  Satan.  And, 
if  any  born  scientific  investigator  followed  his  instincts, 
he  might  safely  reckon  upon  earning  the  reputation, 
and  probably  upon  suffering  the  fate,  of  a  sorcerer. 

Had  the  western  world  been  left  to  itself  in 
Chinese  isolation,  there  is  no  saying  how  long  this 
state  of  things  might  have  endured.  But,  happily, 
it  was  not  left  to  itself.  Even  earlier  than  the 
thirteenth  century,  the  development  of  Moorish  civili- 


I.]  SCIENCE    AND   CULTURE.  13 

sation  in  Spain  and  the  great  movement  of  the 
Crusades  had  introduced  the  leaven  which,  from  that 
day  to  this,  has  never  ceased  to  work.  At  first, 
through  the  intermediation  of  Arabic  translations, 
afterwards,  by  the  study  of  the  originals,  the  western 
nations  of  Europe  became  acquainted  with  the  writ- 
ings of  the  ancient  philosophers  and  poets,  and,  in 
time,  with  the  \\I  )le  of  the  vast  literature  of  antiquity. 

Whatever  there  was  of  high  intellectual  aspiration 
or  dominant  capacity  in  Italy,  France,  Germany,  and 
England,  spent  itself  for  centuries  in  taking  possession 
of  the  rich  inheritance  left  by  the  dead  civilisations 
of  Greece  and  Home.  Marvellously  aided  by  the 
invention  of  printing,  classical  learning  spread  and 
flourished.  Those  who  possessed  it  prided  themselves 
on  having  attained  the  highest  culture  then  within 
the  reach  of  mankind. 

And  justly.  For,  saving  Dante  on  his  solitary 
pinnacle,  there  was  no  figure  in  modern  literature  at 
the  time  of  the  Renascence  to  compare  with  the  men 
of  antiquity  ;  there  was  no  art  to  compete  with  their 
sculpture ;  there  was  no  physical  science  but  that 
which  Greece  had  created.  Above  all,  there  was  no 
other  example  of  perfect  intellectual  freedom — of  the 
unhesitating  acceptance  of  reason  as  the  sole  guide  to 
truth  and  the  supreme  arbiter  of  conduct. 

The  new  learning  necessarily  soon  exerted  a  pro- 
found influence  upon  education.  The  language  of 
the  monks  and  schoolmen  seemed  little  better  than 
gibberish  to  scholars  fresh  from  Virgil  and  Cicero, 
and  the  study  of  Latin  was  placed  upon  a  new 


14  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  [LECT. 

foundation.  Moreover,  Latin  itself  ceased  to  afford 
the  sole  key  to  knowledge.  The  student  who  sought 
the  highest  thought  of  antiquity,  found  only  a  second- 
hand reflection  of  it  in  Eoman  literature,  and  turned 
his  face  to  the  full  light  of  the  Greeks.  And  after  a 
battle,  not  altogether  dissimilar  to  that  which  is  at 
present  being  fought  over  the  teaching  of  physical 
science,  the  study  of  Greek  was  recognised  as  an 
essential  element  of  all  higher  education. 

Thus  the  Humanists,  as  they  were  called,  won  the 
day ;  and  the  great  reform  which  they  effected  was  of 
incalculable  service  to  mankind.  But  the  Nemesis  of 
all  reformers  is  finality ;  and  the  reformers  of  educa- 
tion, like  those  of  religion,  fell  into  the  profound, 
however  common,  error  of  mistaking  the  beginning 
for  the  end  of  the  work  of  reformation. 

The  representatives  of  the  Humanists,  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  take  their  stand  upon  classical 
education  as  the  sole  avenue  to  culture,  as  firmly  as  if 
we  were  still  in  the  age  of  Kenascence.  Yet,  surely, 
the  present  intellectual  relations  of  the  modern  and 
the  ancient  worlds  are  profoundly  different  from 
those  which  obtained  three  centuries  ago.  Leaving 
aside  the  existence  of  a  great  and  characteristically 
modern  literature,  of  modern  painting,  and,  especially, 
of  modern  music,  there  is  one  feature  of  the  present 
state  of  the  civilised  world  which  separates  it  more 
widely  from  the  Kenascence,  than  the  Kenascence  was 
separated  from  the  middle  ages. 

This  distinctive  character  of  our  own  times  lies  in 
the  vast  and  constantly  increasing  part  which  is 


J.]  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  15 

played  by  natural  knowledge.  Not  only  is  our  daily 
life  shaped  by  it,  not  only  does  the  prosperity  of 
millions  of  men  depend  upon  it,  but  our  whole  theory  of 
life  has  long  been  influenced,  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, by  the  general  conceptions  of  the  universe, 
which  have  been  forced  upon  us  by  physical  science. 

In  fact,  the  most  elementary  acquaintance  with 
the  results  of  scientific  investigation  shows  us  that 
they  offer  a  broad  and  striking  contradiction  to  the 
opinions  so  implicitly  credited  and  taught  in  the 
middle  ages. 

The  notions  of  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  the 
world  entertained  by  bur  forefathers  are  no  longer 
credible.  It  is  very  certain  that  the  earth  is  not  the 
chief  body  in  the  material  universe,  and  that  the  world 
is  not  subordinated  to  man's  use.  It  is  even  more 
certain  that  nature  is  the  expression  of  a  definite 
order  with  which  nothing  interferes,  and  that  the 
chief  business  of  mankind  is  to  learn  that  order 
and  govern  themselves  accordingly.  Moreover  this 
scientific  "  criticism  of  life  "  presents  itself  to  us  with 
different  credentials  from  any  other.  It  appeals  not 
to  authority,  nor  to  what  anybody  may  have  thought 
or  said,  but  to  nature.  It  admits  that  all  our  inter- 
pretations of  natural  fact  are  more  or  less  imperfect 
and  symbolic,  and  bids  the  learner  seek  for  truth  not 
among  words  but  among  things.  It  warns  us  that 
the  assertion  which  outstrips  evidence  is  not  only  a 
blunder  but  a  crime. 

The  purely  classical  education  advocated  by  the 
representatives  of  the  Humanists  in  our  day,  gives  no 


16  SCIENCE   AND    CULTURE.  [LECT. 

inkling  of  all  this.  A  man  may  be  a  better  scholar 
than  Erasmus,  and  know  no  more  of  the  chief  causes 
of  the  present  intellectual  fermentation  than  Erasmus 
did.  Scholarly  and  pious  persons,  worthy  of  all 
respect,  favour  us  with  allocutions  upon  the  sadness 
of  the  antagonism  of  science  to  their  mediaeval  way 
of  thinking,  which  betray  an  ignorance  of  the  first 
principles  of  scientific  investigation,  an  incapacity  for 
understanding  what  a  man  of  science  means  by 
veracity,  and  an  unconsciousness  of  the  weight  of 
established  scientific  truths,  which  is  almost  comical. 

There  is  no  great  force  in  the  tu  quoque  argument, 
or  else  the  advocates  of  scientific  education  might 
fairly  enough  retort  upon  the  modern  Humanists  that 
they  may  be  learned  specialists,  but  that  they  possess 
no  such  sound  foundation  for  a  criticism  of  life  as 
deserves  the  name  of  culture.  And,  indeed,  if  we 
were  disposed  to  be  cruel,  we  might  urge  that  the 
Humanists  have  brought  this  reproach  upon  them- 
selves, not  because  they  are  too  full  of  the  spirit  of 
the  ancient  Greek,  but  because  they  lack  it. 

The  period  of  the  Kenascence  is  commonly  called 
that  of  the  "  Kevival  of  Letters,"  as  if  the  influences 
then  brought  to  bear  upon  the  mind  of  Western  Europe 
had  been  wholly  exhausted  in  the  field  of  literature. 
I  think  it  is  very  commonly  forgotten  that  the  revival 
of  science,  effected  by  the  same  agency,  although  less 
conspicuous,  was  not  less  momentous. 

In  fact,  the  few  and  scattered  students  of  nature 
of  that  day  picked  up  the  clue  to  her  secrets  exactly 
as  it  fell  from  the  hands  of  the  Greeks  a  thousand 


L]  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  17 

years  before.  The  foundations  of  mathematics  were 
so  well  laid  by  them,  that  our  children  learn  their 
geometry  from  a  book  written  for  the  schools  of  Alex- 
andria two  thousand  years  ago.  Modern  astronomy 
is  the  natural  continuation  and  development  of  the 
work  of  Hipparchus  and  of  Ptolemy ;  modern  physics 
of  that  of  Democritus  and  of  Archimedes ;  it  was  long 
before  modern  biological  science  outgrew  the  know- 
ledge bequeathed  to  us  by  Aristotle,  by  Theophrastus, 
and  by  Galen. 

We  cannot  know  all  the  best  thoughts  and  sayings 
of  the  Greeks  unless  we  know  what  they  thought 
about  natural  phenomena.  We  cannot  fully  appre- 
hend their  criticism  of  life  unless  we  understand  the 
extent  to  which  that  criticism  was  affected  by 
scientific  conceptions.  We  falsely  pretend  to  be  the 
inheritors  of  their  culture,  unless  we  are  penetrated, 
as  the  best  minds  among  them  were,  with  an  unhesi- 
tating faith  that  the  free  employment  of  reason,  in 
accordance  with  scientific  method,  is  the  sole  method 
of  reaching  truth. 

Thus  I  venture  to  think  that  the  pretensions  of 
our  modern  Humanists  to  the  possession  of  the 
monopoly  of  culture  and  to  the  exclusive  inheritance 
of  the  spirit  of  antiquity  must  be  abated,  if  not 
abandoned.  But  I  should  be  very  sorry  that  any- 
thing I  have  said  should  be  taken  to  imply  a  desire 
on  my  part  to  depreciate  the  value  of  classical  educa- 
tion, as  it  might  be  and  as  it  sometimes  is.  The 
native  capacities  of  mankind  vary  no  less  than  their 
opportunities ;  and  while  culture  is  one,  the  road  by 

c 


18  SCIENCE   AND    CULTURE.  [LECT. 

which  one  man  may  best  reach  it  is  widely  different 
from  that  which  is  most  advantageous  to  another. 
Again,  while  scientific  education  is  yet  inchoate 
and  tentative,  classical  education  is  thoroughly  well 
organised  upon  the  practical  experience  of  generations 
of  teachers.  So  that,  given  ample  time  for  learning 
and  destination  for  ordinary  life,  or  for  a  literary 
career,  I  do  not  think  that  a  young  Englishman  in 
search  of  culture  can  do  better  than  follow  the  course 
usually  marked  out  for  him,  supplementing  its  de- 
ficiencies by  his  own  efforts. 

But  for  those  who  mean  to  make  science  their 
serious  occupation;  or  who  intend  to  follow  the 
profession  of  medicine;  or  who  have  to  enter  early 
upon  the  business  of  life  ;  for  all  these,  in  my  opinion, 
classical  education  is  a  mistake ;  and  it  is  for  this 
reason  that  I  am  glad  to  see  "  mere  literary  education 
and  instruction  "  shut  out  from  the  curriculum  of  Sir 
Josiah  Mason's  College,  seeing  that  its  inclusion  would 
probably  lead  to  the  introduction  of  the  ordinary 
smattering  of  Latin  and  Greek. 
,  Nevertheless,  I  am  the  last  person  to  question  the 
importance  of  genuine  literary  education,  or  to  sup- 
pose that  intellectual  culture  can  be  complete  without 
it.  An  exclusively  scientific  training  will  bring  about 
a  mental  twist  as  surely  as  an  exclusively  literary 
training.  The  value  of  the  cargo  does  not  com- 
pensate for  a  ship's  being  out  of  trim ;  and  I  should 
be  very  sorry  to  think  that  the  Scientific  College 
would  turn  out  none  but  lop-sided  men. 

There  is  no  need,  however,  that  such  a  catastrophe 


L}  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  19 

should  happen.  Instruction  in  English,  French,  and 
German  is  provided,  and  thus  the  three  greatest  litera- 
tures of  the  modern  world  are  made  accessible  to  the 
student. 

French  and  German,  and  especially  the  latter  lan- 
guage, are  absolutely  indispensable  to  those  who  desire 
full  knowledge  in  any  department  of  science.  But 
even  supposing  that  the  knowledge  of  these  languages 
acquired  is  not  more  than  sufficient  for  purely  scien- 
tific purposes,  every  Englishman  has,  in  his  native 
tongue,  an  almost  perfect  instrument  of  literary  ex- 
pression ;  and,  in  his  own  literature,  models  of  every 
kind  of  literary  excellence.  If  an  Englishman  cannot 
get  literary  culture  out  of  his  Bible,  his  Shakspeare, 
his  Milton,  neither,  in  my  belief,  will  the  profoundest 
study  of  Homer  and  Sophocles,  Virgil  and  Horace, 
give  it  to  him. 

Thus,  since  the  constitution  of  the  College  makes 
sufficient  provision  for  literary  as  well  as  for  scientific 
education,  and  since  artistic  instruction  is  also  contem- 
plated, it  seems  to  me  that  a  fairly  complete  culture  is 
offered  to  all  who  are  willing  to  take  advantage  of  it. 

But  I  am  not  sure  that  at  this  point  the  "  prac- 
tical "  man,  scotched  but  not  slain,  may  ask  what  all 
this  talk  about  culture  has  to  do  with  an  Institution, 
the  object  of  which  is  defined  to  be  "to  promote  the 
prosperity  of  the  manufactures  and  the  industry  of 
the  country."  He  may  suggest  that  what  is  wanted 
for  this  end  is  not  culture,  nor  even  a  purely  scientific 
discipline,  but  simply  a  knowledge  of  applied  science. 


20  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  [LECT. 

I  often  wish  that  this  phrase,  "  applied  science," 
had  never  been  invented.  For  it  suggests  that  there 
is  a  sort  of  scientific  knowledge  of  direct  practical 
use,  which  can  be  studied  apart  from  another  sort  of 
scientific  knowledge,  which  is  of  no  practical  utility, 
and  which  is  termed  "pure  science."  But  there  is 
no  more  complete  fallacy  than  this.  What  people 
call  applied  science  is  nothing  but  the  application  of 
pure  science  to  particular  classes  of  problems.  It 
consists  of  deductions  from  those  general  principles, 
established  by  reasoning  and  observation,  which  con- 
stitute pure  science.  No  one  can  safely  make  these 
deductions  until  he  has  a  firm  grasp  of  the  principles ; 
and  he  can  obtain  that  grasp  only  by  personal  experi- 
ence of  the  operations  of  observation  and  of  reasoning 
on  which  they  are  founded. 

Almost  all  the  processes  employed  in  the  arts  and 
manufactures  fall  within  the  range  either  of  physics 
or  of  chemistry.  In  order  to  improve  them,  one 
must  thoroughly  understand  them ;  and  no  one  has  a 
chance  of  really  understanding  them,  unless  he  has 
obtained  that  mastery  of  principles  and  that  habit  of 
dealing  with  facts,  which  is  given  by  long-continued 
and  well-directed  purely  scientific  training  in  the 
physical  and  the  chemical  laboratory.  So  that  there 
really  is  no  question  as  to  the  necessity  of  purely 
scientific  discipline,  even  if  the  work  of  the  College 
were  limited  by  the  narrowest  interpretation  of  its 
stated  aims. 

And,  as  to  the  desirableness  of  a  wider  culture 
than  that  yielded  by  science  alone,  it  is  to  be  recol- 


L]  SCIENCE   AND    CULTURE.  21 

lected  that  the  improvement  of  manufacturing  pro- 
cesses is  only  one  of  the  conditions  which  contribute 
to  the  prosperity  of  industry.  Industry  is  a  means 
and  not  an  end ;  and  mankind  work  only  to  get 
something  which  they  want.  What  that  something 
is  depends  partly  on  their  innate,  and  partly  on  their 
acquired,  desires. 

If  the  wealth  resulting  from  prosperous  industry 
is  to  be  spent  upon  the  gratification  of  unworthy 
desires,  if  the  increasing  perfection  of  manufacturing 
processes  is  to  be  accompanied  by  an  increasing 
debasement  of  those  who  carry  them  on,  I  do  not 
see  the  good  of  industry  and  prosperity. 

Now  it  is  perfectly  true  that  men's  views  of  what 
is  desirable  depend  upon  their  characters;  and  that 
the  innate  proclivities  to  which  we  give  that  name 
are  not  touched  by  any  amount  of  instruction.  But 
it  does  not  follow  that  even  mere  intellectual  educa- 
tion may  not,  to  an  indefinite  extent,  modify  the 
practical  manifestation  of  the  characters  of  men  in 
their  actions,  by  supplying  them  with  motives  un- 
known to  the  ignorant.  A  pleasure-loving  character 
will  have  pleasure  of  some  sort ;  but,  if  you  give  him 
the  choice,  he  may  prefer  pleasures  which  do  not 
degrade  him  to  those  which  do.  And  this  choice  is 
offered  to  every  man,  who  possesses  in  literary  or 
artistic  culture  a  never -failing  source  of  pleasures, 
which  are  neither  withered  by  age,  nor  staled  by 
custom,  nor  embittered  in  the  recollection  by  the 
pangs  of  self-reproach. 


22  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  [LECT. 

If  the  Institution  opened  to-day  fulfils  the  in- 
tention of  its  founder,  the  picked  intelligences  among 
all  classes  of  the  population  of  this  district  will  pass 
through  it.  No  child  born  in  Birmingham,  hence- 
forward, if  he  have  the  capacity  to  profit  by  the 
opportunities  offered  to  him,  first  in  the  primary  and 
other  schools,  and  afterwards  in  the  Scientific  College, 
need  fail  to  obtain,  not  merely  the  instruction,  but 
the  culture  most  appropriate  to  the  conditions  of 
his  life. 

Within  these  walls,  the  future  employer  and  the 
future  artisan  may  sojourn  together  for  a  while,  and 
carry,  through  all  their  lives,  the  stamp  of  the  in- 
fluences then  brought  to  bear  upon  them.  Hence,  it 
is  not  beside  the  mark  to  remind  you,  that  the 
prosperity  of  industry  depends  not  merely  upon  the 
improvement  of  manufacturing  processes,  not  merely 
upon  the  ennobling  of  the  individual  character,  but 
upon  a  third  condition,  namely,  a  clear  understanding 
of  the  conditions  of  social  life  on  the  part  of  both  the 
capitalist  and  the  operative,  and  their  agreement 
upon  common  principles  of  social  action.  They  must 
learn  that  social  phenomena  are  as  much  the  expres- 
sion of  natural  laws  as  any  others  ;  that  no  social 
arrangements  can  be  permanent  unless  they  har- 
monise with  the  requirements  of  social  statics  and 
dynamics ;  and  that,  in  the  nature  of  things,  there  is 
an  arbiter  whose  decisions  execute  themselves. 

But  this  knowledge  is  only  to  be  obtained  by  the 
application  of  the  methods  of  investigation  adopted 
in  physical  researches  to  the  investigation  of  the 


L]  SCIENCE   AND   CULTURE.  23 

phenomena  of  society.  Hence,  I  confess,  I  should 
like  to  see  one  addition  made  to  the  excellent  scheme 
of  education  propounded  for  the  College,  in  the  shape 
of  provision .  for  the  teaching  of  Sociology.  For 
though  we  are  all  agreed  that  party  politics  are  to 
have  no  place  in  the  instruction  of  the  College ;  yet 
in  this  country,  practically  governed  as  it  is  now  by 
universal  suffrage,  every  man  who  does  his  duty  must 
exercise  political  functions.  And,  if  the  evils  which 
are  inseparable  from  the  good  of  political  liberty  are 
to  be  checked,  if  the  perpetual  oscillation  of  nations 
between  anarchy  and  despotism  is  to  be  replaced  by 
the  steady  march  of  self-restraining  freedom ;  it  will 
be  because  men  will  gradually  bring  themselves  to 
deal  with  political,  as  they  now  deal  with  scientific 
questions ;  to  be  as  ashamed  of  undue  haste  and 
partisan  prejudice  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other ; 
and  to  believe  that  the  machinery  of  society  is  at 
least  as  delicate  as  that  of  a  spinning-jenny,  and  as 
little  likely  to  be  improved  by  the  meddling  of  those 
who  have  not  taken  the  trouble  to  master  the 
principles  of  its  action. 

In  conclusion,  I  am  sure  that  I  make  myself  the 
mouthpiece  of  all  present  in  offering  to  the  venerable 
founder  of  the  Institution,  which  now  commences  its 
beneficent  career,  our  congratulations  on  the  comple- 
tion of  his  work ;  and  in  expressing  the  conviction, 
that  the  remotest  posterity  will  point  to  it  as  a 
crucial  instance  of  the  wisdom  which  natural  piety 
leads  all  men  to  ascribe  to  their  ancestors. 


24  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL  AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 


II. 

UNIVERSITIES  :    ACTUAL  AND  IDEAL. 

ELECTED  by  the  suffrages  of  your  four  Nations,  Rector 
of  the  ancient  University  of  which  you  are  scholars,  I 
take  the  earliest  opportunity  which  has  presented 
itself  since  my  restoration  to  health,  of  delivering  the 
Address  which,  by  long  custom,  is  expected  of  the 
holder  of  my  office. 

My  first  duty  in  opening  that  Address,  is  to  offer 
you  my  most  hearty  thanks  for  the  signal  honour  you 
have  conferred  upon  me — an  honour  of  which,  as  a 
man  unconnected  with  you  by  personal  or  by  national 
ties,  devoid  of  political  distinction,  and  a  plebeian 
who  stands  by  his  order,  I  could  not  have  dreamed. 
And  it  was  the  more  surprising  to  me,  as  the  five-and- 
twenty  years  which  have  passed  over  my  head  since  I 
reached  intellectual  manhood,  have  been  largely  spent 
in  no  half-hearted  advocacy  of  doctrines  which  have 
not  yet  found  favour  in  the  eyes  of  Academic  respect- 
ability ;  so  that,  when  the  proposal  to  nominate  me  for 
your  Rector  came,  I  was  almost  as  much  astonished  as 
was  Hal  o'  the  Wynd,  "who  fought  for  his  own 
hand,"  by  the  Black  Douglas's  proffer  of  knighthood. 
And  I  fear  that  my  acceptance  must  be  taken  as  evi- 


II.]  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  25 

dence  that,  less  wise  than  the  Armourer  of  Perth,  I 
have  not  yet  done  with  soldiering. 

In  fact,  if,  for  a  moment,  I  imagined  that  your 
intention  was  simply,  in  the  kindness  of  your  hearts, 
to  do  me  honour ;  and  that  the  Kector  of  your  Uni- 
versity, like  that  of  some  other  Universities,  was  one 
of  those  happy  beings  who  sit  in  glory  for  three  years, 
with  nothing  to  do  for  it  save  the  making  of  a  speech, 
a  conversation  with  my  distinguished  predecessor  soon 
dispelled  the  dream.  I  found  that,  by  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  University  of  Aberdeen,  the  incumbent  of 
the  Eectorate  is,  if  not  a  power,  at  any  rate  a  potential 
energy;  and  that,  whatever  may  be  his  chances  of 
success  or  failure,  it  is  his  duty  to  convert  that 
potential  energy  into  a  living  force,  directed  towards 
such  ends  as  may  seem  to  him  conducive  to  the  wel- 
fare of  the  corporation  of  which  he  is  the  theoretical 
head. 

I  need  not  tell  you  that  your  late  Lord  Kector 
took  this  view  of  his  position,  and  acted  upon  it  with 
the  comprehensive,  far-seeing  insight  into  the  actual 
condition  and  tendencies,  not  merely  of  his  own,  but 
of  other  countries,  which  is  his  honourable  character- 
istic among  statesmen.  I  have  already  done  my  best, 
and,  as  long  as  I  hold  my  office,  I  shall  continue  my 
endeavours,  to  follow  in  the  path  which  he  trod ;  to  do 
what  in  me  lies,  to  bring  this  University  nearer  to  the 
ideal — alas,  that  I  should  be  obliged  to  say  ideal — of 
all  Universities ;  which,  as  I  conceive,  should  be  places 
in  which  thought  is  free  from  all  fetters ;  and  in  which 
all  sources  of  knowledge,  and  all  aids  to  learning, 


26  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

should  be  accessible  to  all  comers,  without  distinction 
of  creed  or  country,  riches  or  poverty. 

Do  not  suppose,  however,  that  I  am  sanguine 
enough  to  expect  much  to  come  of  any  poor  efforts  of 
mine.  If  your  annals  take  any  notice  of  my  incum- 
bency, I  shall  probably  go  down  to  posterity  as  the 
Eector  who  was  always  beaten.  But  if  they  add,  as  I 
think  they  will,  that  my  defeats  became  victories  in 
the  hands  of  my  successors,  I  shall  be  well  content. 

The  scenes  are  shifting  in  the  great  theatre  of  the 
world.  The  act  which  commenced  with  the  Protestant 
Eeformation  is  nearly  played  out,  and  a  wider  and  a 
deeper  change  than  that  effected  three  centuries  ago— 
a  reformation,  or  rather  a  revolution  of  thought,  the 
extremes  of  which  are  represented  by  the  intellectual 
heirs  of  John  of  Leyden  and  of  Ignatius  Loyola,  rather 
than  by  those  of  Luther  and  of  Leo — is  waiting  to 
come  on,  nay,  visible  behind  the  scenes  to  those  who 
have  good  eyes.  Men  are  beginning,  once  more,  to 
awake  to  the  fact  that  matters  of  belief  and  of  specu- 
lation are  of  absolutely  infinite  practical  importance ; 
and  are  drawing  off  from  that  sunny  country  "  where 
it  is  always  afternoon  " — the  sleepy  hollow  of  broad 
indifferentism  —  to  range  themselves  under  their 
natural  banners.  Change  is  in  the  air.  It  is  whirling 
feather-heads  into  all  sorts  of  eccentric  orbits,  and 
filling  the  steadiest  with  a  sense  of  insecurity.  It 
insists  on  reopening  all  questions  and  asking  all  insti- 
tutions, however  venerable,  by  what  right  they  exist, 
and  whether  they  are,  or  are  not,  in  harmony  with  the 


II.]  UNIVERSITIES  :    ACTUAL   AND   IDEAL.  27 

real  or  supposed  wants  of  mankind.  And  it  is 
remarkable  that  these  searching  inquiries  are  not  so 
much  forced  on  institutions  from  without,  as  developed 
from  within.  Consummate  scholars  question  the 
value  of  learning ;  priests  contemn  dogma ;  and 
women  turn  their  backs  upon  man's  ideal  of  perfect 
womanhood,  and  seek  satisfaction  in  apocalyptic 
visions  of  some,  as  yet  unrealised,  epicene  reality. 

If  there  be  a  type  of  stability  in  this  world,  one 
would  be  inclined  to  look  for  it  in  the  old  Universities 
of  England.  But  it  has  been  my  business  of  late  to 
hear  a  good  deal  about  what  is  going  on  in  these 
famous  corporations ;  and  I  have  been  filled  with 
astonishment  by  the  evidences  of  internal  fermentation 
which  they  exhibit.  If  Gibbon  could  revisit  the 
ancient  seat  of  learning  of  which  he  has  written  so 
cavalierly,  assuredly  he  would  no  longer  speak  of  "  the 
monks  of  Oxford  sunk  in  prejudice  and  port."  There, 
as  elsewhere,  port  has  gone  out  of  fashion,  and  so  has 
prejudice — at  least  that  particular  fine,  old,  crusted 
sort  of  prejudice  to  which  the  great  historian  alludes. 

Indeed,  things  are  moving  so  fast  in  Oxford  and 
Cambridge,  that,  for  my  part,  I  rejoiced  when  the 
Koyal  Commission,  of  which  I  am  a  member,  had 
finished  and  presented  the  Eeport  which  related  to 
these  Universities  ;  for  we  should  have  looked  like 
mere  plagiarists,  if,  in  consequence  of  a  little  longer 
delay  in  issuing  it,  all  the  measures  of  reform  we  pro- 
posed had  been  anticipated  by  the  spontaneous  action 
of  the  Universities  themselves. 

A  month  ago  I  should  have  gone  on  to  say  that 


28  UNIVERSITIES  :    ACTUAL  AND  IDEAL.  [LECT. 

one  might  speedily  expect  changes  of  another  kind  in 
Oxford  and  Cambridge.  A  Commission  has  been 
inquiring  into  the  revenues  of  the  many  wealthy 
societies,  in  more  or  less  direct  connection  with  the 
Universities,  resident  in  those  towns.  It  is  said  that 
the  Commission  has  reported,  and  that,  for  the  first 
time  in  recorded  history,  the  nation,  and  perhaps  the 
Colleges  themselves,  will  know  what  they  are  worth. 
And  it  was  announced  that  a  statesman,  who,  what- 
ever his  other  merits  or  defects,  has  aims  above  the 
level  of  mere  party  fighting,  and  a  clear  vision  into 
the  most  complex  practical  problems,  meant  to  deal 
with  these  revenues. 

But,  Bos  locutus  est.  That  mysterious  independent 
variable  of  political  calculation,  Public  Opinion — which 
some  whisper  is,  in  the  present  case,  very  much  the 
same  thing  as  publican's  opinion — has  willed  otherwise. 
The  Heads  may  return  to  their  wonted  slumbers — at 
any  rate  for  a  space. 

Is  the  spirit  of  change,  which  is  working  thus 
vigorously  in  the  South,  likely  to  affect  the  Northern 
Universities,  and  if  so,  to  what  extent  ?  The  violence 
of  fermentation  depends,  not  so  much  on  the  quantity 
of  the  yeast,  as  on  the  composition  of  the  wort,  and 
its  richness  in  fermentable  material ;  and,  as  a  prelimi- 
nary to  the  discussion  of  this  question,  I  venture  to 
call  to  your  minds  the  essential  and  fundamental  dif- 
ferences between  the  Scottish  and  the  English  type  of 
University. 

Do  not  charge  me  with  anything  worse  than  official 
egotism,  if  I  say  that  these  differences  appear  to  be 


II.]  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND   IDEAL.  29 

largely  symbolised  by  my  own  existence.  There  is 
no  Eector  in  an  English  University.  Now,  the  organi- 
sation of  the  members  of  an  University  into  Nations, 
with  their  elective  Eector,  is  the  last  relic  of  the 
primitive  constitution  of  Universities.  The  Kectorate 
was  the  most  important  of  all  offices  in  that  University 
of  Paris,  upon  the  model  of  which  the  University  of 
Aberdeen  was  fashioned ;  and  which  was  certainly  a 
great  and  flourishing  institution  in  the  twelfth  century. 

Enthusiasts  for  the  antiquity  of  one  of  the  two 
acknowledged  parents  of  all  Universities,  indeed,  do 
not  hesitate  to  trace  the  origin  of  the  "  Studium 
Parisiense  "  up  to  that  wonderful  king  of  the  Franks 
and  Lombards,  Karl,  surnamed  the  Great,  whom  we 
all  called  Charlemagne,  and  believed  to  be  a  French- 
man, until  a  learned  historian,  by  beneficent  iteration, 
taught  us  better.  Karl  is  said  not  to  have  been  much 
of  a  scholar  himself,  but  he  had  the  wisdom  of  which 
knowledge  is  only  the  servitor.  And  that  wisdom 
enabled  him  to  see  that  ignorance  is  one  of  the  roots 
of  all  evil. 

In  the  Capitulary  which  enjoins  the  foundation  of 
monasterial  and  cathedral  schools,  he  says :  "  Eight 
action  is  better  than  knowledge;  but  in  order  to  do 
what  is  right,  we  must  know  what  is  right."1  An. 
irrefragable  truth,  I  fancy.  Acting  upon  it,  the  king 
took  pretty  full  compulsory  powers,  and  carried  into 

1  "  Quamvis  enim  melius  sit  bene  facere  quam  nosse,  prius  tarnen 
est  nosse  quam  facere." — "  Karoli  Magni  Regis  Constitutio  de  Scholis 
per  singula  Episcopia  et  Monasteria  instituendis,"  addressed  to  the 
Abbot  of  Fulda.  Baluzius,  "  Capitularia  Regum  Francorum,"  T.  i, 
p.  202. 


30  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

effect  a  really  considerable  and  effectual  scheme  of 
elementary  education  through  the  length  and  breadth 
of  his  dominions. 

No  doubt  the  idolaters  out  by  the  Elbe,  in  what  is 
now  part  of  Prussia,  objected  to  the  Frankish  king's 
measures ;  no  doubt  the  priests,  who  had  never  hesi- 
tated about  sacrificing  all  unbelievers  in  their  fantastic 
deities  and  futile  conjurations,  were  the  loudest  in 
chanting  the  virtues  of  toleration ;  no  doubt  they  de- 
nounced as  a  cruel  persecutor  the  man  who  would  not 
allow  them,  however  sincere  they  might  be,  to  go  on 
spreading  delusions  which  debased  the  intellect,  as 
much  as  they  deadened  the  moral  sense,  and  under- 
mined the  bonds  of  civil  allegiance  ;  no  doubt,  if  they 
had  lived  in  these  times,  they  would  have  been  able 
to  show,  with  ease,  that  the  king's  proceedings  were 
totally  contrary  to  the  best  liberal  principles.  But  it 
may  be  said,  in  justification  of  the  Teutonic  ruler, 
first,  that  he  was  born  before  those  principles,  and 
did  not  suspect  that  the  best  way  of  getting  disorder 
into  order  was  to  let  it  alone ;  and,  secondly,  that  his 
rough  and  questionable  proceedings  did,  more  or  less, 
bring  about  the  end  he  had  in  view.  For,  in  a  couple 
of  centuries,  the  schools  he  sowed  broadcast  produced 
their  crop  of  men,  thirsting  for  knowledge  and  craving 
for  culture.  Such  men  gravitating  towards  Paris,  as 
a  light  amidst  the  darkness  of  evil  days,  from  Ger- 
many, from  Spain,  from  Britain,  and  from  Scandinavia, 
came  together  by  natural  affinity.  By  degrees  they 
banded  themselves  into  a  society,  which,  as  its  end 
was  the  knowledge  of  all  things  knowable,  called  itself 


IL]  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  31 

a  "Studium  Generale;"  and  when  it  had  grown  into 
a  recognised  corporation,  acquired  the  name  of  "  Uni- 
versitas  Studii  Generalis,"  which,  mark  you,  means 
not  a  "  Useful  Knowledge  Society,"  but  a  "  Knowledge- 
of- things-in-general  Society." 

And  thus  the  first  "University,"  at  any  rate  on 
this  side  of  the  Alps,  came  into  being.  Originally  it 
had  but  one  Faculty,  that  of  Arts.  Its  aim  was  to 
be  a  centre  of  knowledge  and  culture ;  not  to  be,  in 
any  sense,  a  technical  school. 

The  scholars  seem  to  have  studied  Grammar,  Logic, 
and  Rhetoric;  Arithmetic  and  Geometry;  Astronomy; 
Theology;  and  Music.  Thus,  their  work,  however 
imperfect  and  faulty,  judged  by  modern  lights,  it  may 
have  been,  brought  them  face  to  face  with  all  the 
leading  aspects  of  the  many-sided  mind  of  man. 
For  these  studies  did  really  contain,  at  any  rate  in 
embryo — sometimes,  it  may  be,  in  caricature — what 
we  now  call  Philosophy,  Mathematical  and  Physical 
Science,  and  Art.  And  I  doubt  if  the  curriculum  of 
any  modern  University  shows  so  clear  and  generous  a 
comprehension  of  what  is  meant  by  culture,  as  this 
old  Trivium  and  Quadrivium  does. 

The  students  who  had  passed  through  the  Univer- 
sity course,  and  had  proved  themselves  competent  to 
teach,  became  masters  and  teachers  of  their  younger 
brethren.  Whence  the  distinction  of  Masters  and 
Eegents  on  the  one  hand,  and  Scholars  on  the  other. 

Rapid  growth  necessitated  organisation.  The 
Masters  and  Scholars  of  various  tongues  and  coun- 
tries grouped  themselves  into  four  Nations ;  and  the 


32  UNIVEKSITIES  :    ACTUAL   AND   IDEAL.          [LECT. 

Nations,  by  their  own  votes  at  first,  and  subsequently 
by  those  of  their  Procurators,  or  representatives, 
elected  their  supreme  head  and  governor,  the  Kector 
— at  that  time  the  sole  representative  of  the  Univer- 
sity, and  a  very  real  power,  who  could  defy  Provosts 
interfering  from  without ;  or  could  inflict  even  cor- 
poral punishment  on  disobedient  members  within  the 
University. 

Such  was  the  primitive  constitution  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Paris.  It  is  in  reference  to  this  original 
state  of  things  that  I  have  spoken  of  the  Eectorate, 
and  all  that  appertains  to  it,  as  the  sole  relic  of  that 
constitution. 

But  this  original  organisation  did  not  last  long. 
Society  was  not  then,  any  more  than  it  is  now, 
patient  of  culture,  as  such.  It  says  to  everything, 
"  Be  useful  to  me,  or  away  with  you."  And  to  the 
learned,  the  unlearned  man  said  then,  as  he  does  now, 
"  What  is  the  use  of  all  your  learning,  unless  you  can 
tell  me  what  I  want  to  know  ?  I  am  here  blindly 
groping  about,  and  constantly  damaging  myself  by 
collision  with  three  mighty  powers,  the  power  of  the 
invisible  God,  the  power  of  my  fellow  Man,  and  the 
power  of  brute  Nature.  Let  your  learning  be  turned 
to  the  study  of  these  powers,  that  I  may  know  how  I 
am  to  comport  myself  with  regard  to  them."  In 
answer  to  this  demand,  some  of  the  Masters  of  the 
Faculty  of  Arts  devoted  themselves  to  the  study  of 
Theology,  some  to  that  of  Law,  and  some  to  that  of 
Medicine ;  and  they  became  Doctors — men  learned  in 
those  technical,  or,  as  we  now  call  them,  professional, 


II.]  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL    AND    IDEAL.  33 

branches  of  knowledge.  Like  cleaving  to  like,  the 
Doctors  formed  schools,  or  Faculties,  of  Theology, 
Law,  and  Medicine,  which  sometimes  assumed  airs 
of  superiority  over  their  parent,  the  Faculty  of  Arts, 
though  the  latter  always  asserted  and  maintained  its 
fundamental  supremacy. 

The  Faculties  arose  by  process  of  natural  differen- 
tiation out  of  the  primitive  University.  Other  con- 
stituents, foreign  to  its  nature,  were  speedily  grafted 
upon  it.  One  of  these  extraneous  elements  was  forced 
into  it  by  the  Koman  Church,  which  in  those  days 
asserted  with  effect,  that  which  it  now  asserts,  happily 
without  any  effect  in  these  realms,  its  right  of  cen- 
sorship and  control  over  all  teaching.  The  local 
habitation  of  the  University  lay  partly  in  the  lands 
attached  to  the  monastery  of  S.  Genevieve,  partly  in 
the  diocese  of  the  Bishop  of  Paris ;  and  he  who  would 
teach  must  have  the  licence  of  the  Abbot,  or  of  the 
Bishop,  as  the  nearest  representative  of  the  Pope,  so 
to  do,  which  licence  was  granted  by  the  Chancellors 
of  these  Ecclesiastics. 

Thus,  if  I  am  what  archaeologists  call  a  "  survival" 
of  the  primitive  head  and  ruler  of  the  University,  your 
Chancellor  stands  in  the  same  relation  to  the  Papacy ; 
and,  with  all  respect  for  his  Grace,  I  think  I  may 
say  that  we  both  look  terribly  shrunken  when  com- 
pared with  our  great  originals. 

Not  so  is  it  with  a  second  foreign  element,  which 
silently  dropped  into  the  soil  of  Universities,  like  the 
grain  of  mustard -seed  in  the  parable;  and,  like  that 
grain,  grew  into  a  tree,  in  whose  branches  a  whole 

D 


34  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL    AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

aviary  of  fowls  took  shelter.  That  element  is  the 
element  of  Endowment.  It  differed  from  the  preced- 
ing, in  its  original  design  to  serve  as  a  prop  to  the 
young  plant,  not  to  be  a  parasite  upon  it.  The 
charitable  and  the  humane,  blessed  with  wealth,  were 
very  early  penetrated  by  the  misery  of  the  poor 
student.  And  the  wise  saw  that  intellectual  ability 
is  not  so  common  or  so  unimportant  a  gift  that  it 
should  be  allowed  to  run  to  waste  upon  mere  handi- 
crafts and  chares.  The  man  who  was  a  blessing  to 
his  contemporaries,  but  who  so  often  has  been  con- 
verted into  a  curse,  by  the  blind  adherence  of  his 
posterity  to  the  letter,  rather  than  to  the  spirit,  of 
his  wishes  —  I  mean  the  "pious  founder"  —  gave 
money  and  lands,  that  the  student,  who  was  rich  in 
brain  and  poor  in  all  else,  might  be  taken  from  the 
plough  or  from  the  stithy,  and  enabled  to  devote 
himself  to  the  higher  service  of  mankind  ;  and  built 
colleges  and  halls  in  which  he  might  be  not  only 
housed  and  fed,  but  taught. 

The  Colleges  were  very  generally  placed  in  strict 
subordination  to  the  University  by  their  founders; 
but,  in  many  cases,  their  endowment,  consisting  of 
land,  has  undergone  an  "  unearned  increment,"  which 
has  given  these  societies  a  continually  increasing 
weight  and  importance  as  against  the  unendowed,  or 
fixedly  endowed,  University.  In  Pharaoh's  dream, 
the  seven  lean  kine  eat  up  the  seven  fat  ones.  In 
the  reality  of  historical  fact,  the  fat  Colleges  have 
eaten  up  the  lean  Universities. 

Even  here  in  Aberdeen,  though  the  causes  at  work 


IL]  TTNIVEBSITIES  :    ACTUAL   AND   IDEAL.  35 

may  have  been  somewhat  different,  the  effects  have 
been  similar ;  and  you  see  how  much  more  substantial 
an  entity  is  the  Very  Reverend  the  Principal,  analogue, 
if  not  homologue,  of  the  Principals  of  King's  College, 
than  the  Rector,  lineal  representative  of  the  ancient 
monarchs  of  the  University,  though  now,  little  more 
than  a  "  king  of  shreds  and  patches." 

Do  not  suppose  that,  in  thus  briefly  tracing  the 
process  of  University  metamorphosis,  I  have  had  any 
intention  of  quarrelling  with  its  results.  Practically, 
it  seems  to  me  that  the  broad  changes  effected  in  1858 
have  given  the  Scottish  Universities  a  very  liberal 
constitution,  with  as  much  real  approximation  to  the 
primitive  state  of  things  as  is  at  all  desirable.  If 
your  fat  kine  have  eaten  the  lean,  they  have  not  lain 
down  to  chew  the  cud  ever  since.  The  Scottish  Uni- 
versities, like  the  English,  have  diverged  widely  enough 
from  their  primitive  model ;  but  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing that  the  northern  form  has  remained  more  faithful 
to  its  original,  not  only  in  constitution,  but,  what  is 
more  to  the  purpose,  in  view  of  the  cry  for  change, 
in  the  practical  application  of  the  endowments  con- 
nected with  it. 

In  Aberdeen,  these  endowments  are  numerous,  but 
so  small  that,  taken  altogether,  they  are  not  equal  to 
the  revenue  of  a  single  third-rate  English  college. 
They  are  scholarships,  not  fellowships;  aids  to  do 
work — not  rewards  for  such  work  as  it  lies  within  the 
reach  of  an  ordinary,  or  even  an  extraordinary,  young 
man  to  do.  You  do  not  think  that  passing  a  respect- 
able examination  is  a  fair  equivalent  for  an  income, 


36  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL    AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

such  as  many  a  gray-headed  veteran,  or  clergyman, 
would  envy ;  and  which  is  larger  than  the  endowment 
of  many  Eegius  chairs.  You  do  not  care  to  make 
your  University  a  school  of  manners  for  the  rich  ;  of 
sports  for  the  athletic ;  or  a  hot-bed  of  high-fed, 
hypercritical  refinement,  more  destructive  to  vigour 
and  originality  than  are  starvation  and  oppression. 
No  ;  your  little  Bursaries  of  ten  and  twenty  (I  believe 
even  fifty)  pounds  a  year,  enable  any  boy  who  has 
shown  ability  in  the  course  of  his  education  in  those 
remarkable  primary  schools,  which  have  made  Scotland 
the  power  she  is,  to  obtain  the  highest  culture  the 
country  can  give  him ;  and  when  he  is  armed  and 
equipped,  his  Spartan  Alma  Mater  tells  him  that,  so 
far,  he  has  had  his  wages  for  his  work,  and  that  he 
may  go  and  earn  the  rest. 

When  I  think  of  the  host  of  pleasant,  monied,  well- 
bredyoung  gentlemen,  who  do  a  little  learning  and  much 
boating  by  Cam  and  Isis,  the  vision  is  a  pleasant  one ; 
and,  as  a  patriot,  I  rejoice  that  the  youth  of  the  upper 
and  richer  classes  of  the  nation  receive  a  wholesome  and 
a  manly  training,  however  small  may  be  the  modicum 
of  knowledge  they  gather,  in  the  intervals  of  this,  their 
serious  business.  I  admit,  to  the  full,  the  social  and 
political  value  of  that  training.  But,  when  I  proceed 
to  consider  that  these  young  men  may  be  said  to 
represent  the  great  bulk  of  what  the  Colleges  have  to 
show  for  their  enormous  wealth,  plus,  at  least,  a 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year  apiece  which  each 
undergraduate  costs  his  parents  or  guardians,  I  feel 
inclined  to  ask,  whether  the  rate-in-aid  of  the  educa- 


IL]  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  37 

tion  of  the  wealthy  and  professional  classes,  thus  levied 
on  the  resources  of  the  community,  is  not,  after  all,  a 
little  heavy?  And,  still  further,  I  am  tempted  to 
inquire  what  has  become  of  the  indigent  scholars,  the 
sons  of  the  masses  of  the  people  whose  daily  labour 
just  suffices  to  meet  their  daily  wants,  for  whose 
benefit  these  rich  foundations  were  largely,  if  not 
mainly,  instituted  ?  It  seems  as  if  Pharaoh's  dream 
had  been  rigorously  carried  out,  and  that  even  the  fat 
scholar  has  eaten  the  lean  one.  And  when  I  turn 
from  this  picture  to  the  no  less  real  vision  of  many  a 
brave  and  frugal  Scotch  boy,  spending  his  summer  in 
hard  manual  labour,  that  he  may  have  the  privilege 
of  wending  his  way  in  autumn  to  this  University,  with 
a  bag  of  oatmeal,  ten  pounds  in  his  pocket,  and  his 
own  stout  heart  to  depend  upon  through  the  northern 
winter ;  not  bent  on  seeking 

"  The  bubble  reputation  at  the  cannon's  mouth," 

but  determined  to  wring  knowledge  from  the  hard 
hands  of  penury ;  when  I  see  him  win  through  all  such 
outward  obstacles  to  positions  of  wide  usefulness  and 
well-earned  fame ;  I  cannot  but  think  that,  in  essence, 
Aberdeen  has  departed  but  little  from  the  primitive 
intention  of  the  founders  of  Universities,  and  that  the 
spirit  of  reform  has  so  much  to  do  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Border,  that  it  may  be  long  before  he  has  leisure 
to  look  this  way. 

As  compared  with  other  actual  Universities,  then, 
Aberdeen,  may,  perhaps,  be  well  satisfied  with  itself. 
But  do  not  think  me  an  impracticable  dreamer,  if  I 


38  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

ask  you  not  to  rest  and  be  thankful  in  this  state  of 
satisfaction ;  if  I  ask  you  to  consider  awhile,  how  this 
actual  good  stands  related  to  that  ideal  better,  towards 
which  both  men  and  institutions  must  progress,  if  they 
would  not  retrograde. 

In  an  ideal  University,  as  I  conceive  it,  a  man 
should  be  able  to  obtain  instruction  in  all  forms  of 
knowledge,  and  discipline  in  the  use  of  all  the  methods 
by  which  knowledge  is  obtained.  In  such  an  University, 
the  force  of  living  example  should  fire  the  student 
with  a  noble  ambition  to  emulate  the  learning  of 
learned  men,  and  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  the  ex- 
plorers of  new  fields  of  knowledge.  And  the  very  air 
he  breathes  should  be  charged  with  that  enthusiasm 
for  truth,  that  fanaticism  of  veracity,  which  is  a  greater 
possession  than  much  learning ;  a  nobler  gift  than  the 
power  of  increasing  knowledge ;  by  so  much  greater 
and  nobler  than  these,  as  the  moral  nature  of  man  is 
greater  than  the  intellectual ;  for  veracity  is  the  heart 
of  morality. 

But  the  man  who  is  all  morality  and  intellect, 
although  he  may  be  good  and  even  great,  is,  after  all, 
only  half  a  man.  There  is  beauty  in  the  moral  world 
and  in  the  intellectual  world ;  but  there  is  also  a 
beauty  which  is  neither  moral  nor  intellectual  —  the 
beauty  of  the  world  of  Art.  There  are  men  who  are 
devoid  of  the  power  of  seeing  it,  as  there  are  men  who 
are  born  deaf  and  blind,  and  the  loss  of  those,  as  of 
these,  is  simply  infinite.  There  are  others  in  whom  it  is 
an  overpowering  passion ;  happy  men,  born  with  the 
productive,  or  at  lowest,  the  appreciative,  genius  of  the 


IL]  UNIVERSITIES:   ACTUAL  AND  IDEAL.  39 

Artist.  But,  in  the  mass  of  mankind,  the  ^Esthetic 
faculty,  like  the  reasoning  power  and  the  moral  sense, 
needs  to  be  roused,  directed,  and  cultivated ;  and  I 
know  not  why  the  development  of  that  side  of  his 
nature,  through  which  man  has  access  to  a  perennial 
spring  of  ennobling  pleasure,  should  be  omitted  from 
any  comprehensive  scheme  of  University  education. 

All  Universities  recognise  Literature  in  the  sense 
of  the  old  Khetoric,  which  is  art  incarnate  in  words. 
Some,  to  their  credit,  recognise  Art  in  its  narrower 
sense,  to  a  certain  extent,  and  confer  degrees  for  pro- 
ficiency in  some  of  its  branches.  If  there  are  Doctors 
of  Music,  why  should  there  be  no  Masters  of  Painting, 
of  Sculpture,  of  Architecture  ?  I  should  like  to  see 
Professors  of  the  Fine  Arts  in  every  University ;  and 
instruction  in  some  branch  of  their  work  made  a  part 
of  the  Arts  curriculum. 

I  just  now  expressed  the  opinion  that,  in  our  ideal 
University,  a  man  should  be  able  to  obtain  instruction 
in  all  forms  of  knowledge.  Now,  by  "  forms  of  know- 
ledge "  I  mean  the  great  classes  of  things  knowable ; 
of  which  the  first,  in  logical,  though  not  in  natural, 
order  is  knowledge  relating  to  the  scope  and  limits  of 
the  mental  faculties  of  man;  a  form  of  knowledge 
which,  in  its  positive  aspect,  answers  pretty  much  to 
Logic  and  part  of  Psychology,  while,  on  its  negative 
and  critical  side,  it  corresponds  with  Metaphysics. 

A  second  class  comprehends  all  that  knowledge 
which  relates  to  man's  welfare,  so  far  as  it  is  deter- 
mined by  his  own  acts,  or  what  we  call  his  conduct. 
It  answers  to  Moral  and  Religious  philosophy.  Prac- 


40  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL    AND    IDEAL.          [LECT 

tically,  it  is  the  most  directly  valuable  of  all  forms  of 
knowledge,  but  speculatively,  it  is  limited  and  criti- 
cised by  that  which  precedes  and  by  that  which 
follows  it  in  my  order  of  enumeration. 

A  third  class  embraces  knowledge  of  the  pheno- 
mena of  the  Universe,  as  that  which  lies  about  the 
individual  man  :  and  of  the  rules  which  those  pheno- 
mena are  observed  to  follow  in  the  order  of  their 
occurrence,  which  we  term  the  laws  of  Nature. 

This  is  what  ought  to  be  called  Natural  Science, 
or  Physiology,  though  those  terms  are  hopelessly 
diverted  from  such  a  meaning ;  and  it  includes  all 
exact  knowledge  of  natural  fact,  whether  Mathe- 
matical, Physical,  Biological,  or  Social. 

Kant  has  said  that  the  ultimate  object  of  all 
knowledge  is  to  give  replies  to  these  three  questions : 
What  can  I  do  ?  What  ought  I  to  do  ?  What  may 
I  hope  for  \  The  forms  of  knowledge  which  I  have 
enumerated,  should  furnish  such  replies  as  are  within 
human  reach,  to  the  first  and  second  of  these  questions. 
While  to  the  third,  perhaps  the  wisest  answer  is, 
"  Do  what  you  can  to  do  what  you  ought,  and  leave 
hoping  and  fearing  alone." 

If  this  be  a  just  and  an  exhaustive  classification 
of  the  forms  of  knowledge,  no  question  as  to  their 
relative  importance,  or  as  to  the  superiority  of  one  to 
the  other,  can  be  seriously  raised. 

On  the  face  of  the  matter,  it  is  absurd  to  ask 
whether  it  is  more  important  to  know  the  limits  of 
one's  powers  ;  or  the  ends  for  which  they  ought  to  be 
exerted  ;  or  the  conditions  under  which  they  must  be 


ii.]  UNIVERSITIES:   ACTUAL  AND  IDEAL.  41 

exerted.  One  may  as  well  inquire  which  of  the  terms 
of  a  Rule  of  Three  sum  one  ought  to  know,  in  order  to 
get  a  trustworthy  result.  Practical  life  is  such  a  sum, 
in  which  your  duty  multiplied  into  your  capacity,  and 
divided  by  your  circumstances,  gives  you  the  fourth 
term  in  the  proportion,  which  is  your  deserts,  with 
great  accuracy  All  agree,  I  take  it,  that  men  ought 
to  have  these  three  kinds  of  knowledge.  The  so- 
called  "  conflict  of  studies"  turns  upon  the  question  of 
how  they  may  best  be  obtained. 

The  founders  of  Universities  held  the  theory  that 
the  Scriptures  and  Aristotle  taken  together,  the  latter 
being  limited  by  the  former,  contained  all  knowledge 
worth  having,  and  that  the  business  of  philosophy  was 
to  interpret  and  co-ordinate  these  two.  I  imagine 
that  in  the  twelfth  century  this  was  a  very  fair  con- 
clusion from  known  facts.  Nowhere  in  the  world,  in 
those  days,  was  there  such  an  encyclopaedia  of  know- 
ledge of  all  three  classes,  as  is  to  be  found  in  those 
writings.  The  scholastic  philosophy  is  a  wonderful 
monument  of  the  patience  and  ingenuity  with  which 
the  human  mind  toiled  to  build  up  a  logically  con- 
sistent theory  of  the  Universe,  out  of  such  materials. 
And  that  philosophy  is  by  no  means  dead  and  buried, 
as  many  vainly  suppose.  On  the  contrary,  numbers 
of  men  of  no  mean  learning  and  accomplishment,  and 
sometimes  of  rare  power  and  subtlety  of  thought, 
hold  by  it  as  the  best  theory  of  things  which  has  yet 
been  stated.  And,  what  is  still  more  remarkable, 
men  who  speak  the  language  of  modern  philosophy, 
nevertheless  think  the  thoughts  of  the  schoolmen. 


42  UNIVERSITIES  I     ACTUAL   AND   IDEAL.          [LECT. 

"  The  voice  is  the  voice  of  Jacob,  but  the  hands  are 
the  hands  of  Esau."  Every  day  I  hear  "  Cause," 
"Law,"  "Force,"  " Vitality,"  spoken  of  as  entities, 
by  people  who  can  enjoy  Swift's  joke  about  the 
meat-roasting  quality  of  the  smoke-jack,  and  comfort 
themselves  with  the  reflection  that  they  are  not  even 
as  those  benighted  schoolmen. 

Well,  this  great  system  had  its  day,  and  then  it 
was  sapped  and  mined  by  two  influences.  The  first 
was  the  study  of  classical  literature,  which  familiarised 
men  with  methods  of  philosophising  ;  with  concep- 
tions of  the  highest  Good;  with  ideas  of  the  order 
of  Nature  ;  with  notions  of  Literary  and  Historical 
Criticism;  and,  above  all,  with  visions  of  Art,  of  a 
kind  which  not  only  would  not  fit  into  the  scholastic 
scheme,  but  showed  them  a  pre-Christian,  and  indeed 
altogether  un-Christian  world,  of  such  grandeur  and 
beauty  that  they  ceased  to  think  of  any  other.  They 
were  as  men  who  had  kissed  the  Fairy  Queen,  and 
wandering  with  her  in  the  dim  loveliness  of  the  under- 
world, cared  not  to  return  to  the  familiar  ways  of 
home  and  fatherland,  though  they  lay,  at  arm's  length, 
overhead.  Cardinals  were  more  familiar  with  Virgil 
than  with  Isaiah;  and  Popes  laboured,  with  great 
success,  to  re-paganise  Eome. 

The  second  influence  was  the  slow,  but  sure, 
growth  of  the  physical  sciences.  It  was  discovered 
that  some  results  of  speculative  thought,  of  immense 
practical  and  theoretical  importance,  can  be  verified 
by  observation  ;  and  are  always  true,  however  severely 
they  may  be  tested.  Here,  at  any  rate,  was  know- 


II.]  UNIVERSITIES  I     ACTUAL   AND   IDEAL.  43 

ledge,  to  the  certainty  of  which  no  authority  could 
add,  or  take  away,  one  jot  or  tittle,  and  to  which  the 
tradition  of  a  thousand  years  was  as  insignificant  as 
the  hearsay  of  yesterday.  To  the  scholastic  system, 
the  study  of  classical  literature  might  be  inconvenient 
and  distracting,  but  it  was  possible  to  hope  that  it 
could  be  kept  within  bounds.  Physical  science,  on 
the  other  hand,  was  an  irreconcilable  enemy,  to  be 
excluded  at  all  hazards.  The  College  of  Cardinals 
has  not  distinguished  itself  in  Physics  or  Physiology ; 
and  no  Pope  has,  as  yet,  set  up  public  laboratories  in 
the  Vatican. 

People  do  not  always  formulate  the  beliefs  on 
which  they  act.  The  instinct  of  fear  and  dislike  is 
quicker  than  the  reasoning  process;  and  I  suspect 
that,  taken  in  conjunction  with  some  other  causes, 
such  instinctive  aversion  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  long 
exclusion  of  any  serious  discipline  in  the  physical 
sciences  from  the  general  curriculum  of  Universities ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  classical  literature  has  been 
gradually  made  the  backbone  of  the  Arts  course. 

I  am  ashamed  to  repeat  here  what  I  have  said 
elsewhere,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  respecting  the 
value  of  Science  as  knowledge  and  discipline.  But 
the  other  day  I  met  with  some  passages  in  the 
Address  to  another  Scottish  University,  of  a  great 
thinker,  recently  lost  to  us,  which  express  so  fully, 
and  yet  so  tersely,  the  truth  in  this  matter,  that  I  am 
fain  to  quote  them  :— 

"  To  question  all  things ; — never  to  turn  away 
from  any  difficulty ;  to  accept  no  doctrine  either  from 


44  UNIVERSITIES  :    ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.          [LECT. 

ourselves  or  from  other  people  without  a  rigid  scrutiny 
by  negative  criticism  ;  letting  no  fallacy,  or  inco- 
herence, or  confusion  of  thought  step  by  unperceived ; 
above  all,  to  insist  upon  having  the  meaning  of  a 
word  clearly  understood  before  using  it,  and  the 
meaning  of  a  proposition  before  assenting  to  it ; — 
these  are  the  lessons  we  learn "  from  workers  in 
Science.  "  With  all  this  vigorous  management  of 
the  negative  element,  they  inspire  no  scepticism  about 
the  reality  of  truth  or  indifference  to  its  pursuit.  The 
noblest  enthusiasm,  both  for  the  search  after  truth  and 
for  applying  it  to  its  highest  uses,  pervades  those 
writers."  "  In  cultivating,  therefore/'  science  as  an 
essential  ingredient  in  education,  "  we  are  all  the 
while  laying  an  admirable  foundation  for  ethical  and 
philosophical  culture." l 

The  passages  I  have  quoted  were  uttered  by  John 
Stuart  Mill ;  but  you  cannot  hear  inverted  commas, 
and  it  is  therefore  right  that  I  should  add,  without 
delay,  that  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  substituting 
"workers  in  science"  for  " ancient  dialecticians,"  and 
"  Science  as  an  essential  ingredient  in  education  "  for 
"  the  ancient  languages  as  our  best  literary  education." 
Mill  did,  in  fact,  deliver  a  noble  panegyric  upon 
classical  studies.  I  do  not  doubt  its  justice,  nor 
presume  to  question  its  wisdom.  But  I  venture  to 
maintain  that  no  wise  or  just  judge,  who  has  a  know- 
ledge of  the  facts,  will  hesitate  to  say  that  it  applies 
with  equal  force  to  scientific  training. 

1  Inaugural  Address  delivered  to  the  University  of  St.  Andrew 
February  1,  1867,  by  J.  S.  Mill,  Rector  of  the  University  (pp.  32,  33}. 


II.]  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  45 

But  it  is  only  fair  to  the  Scottish  Universities  to 
point  out  that  they  have  long  understood  the  value 
of  Science  as  a  branch  of  general  education.  I  observe, 
with  the  greatest  satisfaction,  that  candidates  for  the 
degree  of  Master  of  Arts  in  this  University  are  re- 
quired to  have  a  knowledge,  not  only  of  Mental  and 
Moral  Philosophy,  and  of  Mathematics  and  Natural 
Philosophy,  but  of  Natural  History,  in  addition  to 
the  ordinary  Latin  and  Greek  course ;  and  that  a 
candidate  may  take  honours  in  these  subjects  and  in 
Chemistry. 

I  do  not  know  what  the  requirements  of  your 
examiners  may  be,  but  I  sincerely  trust  they  are  not 
satisfied  with  a  mere  book  knowledge  of  these  matters. 
For  my  own  part,  I  would  not  raise  a  finger,  if  I 
could  thereby  introduce  mere  book  work  in  science 
into  every  Arts  curriculum  in  the  country.  Let  those 
who  want  to  study  books  devote  themselves  to  Litera- 
ture, in  which  we  have  the  perfection  of  books,  both 
as  to  substance  and  as  to  form.  If  I  may  paraphrase 
Hobbes's  well-known  aphorism,  I  would  say  that 
"books  are  the  money  of  Literature,  but  only  the 
counters  of  Science/'  Science  (in  the  sense  in  which  I 
now  use  the  term)  being  the  knowledge  of  fact,  of 
which  every  verbal  description  is  but  an  incomplete 
and  symbolic  expression.  And  be  assured  that  no 
teaching  of  science  is  worth  anything,  as  a  mental 
discipline,  which  is  not  based  upon  direct  perception 
of  the  facts,  and  practical  exercise  of  the  observing 
and  logical  faculties  upon  them.  Even  in  such  a 
simple  matter  as  the  mere  comprehension  of  form,  ask 


46  UNIVERSITIES  I    ACTUAL   AND   IDEAL.          [LECT. 

the  most  practised  and  widely  informed  anatomist 
what  is  the  difference  between  his  knowledge  of  a 
structure  which  he  has  read  about,  and  his  knowledge 
of  the  same  structure  when  he  has  seen  it  for  himself; 
and  he  will  tell  you  that  the  two  things  are  not  com- 
parable— the  difference  is  infinite.  Thus  I  am  very 
strongly  inclined  to  agree  with  some  learned  school- 
masters who  say  that,  in  their  experience,  the  teach- 
ing of  science  is  all  waste  time.  As  they  teach  it,  I 
have  no  doubt  it  is.  But  to  teach  it  otherwise,  re- 
quires an  amount  of  personal  labour  and  a  develop- 
ment of  means  and  appliances,  which  must  strike 
horror  and  dismay  into  a  man  accustomed  to  mere 
book  work ;  and  who  has  been  in  the  habit  of  teach- 
ing a  class  of  fifty  without  much  strain  upon  his 
energies.  And  this  is  one  of  the  real  difficulties  in 
the  way  of  the  introduction  of  physical  science  into 
the  ordinary  University  course,  to  which  I  have 
alluded.  It  is  a  difficulty  which  will  not  be  over- 
come, until  years  of  patient  study  have  organised 
scientific  teaching  as  well  as,  or  I  hope  better  than, 
classical  teaching  has  been  organised  hitherto. 

A  little  while  ago,  I  ventured  to  hint  a  doubt 
as  to  the  perfection  of  some  of  the  arrangements 
in  the  ancient  Universities  of  England;  but,  in 
their  provision  for  giving  instruction  in  Science  as 
such,  and  without  direct  reference  to  any  of  its 
practical  applications,  they  have  set  a  brilliant  ex- 
ample. Within  the  last  twenty  years,  Oxford  alone 
has  sunk  more  than  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand 
pounds  in  building  and  furnishing  Physical,  Chemical, 


IL]  UNIVERSITIES:   ACTUAL  AND  IDEAL.  47 

and  Physiological  Laboratories,  and  a  magnificent 
Museum,  arranged  with  an  almost  luxurious  regard 
for  the  needs  of  the  student.  Cambridge,  less  rich, 
but  aided  by  the  munificence  of  her  Chancellor,  is 
taking  the  same  course ;  and,  in  a  few  years,  it  will 
be  for  no  lack  of  the  means  and  appliances  of  sound 
teaching,  if  the  mass  of  English  University  men  re- 
main in  their  present  state  of  barbarous  ignorance  of 
even  the  rudiments  of  scientific  culture. 

Yet  another  step  needs  to  be  made  before  Science 
can  be  said  to  have  taken  its  proper  place  in  the 
Universities.  That  is  its  recognition  as  a  Faculty,  or 
branch  of  study  demanding  recognition  and  special 
organisation,  on  account  of  its  bearing  on  the  wants 
of  mankind.  The  Faculties  of  Theology,  Law,  and 
Medicine,  are  technical  schools,  intended  to  equip 
men  who  have  received  general  culture,  with  the 
special  knowledge  which  is  needed  for  the  proper  per- 
formance of  the  duties  of  clergymen,  lawyers,  and 
medical  practitioners. 

When  the  material  well-being  of  the  country 
depended  upon  rude  pasture  and  agriculture,  and  still 
ruder  mining  ;  in  the  days  when  all  the  innumerable 
applications  of  the  principles  of  physical  science  to 
practical  purposes  were  non-existent  even  as  dreams ; 
days  which  men  living  may  have  heard  their  fathers 
speak  of;  what  little  physical  science  could  be  seen 
to  bear  directly  upon  human  life,  lay  within  the  pro- 
vince of  Medicine.  Medicine  was  the  foster-mother 
of  Chemistry,  because  it  has  to  do  with  the  prepara- 
tion of  drugs  and  the  detection  of  poisons ;  of  Botany, 


48  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

because  it  enabled  the  physician  to  recognise  medici- 
nal herbs ;  of  Comparative  Anatomy  and  Physiology, 
because  the  man  who  studied  Human  Anatomy  and 
Physiology  for  purely  medical  purposes  was  led  to 
extend  his  studies  to  the  rest  of  the  animal  world. 

"Within  my  recollection,  the  only  way  in  which  a 
student  could  obtain  anything  like  a  training  in 
Physical  Science,  was  by  attending  the  lectures  of 
the  Professors  of  Physical  and  Natural  Science  at- 
tached to  the  Medical  Schools.  But,  in  the  course  of 
the  last  thirty  years,  both  foster-mother  and  child 
have  grown  so  big,  that  they  threaten  not  only  to 
crush  one  another,  but  to  press  the  very  life  out  of 
the  unhappy  student  who  enters  the  nursery ;  to  the 
great  detriment  of  all  three. 

I  speak  in  the  presence  of  those  who  know  prac- 
tically what  medical  education  is ;  for  I  may  assume 
that  a  large  proportion  of  my  hearers  are  more  or  less 
advanced  students  of  medicine.  I  appeal  to  the  most 
industrious  and  conscientious  among  you,  to  those 
who  are  most  deeply  penetrated  with  a  sense  of  the 
extremely  serious  responsibilities  which  attach  to  the 
calling  of  a  medical  practitioner,  when  I  ask  whether, 
out  of  the  four  years  which  you  devote  to  your  studies, 
you  ought  to  spare  even  so  much  as  an  hour  for  any 
work  which  does  not  tend  directly  to  fit  you  for  your 
duties  ? 

Consider  what  that  work  is.  Its  foundation  is  a 
sound  and  practical  acquaintance  with  the  structure 
of  the  human  organism,  and  with  the  modes  and  con- 
ditions of  its  action  in  health.  I  say  a  sound  and 


II.]  UNIVERSITIES  I     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  49 

practical  acquaintance,  to  guard  against  the  supposi- 
tion that  my  intention  is  to  suggest  that  you  ought 
all  to  be  minute  anatomists  and  accomplished  physi- 
ologists. The  devotion  of  your  whole  four  years  to 
Anatomy  and  Physiology  alone,  would  be  totally 
insufficient  to  attain  that  end.  What  I  mean  is,  the 
sort  of  practical,  familiar,  finger-end  knowledge  which 
a  watchmaker  has  of  a  watch,  and  which  you  expect 
that  craftsman,  as  an  honest  man,  to  have,  when  you 
entrust  a  watch  that  goes  badly,  to  him.  It  is  a  kind 
of  knowledge  which  is  to  be  acquired,  not  in  the 
lecture-room,  nor  in  the  library,  but  in  the  dissecting- 
room  and  the  laboratory.  It  is  to  be  had,  not  by 
sharing  your  attention  between  these  and  sundry  other 
subjects,  but  by  concentrating  your  minds,  week  after 
week,  and  month  after  month,  six  or  seven  hours  a 
day,  upon  all  the  complexities  of  organ  and  function, 
until  each  of  the  greater  truths  of  anatomy  and  physi- 
ology has  become  an  organic  part  of  your  minds — 
until  you  would  know  them  if  you  were  roused  and 
questioned  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  as  a  man  knows 
the  geography  of  his  native  place  and  the  daily  life  of 
his  home.  That  is  the  sort  of  knowledge  which,  once 
obtained,  is  a  life-long  possession.  Other  occupations 
may  fill  your  minds — it  may  grow  dim,  and  seem  to 
be  forgotten — but  there  it  is,  like  the  inscription  on  a 
battered  and  defaced  coin,  which  comes  out  when  you 
warm  it. 

If  I  had  the  power  to  remodel  Medical  Education, 
the  first  two  years  of  the  medical  curriculum  should 
be  devoted  to  nothing  but  such  thorough  study  of  Ana- 


50  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

tomy  and  Physiology,  with  Physiological  Chemistry 
and  Physics;  the  student  should  then  pass  a  real, 
practical  examination  in  these  subjects ;  and,  having 
gone  through  that  ordeal  satisfactorily,  he  should  be 
troubled  no  more  with  them.  His  whole  mind  should 
then  be  given  with  equal  intentness,  to  Therapeutics, 
in  its  broadest  sense,  to  Practical  Medicine  and  to 
Surgery,  with  instruction  in  Hygiene  and  in  Medical 
Jurisprudence;  and  of  these  subjects  only — surely 
there  are  enough  of  them — should  he  be  required  to 
show  a  knowledge  in  his  final  examination. 

I  cannot  claim  any  special  property  in  this  theory 
of  what  the  medical  curriculum  should  be,  for  I  find 
that  views,  more  or  less  closely  approximating  these, 
are  held  by  all  who  have  seriously  considered  the  very 
grave  and  pressing  question  of  Medical  Keform ;  and 
have,  indeed,  been  carried  into  practice,  to  some  extent, 
by  the  most  enlightened  Examining  Boards.  I  have 
heard  but  two  kinds  of  objections  to  them.  There  is, 
first,  the  objection  of  vested  interests,  which  I  will  not 
deal  with  here,  because  I  want  to  make  myself  as 
pleasant  as  I  can,  and  no  discussions  are  so  unpleasant 
as  those  which  turn  on  such  points.  And  there  is, 
secondly,  the  much  more  respectable  objection,  which 
takes  the  general  form  of  the  reproach  that,  in  thus 
limiting  the  curriculum,  we  are  seeking  to  narrow  it. 
We  are  told  that  the  medical  man  ought  to  be  a  person 
of  good  education  and  general  information,  if  his  pro- 
fession is  to  hold  its  own  among  other  professions ;  that 
he  ought  to  know  Botany,  or  else,  if  he  goes  abroad,  he 
will  not  be  able  to  tell  poisonous  fruits  from  edible 


II.]  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  5 1 

ones ;  that  he  ought  to  know  drugs,  as  a  druggist 
knows  them,  or  he  will  not  be  able  to  tell  sham  bark 
and  senna  from  the  real  articles ;  that  he  ought  to 
know  Zoology,  because  —  well,  I  really  have  never 
been  able  to  learn  exactly  why  he  is  to  be  expected 
to  know  zoology.  There  is,  indeed,  a  popular  super- 
stition, that  doctors  know  all  about  things  that  are 
queer  or  nasty  to  the  general  mind,  and  may,  there- 
fore, be  reasonably  expected  to  know  the  "  barbarous 
binomials  "  applicable  to  snakes,  snails,  and  slugs ;  an 
amount  of  information  with  which  the  general  mind 
is  usually  completely  satisfied.  And  there  is  a  scien- 
tific superstition  that  Physiology  is  largely  aided  by 
Comparative  Anatomy  —  a  superstition  which,  like 
most  superstitions,  once  had  a  grain  of  truth  at  bot- 
tom; but  the  grain  has  become  homosopathic,  since 
Physiology  took  its  modern  experimental  develop- 
ment, and  became  what  it  is  now,  the  application  of 
the  principles  of  Physics  and  Chemistry  to  the  eluci- 
dation of  the  phenomena  of  life. 

I  hold  as  strongly  as  any  one  can  do,  that  the 
medical  practitioner  ought  to  be  a  person  of  education 
and  good  general  culture ;  but  I  also  hold  by  the  old 
theory  of  a  Faculty,  that  a  man  should  have  his  general 
culture  before  he  devotes  himself  to  the  special  studies 
of  that  Faculty ;  and  I  venture  to  maintain,  that,  if 
the  general  culture  obtained  in  the  Faculty  of  Arts 
were  what  it  ought  to  be,  the  student  would  have 
quite  as  much  knowledge  of  the  fundamental  principles 
of  Physics,  of  Chemistry,  and  of  Biology,  as  he  needs, 
before  he  commenced  his  special  medical  studies. 


52  UNIVERSITIES:   ACTUAL  AND  IDEAL.        [LECT. 

Moreover,  I  would  urge,  that  a  thorough  study  of 
Human  Physiology  is,  in  itself,  an  education  broader 
and  more  comprehensive  than  much  that  passes  under 
that  name.  There  is  no  side  of  the  intellect  which  it 
does  not  call  into  play,  no  region  of  human  knowledge 
into  which  either  its  roots,  or  its  branches,  do  not 
extend;  like  the  Atlantic  between  the  Old  and  the 
New  Worlds,  its  waves  wash  the  shores  of  the  two 
worlds  of  matter  and  of  mind ;  its  tributary  streams 
flow  from  both ;  through  its  waters,  as  yet  unfurrowed 
by  the  keel  of  any  Columbus,  lies  the  road,  if  such 
there  be,  from  the  one  to  the  other ;  far  away  from 
that  North-west  Passage  of  mere  speculation,  in  which 
so  many  brave  souls  have  been  hopelessly  frozen  up. 

But  whether  I  am  right  or  wrong  about  all  this, 
the  patent  fact  of  the  limitation  of  time  remains.  As 
the  song  runs  :— 

"  If  a  man  could  be  sure 

That  his  life  would  endure 
For  the  space  of  a  thousand  long  years ' 

he  might  do  a  number  of  things  not  practicable  under 
present  conditions.  Methuselah  might,  with  much 
propriety,  have  taken  half  a  century  to  get  his  doctor's 
degree;  and  might,  very  fairly,  have  been  required 
to  pass  a  practical  examination  upon  the  contents 
of  the  British  Museum,  before  commencing  practice 
as  a  promising  young  fellow  of  two  hundred,  or  there- 
abouts. But  you  have  four  years  to  do  your  work 
in,  and  are  turned  loose,  to  save  or  slay,  at  two  or 
three  and  twenty. 

Now,  I  put  it  to  you,  whether  you  think  that, 


IL]  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   ASD    IDEAL.  53 

when  you  come  down  to  the  realities  of  life — when 
you  stand  by  the  sick-bed,  racking  your  brains  for 
the  principles  which  shall  furnish  you  with  the  means 
of  interpreting  symptoms,  and  forming  a  rational 
theory  of  the  condition  of  your  patient,  it  will  be 
satisfactory  for  you  to  find  that  those  principles  are 
not  there — although,  to  use  the  examination  slang 
which  is  unfortunately  too  familiar  to  me,  you  can 
quite  easily  "  give  an  account  of  the  leading  pecu- 
liarities of  the  Marsupialia"  or  "  enumerate  the 
chief  characters  of  the  Compositce"  or  "  state  the  class 
and  order  of  the  animal  from  which  Castoreum  is 
obtained." 

I  really  do  not  think  that  state  of  things  will  be 
satisfactory  to  you ;  I  am  very  sure  it  will  not  be  so 
to  your  patient.  Indeed,  I  am  so  narrow-minded 
myself,  that  if  I  had  to  choose  between  two  physi- 
cians— one  who  did  not  know  whether  a  whaJe  is  a 
fish  or  not,  and  could  not  tell  gentian  from  ginger, 
but  did  understand  the  applications  of  the  institutes 
of  medicine  to  his  art ;  while  the  other,  like  Talley- 
rand's doctor,  "  knew  everything,  even  a  little  physic  " 
— with  all  my  love  for  breadth  of  culture,  I  should 
assuredly  consult  the  former. 

It  is  not  pleasant  to  incur  the  suspicion  of  an  in- 
clination to  injure  or  depreciate  particular  branches 
of  knowledge.  But  the  fact  that  one  of  those  which 
I  should  have  no  hesitation  in  excluding  from  the 
medical  curriculum,  is  that  to  which  my  own  life  has 
been  specially  devoted,  should,  at  any  rate,  defend  me 
from  the  suspicion  of  being  urged  to  this  course  by 


54  UNIVERSITIES  I    ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

any  but  the  very  gravest  considerations  of  the  public 
welfare. 

And  I  should  like,  further,  to  call  your  attention 
to  the  important  circumstance  that,  in  thus  proposing 
the  exclusion  of  the  study  of  such  branches  of  know- 
ledge as  Zoology  and  Botany,  from  those  compulsory 
upon  the  medical  student,  I  am  not,  for  a  moment, 
suggesting  their  exclusion  from  the  University.  I 
think  that  sound  and  practical  instruction  in  the 
elementary  facts  and  broad  principles  of  Biology 
should  form  part  of  the  Arts  Curriculum :  and  here, 
happily,  my  theory  is  in  entire  accordance  with  your 
practice.  Moreover,  as  I  have  already  said,  I  have 
no  sort  of  doubt  that,  in  view  of  the  relation  of 
Physical  Science  to  the  practical  life  of  the  present 
day,  it  has  the  same  right  as  Theology,  Law,  and 
Medicine,  to  a  Faculty  of  its  own  in  which  men  shall 
be  trained  to  be  professional  men  of  science.  It  may 
be  doubted  whether  Universities  are  the  places  for 
technical  schools  of  Engineering,  or  Applied  Chemis- 
try, or  Agriculture.  But  there  can  surely  be  little 
question,  that  instruction  in  the  branches  of  Science 
which  lie  at  the  foundation  of  these  Arts,  of  a  far 
more  advanced  and  special  character  than  could,  with 
any  propriety,  be  included  in  the  ordinary  Arts 
Curriculum,  ought  to  be  obtainable  by  means  of  a 
duly  organised  Faculty  of  Science  in  every  Uni- 
versity. 

The  establishment  of  such  a  Faculty  would  have 
the  additional  advantage  of  providing,  in  some 
measure,  for  one  of  the  greatest  wants  of  our  time 


II.]  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  55 

and  country.  I  mean  the  proper  support  and  en- 
couragement of  original  research. 

The  other  day,  an  emphatic  friend  of  mine  com- 
mitted himself  to  the  opinion  that,  in  England,  it  is 
better  for  a  man's  worldly  prospects  to  be  a  drunkard, 
than  to  be  smitten  with  the  divine  dipsomania  of  the 
original  investigator.  I  am  inclined  to  think  he  was 
not  far  wrong.  And,  be  it  observed,  that  the  ques- 
tion is  not,  whether  such  a  man  shall  be  able  to  make 
as  much  out  of  his  abilities  as  his  brother,  of  like 
ability,  who  goes  into  Law,  or  Engineering,  or  Com- 
merce; it  is  not  a  question  of  "maintaining  a  due 
number  of  saddle  horses,"  as  George  Eliot  somewhere 
puts  it — it  is  a  question  of  living  or  starving. 

If  a  student  of  my  own  subject  shows  power  and 
originality,  I  dare  not  advise  him  to  adopt  a  scientific 
career ;  for,  supposing  he  is  able  to  maintain  himself 
until  he  has  attained  distinction,  I  cannot  give  him 
the  assurance  that  any  amount  of  proficiency  in  the 
Biological  Sciences  will  be  convertible  into,  even  the 
most  modest,  bread  and  cheese.  And  I  believe  that 
the  case  is  as  bad,  or  perhaps  worse,  with  other 
branches  of  Science.  In  this  respect  Britain,  whose 
immense  wealth  and  prosperity  hang  upon  the  thread 
of  Applied  Science,  is  far  behind  France,  and  infin- 
itely behind  Germany. 

And  the  worst  of  it  is,  that  it  is  very  difficult  to 
see  one's  way  to  any  immediate  remedy  for  this  state 
of  affairs  which  shall  be  free  from  a  tendency  to  become 
worse  than  the  disease. 

Great   schemes  for  the  Endowment  of  Kesearch 


56  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL    AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

have  been  proposed.  It  has  been  suggested,  that 
Laboratories  for  all  branches  of  Physical  Science,  pro- 
vided with  every  apparatus  needed  by  the  investi- 
gator, shall  be  established  by  the  State :  and  shall  be 
accessible,  under  due  conditions  and  regulations,  to 
all  properly  qualified  persons.  I  see  no  objection  to 
the  principle  of  such  a  proposal.  If  it  be  legitimate 
to  spend  great  sums  of  money  on  public  Libraries  and 
public  collections  of  Painting  and  Sculpture,  in  aid  of 
the  man  of  letters,  or  the  Artist,  or  for  the  mere  sake 
of  affording  pleasure  to  the  general  public,  I  apprehend 
that  it  cannot  be  illegitimate  to  do  as  much  for  the 
promotion  of  scientific  investigation.  To  take  the 
lowest  ground,  as  a  mere  investment  of  money,  the 
latter  is  likely  to  be  much  more  immediately  profitable. 
To  my  mind,  the  difficulty  in  the  way  of  such  schemes 
is  not  theoretical,  but  practical.  Given  the  labora- 
tories, how  are  the  investigators  to  be  maintained  ? 
What  career  is  open  to  those  who  have  been  thus 
encouraged  to  leave  bread-winning  pursuits  ?  If  they 
are  to  be  provided  for  by  endowment,  we  come  back 
to  the  College  Fellowship  system,  the  results  of  which, 
for  Literature,  have  not  been  so  brilliant  that  one 
would  wish  to  see  it  extended  to  Science  ;  unless  some 
much  better  securities,  than  at  present  exist,  can  be 
taken  that  it  will  foster  real  work.  You  know  that 
among  the  Bees,  it  depends  on  the  kind  of  cell  in 
which  the  egg  is  deposited,  and  the  quantity  and 
quality  of  food  which  is  supplied  to  the  grub,  whether 
it  shall  turn  out  a  busy  little  worker  or  a  big  idle 
queen.  And,  in  the  human  hive,  the  cells  of  the 


II.]  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND   IDEAL.  57 

endowed  larvae  are  always  tending  to  enlarge,  and 
their  food  to  improve,  until  we  get  queens,  beautiful 
to  behold,  but  which  gather  no  honey  and  build  no 
comb. 

I  do  not  say  that  these  difficulties  may  not  be 
overcome,  but  their  gravity  is  not  to  be  lightly  esti- 
mated. 

In  the  meanwhile,  there  is  one  step  in  the  direction 
of  the  endowment  of  research  which  is  free  from  such 
objections.  It  is  possible  to  place  the  scientific 
inquirer  in  a  position  in  which  he  shall  have  ample 
leisure  and  opportunity  for  original  work,  and  yet 
shall  give  a  fair  and  tangible  equivalent  for  those 
privileges.  The  establishment  of  a  Faculty  of  Science 
in  every  University,  implies  that  of  a  corresponding 
number  of  Professorial  chairs,  the  incumbents  of 
which  need  not  be  so  burdened  with  teaching  as  to 
deprive  them  of  ample  leisure  for  original  work.  I 
do  not  think  that  it  is  any  impediment  to  an  original 
investigator  to  have  to  devote  a  moderate  portion 
of  his  time  to  lecturing,  or  superintending  practical 
instruction.  On  the  contrary,  I  think  it  may  be,  and 
often  is,  a  benefit  to  be  obliged  to  take  a  comprehen- 
sive survey  of  your  subject ;  or  to  bring  your  results 
to  a  point,  and  give  them,  as  it  were,  a  tangible 
objective  existence.  The  besetting  sins  of  the  investi- 
gator are  two :  the  one  is  the  desire  to  put  aside  a 
subject,  the  general  bearings  of  which  he  has  mastered 
himself,  and  pass  on  to  something  which  has  the 
attraction  of  novelty;  and  the  other,  the  desire  for 
too  much  perfection,  which  leads  him  to 


58  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL    AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

"  Add  and  alter  many  times, 
Till  all  be  ripe  and  rotten ; " 

to  spend  the  energies  which  should  be  reserved  for 
action,  in  whitening  the  decks  and  polishing  the  guns. 

The  obligation  to  produce  results  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  others,  seems  to  me  to  be  a  more  effectual  check 
on  these  tendencies,  than  even  the  love  of  usefulness 
or  the  ambition  for  fame. 

But  supposing  the  Professorial  forces  of  our 
University  to  be  duly  organised,  there  remains  an 
important  question,  relating  to  the  teaching  power,  to 
be  considered.  Is  the  Professorial  system — the  sys- 
tem, I  mean,  of  teaching  in  the  lecture -room  alone, 
and  leaving  the  student  to  find  his  own  way  when  he 
is  outside  the  lecture -room — adequate  to  the  wants 
of  learners  ?  In  answering  this  question,  I  confine 
myself  to  my  own  province,  and  I  venture  to  reply 
for  Physical  Science,  assuredly  and  undoubtedly,  No. 
As  I  have  already  intimated,  practical  work  in  the 
Laboratory  is  absolutely  indispensable,  and  that  prac- 
tical work  must  be  guided  and  superintended  by  a 
sufficient  staff  of  Demonstrators,  who  are  for  Science 
what  Tutors  are  for  other  branches  of  study.  And 
there  must  be  a  good  supply  of  such  Demonstrators. 
I  doubt  if  the  practical  work  of  more  than  twenty 
students  can  be  properly  superintended  by  one 
Demonstrator.  If  we  take  the  working  day  at  six 
hours,  that  is  less  than  twenty  minutes  apiece — not  a 
very  large  allowance  of  time  for  helping  a  dull  man, 
for  correcting  an  inaccurate  one,  or  even  for  making 
an  intelligent  student  clearly  apprehend  what  he  is 


IL]  UNIVERSITIES  I    ACTUAL   AND   IDEAL.  59 

about.  And,  no  doubt,  the  supplying  of  a  proper 
amount  of  this  tutorial,  practical  teaching,  is  a  diffi- 
culty in  the  way  of  giving  proper  instruction  in 
Physical  Science  in  such  Universities  as  that  of  Aber- 
deen, which  are  devoid  of  endowments;  and,  unlike 
the  English  Universities,  have  no  moral  claim  on 
the  funds  of  richly  endowed  bodies  to  supply  their 
wants. 

Examination — thorough,  searching  examination — 
is  an  indispensable  accompaniment  of  teaching ;  but  I 
am  almost  inclined  to  commit  myself  to  the  very 
heterodox  proposition  that  it  is  a  necessary  evil.  I  am 
a  very  old  Examiner,  having,  for  some  twenty  years 
past,  been  occupied  with  examinations  on  a  consider- 
able scale,  of  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  and 
women  too, — from  the  boys  and  girls  of  elementary 
schools  to  the  candidates  for  Honours  and  Fellowships 
in  the  Universities.  1  will  not  say  that,  in  this  case 
as  in  so  many  others,  the  adage,  that  familiarity 
breeds  contempt,  holds  good ;  but  my  admiration  for 
the  existing  system  of  examination  and  its  products, 
does  not  wax  warmer  as  I  see  more  of  it.  Examina- 
tion, like  fire,  is  a  good  servant,  but  a  bad  master; 
and  there  seems  to  me  to  be  some  danger  of  its 
becoming  our  master.  I  by  no  means  stand  alone  in 
this  opinion.  Experienced  friends  of  mine  do  not 
hesitate  to  say  that  students  whose  career  they  watch, 
appear  to  them  to  become  deteriorated  by  the  constant 
effort  to  pass  this  or  that  examination,  just  as  we  hear 
of  men's  brains  becoming  affected  by  the  daily 
necessity  of  catching  a  train.  They  work  to  pass,  not 


60  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

to  know;  and  outraged  Science  takes  her  revenge. 
They  do  pass,  and  they  don't  know.  I  have  passed 
sundry  examinations  in  my  time,  not  without  credit, 
and  I  confess  I  am  ashamed  to  think  how  very  little 
real  knowledge  underlay  the  torrent  of  stuff  which  I 
was  able  to  pour  out  on  paper.  In  fact,  that  which 
examination,  as  ordinarily  conducted,  tests,  is  simply 
a  man's  power  of  work  under  stimulus,  and  his  capacity 
for  rapidly  and  clearly  producing  that  which,  for  the 
time,  he  has  got  into  his  mind.  Now,  these  faculties 
are  by  no  means  to  be  despised.  They  are  of  great 
value  in  practical  life,  and  are  the  making  of  many  an 
advocate,  and  of  many  a  so-called  statesman.  But  in 
the  pursuit  of  truth,  scientific  or  other,  they  count  for 
very  little,  unless  they  are  supplemented  by  that  long- 
continued,  patient  "intending  of  the  mind,"  as 
Newton  phrased  it,  which  makes  very  little  show  in 
Examinations.  I  imagine  that  an  Examiner  who 
knows  his  students  personally,  must  not  unfrequently 
have  found  himself  in  the  position  of  finding  A's  paper 
better  than  B's,  though  his  own  judgment  tells  him, 
quite  clearly,  that  B  is  the  man  who  has  the  larger 
share  of  genuine  capacity. 

Again,  there  is  a  fallacy  about  Examiners.  It  is 
commonly  supposed  that  any  one  who  knows  a  subject 
is  competent  to  teach  it ;  and  no  one  seems  to  doubt 
that  any  one  who  knows  a  subject  is  competent  to 
examine  in  it.  I  believe  both  these  opinions  to  be 
serious  mistakes  :  the  latter,  perhaps,  the  more  serious 
of  the  two.  In  the  first  place,  I  do  not  believe  that 
any  one  who  is  not,  or  has  not  been,  a  teacher  is  really 


ii.]  UNIVERSITIES:  ACTUAL  AND  IDEAL.  61 

qualified  to  examine  advanced  students.  And  in  the 
second  place,  Examination  is  an  Art,  and  a  difficult 
one,  which  has  to  be  learned  like  all  other  arts. 

Beginners  always  set  too  difficult  questions — partly 
because  they  are  afraid  of  being  suspected  of  ignorance 
if  they  set  easy  ones,  and  partly  from  not  understand- 
ing their  business.  Suppose  that  you  want  to  test 
the  relative  physical  strength  of  a  score  of  young  men. 
You  do  not  put  a  hundredweight  down  before  them, 
and  tell  each  to  swing  it  round.  If  you  do,  half  of 
them  won't  be  able  to  lift  it  at  all,  and  only  one  or 
two  will  be  able  to  perform  the  task.  You  must  give 
them  half  a  hundredweight,  and  see  how  they  man- 
oeuvre that,  if  you  want  to  form  any  estimate  of  the 
muscular  strength  of  each.  So,  a  practised  Examiner 
will  seek  for  information  respecting  the  mental  vigour 
and  training  of  candidates  from  the  way  in  which 
they  deal  with  questions  easy  enough  to  let  reason, 
memory,  and  method  have  free  play. 

No  doubt,  a  great  deal  is  to  be  done  by  the  careful 
selection  of  Examiners,  and  by  the  copious  introduc- 
tion of  practical  work,  to  remove  the  evils  inseparable 
from  examination;  but,  under  the  best  of  circum- 
stances, I  believe  that  examination  will  remain  but 
an  imperfect  test  of  knowledge,  and  a  still  more  im- 
perfect test  of  capacity,  while  it  tells  next  to  nothing 
about  a  man's  power  as  an  investigator. 

There  is  much  to  be  said  in  favour  of  restricting 
the  highest  degrees  in  each  Faculty,  to  those  who 
have  shown  evidence  of  such  original  power,  by  pro- 
secuting a  research  under  the  eye  of  the  Professor  in 


62  UNIVERSITIES  :    ACTUAL   AND   IDEAL.  [LECT. 

whose  province  it  lies;  or,  at  any  rate,  under  con- 
ditions which  shall  afford  satisfactory  proof  that  the 
work  is  theirs.  The  notion  may  sound  revolutionary, 
but  it  is  really  very  old ;  for,  I  take  it,  that  it  lies  at 
the  bottom  of  that  presentation  of  a  thesis  by  the 
candidate  for  a  doctorate,  which  has  now,  too  often, 
become  little  better  than  a  matter  of  form. 

Thus  far,  I  have  endeavoured  to  lay  before  you, 
in  a  too  brief  and  imperfect  manner,  my  views  respect- 
ing the  teaching  half — the  Magistri  and  Kegentes — 
of  the  University  of  the  Future.  Now  let  me  turn  to 
the  learning  half — the  Scholares. 

If  the  Universities  are  to  be  the  sanctuaries  of  the 
highest  culture  of  the  country,  those  who  would 
enter  that  sanctuary,  must  not  come  with  unwashed 
hands.  If  the  good  seed  is  to  yield  its  hundredfold 
harvest,  it  must  not  be  scattered  amidst  the  stones  of 
ignorance,  or  the  tares  of  undisciplined  indolence  and 
wantonness.  On  the  contrary,  the  soil  must  have 
been  carefully  prepared,  and  the  Professor  should  find 
that  the  operations  of  clod -crushing,  draining,  and 
weeding,  and  even  a  good  deal  of  planting,  have  been 
done  by  the  Schoolmaster. 

That  is  exactly  what  the  Professor  does  not  find 
in  any  University  in  the  three  Kingdoms  that  I  can 
hear  of — the  reason  of  which  state  of  things  lies  in 
the  extremely  faulty  organisation  of  the  majority  of 
secondary  Schools.  Students  come  to  the  Universities 
ill-prepared  in  classics  and  mathematics,  not  at  all 
prepared  in  anything  else;  and  half  their  time  is 


IL]  UNIVERSITIES  :    ACTUAL  AND   IDEAL.  63 

spent  in  learning  that  which  they  ought  to  have 
known  when  they  came. 

I  sometimes  hear  it  said  that  the  Scottish  Uni- 
versities differ  from  the  English,  in  being  to  a  much 
greater  extent  places  of  comparatively  elementary 
education  for  a  younger  class  of  students.  But  it 
would  seem  doubtful  if  any  great  difference  of  this 
kind  really  exists ;  for  a  high  authority,  himself  Head 
of  an  English  College,  has  solemnly  affirmed  that : 
"  Elementary  teaching  of  youths  under  twenty  is  now 
the  only  function  performed  by  the  University  ;"  and 
that  Colleges  are  "boarding  schools  in  which  the 
elements  of  the  learned  languages  are  taught  to 
youths."1 

This  is  not  the  first  time  that  I  have  quoted  those 
remarkable  assertions.  I  should  like  to  engrave  them 
in  public  view,  for  they  have  not  been  refuted ;  and 
I  am  convinced  that  if  their  import  is  once  clearly 
apprehended,  they  will  play  no  mean  part  when  the 
question  of  University  reorganisation,  with  a  view  to 
practical  measures,  comes  on  for  discussion.  You  are 
not  responsible  for  this  anomalous  state  of  affairs 
now;  but,  as  you  pass  into  active  life  and  acquire  the 
political  influence  to  which  your  education  and  your 
position  should  entitle  you,  you  will  become  respon- 
sible for  it,  unless  each  in  his  sphere  does  his  best  to 
alter  it,  by  insisting  on  the  improvement  of  secondary 
Schools. 

Your  present  responsibility  is  of  another,  though 

1  "  Suggestions  for  Academical  Organisation,  with  Especial  Refer- 
ence to  Oxford."     By  the  Rector  of  Lincoln. 


64  UNIVERSITIES  :     ACTUAL   AND    IDEAL.  [LECT. 

not  less  serious,  kind.  Institutions  do  not  make  men, 
any  more  than  organisation  makes  life ;  and  even  the 
ideal  University  we  have  been  dreaming  about  will 
be  but  a  superior  piece  of  mechanism,  unless  each 
student  strive  after  the  ideal  of  the  Scholar.  And 
that  ideal,  it  seems  to  me,  has  never  been  better  em- 
bodied than  by  the  great  Poet,  who,  though  lapped  in 
luxury,  the  favourite  of  a  Court,  and  the  idol  of  his 
countrymen,  remained  through  all  the  length  of  his 
honoured  years  a  Scholar  in  Art,  in  Science,  and  in 

Life. 

"  Would'st  shape  a  noble  life  1     Then  cast 
No  backward  glances  towards  the  past : 
And  though  somewhat  be  lost  and  gone, 
Yet  do  thou  act  as  one  new-born. 
What  each  day  needs,  that  shalt  thou  ask ; 
Each  day  will  set  its  proper  task. 
Give  other's  work  just  share  of  praise ; 
Not  of  thine  own  the  merits  raise. 
Beware  no  fellow  man  thou  hate : 
And  so  in  God's  hands  leave  thy  fate."  l 


1  Goethe,  Zahme  Xenien,  Vierte  Abtluiluny.  I  should  be  glad  to 
take  credit  for  the  close  and  vigorous  English  version ;  but  it  is  my 
wife's,  and  not  mine. 


TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  65 


III. 

TECHNICAL  EDUCATION. 

ANY  candid  observer  of  the  phenomena  of  modern 
society  will  readily  admit  that  bores  must  be  classed 
among  the  enemies  of  the  human  race ;  and  a  little 
consideration  will  probably  lead  him  to  the  further 
admission,  that  no  species  of  that  extensive  genus  of 
noxious  creatures  is  more  objectionable  than  the  educa- 
tional bore.  Convinced  as  I  am  of  the  truth  of  this 
great  social  generalisation,  it  is  not  without  a  certain 
trepidation  that  I  venture  to  address  you  on  an  educa- 
tional topic.  For,  in  the  course  of  the  last  ten  years, 
to  go  back  no  farther,  I  am  afraid  to  say  how  often  I 
have  ventured  to  speak  of  education,  from  that  given 
in  the  primary  schools  to  that  which  is  to  be  had  in 
the  universities  and  medical  colleges ;  indeed,  the  only 
part  of  this  wide  region  into  which,  as  yet,  I  have  not 
adventured  is  that  into  which  I  propose  to  intrude 
to-day. 

Thus,  I  cannot  but  be  aware  that  I  am  dangerously 
near  becoming  the  thing  which  all  men  fear  and  fly. 
But  I  have  deliberately  elected  to  run  the  risk.  For 
when  you  did  me  the  honour  to  ask  me  to  address  you, 
an  unexpected  circumstance  had  led  me  to  occupy 

F 


66  TECHNICAL    EDUCATION.  [LECT. 

myself  seriously  with  the  question  of  technical  educa- 
tion ;  and  I  had  acquired  the  conviction  that  there  are 
few  subjects  respecting  which  it  is  more  important  for 
all  classes  of  the  community  to  have  clear  and  just 
ideas  than  this ;  while,  certainly,  there  is  none  which 
is  more  deserving  of  attention  by  the  Working  Men's 
Club  and  Institute  Union. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  express  an  opinion  whether  the 
considerations,  which  I  am  about  to  submit  to  you,  will 
be  proved  by  experience  to  be  just  or  not ;  but  I  will 
do  my  best  to  make  them  clear.  Among  the  many 
good  things  to  be  found  in  Lord  Bacon's  works,  none 
is  more  full  of  wisdom  than  the  saying  that  "  truth 
more  easily  comes  out  of  error  than  out  of  confusion." 
Clear  and  consecutive  wrong-thinking  is  the  next  best 
thing  to  right-thinking ;  so  that,  if  I  succeed  in  clear- 
ing your  ideas  on  this  topic,  I  shall  have  wasted  neither 
your  time  nor  my  own. 

"  Technical  education,"  in  the  sense  in  which  the 
term  is  ordinarily  used,  and  in  which  I  am  now 
employing  it,  means  that  sort  of  education  which  is 
specially  adapted  to  the  needs  of  men  whose  business 
in  life  it  is  to  pursue  some  kind  of  handicraft ;  it  is, 
in  fact,  a  fine  Greco-Latin  equivalent  for  what  in  good 
vernacular  English  would  be  called  "the  teaching  of 
handicrafts."  And  probably,  at  this  stage  of  our  pro- 
gress, it  may  occur  to  many  of  you  to  think  of  the 
story  of  the  cobbler  and  his  last,  and  to  say  to  your- 
selves, though  you  will  be  too  polite  to  put  the  question 
openly  to  me,  What  does  the  speaker  know  practically 
about  this  matter  ?  What  is  his  handicraft  ?  I  think 


III.]  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  67 

the  question  is  a  very  proper  one,  and  unless  I  were 
prepared  to  answer  it,  I  hope  satisfactorily,  I  should 
have  chosen  some  other  theme. 

The  fact  is,  I  am,  and  have  been,  any  time  these 
thirty  years,  a  man  who  works  with  his  hands — a 
handicraftsman.  I  do  not  say  this  in  the  broadly 
metaphorical  sense  in  which  fine  gentlemen,  with  all 
the  delicacy  of  Agag  about  them,  trip  to  the  hustings 
about  election  time,  and  protest  that  they  too  are 
working  men.  I  really  mean  my  words  to  be  taken 
in  their  direct,  literal,  and  straightforward  sense.  In 
fact,  if  the  most  nimble-fingered  watchmaker  among 
you  will  come  to  my  workshop,  he  may  set  me  to  put 
a  watch  together,  and  I  will  set  him  to  dissect,  say,  a 
blackbeetle's  nerves.  I  do  not  wish  to  vaunt,  but  I 
am  inclined  to  think  that  I  shall  manage  my  job  to  his 
satisfaction  sooner  than  he  will  do  his  piece  of  work 
to  mine. 

In  truth,  anatomy,  which  is  my  handicraft,  is  one 
of  the  most  difficult  kinds  of  mechanical  labour,  in- 
volving, as  it  does,  not  only  lightness  and  dexterity 
of  hand,  but  sharp  eyes  and  endless  patience.  And 
you  must  not  suppose  that  my  particular  branch  of 
science  is  especially  distinguished  for  the  demand  it 
makes  upon  skill  in  manipulation.  A  similar  require- 
ment is  made  upon  all  students  of  physical  science. 
The  astronomer,  the  electrician,  the  chemist,  the  miner- 
alogist, the  botanist,  are  constantly  called  upon  to  per- 
form manual  operations  of  exceeding  delicacy.  The 
progress  of  all  branches  of  physical  science  depends 
upon  observation,  or  on  that  artificial  observation 


68  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  [LECT. 

which  is  termed  experiment,  of  one  kind  or  another ; 
and,  the  farther  we  advance,  the  more  practical  diffi- 
culties surround  the  investigation  of  the  conditions  of 
the  problems  offered  to  us;  so  that  mobile  and  yet 
steady  hands,  guided  by  clear  vision,  are  more  and 
more  in  request  in  the  workshops  of  science. 

Indeed,  it  has  struck  me  that  one  of  the  grounds 
of  that  sympathy  between  the  handicraftsmen  of  this 
country  and  the  men  of  science,  by  which  it  has  so 
often  been  my  good  fortune  to  profit,  may,  perhaps, 
lie  here.  You  feel  and  we  feel  that,  among  the  so- 
called  learned  folks,  we  alone  are  brought  into  contact 
with  tangible  facts  in  the  way  that  you  are.  You 
know  well  enough  that  it  is  one  thing  to  write  a 
history  of  chairs  in  general,  or  to  address  a  poem  to 
a  throne,  or  to  speculate  about  the  occult  powers  of 
the  chair  of  St.  Peter ;  and  quite  another  thing  to 
make  with  your  own  hands  a  veritable  chair,  that 
will  stand  fair  and  square,  and  afford  a  safe  and  satis- 
factory resting-place  to  a  frame  of  sensitiveness  and 
solidity. 

So  it  is  with  us,  when  we  look  out  from  our 
scientific  handicrafts  upon  the  doings  of  our  learned 
brethren,  whose  work  is  untrammelled  by  anything 
"base  and  mechanical,"  as  handicrafts  used  to  be 
called  when  the  world  was  younger,  and,  in  some 
respects,  less  wise  than  now.  "We  take  the  greatest 
interest  in  their  pursuits ;  we  are  edified  by  their 
histories  and  are  charmed  with  their  poems,  which 
sometimes  illustrate  so  remarkably  the  powers  of  man's 
imagination  ;  some  of  us  admire  and  even  humbly  try 


Ill]  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  69 

to  follow  them  in  their  high  philosophical  excursions, 
though  we  know  the  risk  of  being  snubbed  by  the 
inquiry  whether  grovelling  dissectors  of  monkeys  and 
blackbeetles  can  hope  to  enter  into  the  empyreal 
kingdom  of  speculation.  But  still  we  feel  that  our 
business  is  different ;  humbler  if  you  will,  though  the 
diminution  of  dignity  is,  perhaps,  compensated  by  the 
increase  of  reality  ;  and  that  we,  like  you,  have  to  get 
our  work  done  in  a  region  where  little  avails,  if  the 
power  of  dealing  with  practical  tangible  facts  is  want- 
ing. You  know  that  clever  talk  touching  joinery  will 
not  make  a  chair ;  and  I  know  that  it  is  of  about  as 
much  value  in  the  physical  sciences.  Mother  Nature 
is  serenely  obdurate  to  honeyed  words ;  only  those 
who  understand  the  ways  of  things,  and  can  silently 
and  effectually  handle  them,  get  any  good  out  of 
her. 

And  now,  having,  as  I  hope,  justified  my  assump- 
tion of  a  place  among  handicraftsmen,  and  put  myself 
right  with  you  as  to  my  qualification,  from  practical 
knowledge,  to  speak  about  technical  education,  I  will 
proceed  to  lay  before  you  the  results  of  my  experience 
as  a  teacher  of  a  handicraft,  and  tell  you  what  sort  of 
education  I  should  think  best  adapted  for  a  boy  whom 
one  wanted  to  make  a  professional  anatomist. 

I  should  say,  in  the  first  place,  let  him  have  a  good 

English  elementary  education.     I  do  not  mean  that 

he  shall  be  able  to  pass  in  such  and  such  a  standard 

— that  may  or  may  not  be  an  equivalent  expression 

—but  that  his  teaching  shall  have  been  such  as  to 


70  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  [LECT. 

have  given  him  command  of  the  common  implements 
of  learning  and  to  have  created  a  desire  for  the  things 
of  the  understanding. 

Further,  I  should  like  him  to  know  the  elements 
of  physical  science,  and  especially  of  physics  and 
chemistry,  and  I  should  take  care  that  this  elementary 
knowledge  was  real.  I  should  like  my  aspirant  to  be 
able  to  read  a  scientific  treatise  in  Latin,  French,  or 
German,  because  an  enormous  amount  of  anatomical 
knowledge  is  locked  up  in  those  languages.  And 
especially,  I  should  require  some  ability  to  draw — I  do 
not  mean  artistically,  for  that  is  a  gift  which  may  be 
cultivated  but  cannot  be  learned,  but  with  fair  accu- 
racy. I  will  not  say  that  everybody  can  learn  even 
this ;  for  the  negative  development  of  the  faculty  of 
drawing  in  some  people  is  almost  miraculous.  Still 
everybody,  or  almost  everybody,  can  learn  to  write ; 
and,  as  writing  is  a  kind  of  drawing,  I  suppose  that 
the  majority  of  the  people  who  say  they  cannot  draw, 
and  give  copious  evidence  of  the  accuracy  of  their 
assertion,  could  draw,  after  a  fashion,  if  they  tried. 
And  that  "after  a  fashion"  would  be  better  than 
nothing  for  my  purposes. 

Above  all  things,  let  my  imaginary  pupil  have 
preserved  the  freshness  and  vigour  of  youth  in  his 
mind  as  well  as  his  body.  The  educational  abomina- 
tion of  desolation  of  the  present  day  is  the  stimu- 
lation of  young  people  to  work  at  high  pressure  by 
incessant  competitive  examinations.  Some  wise  man 
(who  probably  was  not  an  early  riser)  has  said  of  early 
risers  in  general,  that  they  are  conceited  all  the  fore- 


IIL>  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  71 

noon  and  stupid  all  the  afternoon.     Now  whether  this 
is  true  of  early  risers  in  the  common  acceptation  of 
the  word  or  not,  I  will  not  pretend  to  say ;  but  it  is 
too  often  true  of  the  unhappy  children  who  are  forced 
to  rise  too  early  in  their  classes.     They  are  conceited 
all  the  forenoon  of  life,  and  stupid  all  its  afternoon. 
The  vigour  and  freshness,  which  should  have  been 
stored  up  for  the  purposes  of  the  hard  struggle  for 
existence  in  practical  life,  have  been  washed  out  of 
them  by  precocious  mental   debauchery  —  by  book 
gluttony   and   lesson   bibbing.      Their  faculties   are 
worn  out  by  the  strain  put  upon  their  callow  brains, 
and    they    are    demoralised    by   worthless    childish 
triumphs  before  the  real  work  of  life  begins.     I  have 
no  compassion  for  sloth,  but  youth  has  more  need  for 
intellectual  rest  than  age ;  and  the  cheerfulness,  the 
tenacity  of  purpose,  the  power  of  work  which  make 
many  a  successful  man  what  he  is,  must  often  be 
placed  to  the  credit,  not  of  his  hours  of  industry,  but 
to  that  of  his  hours  of  idleness,  in  boyhood.     Even 
the  hardest  worker  of  us  all,  if  he  has  to  deal  with 
anything  above  mere  details,  will  do  well,  now  and 
again,  to  let  his  brain  lie  fallow  for  a  space.     The 
next  crop  of  thought  will  certainly  be  all  the  fuller  in 
the  ear  and  the  weeds  fewer. 

This  is  the  sort  of  education  which  I  should  like 
any  one  who  was  going  to  devote  himself  to  my  handi- 
craft to  undergo.  As  to  knowing  anything  about 
anatomy  itself,  on  the  whole  I  would  rather  he  left 
that  alone  until  he  took  it  up  seriously  in  my  labora- 
tory. It  is  hard  work  enough  to  teach,  and  I  should 


72  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  (>ECT. 

not  like  to   have   superadded   to   that   the  possible 
need  of  unteaching. 

"Well,  but,  you  will  say,  this  is  Hamlet  with  the 
Prince  of  Denmark  left  out ;  your  "  technical  educa- 
tion" is  simply  a  good  education,  with  more  attention 
to  physical  science,  to  drawing,  and  to  modern  lan- 
guages, than  is  common,  and  there  is  nothing  specially 
technical  about  it. 

Exactly  so ;  that  remark  takes  us  straight  to  the 
heart  of  what  I  have  to  say ;  which  is,  that,  in  my 
judgment,  the  preparatory  education  of  the  handi- 
craftsman ought  to  have  nothing  of  what  is  ordinarily 
understood  by  "  technical "  about  it. 

The  workshop  is  the  only  real  school  for  a  handi- 
craft. The  education  which  precedes  that  of  the 
workshop  should  be  entirely  devoted  to  the  strengthen- 
ing of  the  body,  the  elevation  of  the  moral  faculties, 
and  the  cultivation  of  the  intelligence;  and,  especially, 
to  the  imbuing  the  mind  with  a  broad  and  clear  view 
of  the  laws  of  that  natural  world  with  the  components 
of  which  the  handicraftsman  will  have  to  deal.  And, 
the  earlier  the  period  of  life  at  which  the  handicrafts- 
man has  to  enter  into  actual  practice  of  his  craft,  the 
more  important  is  it  that  he  should  devote  the  precious 
hours  of  preliminary  education  to  things  of  the  mind, 
which  have  no  direct  and  immediate  bearing  on  his 
branch  of  industry,  though  they  lie  at  the  foundation 
of  all  realities. 

Now  let  me  apply  the  lessons  I  have  learned  from 
my  handicraft  to  yours.  If  any  of  you  were  obliged 


IIL]  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  73 

to  take  an  apprentice,  I  suppose  you  would  like  to 
get  a  good  healthy  lad,  ready  and  willing  to  learn, 
handy,  and  with  his  fingers  not  all  thumbs,  as  the 
saying  goes.  You  would  like  that  he  should  read, 
write,  and  cipher  well ;  and,  if  you  were  an  intelligent 
master,  and  your  trade  involved  the  application  of 
scientific  principles,  as  so  many  trades  do,  you  would 
like  him  to  know  enough  of  the  elementary  principles 
of  science  to  understand  what  was  going  on.  I  sup- 
pose that,  in  nine  trades  out  of  ten,  it  would  be  useful 
if  he  could  draw ;  and  many  of  you  must  have  la- 
mented your  inability  to  find  out  for  yourselves  what 
foreigners  are  doing  or  have  done.  So  that  some 
knowledge  of  French  and  German  might,  in  many 
cases,  be  very  desirable. 

So  it  appears  to  me  that  what  you  want  is  pretty 
much  what  I  want ;  and  the  practical  question  is, 
How  you  are  to  get  what  you  need,  under  the  actual 
limitations  and  conditions  of  life  of  handicraftsmen  in 
this  country  ? 

I  think  I  shall  have  the  assent  both  of  the  em- 
ployers of  labour  and  of  the  employed  as  to  one  of 
these  limitations ;  which  is,  that  no  scheme  of  tech- 
nical education  is  likely  to  be  seriously  entertained 
which  will  delay  the  entrance  of  boys  into  working 
life,  or  prevent  them  from  contributing  towards  their 
own  support,  as  early  as  they  do  at  present.  Not 
only  do  I  believe  that  any  such  scheme  could  not  be 
carried  out,  but  I  doubt  its  desirableness,  even  if  it 
were  practicable. 

The  period  between  childhood  and  manhood  is  full 


74  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  [LECT. 

of  difficulties  and  dangers,  under  the  most  favourable 
circumstances ;  and,  even  among  the  well-to-do,  who 
can  afford  to  surround  their  children  with  the  most 
favourable  conditions,  examples  of  a  career  ruined, 
before  it  has  well  begun,  are  but  too  frequent.  More- 
over, those  who  have  to  live  by  labour  must  be  shaped 
to  labour  early.  The  colt  that  is  left  at  grass  too 
long  makes  but  a  sorry  draught-horse,  though  his  way 
of  life  does  not  bring  him  within  the  reach  of  artificial 
temptations.  Perhaps  the  most  valuable  result  of  all 
education  is  the  ability  to  make  yourself  do  the  thing 
you  have  to  do,  when  it  ought  to  be  done,  whether 
you  like  it  or  not ;  it  is  the  first  lesson  that  ought 
to  be  learned ;  and,  however  early  a  man's  training 
begins,  it  is  probably  the  last  lesson  that  he  learns 
thoroughly. 

There  is  another  reason,  to  which  I  have  already 
adverted,  and  which  I  would  reiterate,  why  any  ex- 
tension of  the  time  devoted  to  ordinary  school- work 
is  undesirable.  In  the  newly  awakened  zeal  for 
education,  we  run  some  risk  of  forgetting  the  truth 
that  while  under -instruction  is  a  bad  thing,  over- 
instruction  may  possibly  be  a  worse. 

Success  in  any  kind  of  practical  life  is  not  depend- 
ent solely,  or  indeed  chiefly,  upon  knowledge.  Even 
in  the  learned  professions,  knowledge,  alone,  is  of  less 
consequence  than  people  are  apt  to  suppose.  And,  if 
much  expenditure  of  bodily  energy  is  involved  in  the 
day's  work,  mere  knowledge  is  of  still  less  importance 
when  weighed  against  the  probable  cost  of  its  acquire- 
ment. To  do  a  fair  day's  work  with  his  hands,  a 


IIL]  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  75 

man  needs,  above  all  things,  health,  strength,  and 
the  patience  and  cheerfulness  which,  if  they  do  not 
always  accompany  these  blessings,  can  hardly  in  the 
nature  of  things  exist  without  them ;  to  which  we 
must  add  honesty  of  purpose  and  a  pride  in  doing 
what  is  done  well. 

A  good  handicraftsman  can  get  on  very  well  with- 
out genius,  but  he  will  fare  badly  without  a  reasonable 
share  of  that  which  is  a  more  useful  possession  for 
workaday  life,  namely,  mother- wit ;  and  he  will  be  all 
the  better  for  a  real  knowledge,  however  limited,  of  the 
ordinary  laws  of  nature,  and  especially  of  those  which 
apply  to  his  own  business. 

Instruction  carried  so  far  as  to  help  the  scholar  to 
turn  his  store  of  mother- wit  to  account,  to  acquire  a 
fair  amount  of  sound  elementary  knowledge,  and  to 
use  his  hands  and  eyes;  while  leaving  him  fresh, 
vigorous,  and  with  a  sense  of  the  dignity  of  his  own 
calling,  whatever  it  may  be,  if  fairly  and  honestly 
pursued,  cannot  fail  to  be  of  invaluable  service  to  all 
those  who  come  under  its  influence. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  school  instruction  is 
carried  so  far  as  to  encourage  bookishness ;  if  the 
ambition  of  the  scholar  is  directed,  not  to  the  gaining 
of  knowledge,  but  to  the  being  able  to  pass  examina- 
tions successfully;  especially  if  encouragement  is 
given  to  the  mischievous  delusion  that  brainwork  is, 
in  itself,  and  apart  from  its  quality,  a  nobler  or  more 
respectable  thing  than  handiwork — such  education 
may  be  a  deadly  mischief  to  the  workman,  and  lead  to 
the  rapid  ruin  of  the  industries  it  is  intended  to  serve. 


76  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  [LEOT. 

I  know  that  I  am  expressing  the  opinion  of  some 
of  the  largest  as  well  as  the  most  enlightened  em- 
ployers of  labour,  when  I  say  that  there  is  a  real 
danger  that,  from  the  extreme  of  no  education,  we 
may  run  to  the  other .  extreme  of  over- education  of 
handicraftsmen.  And  I  apprehend  that  what  is  true 
for  the  ordinary  hand-worker  is  true  for  the  foreman. 
Activity,  probity,  knowledge  of  men,  ready  mother- 
wit,  supplemented  by  a  good  knowledge  of  the  gen- 
eral principles  involved  in  his  business,  are  the  making 
of  a  good  foreman.  If  he  possess  these  qualities, 
no  amount  of  learning  will  fit  him  better  for  his  posi- 
tion ;  while  the  course  of  life  and  the  habit  of  mind 
required  for  the  attainment  of  such  learning  may,  in 
various  direct  and  indirect  ways,  act  as  direct  dis- 
qualifications for  it. 

Keeping  in  mind,  then,  that  the  two  things  to  be 
avoided  are,  the  delay  of  the  entrance  of  boys  into 
practical  life,  and  the  substitution  of  exhausted  book- 
worms for  shrewd,  handy  men,  in  our  works  and  fac- 
tories, let  us  consider  what  may  be  wisely  and  safely 
attempted  in  the  way  of  improving  the  education  of 
the  handicraftsman. 

First,  I  look  to  the  elementary  schools  now  happily 
established  all  over  the  country.  I  am  not  going  to 
criticise  or  find  fault  with  them ;  on  the  contrary, 
their  establishment  seems  to  me  to  be  the  most  im- 
portant and  the  most  beneficial  result  of  the  corporate 
action  of  the  people  in  our  day.  A  great  deal  is  said 
of  British  interests  just  now,  but,  depend  upon  it, 
that  no  Eastern  difficulty  needs  our  intervention  as  a 


IIL]  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  77 

nation  so  seriously,  as  the  putting  down  both  the 
Bashi-Bazouks  of  ignorance  and  the  Cossacks  of  sec- 
tarianism at  home.  What  has  already  been  achieved 
in  these  directions  is  a  great  thing ;  you  must  have 
lived  some  time  to  know  how  great.  An  education, 
better  in  its  processes,  better  in  its  substance,  than 
that  which  was  accessible  to  the  great  majority  of 
well-to-do  Britons  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago,  is  now 
obtainable  by  every  child  in  the  land.  Let  any  man 
of  my  age  go  into  an  ordinary  elementary  school,  and, 
unless  he  was  unusually  fortunate  in  his  youth,  he 
will  tell  you  that  the  educational  method,  the  intelli- 
gence, patience,  and  good  temper  on  the  teacher's 
part,  which  are  now  at  the  disposal  of  the  veriest 
waifs  and  wastrels  of  society,  are  things  of  which  he 
had  no  experience  in  those  costly  middle-class  schools, 
which  were  so  ingeniously  contrived  as  to  combine  all 
the  evils  and  shortcomings  of  the  great  public  schools 
with  none  of  their  advantages.  Many  a  man,  whose 
so-called  education  cost  a  good  deal  of  valuable  money 
and  occupied  many  a  year  of  invaluable  time,  leaves 
the  inspection  of  a  well-ordered  elementary  school 
devoutly  wishing  that,  in  his  young  days,  he  had 
had  the  chance  of  being  as  well  taught  as  these  boys 
and  girls  are. 

But  while,  in  view  of  such  an  advance  in  general 
education,  I  willingly  obey  the  natural  impulse  to  be 
thankful,  I  am  not  willing  altogether  to  rest.  I  want 
to  see  instruction  in  elementary  science  and  in  art 
more  thoroughly  incorporated  in  the  educational  sys- 
tem. At  present,  it  is  being  administered  by  driblets, 


78  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  (>ECT. 

as  if  it  were  a  potent  medicine,  "  a  few  drops  to  be 
taken  occasionally  in  a  teaspoon."  Every  year  I 
notice  that  that  earnest  and  untiring  friend  of  yours 
and  of  mine,  Sir  John  Lubbock,  stirs  up  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  day  in  the  House  of  Commons  on  this 
subject ;  and  also  that,  every  year,  he,  and  the  few 
members  of  the  House  of  Commons,  such  as  Mr. 
Playfair,  who  sympathise  with  him,  are  met  with 
expressions  of  warm  admiration  for  science  in  gen- 
eral, and  reasons  at  large  for  doing  nothing  in  particu- 
lar. But  now  that  Mr.  Forster,  to  whom  the  education 
of  the  country  owes  so  much,  has  announced  his  con- 
version to  the  right  faith,  I  begin  to  hope  that,  sooner 
or  later,  things  will  mend. 

I  have  given  what  I  believe  to  be  a  good  reason  for 
the  assumption,  that  the  keeping  at  school  of  boys,  who 
are  to  be  handicraftsmen,  beyond  the  age  of  thirteen  or 
fourteen  is  neither  practicable  nor  desirable ;  and,  as  it 
is  quite  certain,  that,  with  justice  to  other  and  no  less 
important  branches  of  education,  nothing  more  than 
the  rudiments  of  science  and  art  teaching  can  be 
introduced  into  elementary  schools,  we  must  seek 
elsewhere  for  a  supplementary  training  in  these  sub- 
jects, and,  if  need  be,  in  foreign  languages,  which  may 
go  on  after  the  workman's  life  has  begun. 

The  means  of  acquiring  the  scientific  and  artistic 
part  of  this  training  already  exists  in  full  working 
order,  in  the  first  place,  in  the  classes  of  the  Science 
and  Art  Department,  which  are,  for  the  most  part,  held 
in  the  evening,  so  as  to  be  accessible  to  all  who  choose 
to  avail  themselves  of  them  after  working  hours.  The 


IIL]  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  79 

great  advantage  of  these  classes  is  that  they  bring  the 
means  of  instruction  to  the  doors  of  the  factories  and 
workshops ;  that  they  are  no  artificial  creations,  but 
by  their  very  existence  prove  the  desire  of  the  people 
for  them ;  and  finally,  that  they  admit  of  indefinite 
development  in  proportion  as  they  are  wanted.  I 
have  often  expressed  the  opinion,  and  I  repeat  it  here, 
that,  during  the  eighteen  years  they  have  been  in 
existence,  these  classes  have  done  incalculable  good ; 
and  I  can  say,  of  my  own  knowledge,  that  the  Depart- 
ment spares  no  pains  and  trouble  in  trying  to  increase 
their  usefulness  and  ensure  the  soundness  of  their 
work. 

No  one  knows  better  than  my  friend  Colonel 
Donnelly,  to  whose  clear  views  and  great  administra- 
tive abilities  so  much  of  the  successful  working  of  the 
science  classes  is  due,  that  there  is  much  to  be  done 
before  the  system  can  be  said  to  be  thoroughly  satis- 
factory. The  instruction  given  needs  to  be  made 
more  systematic  and  especially  more  practical ;  the 
teachers  are  of  very  unequal  excellence,  and  not  a  few 
stand  much  in  need  of  instruction  themselves,  not 
only  in  the  subjects  which  they  teach,  but  in  the 
objects  for  which  they  teach.  I  daresay  you  have 
heard  of  that  proceeding,  reprobated  by  all  true 
sportsmen,  which  is  called  "  shooting  for  the  pot." 
Well,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  "teaching  for  the  pot" 
— teaching,  that  is,  not  that  your  scholar  may  know, 
but  that  he  may  count  for  payment  among  those  who 
pass  the  examination ;  and  there  are  some  teachers, 
happily  not  many,  who  have  yet  to  learn  that  the 


80  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  [LECT. 

examiners  of  the  Department  regard  them  as  poachers 
of  the  worst  description. 

Without  presuming  in  any  way  to  speak  in  the 
name  of  the  Department,  I  think  I  may  say,  as  a 
matter  which  has  come  under  my  own  observation, 
that  it  is  doing  its  best  to  meet  all  these  difficulties. 
It  systematically  promotes  practical  instruction  in  the 
classes ;  it  affords  facilities  to  teachers  who  desire  to 
learn  their  business  thoroughly;  and  it  is  always 
ready  to  aid  in  the  suppression  of  pot-teaching. 

All  this  is,  as  you  may  imagine,  highly  satisfactory 
to  me.  I  see  that  spread  of  scientific  education,  about 
which  I  have  so  often  permitted  myself  to  worry  the 
public,  become,  for  all  practical  purposes,  an  accom- 
plished fact.  Grateful  as  I  am  for  all  that  is  now 
being  done,  in  the  same  direction,  'in  our  higher 
schools  and  universities,  I  have  ceased  to  have  any 
anxiety  about  the  wealthier  classes.  Scientific  know- 
ledge is  spreading  by  what  the  alchemists  called  a 
"  distillatio  per  ascensum ; "  and  nothing  now  can 
prevent  it  from  continuing  to  distil  upwards  and  per- 
meate English  society,  until,  in  the  remote  future,  there 
shall  be  no  member  of  the  legislature  who  does  not 
know  as  much  of  science  as  an  elementary  school-boy; 
and  even  the  heads  of  houses  in  our  venerable  seats 
of  learning  shall  acknowledge  that  natural  science  is 
not  merely  a  sort  of  University  back-door  through 
which  inferior  men  may  get  at  their  degrees.  Perhaps 
this  apocalyptic  vision  is  a  little  wild ;  and  I  feel  I 
ought  to  ask  pardon  for  an  outbreak  of  enthusiasm, 
which,  I  assure  you,  is  not  my  commonest  failing. 


III.]  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  81 

I  have  said  that  the  Government  is  already  doing 
a  great  deal  in  aid  of  that  kind  of  technical  education 
for  handicraftsmen  which,  to  my  mind,  is  alone  worth 
seeking.  Perhaps  it  is  doing  as  much  as  it  ought  to 
do,  even  in  this  direction.  Certainly  there  is  another 
kind  of  help  of  the  most  important  character,  for  which 
we  may  look  elsewhere  than  to  the  Government. 
The  great  mass  of  mankind  have  neither  the  liking, 
nor  the  aptitude,  for  either  literary,  or  scientific,  or 
artistic  pursuits;  nor,  indeed,  for  excellence  of  any 
sort.  Their  ambition  is  to  go  through  life  with 
moderate  exertion  and  a  fair  share  of  ease,  doing 
common  things  in  a  common  way.  And  a  great 
blessing  and  comfort  it  is  that  the  majority  of  men 
are  of  this  mind;  for  the  majority  of  things  to  be 
done  are  common  things,  and  are  quite  well  enough 
done  when  commonly  done.  The  great  end  of  life  is 
not  knowledge  but  action.  What  men  need  is,  as 
much  knowledge  as  they  can  assimilate  and  organise 
into  a  basis  for  action ;  give  them  more  and  it  may 
become  injurious.  One  knows  people  who  are  as  heavy 
and  stupid  from  undigested  learning  as  others  are  from 
over -fulness  of  meat  and  drink.  But  a  small  per- 
centage of  the  population  is  born  with  that  most 
excellent  quality,  a  desire  for  excellence,  or  with 
special  aptitudes  of  some  sort  or  another ;  Mr.  Galton 
tells  us  that  not  more  than  one  in  four  thousand  may 
be  expected  to  attain  distinction,  and  not  more  than 
one  in  a  million  some  share  of  that  intensity  of  in- 
stinctive aptitude,  that  burning  thirst  for  excellence, 
which  is  called  genius. 

o 


82  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  [LEOT. 

Now,  the  most  important  object  of  all  educational 
schemes  is  to  catch  these  exceptional  people,  and  turn 
them  to  account  for  the  good  of  society.  No  man 
can  say  where  they  will  crop  up  ;  like  their  opposites, 
the  fools  and  knaves,  they  appear  sometimes  in  the 
palace,  and  sometimes  in  the  hovel ;  but  the  great 
thing  to  be  aimed  at,  I  was  almost  going  to  say  the 
most  important  end  of  all  social  arrangements,  is  to 
keep  these  glorious  sports  of  Nature  from  being  either 
corrupted  by  luxury  or  starved  by  poverty,  and  to 
put  them  into  the  position  in  which  they  can  do  the 
work  for  which  they  are  specially  fitted. 

Thus,  if  a  lad  in  an  elementary  school  showed 
signs  of  special  capacity,  I  would  try  to  provide  him 
with  the  means  of  continuing  his  education  after  his 
daily  working  life  had  begun;  if,  in  the  evening 
classes,  he  developed  special  capabilities  in  the  direc- 
tion of  science  or  of  drawing,  I  would  try  to  secure 
him  an  apprenticeship  to  some  trade  in  which  those 
powers  would  have  applicability.  Or,  if  he  chose 
to  become  a  teacher,  he  should  have  the  chance  of 
so  doing.  Finally,  to  the  lad  of  genius,  the  one  in 
a  million,  I  would  make  accessible  the  highest  and 
most  complete  training  the  country  could  afford. 
Whatever  that  might  cost,  depend  upon  it  the  invest- 
ment would  be  a  good  one.  I  weigh  my  words  when 
I  say  that  if  the  nation  could  purchase  a  potential 
Watt,  or  Davy,  or  Faraday,  at  the  cost  of  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds  down,  he  would  be  dirt-cheap  at  the 
money.  It  is  a  mere  commonplace  and  everyday 
piece  of  knowledge,  that  what  these  three  men  did 


IIL]  TECHNICAL  EDUCATION.  83 

has  produced  untold  millions  of  wealth,  in  the  narrow- 
est economical  sense  of  the  word. 

Therefore,  as  the  sum  and  crown  of  what  is  to  be 
done  for  technical  education,  I  look  to  the  provision 
of  a  machinery  for  winnowing  out  the  capacities  and 
giving  them  scope.  When  I  was  a  member  of  the 
London  School  Board,  I  said,  in  •  the  course  of  a 
speech,  that  our  business  was  to  provide  a  ladder, 
reaching  from  the  gutter  to  the  university,  along 
which  every  child  in  the  three  kingdoms  should  have 
the  chance  of  climbing  as  far  as  he  was  fit  to  go. 
This  phrase  was  so  much  bandied  about  at  the  time, 
that,  to  say  truth,  I  am  rather  tired  of  it ;  but  I  know 
of  no  other  which  so  fully  expresses  my  belief,  not 
only  about  education  in  general,  but  about  technical 
education  in  particular. 

The  essential  foundation  of  all  the  organisation 
needed  for  the  promotion  of  education  among  handi- 
craftsmen will,  I  believe,  exist  in  this  country,  when 
every  working  lad  can  feel  that  society  has  done  as 
much  as  lies  in  its  power  to  remove  all  needless  and 
artificial  obstacles  from  his  path;  that  there  is  no 
barrier,  except  such  as  exists  in  the  nature  of  things, 
between  himself  and  whatever  place  in  the  social  or- 
ganisation he  is  fitted  to  fill ;  and,  more  than  this, 
that,  if  he  has  capacity  and  industry,  a  hand  is  held 
out  to  help  him  along  any  path  which  is  wisely  and 
honestly  chosen. 

I  have  endeavoured  to  point  out  to  you  that  a 
great  deal  of  such  an  organisation  already  exists ;  and 
I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  add  that  there  is  a  good 


84  TECHNICAL   EDUCATION.  [LECT. 

prospect  that  what  is  wanting  will,  before  long,  be 
supplemented. 

Those  powerful  and  wealthy  societies,  the  livery 
companies  of  the  City  of  London,  remembering  that 
they  are  the  heirs  and  representatives  of  the  trade 
guilds  of  the  Middle  Ages,  are  interesting  themselves 
in  the  question.  So  far  back  as  1872  the  Society  of 
Arts  organised  a  system  of  instruction  in  the  techno- 
logy of  arts  and  manufactures,  for  persons  actually 
employed  in  factories  and  workshops,  who  desired  to 
extend  and  improve  their  knowledge  of  the  theory 
and  practice  of  their  particular  avocations ; 1  and  a 
considerable  subsidy,  in  aid  of  the  efforts  of  the 
Society,  was  liberally  granted  by  the  Clothworkers' 
Company.  We  have  here  the  hopeful  commencement  of 
a  rational  organisation  for  the  promotion  of  excellence 
among  handicraftsmen.  Quite  recently,  other  of  the 
livery  companies  have  determined  upon  giving  their 
powerful,  and,  indeed,  almost  boundless,  aid  to  the 
improvement  of  the  teaching  of  handicrafts.  They 
have  already  gone  so  far  as  to  appoint  a  committee  to 
act  for  them ;  and  I  betray  no  confidence  in  adding 
that,  some  time  since,  the  committee  sought  the  ad- 
vice and  assistance  of  several  persons,  myself  among 
the  number. 

Of  course  I  cannot  tell  you  what  may  be  the  result 
of  the  deliberations  of  the  committee ;  but  we  may  all 
fairly  hope  that,  before  long,  steps  which  will  have  a 
weighty  and  a  lasting  influence  on  the  growth  and 

1  See  the  "Programme"  for  1878,  issued  by  the  Society  of  Arts, 
p.  14. 


IIL]  TECHNICAL    EDUCATION.  85 

spread  of  sound  and  thorough  teaching  among  the 
handicraftsmen 1  of  this  country  will  be  taken  by  the 
livery  companies  of  London. 

[This  hope  has  been  fully  justified  by  the  establishment  of 
the  Cowper  Street  Schools,  and  that  of  the  Central  Institution  of 
the  City  and  Guilds  of  London  Institute.  September  1881.] 

1  It  is  perhaps  advisable  to  remark  that  the  important  question  of 
the  professional  education  of  managers  of  industrial  works  is  not 
touched  in  the  foregoing  remarks 


86    ON  ELEMENTARY  INSTRUCTION  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  [LECT. 


IV. 

ON  ELEMENTARY  INSTRUCTION  IN 
PHYSIOLOGY. 

THE  chief  ground  upon  which  I  venture  to  recommend 
that  the  teaching  of  elementary  physiology  should  form 
an  essential  part  of  any  organised  course  of  instruc- 
tion in  matters  pertaining  to  domestic  economy,  is, 
that  a  knowledge  of  even  the  elements  of  this  subject 
supplies  those  conceptions  of  the  constitution  and 
mode  of  action  of  the  living  body,  and  of  the  nature 
of  health  and  disease,  which  prepare  the  mind  to 
receive  instruction  from  sanitary  science. 

It  is,  I  think,  eminently  desirable  that  the  hygien- 
ist  and  the  physician  should  find  something  in  the 
public  mind  to  which  they  can  appeal ;  some  little 
stock  of  universally  acknowledged  truths,  which  may 
serve  as  a  foundation  for  their  warnings,  and  pre- 
dispose towards  an  intelligent  obedience  to  their 
recommendations. 

Listening  to  ordinary  talk  about  health,  disease, 
and  death,  one  is  often  led  to  entertain  a  doubt  whether 
the  speakers  believe  that  the  course  of  natural  causa- 
tion runs  as  smoothly  in  the  human  body  as  elsewhere. 
Indications  are  too  often  obvious  of  a  strong,  though 


IV.]     ON  ELEMENTARY  INSTRUCTION  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.      87 

perhaps  an  unavowed  and  half  unconscious,  under- 
current of  opinion  that  the  phenomena  of  life  are  not 
only  widely  different,  in  their  superficial  characters  and 
in  their  practical  importance,  from  other  natural  events, 
but  that  they  do  not  follow  in  that  definite  order 
which  characterises  the  succession  of  all  other  occur- 
rences, and  the  statement  of  which  we  call  a  law  of 
nature. 

Hence,  I  think,  arises  the  want  of  heartiness  of 
belief  in  the  value  of  knowledge  respecting  the  laws 
of  health  and  disease,  and  of  the  foresight  and  care  to 
which  knowledge  is  the  essential  preliminary,  which 
is  so  often  noticeable  ;  and  a  corresponding  laxity  and 
carelessness  in  practice,  the  results  of  which  are  too 
frequently  lamentable. 

It  is  said  that  among  the  many  religious  sects  of 
Eussia,  there  is  one  which  holds  that  all  disease  is 
brought  about  by  the  direct  and  special  interference 
of  the  Deity,  and  which,  therefore,  looks  with  repug- 
nance upon  both  preventive  and  curative  measures  as 
alike  blasphemous  interferences  with  the  will  of  God. 
Among  ourselves,  the  "Peculiar  People"  are,  I  believe, 
the  only  persons  who  hold  the  like  doctrine  in  its 
integrity,  and  carry  it  out  with  logical  rigour.  But 
many  of  us  are  old  enough  to  recollect  that  the 
administration  of  chloroform  in  assuagement  of  the 
pangs  of  childbirth  was,  at  its  introduction,  strenuously 
resisted  upon  similar  grounds. 

I  am  not  sure  that  the  feeling,  of  which  the  doctrine 
to  which  I  have  referred  is  the  full  expression,  does 
not  lie  at  the  bottom  of  the  minds  of  a  great  many 


88    ON  ELEMENTARY  INSTRUCTION  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.    [LECT. 

people  who  yet  would  vigorously  object  to  give  a 
verbal  assent  to  the  doctrine  itself.  However  this 
may  be,  the  main  point  is  that  sufficient  knowledge 
has  now  been  acquired  of  vital  phenomena,  to  justify 
the  assertion,  that  the  notion,  that  there  is  anything 
exceptional  about  these  phenomena,  receives  not  a 
particle  of  support  from  any  known  fact.  On  the 
contrary,  there  is  a  vast  and  an  increasing  mass  of 
evidence  that  birth  and  death,  health  and  disease,  are 
as  much  parts  of  the  ordinary  stream  of  events  as  the 
rising  and  setting  of  the  sun,  or  the  changes  of  the 
moon ;  and  that  the  living  body  is  a  mechanism,  the 
proper  working  of  which  we  term  health  ;  its  disturb- 
ance, disease  ;  its  stoppage,  death.  The  activity  of 
this  mechanism  is  dependent  upon  many  and  compli- 
cated conditions,  some  of  which  are  hopelessly  beyond 
our  control,  while  others  are  readily  accessible,  and 
are  capable  of  being  indefinitely  modified  by  our  own 
actions.  The  business  of  the  hygienist  and  of  the 
physician  is  to  know  the  range  of  these  modifiable 
conditions,  and  how  to  influence  them  towards  the 
maintenance  of  health  and  the  prolongation  of  life ; 
the  business  of  the  general  public  is  to  give  an  intelli- 
gent assent,  and  a  ready  obedience  based  upon  that 
assent,  to  the  rules  laid  down  for  their  guidance  by 
such  experts.  But  an  intelligent  assent  is  an  assent 
based  upon  knowledge,  and  the  knowledge  which  is 
here  in  question  means  an  acquaintance  with  the 
elements  of  physiology. 

It    is   not   difficult   to   acquire   such  knowledge. 
What  is  true,  to  a  certain  extent,  of  all  the  physical 


IV.]     ON  ELEMENTARY    INSTRUCTION  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.     89 

sciences,  is  eminently  characteristic  of  physiology — 
the  difficulty  of  the  subject  begins  beyond  the  stage 
of  elementary  knowledge,  and  increases  with  every 
stage  of  progress.  While  the  most  highly  trained  and 
the  best  furnished  intellect  may  find  all  its  resources 
insufficient,  when  it  strives  to  reach  the  heights  and 
penetrate  into  the  depths  of  the  problems  of  physiology, 
the  elementary  and  fundamental  truths  can  be  made 
clear  to  a  child. 

No  one  can  have  any  difficulty  in  comprehending 
the  mechanism  of  circulation  or  respiration;  or  the 
general  mode  of  operation  of  the  organ  of  vision ; 
though  the  unravelling  of  all  the  minutiae  of  these 
processes,  may,  for  the  present,  baffle  the  conjoined 
attacks  of  the  most  accomplished  physicists,  chemists, 
and  mathematicians.  To  know  the  anatomy  of  the 
human  body,  with  even  an  approximation  to  thorough- 
ness, is  the  work  of  a  life ;  but  as  much  as  is  needed 
for  a  sound  comprehension  of  elementary  physiological 
truths,  may  be  learned  in  a  week. 

A  knowledge  of  the  elements  of  physiology  is  not 
only  easy  of  acquirement,  but  it  may  be  made  a  real 
and  practical  acquaintance  with  the  facts,  as  far  as  it 
goes.  The  subject  of  study  is  always  at  hand,  in 
oneself.  The  principal  constituents  of  the  skeleton, 
and  the  changes  of  form  of  contracting  muscles,  may 
be  felt  through  one's  own  skin.  The  beating  of  one's 
heart,  and  its  connection  with  the  pulse,  may  be  noted; 
the  influence  of  the  valves  of  one's  own  veins  may  be 
shown;  the  movements  of  respiration  may  be  observed; 
while  the  wonderful  phenomena  of  sensation  afford  an 


90   ON  ELEMENTARY  INSTRUCTION  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

endless  field  for  curious  and  interesting  self -study. 
The  prick  of  a  needle  will  yield,  in  a  drop  of  one's 
own  blood,  material  for  microscopic  observation  of 
phenomena  which  lie  at  the  foundation  of  all  biological 
conceptions ;  and  a  cold,  with  its  concomitant  cough- 
ing and  sneezing,  may  prove  the  sweet  uses  of  adversity 
by  helping  one  to  a  clear  conception  of  what  is  meant 
by  "  reflex  action." 

Of  course  there  is  a  limit  to  this  physiological 
self-examination.  But  there  is  so  close  a  solidarity 
between  ourselves  and  our  poor  relations  of  the  animal 
world,  that  our  inaccessible  inward  parts  may  be 
supplemented  by  theirs.  A  comparative  anatomist 
knows  that  a  sheep's  heart  and  lungs,  or  eye,  must  not 
be  confounded  with  those  of  a  man  ;  but,  so  far  as  the 
comprehension  of  the  elementary  facts  of  the  physi- 
ology of  circulation,  of  respiration,  and  of  vision  goes, 
the  one  furnishes  the  needful  anatomical  data  as  well 
as  the  other. 

Thus,  it  is  quite  possible  to  give  instruction  in 
elementary  physiology  in  such  a  manner  as,  not  only 
to  confer  knowledge,  which,  for  the  reason  I  have 
mentioned,  is  useful  in  itself ;  but  to  serve  the  purposes 
of  a  training  in  accurate  observation,  and  in  the 
methods  of  reasoning  of  physical  science.  But  that 
is  an  advantage  which  I  mention  only  incidentally,  as 
the  present  Conference  does  not  deal  with  education 
in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word. 

It  will  not  be  suspected  that  I  wish  to  make 
physiologists  of  all  the  world.  It  would  be  as  reason- 
able to  accuse  an  advocate  of  the  "three  K's"  of  a 


IV.]     ON  ELEMENTARY    INSTRUCTION  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.     91 

desire  to  make  an  orator,  an  author,  and  a  mathe- 
matician of  everybody.  A  stumbling  reader,  a  pot- 
hook writer,  and  an  arithmetician  who  has  not  got 
beyond  the  rule  of  three,  is  not  a  person  of  brilliant 
acquirements ;  but  the  difference  between  such  a 
member  of  society  and  one  who  can  neither  read, 
write,  nor  cipher  is  almost  inexpressible  ;  and  no  one 
now-a-days  doubts  the  value  of  instruction,  even  if  it 
goes  no  farther. 

The  saying  that  a  little  knowledge  is  a  dangerous 
thing  is,  to  my  mind,  a  very  dangerous  adage.  If 
knowledge  is  real  and  genuine,  I  do  not  believe  that 
it  is  other  than  a  very  valuable  possession,  however 
infinitesimal  its  quantity  may  be.  Indeed,  if  a  little 
knowledge  is  dangerous,  where  is  the  man  who  has  so 
much  as  to  be  out  of  danger  ? 

If  William  Harvey's  life-long  labours  had  revealed 
to  him  a  tenth  part  of  that  which  may  be  made 
sound  and  real  knowledge  to  our  boys  and  girls,  he 
would  not  only  have^  been  what  he  was,  the  greatest 
physiologist  of  his  age,  but  he  would  have  loomed 
upon  the  seventeenth  century  as  a  sort  of  intellectual 
portent.  Our  "  little  knowledge"  would  have  been 
to  him  a  great,  astounding,  unlooked-for  vision  of 
scientific  truth. 

I  really  see  no  harm  which  can  come  of  giving  our 
children  a  little  knowledge  of  physiology.  But  then, 
as  I  have  said,  the  instruction  must  be  real,  based 
upon  observation,  eked  out  by  good  explanatory 
diagrams  and  models,  and  conveyed  by  a  teacher 
whose  own  knowledge  has  been  acquired  by  a  study 


92    ON  ELEMENTARY  INSTRUCTION  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.   [LECT. 

of  the  facts  ;  and  not  the  mere  catechismal  parrot- 
work  which  too  often  usurps  the  place  of  elementary 
teaching. 

It  is,  I  hope,  unnecessary  for  me  to  give  a  formal 
contradiction  to  the  silly  fiction,  which  is  assiduously 
circulated  by  fanatics  who  not  only  ought  to  know, 
but  do  know,  that  their  assertions  are  untrue,  that  I 
have  advocated  the  introduction  of  that  experimental 
discipline  which  is  absolutely  indispensable  to  the  pro- 
fessed physiologist,  into  elementary  teaching. 

But  while  I  should  object  to  any  experimentation 
which  can  justly  be  called  painful,  for  the  purpose  of 
elementary  instruction ;  and,  while,  as  a  member  of  a 
late  Koyal  Commission,  I  gladly  did  my  best  to  prevent 
the  infliction  of  needless  pain,  for  any  purpose ;  I  think 
it  is  my  duty  to  take  this  opportunity  of  expressing 
my  regret  at  a  condition  of  the  law  which  permits  a 
boy  to  troll  for  pike,  or  set  lines  with  live  frog  bait, 
for  idle  amusement ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  lays  the 
teacher  of  that  boy  open  to  the  penalty  of  fine  and 
imprisonment,  if  he  uses  the  same  animal  for  the 
purpose  of  exhibiting  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
instructive  of  physiological  spectacles,  the  circulation 
in  the  web  of  the  foot.  No  one  could  undertake  to 
affirm  that  a  frog  is  not  inconvenienced  by  being 
wrapped  up  in  a  wet  rag,  and  having  his  toes  tied  out; 
and  it  cannot  be  denied  that  inconvenience  is  a  sort 
of  pain.  But  you  must  not  inflict  the  least  pain  on  a 
vertebrated  animal  for  scientific  purposes  (though  you 
may  do  a  good  deal  in  that  way  for  gain  or  for  sport) 
without  due  licence  of  the  Secretary  of  State  for  the 


IV.]     ON  ELEMENTARY    INSTRUCTION  IN  PHYSIOLOGY.      93 

Home  Department,  granted  under  the  authority  of  the 
Vivisection  Act. 

So  it  comes  about,  that,  in  this  present  year  of 
grace  1877,  two  persons  may  be  charged  with  cruelty 
to  animals.  One  has  impaled  a  frog,  and  suffered  the 
creature  to  writhe  about  in  that  condition  for  hours ; 
the  other  has  pained  the  animal  no  more  than  one  of 
us  would  be  pained  by  tying  strings  round  his  fingers, 
and  keeping  him  in  the  position  of  a  hydropathic 
patient.  The  first  offender  says,  "  I  did  it  because  I 
find  fishing  very  amusing,"  and  the  magistrate  bids 
him  depart  in  peace ;  nay,  probably  wishes  him  good 
sport.  The  second  pleads,  "  I  wanted  to  impress  a 
scientific  truth,  with  a  distinctness  attainable  in  no 
other  way,  on  the  minds  of  my  scholars,"  and  the 
magistrate  fines  him  five  pounds. 

I  cannot  but  think  that  this  is  an  anomalous  and 
not  wholly  creditable  state  of  things. 


94  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 


V. 

JOSEPH  PRIESTLEY. 

IF  the  man  to  perpetuate  whose  memory  we  have  this 
day  raised  a  statue  had  been  asked  on  what  part  of 
his  busy  life's  work  he  set  the  highest  value,  he  would 
undoubtedly  have  pointed  to  his  voluminous  contri- 
butions to  theology.  In  season  and  out  of  season,  he 
was  the  steadfast  champion  of  that  hypothesis  respect- 
ing the  Divine  nature  which  is  termed  Unitarianism 
by  its  friends  and  Socinianism  by  its  foes.  Regard- 
less of  odds,  he  was  ready  to  do  battle  with  all  comers 
in  that  cause  ;  and  if  no  adversaries  entered  the  lists, 
he  would  sally  forth  to  seek  them. 

To  this,  his  highest  ideal  of  duty,  Joseph  Priestley 
sacrificed  the  vulgar  prizes  of  life,  which,  assuredly, 
were  within  easy  reach  of  a  man  of  his  singular 
energy  and  varied  abilities.  For  this  object,  he  put 
aside,  as  of  secondary  importance,  those  scientific  in- 
vestigations which  he  loved  so  well,  and  in  which  he 
showed  himself  so  competent  to  enlarge  the  boundaries 
of  natural  knowledge  and  to  win  fame.  In  this  cause, 
he  not  only  cheerfully  suffered  obloquy  from  the 
bigoted  and  the  unthinking,  and  came  within  sight  of 
martyrdom  ;  but  bore  with  that  which  is  much  harder 


V.]  JOSEPH   PRIESTLEY.  95 

to  be  borne  than  all  these,  the  unfeigned  astonishment 
and  hardly  disguised  contempt  of  a  brilliant  society, 
composed  of  men  whose  sympathy  and  esteem  must 
have  been  most  dear  to  him,  and  to  whom  it  was  simply 
incomprehensible  that  a  philosopher  should  seriously 
occupy  himself  with  any  form  of  Christianity. 

It  appears  to  me  that  the  man  who,  setting  before 
himself  such  an  ideal  of  life,  acted  up  to  it  con- 
sistently, is  worthy  of  the  deepest  respect,  whatever 
opinion  may  be  entertained  as  to  the  real  value  of 
the  tenets  which  he  so  zealously  propagated  and 
defended. 

But  I  am  sure  that  I  speak  not  only  for  myself, 
but  for  all  this  assemblage,  when  I  say  that  our  pur- 
pose to-day  is  to  do  honour,  not  to  Priestley,  the  Uni- 
tarian divine,  but  to  Priestley,  the  fearless  defender  of 
rational  freedom  in  thought  and  in  action :  to  Priestley, 
the  philosophic  thinker ;  to  that  Priestley  who  held  a 
foremost  place  among  "  the  swift  runners  who  hand 
over  the  lamp  of  life," 1  and  transmit  from  one  genera- 
tion to  another  the  fire  kindled,  in  the  childhood  of 
the  world,  at  the  Promethean  altar  of  Science. 

The  main  incidents  of  Priestley's  life  are  so  well 
known  that  I  need  dwell  upon  them  at  no  great 
length. 

Born  in  1*733,  at  Fieldhead,  near  Leeds,  and 
brought  up  among  Calvinists  of  the  straitest  ortho- 
doxy, the  boy's  striking  natural  ability  led  to  his 

1  "  Quasi  cursores,   vitai  lampada   tradunt."  —  LUCK.    De  Rerum 

Nat.  ii.  78. 


06  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 

being  devoted  to  the  profession  of  a  minister  of  re- 
ligion;  and,  in  1752,  he  was  sent  to  the  Dissenting 
Academy  at  Daventry — an  institution  which  authority 
left  undisturbed,  though  its  existence  contravened  the 
law.  The  teachers  under  whose  instruction  and  in- 
fluence the  young  man  came  at  Daventry,  carried  out 
to  the  letter  the  injunction  to  "  try  all  things  :  hold 
fast  that  which  is  good,"  and  encouraged  the  discus- 
sion of  every  imaginable  proposition  with  complete 
freedom,  the  leading  professors  taking  opposite  sides ; 
a  discipline  which,  admirable  as  it  may  be  from  a 
purely  scientific  point  of  view,  would  seem  to  be 
calculated  to  make  acute,  rather  than  sound,  divines. 
Priestley  tells  us,  in  his  "  Autobiography/'  that  he 
generally  found  himself  on  the  unorthodox  side  :  and, 
as  he  grew  older,  and  his  faculties  attained  their 
maturity,  this  native  tendency  towards  heterodoxy 
grew  with  his  growth  and  strengthened  with  his 
strength.  He  passed  from  Calvinism  to  Arianism ; 
and  finally,  in  middle  life,  landed  in  that  very 
broad  form  of  Unitarianism,  by  which  his  craving 
after  a  credible  and  consistent  theory  of  things  was 
satisfied. 

On  leaving  Daventry,  Priestley  became  minister  of 
a  congregation,  first  at  Needham  Market,  and  secondly 
at  Nantwich  ;  but  whether  on  account  of  his  hetero- 
dox opinions,  or  of  the  stuttering  which  impeded  his 
expression  of  them  in  the  pulpit,  little  success  attended 
his  efforts  in  this  capacity.  In  1761,  a  career  much 
more  suited  to  his  abilities  became  open  to  him.  He 
was  appointed  "  tutor  in  the  languages"  in  the  Dis- 


V.]  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  97 

senting  Academy  at  Warrington,  in  which  capacity, 
besides  giving  three  courses  of  lectures,  he  taught 
Latin,  Greek,  French,  and  Italian,  and  read  lectures 
on  the  Theory  of  Language  and  Universal  Grammar, 
on  Oratory,  Philosophical  Criticism,  and  Civil  law. 
And  it  is  interesting  to  observe  that,  as  a  teacher, 
he  encouraged  and  cherished  in  those  whom  he  in- 
structed, the  freedom  which  he  had  enjoyed,  in  his 
own  student  days,  at  Daventry.  One  of  his  pupils  tells 
us  that, 

"  At  the  conclusion  of  his  lecture,  he  always  encouraged  his 
students  to  express  their  sentiments  relative  to  the  subject  of  it, 
and  to  urge  any  objections  to  what  he  had  delivered,  without 
reserve.  It  pleased  him  when  any  one  commenced  such  a  con- 
versation. In  order  to  excite  the  freest  discussion,  he  occasion- 
ally invited  the  students  to  drink  tea  with  him,  in  order  to 
canvass  the  subjects  of  his  lectures.  I  do  not  recollect  that  he 
ever  showed  the  least  displeasure  at  the  strongest  objections 
that  were  made  to  what  he  delivered,  but  I  distinctly  remember 
the  smile  of  approbation  with  which  he  usually  received  them  : 
nor  did  he  fail  to  point  out,  in  a  very  encouraging  manner,  the 
ingenuity  or  force  of  any  remarks  that  were  made,  when  they 
merited  these  characters.  His  object,  as  well  as  Dr.  Aikin's,  was 
to  engage  the  students  to  examine  and  decide  for  themselves, 
uninfluenced  by  the  sentiments  of  any  other  persons."  x 

It  would  be  difficult  to  give  a  better  description  of  a 
model  teacher  than  that  conveyed  in  these  words. 

From  his  earliest  days,  Priestley  had  shown  a 
strong  bent  towards  the  study  of  nature ;  and  his 
brother  Timothy  tells  us  that  the  boy  put  spiders 
into  bottles,  to  see  how  long  they  would  live  in  the 
same  air — a  curious  anticipation  of  the  investigations 

1  "  Life  and  Correspondence  of  Dr.  Priestley,"  by  J.  T.  Rutt.  Vol. 
i.  p.  50. 

H 


98  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 

of  his  later  years.  At  Nantwich,  where  he  set  up  a 
school,  Priestley  informs  us  that  he  bought  an  air 
pump,  an  electrical  machine,  and  other  instruments, 
in  the  use  of  which  he  instructed  his  scholars.  But 
he  does  not  seem  to  have  devoted  himself  seriously  to 
physical  science  until  1766,  when  he  had  the  great 
good  fortune  to  meet  Benjamin  Franklin,  whose 
friendship  he  ever  afterwards  enjoyed.  Encouraged 
by  Franklin,  he  wrote  a  "  History  of  Electricity," 
which  was  published  in  1767,  and  appears  to  have 
met  with  considerable  success. 

In  the  same  year,  Priestley  left  Warrington  to 
become  the  minister  of  a  congregation  at  Leeds ; 
and,  here,  happening  to  live  next  door  to  a  public 
brewery,  as  he  says, 

"  I,  at  first,  amused  myself  with  making  experiments  on  the 
fixed  air  which  I  found  ready-made  in  the  process  of  fermenta- 
tion. When  I  removed  from  that  house  I  was  under  the  necessity 
of  making  fixed  air  for  myself ;  and  one  experiment  leading  to 
another,  as  I  have  distinctly  and  faithfully  noted  in  my  various 
publications  on  the  subject,  I  by  degrees  contrived  a  convenient 
apparatus  for  the  purpose,  but  of  the  cheapest  kind. 

"When  I  began  these  experiments  I  knew  very  little  of 
chemistry,  and  had,  in  a  manner,  no  idea  on  the  subject  before  I 
attended  a  course  of  chemical  lectures,  delivered  in  the  Academy 
at  Warrington,  by  Dr.  Turner  of  Liverpool.  But  I  have  often 
thought  that,  upon  the  whole,  this  circumstance  was  no  dis- 
advantage to  me  ;  as,  in  this  situation,  I  was  led  to  devise  an 
apparatus  and  processes  of  my  own,  adapted  to  my  peculiar 
views  ;  whereas,  if  I  had  been  previously  accustomed  to  the 
usual  chemical  processes,  I  should  not  have  so  easily  thought  of 
any  other,  and  without  new  modes  of  operation,  I  should  hardly 
have  discovered  anything  materially  new." l 

1  "Autobiography,"  §§  100,  101. 


V.]  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  99 

The  first  outcome  of  Priestley's  chemical  work, 
published  in  1772,  was  of  a  very  practical  character. 
He  discovered  the  way  of  impregnating  water  with  an 
excess  of  "fixed  air,"  or  carbonic  acid,  and  thereby 
producing  what  we  now  know  as  "soda  water"-— a 
service  to  naturally,  and  still  more  to  artificially, 
thirsty  souls,  which  those  whose  parched  throats  and 
hot  heads  are  cooled  by  morning  draughts  of  that 
beverage,  cannot  too  gratefully  acknowledge.  In  the 
same  year,  Priestley  communicated  the  extensive 
series  of  observations  which  his  industry  and  ingenuity 
had  accumulated,  in  the  course  of  four  years,  to  the 
Eoyal  Society,  under  the  title  of  "  Observations  on 
Different  Kinds  of  Air" — a  memoir  which  was  justly 
regarded  of  so  much  merit  and  importance,  that  the 
Society  at  once  conferred  upon  the  author  the  highest 
distinction  in  their  power,  by  awarding  him  the  Copley 
Medal. 

In  1771  a  proposal  was  made  to  Priestley  to  ac- 
company Captain  Cook  in  his  second  voyage  to  the 
South  Seas.  He  accepted  it,  and  his  congregation 
agreed  to  pay  an  assistant  to  supply  his  place  during 
his  absence.  But  the  appointment  lay  in  the  hands 
of  the  Board  of  Longitude,  of  which  certain  clergymen 
were  members ;  and  whether  these  worthy  ecclesiastics 
feared  that  Priestley's  presence  among  the  ship's  com- 
pany might  expose  his  Majesty's  Sloop  Resolution  to 
the  fate  which  aforetime  befell  a  certain  ship  that 
went  from  Joppa  to  Tarshish ;  or  whether  they  were 
alarmed  lest  a  Socinian  should  undermine  that  piety 
which,  in  the  days  of  Commodore  Trunnion,  so 


100  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 

strikingly  characterised  sailors,  does  not  appear ;  but, 
at  any  rate,  they  objected  to  Priestley  "  on  account  of 
his  religious  principles,"  and  appointed  the  two 
Forsters,  whose  "religious  principles,"  if  they  had 
been  known  to  these  well-meaning  but  not  far-sighted 
persons,  would  probably  have  surprised  them. 

In  1772  another  proposal  was  made  to  Priestley. 
Lord  Shelburne,  desiring  a  "  literary  companion,"  had 
been  brought  into  communication  with  Priestley  by 
the  good  offices  of  a  friend  of  both,  Dr.  Price ;  and 
offered  him  the  nominal  post  of  librarian,  with  a  good 
house  and  appointments,  and  an  annuity  in  case  of 
the  termination  of  the  engagement.  Priestley  ac- 
cepted the  offer,  and  remained  with  Lord  Shelburne 
for  seven  years,  sometimes  residing  at  Calne,  sometimes 
travelling  abroad  with  the  Earl. 

Why  the  connection  terminated  has  never  been 
exactly  known  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  Lord  Shelburne 
behaved  with  the  utmost  consideration  and  kindness 
towards  Priestley ;  that  he  fulfilled  his  engagements 
to  the  letter ;  and  that,  at  a  later  period,  he  expressed 
a  desire  that  Priestley  should  return  to  his  old 
footing  in  his  house.  Probably  enough,  the  politician, 
aspiring  to  the  highest  offices  in  the  state,  may  have 
found  the  position  of  the  protector  of  a  man  who  was 
being  denounced  all  over  the  country  as  an  infidel 
and  an  atheist  somewhat  embarrassing.  In  fact,  a 
passage  in  Priestley's  "Autobiography"  on  the  oc- 
casion of  the  publication  of  his  "  Disquisitions  relating 
to  Matter  and  Spirit,"  which  took  place  in  1777,  indi- 
cates pretty  clearly  the  state  of  the  case  : — 


V.]  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  101 

"  (126)  It  being  probable  that  this  publication  would  be  un- 
popular, and  might  be  the  means  of  bringing  odium  on  my 
patron,  several  attempts  were  made  by  his  friends,  though  none 
by  himself,  to  dissuade  me  from  persisting  in  it.  But  being,  as 
I  thought,  engaged  in  the  cause  of  important  truth,  I  proceeded 
without  regard  to  any  consequences,  assuring  them  that  this 
publication  should  not  be  injurious  to  his  lordship." 

It  is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  his  lordship, 
as  a  keen,  practical  man  of  the  world,  did  not  derive 
much  satisfaction  from  this  assurance.  The  "  evident 
marks  of  dissatisfaction  "  which  Priestley  says  he  first 
perceived  in  his  patron  in  1778,  may  well  have  arisen 
from  the  peer's  not  unnatural  uneasiness  as  to  what 
his  domesticated,  but  not  tamed,  philosopher  might 
write  next,  and  what  storm  might  thereby  be  brought 
down  on  his  own  head ;  and  it  speaks  very  highly  for 
Lord  Shelburne's  delicacy  that,  in  the  midst  of  such 
perplexities,  he  made  not  the  least  attempt  to  interfere 
with  Priestley's  freedom  of  action.  In  1780,  however, 
he  intimated  to  Dr.  Price  that  he  should  be  glad  to 
establish  Priestley  on  his  Irish  estates  :  the  suggestion 
was  interpreted,  as  Lord  Shelburne  probably  intended 
it  should  be,  and  Priestley  left  him,  the  annuity  of 
£150  a  year,  which  had  been  promised  in  view  of  such 
a  contingency,  being  punctually  paid. 

After  leaving  Calne,  Priestley  spent  some  little 
time  in  London,  and  then,  having  settled  in  Birming- 
ham at  the  desire  of  his  brother-in-law,  he  was  soon 
invited  to  become  the  minister  of  a  large  congregation. 
This  settlement  Priestley  considered,  at  the  time,  to 
be  "the  happiest  event  of  his  life."  And  well  he 
might  think  so  ;  for  it  gave  him  competence  and 


102  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT- 

leisure ;  placed  him  within  reach  of  the  best  makers  of 
apparatus  of  the  day ;  made  him  a  member  of  that 
remarkable  "  Lunar  Society,"  at  whose  meetings  he 
could  exchange  thoughts  with  such  men  as  Watt, 
Wedgewood,  Darwin,  and  Boulton ;  and  threw  open 
to  him  the  pleasant  house  of  the  Galtons  of  Barr, 
where  these  men,  and  others  of  less  note,  formed  a 
society  of  exceptional  charm  and  intelligence.1 

But  these  halcyon  days  were  ended  by  a  bitter 
storm.  The  French  Eevolution  broke  out.  An 
electric  shock  ran  through  the  nations ;  whatever 
there  was  of  corrupt  and  retrograde,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  a  great  deal  of  what  there  was  of  best  and 
noblest,  in  European  society  shuddered  at  the  out- 
burst of  long-pent-up  social  fires.  Men's  feelings 
were  excited  in  a  way  that  we,  in  this  generation,  can 
hardly  comprehend.  Party  wrath  and  virulence  were 
expressed  in  a  manner  unparalleled,  and  it  is  to  be 

1  See  "The  Life  of  Mary  Anne  Schimmelpenninck."  Mrs. 
Schimmelpenninck  (n&  Galton)  remembered  Priestley  very  well,  and 
her  description  of  him  is  worth  quotation  : — "  A  man  of  admirable 
simplicity,  gentleness  and  kindness  of  heart,  united  with  great  acute- 
ness  of  intellect.  I  can  never  forget  the  impression  produced  on  me 
by  the  serene  expression  of  his  countenance.  He,  indeed,  seemed 
present  with  God  by  recollection,  and  with  man  by  cheerfulness.  I 
remember  that,  in  the  assembly  of  these  distinguished  men,  amongst 
whom  Mr.  Boulton,  by  his  noble  manner,  his  fine  countenance  (which 
much  resembled  that  of  Louis  XIV.),  and  princely  munificence,  stood 
pre-eminently  as  the  great  Mecsenas  ;  even  as  a  child,  I  used  to  feel, 
when  Dr.  Priestley  entered  after  him,  that  the  glory  of  the  one  was 
terrestrial,  that  of  the  other  celestial ;  and  utterly  far  as  I  am  re- 
moved from  a  belief  in  the  sufficiency  of  Dr.  Priestley's  theological 
creed,  I  cannot  but  here  record  this  evidence  of  the  eternal  power 
of  any  portion  of  the  truth  held  in  its  vitality." 


V.]  JOSEPH   PRIESTLEY.  103 

hoped  impossible,  in  our  times ;  and  Priestley  and  his 
friends  were  held  up  to  public  scorn,  even  in  Parlia- 
ment, as  fomenters  of  sedition.  A  "  Church -and- 
King  "  cry  was  raised  against  the  Liberal  Dissenters ; 
and,  in  Birmingham,  it  was  intensified  and  specially 
directed  towards  Priestley  by  a  local  controversy,  in 
which  he  had  engaged  with  his  usual  vigour.  In 
1791,  the  celebration  of  the  second  anniversary  of  the 
taking  of  the  Bastille  by  a  public  dinner,  with  which 
Priestley  had  nothing  whatever  to  do,  gave  the  signal 
to  the  loyal  and  pious  mob,  who,  unchecked,  and 
indeed  to  some  extent  encouraged,  by  those  who 
were  responsible  for  order,  had  the  town  at  their 
mercy  for  three  days.  The  chapels  and  houses  of  the 
leading  Dissenters  were  wrecked,  and  Priestley  and  his 
family  had  to  fly  for  their  lives,  leaving  library,  appa- 
ratus, papers,  and  all  their  possessions,  a  prey  to  the 
flames. 

Priestley  never  returned  to  Birmingham.  He  bore 
the  outrages  and  losses  inflicted  upon  him  with  ex- 
treme patience  and  sweetness,1  and  betook  himself  to 
London.  But  even  his  scientific  colleagues  gave  him 
a  cold  shoulder ;  and  though  he  was  elected  minister 
of  a  congregation  at  Hackney,  he  felt  his  position  to 
be  insecure,  and  finally  determined  on  emigrating  to 
the  United  States.  He  landed  in  America  in  1794; 
lived  quietly  with  his  sons  at  Northumberland,  in 

1  Even  Mrs.  Priestley,  who  might  be  forgiven  for  regarding  the 
destroyers  of  her  household  gods  with  some  asperity,  contents  herself,  in 
writing  to  Mrs.  Barbauld,  with  the  sarcasm  that  the  Birmingham  people 
"  will  scarcely  find  so  many  respectable  characters,  a  second  time,  to 
make  a  bonfire  of." 


104  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 

Pennsylvania,  whjere  his  posterity  still  flourish  ;  and, 
clear-headed  and  busy  to  the  last,  died  on  the  6th  of 
February  1804. 

Such  were  the  conditions  under  which  Joseph 
Priestley  did  the  work  which  lay  before  him,  and 
then,  as  the  Norse  Sagas  say,  went  out  of  the  story. 
The  work  itself  was  of  the  most  varied  kind.  No 
human  interest  was  without  its  attraction  for  Priest- 
ley, and  few  men  have  ever  had  so  many  irons  in  the 
fire  at  once ;  but,  though  he  may  have  burned  his 
fingers  a  little,  very  few  who  have  tried  that  opera- 
tion have  burned  their  fingers  so  little.  He  made 
admirable  discoveries  in  science ;  his  philosophical 
treatises  are  still  well  worth  reading ;  his  political 
works  are  full  of  insight  and  replete  with  the  spirit  of 
freedom ;  and  while  all  these  sparks  flew  off  from  his 
anvil,  the  controversial  hammer  rained  a  hail  of  blows 
on  orthodox  priest  and  bishop.  While  thus  engaged, 
the  kindly,  cheerful  doctor  felt  no  more  wrath  or 
uncharitableness  towards  his  opponents  than  a  smith 
does  towards  his  iron.  But  if  the  iron  could  only 
speak ! — and  the  priests  and  bishops  took  the  point 
of  view  of  the  iron. 

No  doubt  what  Priestley's  friends  repeatedly  urged 
upon  him — that  he  would  have  escaped  the  heavier 
trials  of  his  life  and  done  more  for  the  advancement 
of  knowledge,  if  he  had  confined  himself  to  his 
scientific  pursuits  and  let  his  fellow-men  go  their  way 
— was  true.  But  it  seems  to  have  been  Priestley's 
feeling  that  he  was  a  man  and  a  citizen  before  he  was 


V.]  JOSEPH   PRIESTLEY.  105 

a  philosopher,  and  that  the  duties  of  the  two  former 
positions  are  at  least  as  imperative  as  those  of  the 
latter.  Moreover,  there  are  men  (and  I  think  Priest- 
ley was  one  of  them)  to  whom  the  satisfaction  of 
throwing  down  a  triumphant  fallacy  is  as  great  as 
that  which  attends  the  discovery  of  a  new  truth ;  who 
feel  better  satisfied  with  the  government  of  the  world, 
when  they  have  been  helping  Providence  by  knocking 
an  imposture  on  the  head ;  and  who  care  even  more 
for  freedom  of  thought  than  for  mere  advance  of 
knowledge.  These  men  are  the  Carnots  who  organise 
victory  for  truth,  and  they  are,  at  least,  as  important 
as  the  generals  who  visibly  fight  her  battles  in  the 
field. 

Priestley's  reputation  as  a  man  of  science  rests 
upon  his  numerous  and  important  contributions  to 
the  chemistry  of  gaseous  bodies ;  and  to  form  a  just 
estimate  of  the  value  of  his  work — of  the  extent  to 
which  it  advanced  the  knowledge  of  fact  and  the 
development  of  sound  theoretical  views — we  must 
reflect  what  chemistry  was  in  the  first  half  of  the 
eighteenth  century. 

The  vast  science  which  now  passes  under  that 
name  had  no  existence.  Air,  water,  and  fire  were 
still  counted  among  the  elemental  bodies ;  and  though 
Van  Helmont,  a  century  before,  had  distinguished 
different  kinds  of  air  as  gas  ventosum  and  gas  syl- 
vestre,  and  Boyle  and  Hales  had  experimentally 
defined  the  physical  properties  of  air,  and  discri- 
minated some  of  the  various  kinds  of  aeriform  bodies, 


106  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LEGT- 

no  one  suspected  the  existence  of  the  numerous 
totally  distinct  gaseous  elements  which  are  now 
known,  or  dreamed  that  the  air  we  breathe  and  the 
water  we  drink  are  compounds  of  gaseous  elements. 

But,  in  1754,  a  young  Scotch  physician,  Dr. 
Black,  made  the  first  clearing  in  this  tangled  back- 
wood  of  knowledge.  And  it  gives  one  a  wonderful 
impression  of  the  juvenility  of  scientific  chemistry  to 
think  that  Lord  Brougham,  whom  so  many  of  us 
recollect,  attended  Black's  lectures  when  he  was  a 
student  in  Edinburgh.  Black's  researches  gave  the 
world  the  novel  and  startling  conception  of  a  gas  that 
was  a  permanently  elastic  fluid  like  air,  but  that 
differed  from  common  air  in  being  much  heavier,  very 
poisonous,  and  in  having  the  properties  of  an  acid, 
capable  of  neutralising  the  strongest  alkalies ;  and  it 
took  the  world  some  time  to  become  accustomed  to 
the  notion. 

A  dozen  years  later,  one  of  the  most  sagacious 
and  accurate  investigators  who  has  adorned  this,  or 
any  other,  country,  Henry  Cavendish,  published  a 
memoir  in  the  "  Philosophical  Transactions,"  in  which 
he  deals  not  only  with  the  "  fixed  air "  (now  called 
carbonic  acid  or  carbonic  anhydride)  of  Black,  but 
with  "inflammable  air,"  or  what  we  now  term 
hydrogen. 

By  the  rigorous  application  of  weight  and  measure 
to  all  his  processes,  Cavendish  implied  the  belief  sub- 
sequently formulated  by  Lavoisier,  that,  in  chemical 
processes,  matter  is  neither  created  nor  destroyed,  and 
indicated  the  path  along  which  all  future  explorers 


V.]  JOSEPH   PRIESTLEY.  107 

must  travel.  Nor  did  he  himself  halt  until  this  path 
led  him,  in  1784,  to  the  brilliant  and  fundamental 
discovery  that  water  is  composed  of  two  gases  united 
in  fixed  and  constant  proportions. 

It  is  a  trying  ordeal  for  any  man  to  be  compared 
with  Black  and  Cavendish,  and  Priestley  cannot  be 
said  to  stand  on  their  level.  Nevertheless,  his  achieve- 
ments are  not  only  great  in  themselves,  but  truly 
wonderful,  if  we  consider  the  disadvantages  under 
which  he  laboured.  Without  the  careful  scientific 
training  of  Black,  without  the  leisure  and  appliances 
secured  by  the  wealth  of  Cavendish,  he  scaled  the 
walls  of  science  as  so  many  Englishmen  have  done 
before  and  since  his  day ;  and  trusting  to  mother  wit 
to  supply  the  place  of  training,  and  to  ingenuity  to 
create  apparatus  out  of  washing  tubs,  he  discovered 
more  new  gases  than  all  his  predecessors  put  together 
had  done.  He  laid  the  foundations  of  gas  analysis  ; 
he  discovered  the  complementary  actions  of  animal 
and  vegetable  life  upon  the  constituents  of  the  atmo- 
sphere; and,  finally,  he  crowned  his  work,  this  day 
one  hundred  years  ago,  by  the  discovery  of  that 
"  pure  dephlogisticated  air "  to  which  the  French 
chemists  subsequently  gave  the  name  of  oxygen.  Its 
importance,  as  the  constituent  of  the  atmosphere  which 
disappears  in  the  processes  of  respiration  and  com- 
bustion, and  is  restored  by  green  plants  growing  in 
sunshine,  was  proved  somewhat  later.  For  these 
brilliant  discoveries,  the  Eoyal  Society  elected  Priestley 
a  fellow  and  gave  him  their  medal,  while  the  Aca- 
demies of  Paris  and  St.  Petersburg  conferred  their 


108  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LEOT. 

membership  upon  him.  Edinburgh  had  made  him 
an  honorary  doctor  of  laws  at  an  early  period  of  his 
career ;  but,  I  need  hardly  add,  that  a  man  of  Priest- 
ley's opinions  received  no  recognition  from  the  uni- 
versities of  his  own  country. 

That  Priestley's  contributions  to  the  knowledge  of 
chemical  fact  were  of  the  greatest  importance,  and 
that  they  richly  deserve  all  the  praise  that  has  been 
awarded  to  them,  is  unquestionable ;  but  it  must,  at 
the  same  time,  be  admitted  that  he  had  no  compre- 
hension of  the  deeper  significance  of  his  work ;  and, 
so  far  from  contributing  anything  to  the  theory  of  the 
facts  which  he  discovered,  or  assisting  in  their  rational 
explanation,  his  influence  to  the  end  of  his  life  was 
warmly  exerted  in  favour  of  error.  From  first  to  last, 
he  was  a  stiff  adherent  of  the  phlogiston  doctrine 
which  was  prevalent  when  his  studies  commenced; 
and,  by  a  curious  irony  of  fate,  the  man  who  by  the 
discovery  of  what  he  called  " dephlogisticated  air" 
furnished  the  essential  datum  for  the  true  theory  of 
combustion,  of  respiration,  and  of  the  composition  of 
water,  to  the  end  of  his  days  fought  against  the 
inevitable  corollaries  from  his  own  labours.  His  last 
scientific  work,  published  in  1800,  bears  the  title, 
"The  Doctrine  of  Phlogiston  established,  and  that 
of  the  Composition  of  Water  refuted." 

When  Priestley  commenced  his  studies,  the  current 
belief  was,  that  atmospheric  air,  freed  from  accidental 
impurities,  is  a  simple  elementary  substance,  inde- 
structible and  unalterable,  as  water  was  supposed  to 
be.  When  a  combustible  burned,  or  when  an  animal 


V.]  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  109 

breathed  in  air,  it  was  supposed  that  a  substance, 
"phlogiston,"  the  matter  of  heat  and  light,  passed 
from  the  burning  or  breathing  body  into  it,  and 
destroyed  its  powers  of  supporting  life  and  combus- 
tion. Thus,  air  contained  in  a  vessel  in  which  a 
lighted  candle  had  gone  out,  or  a  living  animal  had 
breathed  until  it  could  breathe  no  longer,  was  called 
"phlogisticated."  The  same  result  was  supposed  to 
be  brought  about  by  the  addition  of  what  Priestley 
called  "  nitrous  gas  "  to  common  air. 

In  the  course  of  his  researches,  Priestley  found 
that  the  quantity  of  common  air  which  can  thus 
become  "  phlogisticated,"  amounts  to  about  one-fifth 
the  volume  of  the  whole  quantity  submitted  to  experi- 
ment. Hence  it  appeared  that  common  air  consists, 
to  the  extent  of  four-fifths  of  its  volume,  of  air  which 
is  already  "phlogisticated;"  while  the  other  fifth  is 
free  from  phlogiston,  or  "  dephlogisticated."  On  the 
other  hand,  Priestley  found  that  air  "  phlogisticated  " 
by  combustion  or  respiration  could  be  "  dephlogis- 
ticated," or  have  the  properties  of  pure  common  air 
restored  to  it,  by  the  action  of  green  plants  in  sun- 
shine. The  question,  therefore,  would  naturally  arise 
— as  common  air  can  be  wholly  phlogisticated  by 
combustion,  and  converted  into  a  substance  which 
will  no  longer  support  combustion,  is  it  possible  to 
get  air  that  shall  be  less  phlogisticated  than  common 
air,  and  consequently  support  combustion  better  than 
common  air  does  ? 

Now,  Priestley  says  that,  in  1774,  the  possibility 
of  obtaining  air  less  phlogisticated  than  common  air 


110  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LEOT. 

had  not  occurred  to  him.1  But  in  pursuing  his 
experiments  on  the  evolution  of  air  from  various 
bodies  by  means  of  heat,  it  happened  that,  on  the  1st 
of  August  1 774,  he  threw  the  heat  of  the  sun,  by  means 
of  a  large  burning  glass  which  he  had  recently  ob- 
tained, upon  a  substance  which  was  then  called 
mercurius  calcinatus  per  se,  and  which  is  commonly 
known  as  red  precipitate. 

"  I  presently  found  that,  by  means  of  this  lens,  air  was 
expelled  from  it  very  readily.  Having  got  about  three  or  four 
times  as  much  as  the  bulk  of  my  materials,  I  admitted  water  to 
it,  and  found  that  it  was  not  imbibed  by  it.  But  what  surprised 
me  more  than  I  can  well  express,  was  that  a  candle  burned  in 
this  air  with  a  remarkably  vigorous  flame,  very  much  like  that 
enlarged  flame  with  which  a  candle  burns  in  nitrous  air,  exposed 
to  iron  or  lime  of  sulphur ;  but  as  I  had  got  nothing  like  this 
remarkable  appearance  from  any  kind  of  air  besides  this  par- 
ticular modification  of  nitrous  air,  and  I  knew  no  nitrous  acid 
was  used  in  the  preparation  of  mercurius  cahinatiis,  I  was  utterly 
at  a  loss  how  to  account  for  it. 

"  In  this  case  also,  though  I  did  not  give  sufficient  attention 
to  the  circumstance  at  that  time,  the  flame  of  the  candle,  besides 
being  larger,  burned  with  more  splendour  and  heat  than  in  that 
species  of  nitrous  air  ;  and  a  piece  of  red-hot  wood  sparkled  in 
it,  exactly  like  paper  dipped  in  a  solution  of  nitre,  and  it  con- 
sumed very  fast — an  experiment  which  I  had  never  thought  of 
trying  with  nitrous  air."2 

Priestley  obtained  the  same  sort  of  air  from  red 
lead,  but,  as  he  says  himself,  he  remained  in  ignor- 
ance of  the  properties  of  this  new  kind  of  air  for 
seven  months,  or  until  March  1775,  when  he  found 

1  "  Experiments  and  Observations  on  Different  Kinds  of  Air,"  vol. 
ii.  p.  31.  2  Ibid.  pp.  34,  35. 


V.]  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  Ill 

that  the  new  air  behaved  with  "nitrous  gas"  in  the 
same  way  as  the  dephlogisticated  part  of  common  air 
does  ;l  but  that,  instead  of  being  diminished  to  four- 
fifths,  it  almost  completely  vanished,  and,  therefore, 
showed  itself  to  be  "between  five  and  six  times  as 
good  as  the  best  common  air  I  have  ever  met  with."2 
As  this  new  air  thus  appeared  to  be  completely  free 
from  phlogiston,  Priestley  called  it  "  dephlogisticated 


air/' 


What  was  the  nature  of  this  air  ?  Priestley  found 
that  the  same  kind  of  air  was  to  be  obtained  by 
moistening  with  the  spirit  of  nitre  (which  he  terms 
nitrous  acid)  any  kind  of  earth  that  is  free  from 
phlogiston,  and  applying  heat ;  and  consequently  he 
says :  "  There  remained  no  doubt  on  my  mind  but 
that  the  atmospherical  air,  or  the  thing  that  we 
breathe,  consists  of  the  nitrous  acid  and  earth,  with 
so  much  phlogiston  as  is  necessary  to  its  elasticity, 
and  likewise  so  much  more  as  is  required  to  bring  it 
from  its  state  of  perfect  purity  to  the  mean  condition 
in  which  we  find  it."3 

Priestley's  view,  in  fact,  is  that  atmospheric  air  is 
a  kind  of  saltpetre,  in  which  the  potash  is  replaced 
by  some  unknown  earth.  And  in  speculating  on  the 
manner  in  which  saltpetre  is  formed,  he  enunciates 
the  hypothesis,  "  that  nitre  is  formed  by  a  real 
decomposition  of  the  air  itself,  the  bases  that  are 
presented  to  it  having,  in  such  circumstances,  a  nearer 

1  "  Experiments  and  Observations  on  Different  Kinds  of  Air,"  voL 
ii.  p.  40.  2  Ibid.  p.  48.  3  Ibid.  p.  55. 


112  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 


affinity  with  the  spirit  of  nitre  than  that  kind  of  earth 
with  which  it  is  united  in  the  atmosphere." : 

It  would  have  been  hard  for  the  most  ingenious 
person  to  have  wandered  farther  from  the  truth 
than  Priestley  does  in  this  hypothesis ;  and,  though 
Lavoisier  undoubtedly  treated  Priestley  very  ill,  and 
pretended  to  have  discovered  dephlogisticated  air,  or 
oxygen,  as  he  called  it,  independently,  we  can  almost 
forgive  him,  when  we  reflect  how  different  were  the 
ideas  which  the  great  French  chemist  attached  to  the 
body  which  Priestley  discovered. 

They  are  like  two  navigators  of  whom  the  first 
sees  a  new  country,  but  takes  clouds  for  mountains 
and  mirage  for  lowlands  ;  while  the  second  deter- 
mines its  length  and  breadth,  and  lays  down  on  a 
chart  its  exact  place,  so  that,  thenceforth,  it  serves  as 
a  guide  to  his  successors,  and  becomes  a  secure  out- 
post whence  new  explorations  may  be  pushed. 

Nevertheless,  as  Priestley  himself  somewhere 
remarks,  the  first  object  of  physical  science  is  to 
ascertain  facts,  and  the  service  which  he  rendered  to 
chemistry  by  the  definite  establishment  of  a  large 
number  of  new  and  fundamentally  important  facts,  is 
such  as  to  entitle  him  to  a  very  high  place  among  the 
fathers  of  chemical  science. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  Priestley's  philo- 
sophical, political,  or  theological  views  were  -most 
responsible  for  the  bitter  hatred  which  was  borne  to 

1  "  Experiments  and  Observations  on  Different  Kinds  of  Air,"  vol. 
ii.  p.  60.     The  italics  are  Priestley's  own. 


V.]  JOSEPH   PRIESTLEY.  113 

him  by  a  large  body  of  his  countrymen,1  and  which 
found  its  expression  in  the  malignant  insinuations  in 
which  Burke,  to  his  everlasting  shame,  indulged  in 
the  House  of  Commons. 

Without  containing  much  that  will  be  new  to 
the  readers  of  Hobbes,  Spinoza,  Collins,  Hume,  and 
Hartley,  and,  indeed,  while  making  no  pretensions 
to  originality,  Priestley's  "  Disquisitions  relating  to 
Matter  and  Spirit/'  and  his  "  Doctrine  of  Philoso- 
phical Necessity  illustrated,"  are  among  the  most 
powerful,  clear,  and  unflinching  expositions  of  materi- 
alism and  necessarianism  which  exist  in  the  English 
language,  and  are  still  well  worth  reading. 

Priestley  denied  the  freedom  of  the  will  in  the 
sense  of  its  self-determination ;  he  denied  the  exist- 
ence of  a  soul  distinct  from  the  body ;  and  as  a 
natural  consequence,  he  denied  the  natural  immor- 
tality of  man. 

In  relation  to  these  matters  English  opinion,  a 
century  ago,  was  very  much  what  it  is  now. 

A  man  may  be  a  necessarian  without  incurring 

i  "  In  all  the  newspapers  and  most  of  the  periodical  publications  I 
was  represented  as  an  unbeliever  in  Revelation,  and  no  better  than  an 
atheist." — "Autobiography,"  Rutt.  vol.  i  p.  124.  "On  the  walls  of 
houses,  etc.,  and  especially  where  I  usually  went,  were  to  be  seen,  in 
large  characters,  '  MADAN  FOR  EVER  ;  DAMN  PRIESTLEY  ;  NO  PRESBY- 
TERIANISM  ;  DAMN  THE  PRESBYTERIANS/  etc.  etc.;  and,  at  one  time,  I 
was  followed  by  a  number  of  boys,  who  left  their  play,  repeating  what 
they  had  seen  on  the  walls,  and  shouting  out,  '  Damn  Priestley  ;  damn 
him,  damn  him,  for  ever,  for  ever,'  etc.  etc.  This  was  no  doubt  a  lesson 
which  they  had  been  taught  by  their  parents,  and  what  they,  I  fear, 
had  learned  from  their  superiors." — "  Appeal  to  the  Public  on  the 
Subject  of  the  Riots  at  Birmingham." 


114  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 

graver  reproach  than  that  implied  in  being  called  a 
gloomy  fanatic,  necessarianism,  though  very  shocking, 
having  a  note  of  Calvinistic  orthodoxy ;  but,  if  a  man 
is  a  materialist ;  or,  if  good  authorities  say  he  is  and 
must  be  so,  in  spite  of  his  assertion  to  the  contrary ; 
or,  if  he  acknowledge  himself  unable  to  see  good 
reasons  for  believing  in  the  natural  immortality  of 
man,  respectable  folks  look  upon  him  as  an  unsafe 
neighbour  of  a  cash-box,  as  an  actual  or  potential 
sensualist,  the  more  virtuous  in  outward  seeming,  the 
more  certainly  loaded  with  secret  "  grave  personal 


sins." 


Nevertheless,  it  is  as  certain  as  anything  can  be, 
that  Joseph  Priestley  was  no  gloomy  fanatic,  but 
as  cheerful  and  kindly  a  soul  as  ever  breathed,  the 
idol  of  children  ;  a  man  who  was  hated  only  by  those 
who  did  not  know  him,  and  who  charmed  away  the 
bitterest  prejudices  in  personal  intercourse ;  a  man 
who  never  lost  a  friend,  and  the  best  testimony  to 
whose  worth  is  the  generous  and  tender  warmth  with 
which  his  many  friends  vied  with  one  another  in 
rendering  him  substantial  help,  in  all  the  crises  of  his 
career. 

The  unspotted  purity  of  Priestley's  life,  the  strict- 
ness of  his  performance  of  every  duty,  his  transparent 
sincerity,  the  unostentatious  and  deep-seated  piety 
which  breathes  through  all  his  correspondence,  are 
in  themselves  a  sufficient  refutation  of  the  hj^pothesis, 
invented  by  bigots  to  cover  uncharitableness,  that 
such  opinions  as  his  must  arise  from  moral  defects. 
And  his  statue  will  do  as  good  service  as  the  brazen 


V.]  JOSEPH   PRIESTLEY.  115 

image  that  was  set  upon  a  pole  before  the  Israelites, 
if  those  who  have  been  bitten  by  the  fiery  serpents  of 
sectarian  hatred,  which  still  haunt  this  wilderness  of 
a  world,  are  made  whole  by  looking  upon  the  image 
of  a  heretic,  who  was  yet  a  saint. 

Though  Priestley  did  not  believe  in  the  natural 
immortality  of  man,  he  held  with  an  almost  naive 
realism,  that  man  would  be  raised  from  the  dead  by 
a  direct  exertion  of  the  power  of  God,  and  thence- 
forward be  immortal.  And  it  may  be  as  well  for 
those  who  may  be  shocked  by  this  doctrine  to  know 
that  views,  substantially  identical  with  Priestley's, 
have  been  advocated,  since  his  time,  by  two  prelates 
of  the  Anglican  Church :  by  Dr.  Whately,  Archbishop 
of  Dublin,  in  his  well-known  "  Essays ;" *  and  by  Dr. 
Courtenay,  Bishop  of  Kingston  in  Jamaica,  the  first 
edition  of  whose  remarkable  book  "On  the  Future 
States,"  dedicated  to  Archbishop  Whately,  was  pub- 
lished in  1843  and  the  second  in  1857.  According 
to  Bishop  Courtenay, 

"The  death  of  the  body  will  cause  a  cessation  of  all  the 
activity  of  the  mind  by  way  of  natural  consequence ;  to  continue 
for  ever  UNLESS  the  Creator  should  interfere." 

And  again : — 

"The  natural  end  of  human  existence  is  the  'first  death/ 
the  dreamless  slumber  of  the  grave,  wherein  man  lies  spell- 
bound, soul  and  body,  under  the  dominion  of  sin  and  death — 
that  whatever  modes  of  conscious  existence,  whatever  future 
states  of  '  life '  or  of  '  torment '  beyond  Hades  are  reserved  for 

1  First  Series.  "On  Some  of  the  Peculiarities  of  the  Christian 
Religion."  Essay  I.  Revelation  of  a  Future  State. 


116  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 

man,  are  results  of  our  blessed  Lord's  victory  over  sin  and  death ; 
that  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  must  be  preliminary  to  their 
entrance  into  either  of  the  future  states,  and  that  the  nature  and 
even  existence  of  these  states  and  even  the  mere  fact  that  there 
is  a  futurity  of  consciousness,  can  be  known  only  through  God's 
revelation  of  Himself  in  the  Person  and  the  Gospel  of  His 
Son."— P.  389. 

And  now  hear  Priestley : — 

"  Man,  according  to  this  system  (of  materialism),  is  no  more 
than  we  now  see  of  him.  His  being  commences  at  the  time  of 
his  conception,  or  perhaps  at  an  earlier  period.  The  corporeal 
and  mental  faculties,  in  being  in  the  same  substance,  grow, 
ripen,  and  decay  together;  and  whenever  the  system  is  dis- 
solved it  continues  in  a  state  of  dissolution  till  it  shall  please 
that  Almighty  Being  who  called  it  into  existence  to  restore  it  to 
life  again." — "Matter  and  Spirit,"  p.  49. 

And  again  :— 

"The  doctrine  of  the  Scripture  is,  that  God  made  man  of 
the  dust  of  the  ground,  and  by  simply  animating  this  organised 
matter,  made  man  that  living  percipient  and  intelligent  being 
that  he  is.  According  to  Revelation,  death  is  a  state  of  rest  and 
insensibility,  and  our  only  though  sure  hope  of  a  future  life  is 
founded  on  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection  of  the  whole  man  at 
some  distant  period ;  this  assurance  being  sufficiently  confirmed 
to  us  both  by  the  evident  tokens  of  a  Divine  commission  attend- 
ing the  persons  who  delivered  the  doctrine,  and  especially  by 
the  actual  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ,  which  is  more  authentic- 
ally attested  than  any  other  fact  in  history." — Ibid.,  p.  247. 

We  all  know  that  "  a  saint  in  crape  is  twice  a 
saint  in  lawn ;"  but  it  is  not  yet  admitted  that  the 
views  which  are  consistent  with  such  saintliness  in 
lawn,  become  diabolical  when  held  by  a  mere  dis- 
senter.1 

1  Not  only  is   Priestley  at  one  with   Bishop   Courtenay  in  this 


V.]  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  117 

I  am  not  here  either  to  defend  or  to  attack 
Priestley's  philosophical  views,  and  I  cannot  say  that 
I  am  personally  disposed  to  attach  much  value  to 
episcopal  authority  in  philosophical  questions ;  but  it 
seems  right  to  call  attention  to  the  fact,  that  those  of 
Priestley's  opinions  which  have  brought  most  odium 
upon  him.,  have  been  openly  promulgated,  without 
challenge,  by  persons  occupying  the  highest  positions 
in  the  State  Church. 

I  must  confess  that  what  interests  me  most  about 
Priestley's  materialism,  is  the  evidence  that  he  saw 
dimly  the  seed  of  destruction  which  such  materialism 
carries  within  its  own  bosom.  In  the  course  of  his 
reading  for  his  "History  of  Discoveries  relating  to 
Vision,  Light,  and  Colours,"  he  had  come  upon  the 
speculations  of  Boscovich  and  Michell,  and  had  been 
led  to  admit  the  sufficiently  obvious  truth  that  our 
knowledge  of  matter  is  a  knowledge  of  its  properties ; 
and  that  of  its  substance — if  it  have  a  substance — we 
know  nothing.  And  this  led  to  the  further  admission 
that,  so  far  as  we  can  know,  there  may  be  no  differ- 
ence between  the  substance  of  matter  and  the  sub- 
stance of  spirit  ("Disquisitions/'  p.  16).  A  step 

matter,  but  with  Hartley  and  Bonnet,  both  of  them  stout  champions 
of  Christianity.  Moreover,  Archbishop  Whately's  essay  is  little  better 
than  an  expansion  of  the  first  paragraph  of  Hume's  famous  essay  on 
the  Immortality  of  the  Soul : — "  By  the  mere  light  of  reason  it  seems 
difficult  to  prove  the  immortality  of  the  soul ;  the  arguments  for  it 
are  commonly  derived  either  from  metaphysical  topics,  or  moral,  or 
physical.  But  it  is  in  reality  the  Gospel,  and  the  Gospel  alone,  that 
has  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light"  It  is  impossible  to  imagine 
that  a  man  of  Whately's  tastes  and  acquirements  had  not  read  Hume 
or  Hartley,  though  he  refers  to  neither. 


118  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LEOT. 

farther  would  nave  shown  Priestley  that  his  material- 
ism was,  essentially,  very  little  different  from  the 
Idealism  of  his  contemporary,  the  Bishop  of  Cloyne. 

As  Priestley's  philosophy  is  mainly  a  clear  state- 
ment of  the  views  of  the  deeper  thinkers  of  his  day, 
so  are  his  political  conceptions  based  upon  those  of 
Locke.  Locke's  aphorism  that  "  the  end  of  govern- 
ment is  the  good  of  mankind,"  is  thus  expanded  by 
Priestley  :— 

"  It  must  necessarily  be  understood,  therefore,  whether  it  be 
expressed  or  not,  that  all  people  live  in  society  for  their  mutual 
advantage;  so  that  the  good  and  happiness  of  the  members, 
that  is,  of  the  majority  of  the  members,  of  any  state,  is  the 
great  standard  by  which  everything  relating  to  that  state  must 
finally  be  determined."  ] 

The  little  sentence  here  interpolated,  "  that  is,  of 
the  majority  of  the  members  of  any  state,"  appears  to 
be  that  passage  which  suggested  to  Bentham,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  acknowledgment,  the  famous  "greatest 
happiness"  formula,  which  by  substituting  "happi- 
ness "  for  "  good,"  has  converted  a  noble  into  an 
ignoble  principle.  But  I  do  not  call  to  mind  that 
there  is  any  utterance  in  Locke  quite  so  outspoken  as 
the  following  passage  in  the  "Essay  on  the  First 
Principles  of  Government."  After  laying  down  as 
"a  fundamental  maxim  in  all  governments,"  the 
proposition  that  "kings,  senators,  and  nobles"  are 
"the  servants  of  the  public,"  Priestley  goes  on  to 
say: — 

1  "  Essay  on  the  First  Principles  of  Government."     Second  edition, 
1771,  p.  13. 


V.]  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  119 

"  But  in  the  largest  states,  if  the  abuses  of  the  government 
should  at  any  time  be  great  and  manifest ;  if  the  servants  of  the 
people,  forgetting  their  masters  and  their  masters'  interest, 
should  pursue  a  separate  one  of  their  own ;  if,  instead  of  con- 
sidering that  they  are  made  for  the  people,  they  should  consider 
the  people  as  made  for  them ;  if  the  oppressions  and  violation 
of  right  should  be  great,  flagrant,  and  universally  resented ;  if 
the  tyrannical  governors  should  have  no  friends  but  a  few 
sycophants,  who  had  long  preyed  upon  the  vitals  of  their  fellow- 
citizens,  and  who  might  be  expected  to  desert  a  government 
whenever  their  interests  should  be  detached  from  it;  if,  in 
consequence  of  these  circumstances,  it  should  become  manifest 
that  the  risk  which  would  be  run  in  attempting  a  revolution 
would  be  trifling,  and  the  evils  which  might  be  apprehended 
from  it  were  far  less  than  those  which  were  actually  suffered 
and  which  were  daily  increasing ;  in  the  name  of  God,  I  ask, 
what  principles  are  those  which  ought  to  restrain  an  injured  and 
insulted  people  from  asserting  their  natural  rights,  and  from 
changing  or  even  punishing  their  governors — that  is,  their  ser- 
vants— who  had  abused  their  trust,  or  from  altering  the  whole 
form  of  their  government,  if  it  appeared  to  be  of  a  structure  so 
liable  to  abuse?" 

As  a  Dissenter,  subject  to  the  operation  of  the 
Corporation  and  Test  Acts,  and  as  a  Unitarian,  ex- 
cluded from  the  benefit  of  the  Toleration  Act,  it  is 
not  surprising  to  find  that  Priestley  had  very  definite 
opinions  about  Ecclesiastical  Establishments;  the 
only  wonder  is  that  these  opinions  were  so  moderate 
as  the  following  passages  show  them  to  have  been  : — 

"Ecclesiastical  authority  may  have  been  necessary  in  the 
infant  state  of  society,  and,  for  the  same  reason,  it  may  perhaps 
continue  to  be,  in  some  degree,  necessary  as  long  as  society  is 
imperfect ;  and  therefore  may  not  be  entirely  abolished  till  civil 
governments  have  arrived  at  a  much  greater  degree  of  perfection. 
If,  therefore,  I  were  asked  whether  I  should  approve  of  the 
immediate  dissolution  of  all  the  ecclesiastical  establishments  in 


120  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 

Europe,  I  should  answer,  No.  ...  Let  experiment  be  first 
made  of  alterations,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  of  Utter  establish- 
ments than  the  present.  Let  them  be  reformed  in  many  essential 
articles,  and  then  not  thrown  aside  entirely  till  it  be  found  by 
experience  that  no  good  can  be  made  of  them." 

Priestley  goes  on  to  suggest  four  such  reforms  of  a 
capital  nature : — 

u  1.  Let  the  Articles  of  Faith  to  be  subscribed  by  candidates 
for  the  ministry  be  greatly  reduced.  In  the  formulary  of  the 
Church  of  England,  might  not  thirty-eight  out  of  the  thirty-nine 
be  very  well  spared  ?  It  is  a  reproach  to  any  Christian  establish- 
ment if  every  man  cannot  claim  the  benefit  of  it  who  can  say 
that  he  believes  in  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  as  it  is  set  forth 
in  the  New  Testament.  You  say  the  terms  are  so  general  that 
even  Deists  would  quibble  and  insinuate  themselves.  I  answer 
that  all  the  articles  which  are  subscribed  at  present,  by  no 
means  exclude  Deists  who  will  prevaricate ;  and  upon  this 
scheme  you  would  at  least  exclude  fewer  honest  men."1 

The  second  reform  suggested  is  the  equalisation, 
in  proportion  to  work  done,  of  the  stipends  of  the 
clergy ;  the  third,  the  exclusion  of  the  bishops  from 
Parliament ;  and  the  fourth,  complete  toleration,  so 
that  every  man  may  enjoy  the  rights  of  a  citizen,  and 
be  qualified  to  serve  his  country,  whether  lie  belong 
to  the  Established  Church  or  not. 

Opinions  such  as  those  I  have  quoted,  respecting 
the  duties  and  the  responsibilities  of  governors,  ^are 
the  commonplaces  of  modern  Liberalism ;  and  Priest- 
ley's views  on  Ecclesiastical  Establishments  would,  I 
fear,  meet  with  but  a  cool  reception,  as  altogether  too 
conservative,  from  a  large  proportion  of  the  lineal 

i  "Utility  of  Establishments/'  in  "Essay  on  First  Principles  of 
Government,"  p.  198,  1771. 


V.]  JOSEPH   PRIESTLEY.  121 

descendants  of  the  people  who  taught  their  children 
to  cry  "Damn  Priestley ;"  and,  with  that  love  for  the 
practical  application  of  science  which  is  the  source  of 
the  greatness  of  Birmingham,  tried  to  set  fire  to  the 
doctor's  house  with  sparks  from  his  own  electrical 
machine ;  thereby  giving  the  man  they  called  an 
incendiary  and  raiser  of  sedition  against  Church  and 
King,  an  appropriately  experimental  illustration  of 
the  nature  of  arson  and  riot. 

If  I  have  succeeded  in  putting  before  you  the 
main  features  of  Priestley's  work,  its  value  will 
become  apparent,  when  we  compare  the  condition 
of  the  English  nation,  as  he  knew  it,  with  its  present 
state. 

The  fact  that  France  has  been  for  eighty-five  years 
trying,  without  much  success,  to  right  herself  after 
the  great  storm  of  the  Eevolution,  is  not  unfrequently 
cited  among  us,  as  an  indication  of  some  inherent 
incapacity  for  self-government  among  the  French 
people.  I  think,  however,  that  Englishmen  who 
argue  thus,  forget  that,  from  the  meeting  of  the  Long 
Parliament  in  1640,  to  the  last  Stuart  rebellion  in 
1745,  is  a  hundred  and  five  years,  and  that,  in  the 
middle  of  the  last  century,  we  had  but  just  safely  freed 
ourselves  from  our  Bourbons  and  all  that  they  repre- 
sented. The  corruption  of  our  state  was  as  bad  as 
that  of  the  Second  Empire.  Bribery  was  the  instru- 
ment of  government,  and  peculation  its  reward. 
Four-fifths  of  the  seats  in  the  House  of  Commons 
were  more  or  less  openly  dealt  with  as  property.  A 


122  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 

minister  had  to  consider  the  state  of  the  vote  market, 
and  the  sovereign  secured  a  sufficiency  of  "  king's 
friends  "  by  payments  allotted  with  retail,  rather  than 
royal,  sagacity. 

Barefaced  and  brutal  immorality  and  intemperance 
pervaded  the  land,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest 
classes  of  society.  The  Established  Church  was  torpid, 
so  far  as  it  was  not  a  scandal;  but  those  who  dis- 
sented from  it  came  within  the  meshes  of  the  Act  of 
Uniformity,  the  Test  Act,  and  the  Corporation  Act. 
By  law,  such  a  man  as  Priestley,  being  a  Unitarian, 
could  neither  teach  nor  preach,  and  was  liable  to  ruin- 
ous fines  and  long  imprisonment.1  In  those  days,  the 
guns  that  were  pointed  by  the  Church  against  the 
Dissenters  were  shotted.  The  law  was  a  cesspool  of 
iniquity  and  cruelty.  Adam  Smith  was  a  new  prophet 
whom  few  regarded,  and  commerce  was  hampered  by 
idiotic  impediments,  and  ruined  by  still  more  absurd 
help,  on  the  part  of  government. 

Birmingham,  though  already  the  centre  of  a  con- 
siderable industry,  was  a  mere  village  as  compared 
with  its  present  extent.  People  who  travelled  went 
about  armed,  by  reason  of  the  abundance  of  highway- 
men and  the  paucity  and  inefficiency  of  the  police. 
Stage  coaches  had  not  reached  Birmingham,  and  it 
took  three  days  to  get  to  London.  Even  canals  were 
a  recent  and  much  opposed  invention. 

Newton  had  laid  the  foundation  of  a  mechanical 
conception  of  the  physical  universe :  Hartley,  putting  a 

1  In  1732  Doddridge  was  cited  for  teaching  without  the  Bishop's 
leave,  at  Northampton. 


V.j  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  123 

modern  face  upon  ancient  materialism,  had  extended 
that  mechanical  conception  to  psychology;  Linnaeus 
and  Haller  were  beginning  to  introduce  method  and 
order  into  the  chaotic  accumulation  of  biological  facts. 
But  those  parts  of  physical  science  which  deal^with  heat, 
electricity,  and  magnetism,  and  above  all,  chemistry, 
in  the  modern  sense,  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  had 
an  existence.  No  one  knew  that  two  of  the  old 
elemental  bodies,  air  and  water,  are  compounds,  and 
that  a  third,  fire,  is  not  a  substance  but  a  motion. 
The  great  industries  that  have  grown  out  of  the 
applications  of  modern  scientific  discoveries  had  no 
existence,  and  the  man  who  should  have  foretold  their 
coming  into  being  in  the  days  of  his  son,  would  have 
been  regarded  as  a  mad  enthusiast. 

In  common  with  many  other  excellent  persons, 
Priestley  believed  that  man  is  capable  of  reaching,  and 
will  eventually  attain,  perfection.  If  the  temperature 
of  space  presented  no  obstacle,  I  should  be  glad  to 
entertain  the  same  idea ;  but  judging  from  the  past 
progress  of  our  species,  I  am  afraid  that  the  globe  will 
have  cooled  down  so  far,  before  the  advent  of  this 
natural  millennium,  that  we  shall  be,  at  best,  perfected 
Esquimaux.  For  all  practical  purposes,  however,  it  is 
enough  that  man  may  visibly  improve  his  condition 
in  the  course  of  a  century  or  so.  And,  if  the  picture 
of  the  state  of  things  in  Priestley's  time,  which  I  have 
just  drawn,  have  any  pretence  to  accuracy,  I  think  it 
must  be  admitted  that  there  has  been  a  considerable 
change  for  the  better. 

I  need  not  advert  to  the  well-worn  topic  of  material 


124  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 

advancement,  in  a  place  in  which  the  very  stones 
testify  to  that  progress — in  the  town  of  Watt  and  of 
Boulton.  I  will  only  remark,  in  passing,  that  material 
advancement  has  its  share  in  moral  and  intellectual 
progress.  Becky  Sharp's  acute  remark  that  it  is  not 
difficult  to  be  virtuous  on  ten  thousand  a  year,  has  its 
application  to  nations ;  and  it  is  futile  to  expect  a 
hungry  and  squalid  population  to  be  anything  but 
violent  and  gross.  But  as  regards  other  than  material 
welfare,  although  perfection  is  not  yet  in  sight — even 
from  the  mast-head — it  is  surely  true  that  things  are 
much  better  than  they  were. 

Take  the  upper  and  middle  classes  as  a  whole,  and 
it  may  be  said  that  open  immorality  and  gross  in- 
temperance have  vanished.  Four  and  six  bottle  men 
are  as  extinct  as  the  dodo.  Women  of  good  repute 
do  not  gamble,  and  talk  modelled  upon  Dean  Swift's 
"Art  of  Polite  Conversation"  would  be  tolerated  in 
no  decent  kitchen. 

Members  of  the  legislature  are  not  to  be  bought ; 
and  constituents  are  awakening  to  the  fact  that  votes 
must  not  be  sold — even  for  such  trifles  as  rabbits  and 
tea  and  cake.  Political  power  has  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  masses  of  the  people.  Those  whom 
Priestley  calls  their  servants  have  recognised  their 
position,  and  have  requested  the  master  to  be  so  good 
as  to  go  to  school  and  fit  himself  for  the  administration 
of  his  property.  No  civil  disability  attaches  to  any 
one  on  theological  grounds,  and  the  highest  offices  of 
the  state  are  open  to  Papist,  Jew,  or  Secularist.1 

1  The  recent  proceedings  of  the  House  of  Commons  throw  a  doubt, 


V.]  JOSEPH   PRIESTLEY.  125 

Whatever  men's  opinions  as  to  the  policy  of  Estab- 
lishment, no  one  can  hesitate  to  admit  that  the  clergy 
of  the  Church  are  men  of  pure  life  and  conversation, 
zealous  in  the  discharge  of  their  duties ;  and,  at  pre- 
sent, apparently,  more  bent  on  prosecuting  one  another 
than  on  meddling  with  Dissenters.  Theology  itself 
has  broadened  so  much,  that  Anglican  divines  put 
forward  doctrines  more  liberal  than  those  of  Priestley  ; 
and,  in  our  state-supported  churches,  one  listener  may 
hear  a  sermon  to  which  Bossuet  might  have  given  his 
approbation,  while  another  may  hear  a  discourse  in 
which  Socrates  would  find  nothing  new. 

But  great  as  these  changes  may  be,  they  sink  into 
insignificance  beside  the  progress  of  physical  science, 
whether  we  consider  the  improvement  of  methods  of 
investigation,  or  the  increase  in  bulk  of  solid  know- 
ledge. Consider  that  the  labours  of  Laplace,  of 
Young,  of  Davy,  and  of  Faraday ;  of  Cuvier,  of 
Lamarck,  and  of  Eobert  Brown  ;  of  Von  Baer,  and  of 
Schwann ;  of  Smith  and  of  Hutton,  have  all  been 
carried  on  since  Priestley  discovered  oxygen;  and 
consider  that  they  are  now  things  of  the  past,  con- 
cealed by  the  industry  of  those  who  have  built  upon 
them,  as  the  first  founders  of  a  coral  reef  are  hidden 
beneath  the  life's  work  of  their  successors ;  consider 
that  the  methods  of  physical  science  are  slowly  spread- 
ing into  all  investigations,  and  that  proofs  as  valid 
as  those  required  by  her  canons  of  investigation, 
are  being  demanded  of  all  doctrines  which  ask  for 

which  it  is  to  be  hoped  may  speedily  be  removed,  on  the  accuracy  of 
this  statement.    (September  1881.) 


126  JOSEPH    PRIESTLEY.  [LECT. 

men's  assent ;  and  you  will  have  a  faint  image  of  the 
astounding  difference  in  this  respect  between  the  nine- 
teenth century  and  the  eighteenth. 

If  we  ask  what  is  the  deeper  meaning  of  all  these 
vast  changes,  I  think  there  can  be  but  one  reply. 
They  mean  that  reason  has  asserted  and  exercised  her 
primacy  over  all  provinces  of  human  activity :  that 
ecclesiastical  authority  has  been  relegated  to  its  proper 
place  ;  that  the  good  of  the  governed  has  been  finally 
recognised  as  the  end  of  government,  and  the  com- 
plete responsibility  of  governors  to  the  people  as  its 
means;  and  that  the  dependence  of  natural  pheno- 
mena in  general,  on  the  laws  of  action  of  what  we  call 
matter  has  become  an  axiom. 

But  it  was  to  bring  these  things  about,  and  to 
enforce  the  recognition  of  these  truths,  that  Joseph 
Priestley  laboured.  If  the  nineteenth  century  is  other 
and  better  than  the  eighteenth,  it  is,  in  great  measure, 
to  him  and  to  such  men  as  he,  that  we  owe  the  change. 
If  the  twentieth  century  is  to  be  better  than  the  nine- 
teenth, it  will  be  because  there  are  among  us  men 
who  walk  in  Priestley's  footsteps. 

Such  men  are  not  those  whom  their  own  generation 
delights  to  honour ;  such  men,  in  fact,  rarely  trouble 
themselves  about  honour,  but  ask,  in  another  spirit 
than  Falstaff's,  "  What  is  honour  ?  Who  hath  it  ? 
He  that  died  o'  Wednesday. "  But  whether  Priestley's 
lot  be  theirs,  and  a  future  generation,  in  justice  and 
in  gratitude,  set  up  their  statues ;  or  whether  their 
names  and  fame  are  blotted  out  from  remembrance, 
their  work  will  live  as  long  as  time  endures.  To  all 


V.]  JOSEPH   PRIESTLEY.  127 

eternity,  the  sum  of  truth  and  right  will  have  been 
increased  by  their  means ;  to  all  eternity,  falsehood 
and  injustice  will  be  the  weaker  because  they  have 
lived. 


130  ON  THE  METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  [LECT. 

But  Zadig  was  fated  to  experience  the  vanity  of  such 
expectations. 

One  day,  walking  near  a  little  wood,  ho  saw,  hastening  that 
way,  one  of  the  Queen's  chief  eunuchs,  followed  by  a  troop  of 
officials,  who  appeared  to  be  in  the  greatest  anxiety,  running 
hither  and  thither  like  men  distraught,  in  search  of  some  lost 
treasure. 

"  Young  man,"  cried  the  eunuch,  "have  you  seen  the  Queen's 
dog?"  Zadig  answered  modestly,  "A  bitch,  I  think,  not  a  dog." 
"Quite  right,"  replied  the  eunuch;  and  Zadig  continued,  "A  very 
small  spaniel  who  has  lately  had  puppies ;  she  limps  with  the 
left  foreleg,  and  has  very  long  ears."  "  Ah !  you  have  seen  her 
then,"  said  the  breathless  eunuch.  "  No,"  answered  Zadig,  "  I 
have  not  seen  her ;  and  I  really  was  not  aware  that  the  Queen 
possessed  a  spaniel." 

By  an  odd  coincidence,  at  the  very  same  time,  the  handsom- 
est horse  in  the  King's  stables  broke  away  from  his  groom  in 
the  Babylonian  plains.  The  grand  huntsman  and  all  his  staff 
were  seeking  the  horse  with  as  much  anxiety  as  the  eunuch  and 
his  people  the  spaniel ;  and  the  grand  huntsman  asked  Zadig  if 
he  had  not  seen  the  King's  horse  go  that  way. 

"  A  first-rate  galloper,  small-hoofed,  five  feet  high  ;  tail  three 
feet  and  a  half  long;  cheek  pieces  of  the  bit  of  twenty-three 
carat  gold;  shoes  silver?"  said  Zadig. 

"Which  way  did  he  go?  Where  is  he?"  cried  the  grand 
huntsman. 

"  I  have  not  seen  anything  of  the  horse,  and  I  never  heard 
of  him  before,"  replied  Zadig. 

The  grand  huntsman  and  the  chief  eunuch  made  sure  that 
Zadig  had  stolen  both  the  King's  horse  and  the  Queen's  spaniel, 
so  they  haled  him  before  the  High  Court  of  Desterham,  which 
at  once  condemned  him  to  the  knout,  and  transportation  for  life 
to  Siberia.  But  the  sentence  was  hardly  pronounced  when  the 
lost  horse  and  spaniel  were  found.  So  the  judges  were  under 
the  painful  necessity  of  reconsidering  their  decision :  but  they 
fined  Zadig  four  hundred  ounces  of  gold  for  saying  he  had  seen 
that  which  he  had  not  seen. 

The  first  thing  was  to  pay  the  fine ;  afterwards  Zadig  was 


VI.]  ON   THE   METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  131 

permitted  to  open  his  defence  to  the  court,  which  he  did  in  the 
following  terms  : 

"  Stars  of  justice,  abysses  of  knowledge,  mirrors  of  truth, 
whose  gravity  is  as  that  of  lead,  whose  inflexibility  is  as  that  of 
iron,  who  rival  the  diamond  in  clearness,  and  possess  no  little 
affinity  with  gold ;  since  I  am  permitted  to  address  your  august 
assembly,  I  swear  by  Ormuzd  that  I  have  never  seen  the  respect- 
able lady  dog  of  the  queen,  nor  beheld  the  sacrosanct  horse  of 
the  King  of  Kings. 

"  This  is  what  happened.  I  was  taking  a  walk  towards  the 
little  wood  near  which  I  subsequently  had  the  honour  to  meet 
the  venerable  chief  eunuch  and  the  most  illustrious  grand  hunts- 
man. I  noticed  the  track  of  an  animal  in  the  sand,  and  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  it  was  that  of  a  small  dog.  Long  faint  streaks 
upon  the  little  elevations  of  sand  between  the  footmarks  con- 
vinced me  that  it  was  a  she  dog  with  pendent  dugs,  showing 
that  she  must  have  had  puppies  not  many  days  since.  Other 
scrapings  of  the  sand,  which  always  lay  close  to  the  marks  of  the 
forepaws,  indicated  that  she  had  very  long  ears ;  and,  as  the  im- 
print of  one  foot  was  always  fainter  than  those  of  the  other 
three,  I  judged  that  the  lady  dog  of  our  august  Queen  was,  if  I 
may  venture  to  say  so,  a  little  lame. 

"  With  respect  to  the  horse  of  the  King  of  Kings,  permit  me 
to  observe  that,  wandering  through  the  paths  which  traverse  the 
wood,  I  noticed  the  marks  of  horse-shoes.  They  were  all  equi- 
distant. 'Ah  !'  said  I, '  this  is  a  famous  galloper.'  In  a  narrow 
alley,  only  seven  feet  wide,  the  dust  upon  the  trunks  of  the  trees 
was  a  little  disturbed  at  three  feet  and  a  half  from  the  middle 
of  the  path.  *  This  horse/  said  I  to  myself,  '  had  a  tail  three 
feet  and  a  half  long,  and,  lashing  it  from  one  side  to  the  other, 
he  has  swept  away  the  dust.'  Branches  of  the  trees  met  over- 
head at  the  height  of  five  feet,  and  under  them  I  saw  newly 
fallen  leaves ;  so  I  knew  that  the  horse  had  brushed  some  of  the 
branches,  and  was  therefore  five  feet  high.  As  to  his  bit,  it 
must  have  been  made  of  twenty-three  carat  gold,  for  he  had 
rubbed  it  against  a  stone,  which  turned  out  to  be  a  touchstone, 
with  the  properties  of  which  I  am  familiar  by  experiment. 
Lastly,  by  the  marks  which  his  shoes  left  upon  pebbles  of  another 
kind,  I  was  led  to  think  that  his  shoes  were  of  fine  silver." 


132  ON   THE    METHOD    OF   ZADIG.  [LECT. 

All  the  judges  admired  Zadig's  profound  and  subtle  discern- 
ment ;  and  the  fame  of  it  reached  even  the  King  and  the  Queen. 
From  the  ante-rooms  to  the  presence-chamber,  Zadig's  name  was 
in  everybody's  mouth ;  and,  although  many  of  the  magi  were  of 
opinion  that  he  ought  to  be  burnt  as  a  sorcerer,  the  King  com- 
manded that  the  four  hundred  ounces  of  gold  which  he  had 
been  fined  should  be  restored  to  him.  So  the  officers  of  the 
court  went  in  state  with  the  four  hundred  ounces ;  only  they 
retained  three  hundred  and  ninety-eight  for  legal  expenses,  and 
their  servants  expected  fees. 

Those  who  are  interested  in  learning  more  of  the 
fateful  history  of  Zadig  must  turn  to  the  original ; 
we  are  dealing  with  him  only  as  a  philosopher,  and 
this  brief  excerpt  suffices  for  the  exemplification  of 
the  nature  of  his  conclusions  and  of  the  method  by 
which  he  arrived  at  them. 

These  conclusions  may  be  said  to  be  of  the  nature 
of  retrospective  prophecies ;  though  it  is  perhaps  a 
little  hazardous  to  employ  phraseology  which  peril- 
ously suggests  a  contradiction  in  terms — the  word 
"  prophecy "  being  so  constantly  in  ordinary  use  re- 
stricted to  "foretelling."  Strictly,  however,  the  term 
prophecy  as  much  applies  to  outspeaking  as  to  fore- 
telling ;  and,  even  in  the  restricted  sense  of  "  divina- 
tion," it  is  obvious  that  the  essence  of  the  prophetic 
operation  does  not  lie  in  its  backward  or  forward 
relation  to  the  course  of  time,  but  in  the  fact  that  it 
is  the  apprehension  of  that  which  lies  out  of  the  sphere 
of  immediate  knowledge ;  the  seeing  of  that  which  to 
the  natural  sense  of  the  seer  is  invisible. 

The  foreteller  asserts  that,  at  some  future  time,  a 
properly  situated  observer  will  witness  certain  events  ; 


VL]  ON   THE   METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  133 

the  clairvoyant  declares  that,  at  this  present  time, 
certain  things  are  to  be  witnessed  a  thousand  miles 
away;  the  retrospective  prophet  (would  that  there 
were  such  a  word  as  "backteller!")  affirms  that  so 
many  hours  or  years  ago,  such  and  such  things  were 
to  be  seen.  In  all  these  cases,  it  is  only  the  relation 
to  time  which  alters — the  process  of  divination  beyond 
the  limits  of  possible  direct  knowledge  remains  the 
same. 

No  doubt  it  was  their  instinctive  recognition  of 
the  analogy  between  Zadig's  results  and  those  obtained 
by  authorised  inspiration  which  inspired  the  Baby- 
lonian magi  with  the  desire  to  burn  the  philosopher. 
Zadig  admitted  that  he  had  never  either  seen  or  heard 
of  the  horse  of  the  king  or  of  the  spaniel  of  the  queen ; 
and  yet  he  ventured  to  assert  in  the  most  positive 
manner  that  animals  answering  to  their  description 
did  actually  exist,  and  ran  about  the  plains  of  Babylon. 
If  his  method  was  good  for  the  divination  of  the  course 
of  events  ten  hours  old,  why  should  it  not  be  good  for 
those  of  ten  years  or  ten  centuries  past ;  nay,  might 
it  not  extend  to  ten  thousand  years  and  justify  the 
impious  in  meddling  with  the  traditions  of  Cannes 
and  the  fish,  and  all  the  sacred  foundations  of  Baby- 
lonian cosmogony  ? 

But  this  was  not  the  worst.  There  was  another 
consideration  which  obviously  dictated  to  the  more 
thoughtful  of  the  magi  the  propriety  of  burning  Zadig 
out  of  hand.  His  defence  was  worse  than  his  offence. 
It  showed  that  his  mode  of  divination  was  fraught 
with  danger  to  magianism  in  general.  Swollen  with 


132  ON   THE    METHOD    OF   ZADIG.  [LECT. 

All  the  judges  admired  Zadig's  profound  and  subtle  discern- 
ment ;  and  the  fame  of  it  reached  even  the  King  and  the  Queen. 
From  the  ante-rooms  to  the  presence-chamber,  Zadig's  name  was 
in  everybody's  mouth ;  and,  although  many  of  the  magi  were  of 
opinion  that  he  ought  to  be  burnt  as  a  sorcerer,  the  King  com- 
manded that  the  four  hundred  ounces  of  gold  which  he  had 
been  fined  should  be  restored  to  him.  So  the  officers  of  the 
court  went  in  state  with  the  four  hundred  ounces ;  only  they 
retained  three  hundred  and  ninety-eight  for  legal  expenses,  and 
their  servants  expected  fees. 

Those  who  are  interested  in  learning  more  of  the 
fateful  history  of  Zadig  must  turn  to  the  original; 
we  are  dealing  with  him  only  as  a  philosopher,  and 
this  brief  excerpt  suffices  for  the  exemplification  of 
the  nature  of  his  conclusions  and  of  the  method  by 
which  he  arrived  at  them. 

These  conclusions  may  be  said  to  be  of  the  nature 
of  retrospective  prophecies ;  though  it  is  perhaps  a 
little  hazardous  to  employ  phraseology  which  peril- 
ously suggests  a  contradiction  in  terms — the  word 
"  prophecy "  being  so  constantly  in  ordinary  use  re- 
stricted to  "foretelling."  Strictly,  however,  the  term 
prophecy  as  much  applies  to  outspeaking  as  to  fore- 
telling ;  and,  even  in  the  restricted  sense  of  "  divina- 
tion," it  is  obvious  that  the  essence  of  the  prophetic 
operation  does  not  lie  in  its  backward  or  forward 
relation  to  the  course  of  time,  but  in  the  fact  that  it 
is  the  apprehension  of  that  which  lies  out  of  the  sphere 
of  immediate  knowledge ;  the  seeing  of  that  which  to 
the  natural  sense  of  the  seer  is  invisible. 

The  foreteller  asserts  that,  at  some  future  time,  a 
properly  situated  observer  will  witness  certain  events ; 


VL]  ON   THE   METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  133 

the  clairvoyant  declares  that,  at  this  present  time, 
certain  things  are  to  be  witnessed  a  thousand  miles 
away;  the  retrospective  prophet  (would  that  there 
were  such  a  word  as  "backteller!")  affirms  that  so 
many  hours  or  years  ago,  such  and  such  things  were 
to  be  seen.  In  all  these  cases,  it  is  only  the  relation 
to  time  which  alters — the  process  of  divination  beyond 
the  limits  of  possible  direct  knowledge  remains  the 
same. 

No  doubt  it  was  their  instinctive  recognition  of 
the  analogy  between  Zadig's  results  and  those  obtained 
by  authorised  inspiration  which  inspired  the  Baby- 
lonian magi  with  the  desire  to  burn  the  philosopher. 
Zadig  admitted  that  he  had  never  either  seen  or  heard 
of  the  horse  of  the  king  or  of  the  spaniel  of  the  queen ; 
and  yet  he  ventured  to  assert  in  the  most  positive 
manner  that  animals  answering  to  their  description 
did  actually  exist,  and  ran  about  the  plains  of  Babylon. 
If  his  method  was  good  for  the  divination  of  the  course 
of  events  ten  hours  old,  why  should  it  not  be  good  for 
those  of  ten  years  or  ten  centuries  past ;  nay,  might 
it  not  extend  to  ten  thousand  years  and  justify  the 
impious  in  meddling  with  the  traditions  of  Cannes 
and  the  fish,  and  all  the  sacred  foundations  of  Baby- 
lonian cosmogony  ? 

But  this  was  not  the  worst.  There  was  another 
consideration  which  obviously  dictated  to  the  more 
thoughtful  of  the  magi  the  propriety  of  burning  Zadig 
out  of  hand.  His  defence  was  worse  than  his  offence. 
It  showed  that  his  mode  of  divination  was  fraught 
with  danger  to  magianism  in  general.  Swollen  with 


134  ON   THE   METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  [LECT. 

the  pride  of  human  reason,  he  had  ignored  the 
established  canons  of  magian  lore ;  and,  trusting  to 
what  after  all  was  mere  carnal  common  sense,  he  pro- 
fessed to  lead  men  to  a  deeper  insight  into  nature 
than  magian  wisdom,  with  all  its  lofty  antagonism  to 
everything  common,  had  ever  reached.  What,  in  fact, 
lay  at  the  foundation  of  all  Zadig's  arguments  but  the 
coarse  commonplace  assumption,  upon  which  every 
act  of  our  daily  lives  is  based,  that  we  may  conclude 
from  an  effect  to  the  pre-existence  of  a  cause  competent 
to  produce  that  effect  ? 

The  tracks  were  exactly  like  those  which  dogs 
and  horses  leave;  therefore  they  were  the  effects  of 
such  animals  as  causes.  The  marks  at  the  sides  of 
the  fore  prints  of  the  dog  track  were  exactly  such  as 
would  be  produced  by  long  trailing  ears ;  therefore 
the  dog's  long  ears  were  the  causes  of  these  marks — 
and  so  on.  Nothing  can  be  more  hopelessly  vulgar, 
more  unlike  the  majestic  development  of  a  system  of 
grandly  unintelligible  conclusions  from  sublimely  in- 
conceivable premisses,  such  as  delights  the  magian 
heart.  In  fact,  Zadig's  method  was  nothing  but  the 
method  of  all  mankind.  Ketrospective  prophecies, 
far  more  astonishing  for  their  minute  accuracy  than 
those  of  Zadig,  are  familiar  to  those  who  have  watched 
the  daily  life  of  nomadic  people. 

From  freshly  broken  twigs,  crushed  leaves,  dis- 
turbed pebbles,  and  imprints  hardly  discernible  by  the 
untrained  eye,  such  graduates  in  the  University  of 
Nature  will  divine,  not  only  the  fact  that  a  party  has 
passed  that  way,  but  its  strength,  its  composition,  the 


VL]  ON  THE   METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  135 

course  it  took,  and  the  number  of  hours  or  days  which 
have  elapsed  since  it  passed.  But  they  are  able  to  do 
this  because,  like  Zadig,  they  perceive  endless  minute 
differences  where  untrained  eyes  discern  nothing ;  and 
because  the  unconscious  logic  of  common  sense  com- 
pels them  to  account  for  these  effects  by  the  causes 
which  they  know  to  be  competent  to  produce  them. 

And  such  mere  methodised  savagery  was  to  dis- 
cover the  hidden  things  of  nature  better  than  d  priori 
deductions  from  the  nature  of  Ormuzd — perhaps  to 
give  a  history  of  the  past,  in  which  Oannes  would  be 
altogether  ignored  !  Decidedly  it  were  better  to  burn 
this  man  at  once. 

If  instinct,  or  an  unwonted  use  of  reason,  led 
Moabdar's  magi  to  this  conclusion  two  or  three  thousand 
years  ago,  all  that  can  be  said  is  that  subsequent  history 
has  fully  justified  them.  For  the  rigorous  application 
of  Zadig's  logic  to  the  results  of  accurate  and  long- 
continued  observation  has  founded  all  those  sciences 
which  have  been  termed  historical  or  palsetiological, 
because  they  are  retrospectively  prophetic  and  strive 
towards  the  reconstruction  in  human  imagination  of 
events  which  have  vanished  and  ceased  to  be. 

History,  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  word,  is 
based  upon  the  interpretation  of  documentary  evidence; 
and  documents  would  have  no  evidential  value  unless 
historians  were  justified  in  their  assumption  that  they 
have  come  into  existence  by  the  operation  of  causes 
similar  to  those  of  which  documents  are,  in  our  present 
experience,  the  effects.  If  a  written  history  can  be  pro- 
duced otherwise  than  by  human  agency,  or  if  the  man 


136  ON   THE   METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  [LECT. 

who  wrote  a  given  document  was  actuated  by  other 
than  ordinary  human  motives,  such  documents  are  of 
no  more  evidential  value  than  so  many  arabesques. 

Archaeology,  which  takes  up  the  thread  of  history 
beyond  the  point  at  which  documentary  evidence  fails 
us,  could  have  no  existence,  except  for  our  well- 
grounded  confidence  that  monuments  and  works  of 
art  or  artifice,  have  never  been  produced  by  causes 
different  in  kind  from  those  to  which  they  now  owe 
their  origin.  And  geology,  which  traces  back  the 
course  of  history  beyond  the  limits  of  archaeology, 
could  tell  us  nothing  except  for  the  assumption  that, 
millions  of  years  ago,  water,  heat,  gravitation,  friction, 
animal  and  vegetable  life,  caused  effects  of  the  same 
kind  as  they  do  now.  Nay,  even  physical  astronomy, 
in  so  far  as  it  takes  us  back  to  the  uttermost  point  of 
time  which  palaetiological  science  can  reach,  is  founded 
upon  the  same  assumption.  If  the  law  of  gravitation 
ever  failed  to  be  true,  even  to  the  smallest  extent,  for 
that  period,  the  calculations  of  the  astronomer  have 
no  application. 

The  power  of  prediction,  of  prospective  prophecy,  is 
that  which  is  commonly  regarded  as  the  great  preroga- 
tive of  physical  science.  And  truly  it  is  a  wonderful 
fact  that  one  can  go  into  a  shop  and  buy  for  small 
price  a  book,  the  "Nautical  Almanac/'  which  will 
foretell  the  exact  position  to  be  occupied  by  one  of 
Jupiter's  moons  six  months  hence;  nay  more,  that, 
if  it  were  worth  while,  the  Astronomer  Koyal  could 
furnish  us  with  as  infallible  a  prediction  applicable 
to  1980  or  2980. 


VI.]  ON  THE   METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  137 

But  astronomy  is  not  less  remarkable  for  its  power 
of  retrospective  prophecy. 

Thales,  oldest  of  Greek  philosophers,  the  dates  of 
whose  birth  and  death  are  uncertain,  but  who  flourished 
about  600  B.C.,  is  said  to  have  foretold  an  eclipse  of  the 
sun  which  took  place  in  his  time  during  a  battle 
between  the  Medes  and  the  Lydians.  Sir  George  Airy 
has  written  a  very  learned  and  interesting  memoir1  in 
which  he  proves  that  such  an  eclipse  was  visible  in 
Lydia  on  the  afternoon  of  the  28th  of  May  in  the 
year  585  B.C. 

No  one  doubts  that,  on  the  day  and  at  the  hour 
mentioned  by  the  Astronomer  Koyal,  the  people  of 
Asia  Minor  saw  the  face  of  the  sun  totally  obscured. 
But,  though  we  implicitly  believe  this  retrospective 
prophecy,  it  is  incapable  of  verification.  In  the 
total  absence  of  historical  records,  it  is  impossible 
even  to  conceive  any  means  of  ascertaining  directly 
whether  the  eclipse  of  Thales  happened  or  not.  All 
that  can  be  said  is,  that  the  prospective  prophecies 
of  the  astronomer  are  always  verified ;  and  that, 
inasmuch  as  his  retrospective  prophecies  are  the  re- 
sult of  following  backwards,  the  very  same  method  as 
that  which  invariably  leads  to  verified  results,  when 
it  is  worked  forwards,  there  is  as  much  reason  for 
placing  full  confidence  in  the  one  as  in  the  other. 
.Retrospective  prophecy  is  therefore  a  legitimate  func- 
tion of  astronomical  science  ;  and  if  it  is  legitimate  for 
one  science  it  is  legitimate  for  all ;  the  fundamental 

1  "  On  the  Eclipses  of  Agathocles,  Thales,  and  Xerxes,"  Philosophical 
Transactions,  vol.  cxliii. 


138  ON   THE   METHOD    OF   ZADIG.  [LECT- 

axiom  on  which  it  rests,  the  constancy  of  the  order  of 
nature,  being  the  common  foundation  of  all  scientific 
thought.  Indeed,  if  there  can  be  grades  in  legitimacy, 
certain  branches  of  science  have  the  advantage  over 
astronomy,  in  so  far  as  their  retrospective  prophecies 
are  not  only  susceptible  of  verification,  but  are  some- 
times strikingly  verified. 

Such  a  science  exists  in  that  application  of  the 
principles  of  biology  to  the  interpretation  of  the  animal 
and  vegetable  remains  imbedded  in  the  rocks  which 
compose  the  surface  of  the  globe,  which  is  called 
Palaeontology. 

At  no  very  distant  time,  the  question  whether 
these  so-called  "fossils"  were  really  the  remains  of 
animals  and  plants  was  hotly  disputed.  Very  learned 
persons  maintained  that  they  were  nothing  of  the 
kind,  but  a  sort  of  concretion,  or  crystallisation,  which 
had  taken  place  within  the  stone  in  which  they  are 
found ;  and  which  simulated  the  forms  of  animal  and 
vegetable  life,  just  as  frost  on  a  window-pane  imitates 
vegetation.  At  the  present  day,  it  would  probably  be 
impossible  to  find  any  sane  advocate  of  this  opinion ; 
and  the  fact  is  rather  surprising,  that  among  the  people 
from  whom  the  circle -squarers,  perpetual- mo tioners, 
flat -earth  men  and  the  like,  are  recruited,  to  say 
nothing  of  table-turners  and  spirit-rappers,  somebody 
has  not  perceived  the  easy  avenue  to  nonsensical 
notoriety  open  to  any  one  who  will  take  up  the  good 
old  doctrine,  that  fossils  are  all  lusus  iiaturce. 

The  position  would  be  impregnable,  inasmuch  as  it 
is  quite  impossible  to  prove  the  contrary.  If  a  man 


VI.]  ON   THE    METHOD    OF   ZADIG.  139 

choose  to  maintain  that  a  fossil  oyster  shell,  in  spite  of 
its  correspondence,  down  to  every  minutest  particular, 
with  that  of  an  oyster  fresh  taken  out  of  the  sea,  was 
never  tenanted  by  a  living  oyster,  but  is  a  mineral 
concretion,  there  is  no  demonstrating  his  error.  All 
that  can  be  done  is  to  show  him  that,  by  a  parity  of 
reasoning,  he  is  bound  to  admit  that  a  heap  of  oyster 
shells  outside  a  fishmonger's  door  may  also  be  "  sports 
of  nature,"  and  that  a  mutton  bone  in  a  dust-bin  may 
have  had  the  like  origin.  And  when  you  cannot  prove 
that  people  are  wrong,  but  only  that  they  are  absurd, 
the  best  course  is  to  let  them  alone. 

The  whole  fabric  of  palaeontology,  in  fact,  falls  to 
the  ground  unless  we  admit  the  validity  of  Zadig's 
great  principle,  that  like  effects  imply  like  causes ;  and 
that  the  process  of  reasoning  from  a  shell,  or  a  tooth, 
or  a  bone,  to  the  nature  of  the  animal  to  which  it 
belonged,  rests  absolutely  on  the  assumption  that  the 
likeness  of  this  shell,  or  tooth,  or  bone,  to  that  of  some 
animal  with  which  we  are  already  acquainted,  is  such 
that  we  are  justified  in  inferring  a  corresponding 
degree  of  likeness  in  the  rest  of  the  two  organisms. 
It  is  on  this  very  simple  principle,  and  not  upon 
imaginary  laws  of  physiological  correlation,  about 
which,  in  most  cases,  we  know  nothing  whatever,  that 
the  so-called  restorations  of  the  palaeontologist  are 
based. 

Abundant  illustrations  of  this  truth  will  occur  to 
every  one  who  is  familiar  with  palaeontology  ;  none  is 
more  suitable  than  the  case  of  the  so-called  Belemnites. 
In  the  early  days  of  the  study  of  fossils,  this  name  was 


140  ON   THE    METHOD    OF    ZADIG.  [LECT. 

given  to  certain  elongated  stony  bodies,  ending  at 
one  extremity  in  a  conical  point,  and  truncated  at  the 
other,  which  were  commonly  reputed  to  be  thunder- 
bolts, and  as  such  to  have  descended  from  the  sky. 
They  are  common  enough  in  some  parts  of  England  ; 
and,  in  the  condition  in  which  they  are  ordinarily 
found,  it  might  be  difficult  to  give  satisfactory  reasons 
for  denying  them  to  be  merely  mineral  bodies. 

They  appear,  in  fact,  to  consist  of  nothing  but 
concentric  layers  of  carbonate  of  lime,  disposed  in 
subcrystalline  fibres,  or  prisms,  perpendicular  to  the 
layers.  Among  a  great  number  of  specimens  of  these 
Belemnites,  however,  it  was  soon  observed  that  some 
showed  a  conical  cavity  at  the  blunt  end ;  and,  in  still 
better  preserved  specimens,  this  cavity  appeared  to 
be  divided  into  chambers  by  delicate  saucer-shaped 
partitions,  situated  at  regular  intervals  one  above  the 
other.  Now  there  is  no  mineral  body  which  presents 
any  structure  comparable  to  this,  and  the  conclusion 
suggested  itself  that  the  Belemnites  must  be  the  effects 
of  causes  other  than  those  which  are  at  work  in 
inorganic  nature.  On  close  examination,  the  saucer- 
shaped  partitions  were  proved  to  be  all  perforated  at 
one  point,  and  the  perforations  being  situated  exactly 
in  the  same  line,  the  chambers  were  seen  to  be 
traversed  by  a  canal,  or  siphuncle,  which  thus  con- 
nected the  smallest  or  apical  chamber  with  the  largest. 
There  is  nothing  like  this  in  the  vegetable  world  ;  but 
an  exactly  corresponding  structure  is  met  with  in  the 
shells  of  two  kinds  of  existing  animals,  the  pearly 
Nautilus  and  the  Spirula,  and  only  in  them.  These 


VI.]  ON  THE   METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  141 

animals  belong  to  the  same  division — the  Cephalopoda 
— as  the  cuttle-fish,  the  squid,  and  the  octopus.  But 
they  are  the  only  existing  members  of  the  group  which 
possess  chambered,  siphunculated  shells;  and  it  is 
utterly  impossible  to  trace  any  physiological  connec- 
tion between  the  very  peculiar  structural  characters  of 
a  cephalopod  and  the  presence  of  a  chambered  shell. 
In  fact,  the  squid  has,  instead  of  any  such  shell,  a 
horny  "pen,"  the  cuttle-fish  has  the  so-called  "cuttle- 
bone,"  and  the  octopus  has  no  shell,  or,  at  most,  a  mere 
rudiment  of  one. 

Nevertheless,  seeing  that  there  is  nothing  in  nature 
at  all  like  the  chambered  shell  of  the  Belemnite, 
except  the  shells  of  the  Nautilus  and  of  the  Spirula, 
it  was  legitimate  to  prophesy  that  the  animal  from 
which  the  fossil  proceeded  must  have  belonged  to  the 
group  of  the  Cephalopoda.  Nautilus  and  Spirula  are 
both  very  rare  animals,  but  the  progress  of  investiga- 
tion brought  to  light  the  singular  fact,  that,  though 
each  has  the  characteristic  cephalopodous  organisation, 
it  is  very  different  from  the  other.  The  shell  of  Nauti- 
lus is  external,  that  of  Spirula  internal ;  Nautilus  has 
four  gills,  Spirula  two  ;  Nautilus  has  multitudinous 
tentacles,  Spirula  has  only  ten  arms  beset  with  horny 
rimmed  suckers  ;  Spirula,  like  the  squids  and  cuttle- 
fishes, which  it  closely  resembles,  has  a  bag  of  ink 
which  it  squirts  out  to  cover  its  retreat  when  alarmed ; 
Nautilus  has  none. 

No  amount  of  physiological  reasoning  could  enable 
any  one  to  say  whether  the  animal  which  fabricated 
the  Belemnite  was  more  like  Nautilus,  or  more  like 


142  ON   THE    METHOD    OF    ZADIG  [LECT. 

Spirula.  But  the  accidental  discovery  of  Belemnites 
in  due  connection  with  black  elongated  masses  which 
were  certainly  fossilised  ink-bags,  inasmuch  as  the 
ink  could  be  ground  up  and  used  for  painting  as  well 
as  if  it  were  recent  sepia,  settled  the  question  ;  and  it 
became  perfectly  safe  to  prophesy  that  the  creature 
which  fabricated  the  Belemnite  was  a  two-gilled 
cephalopod  with  suckers  on  its  arms,  and  with  all  the 
other  essential  features  of  our  living  squids,  cuttle- 
fishes, and  Spirulce.  The  palaeontologist  was,  by  this 
time,  able  to  speak  as  confidently  about  the  animal  of 
the  Belemnite,  as  Zadig  was  respecting  the  queen's 
spaniel.  He  could  give  a  very  fair  description  of  its 
external  appearance,  and  even  enter  pretty  fully  into 
the  details  of  its  internal  organisation,  and  yet  could 
declare  that  neither  he,  nor  any  one  else,  had  ever 
seen  one.  And  as  the  queen's  spaniel  was  found,  so 
happily  has  the  animal  of  the  Belemnite;  a  few 
exceptionally  preserved  specimens  having  been  dis- 
covered, which  completely  verify  the  retrospective 
prophecy  of  those  who  interpreted  the  facts  of  the  case 
by  due  application  of  the  method  of  Zadig. 

These  Belemnites  flourished  in  prodigious  abun- 
dance in  the  seas  of  the  mesozoic  or  secondary  age  of 
the  world's  geological  history ;  but  no  trace  of  them 
has  been  found  in  any  of  the  tertiary  deposits,  and 
they  appear  to  have  died  out  towards  the  close  of  the 
mesozoic  epoch.  The  method  of  Zadig,  therefore, 
applies  in  full  force  to  the  events  of  a  period  which  is 
immeasurably  remote,  which  long  preceded  the  origin 
of  the  most  conspicuous  mountain  masses  of  the 


VI.]  ON   THE   METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  143 

present  world,  and  the  deposition,  at  the  bottom  of 
the  ocean,  of  the  rocks  which  form  the  greater  part  of 
the  soil  of  our  present  continents.  The  Euphrates 
itself,  at  the  mouth  of  which  Oannes  landed,  is  a  thing 
of  yesterday  compared  with  a  Belemnite ;  and  even 
the  liberal  chronology  of  Magian  cosmogony  fixes  the 
beginning  of  the  world  only  at  a  time  when  other 
applications  of  Zadig's  method  afford  convincing  evi- 
dence that,  could  we  have  been  there  to  see,  things 
would  have  looked  very  much  as  they  do  now.  Truly 
the  magi  were  wise  in  their  generation  ;  they  foresaw 
rightly  that  this  pestilent  application  of  the  principles 
of  common  sense,  inaugurated  by  Zadig,  would  be 
their  ruin. 

But  it  may  be  said  that  the  method  of  Zadig, 
which  is  simple  reasoning  from  analogy,  does  not 
account  for  the  most  striking  feats  of  modern  palaeon- 
tology— the  reconstruction  of  entire  animals  from  a 
tooth  or  perhaps  a  fragment  of  a  bone  ;  and  it  may  be 
justly  urged  that  Cuvier,  the  great  master  of  this  kind 
of  investigation,  gave  a  very  different  account  of  the 
process  which  yielded  such  remarkable  results. 

Cuvier  is  not  the  first  man  of  ability  who  has  failed 
to  make  his  own  mental  processes  clear  to  himself, 
and  he  will  not  be  the  last.  The  matter  can  be  easily 
tested.  Search  the  eight  volumes  of  the  "Recherches 
sur  les  Ossemens  fossiles"  from  cover  to  cover,  and 
nothing  but  the  application  of  the  method  of  Zadig 
will  be  found  in  the  arguments  by  which  a  fragment 
of  a  skeleton  is  made  to  reveal  the  characters  of  the 
animal  to  which  it  belonged. 


144  ON   THE    METHOD    OF   ZADIG.  [LECT. 

There  is  one  well-known  case  which  may  represent 
all.  It  is  an  excellent  illustration  of  Cuvier's  sagacity, 
and  he  evidently  takes  some  pride  in  telling  his  story 
about  it.  A  split  slab  of  stone  arrived  from  the 
quarries  of  Montmartre,  the  two  halves  of  which  con- 
tained the  greater  part  of  the  skeleton  of  a  small 
animal.  On  careful  examinations  of  the  characters  of 
the  teeth  and  of  the  lower  jaw,  which  happened  to  be 
exposed,  Cuvier  assured  himself  that  they  presented 
such  a  very  close  resemblance  to  the  corresponding 
parts  in  the  living  opossums  that  he  at  once  assigned 
the  fossil  to  that  genus. 

Now  the  opossums  are  unlike  most  mammals  in 
that  they  possess  two  bones  attached  to  the  fore  part 
of  the  pelvis,  which  are  commonly  called  "  marsupial 
bones."  The  name  is  a  misnomer,  originally  conferred 
because  it  was  thought  that  these  bones  have  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  support  of  the  pouch,  or  mar- 
supium,  with  which  some,  but  not  all,  of  the  opossums 
are  provided.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  support  of  the  pouch,  and  they  exist 
as  much  in  those  opossums  which  have  no  pouches  as 
in  those  which  possess  them.  In  truth,  no  one  knows 
what  the  use  of  these  bones  may  be,  nor  has  any  valid 
theory  of  their  physiological  import  yet  been  suggested. 
And  if  we  have  no  knowledge  of  the  physiological 
importance  of  the  bones  themselves,  it  is  obviously 
absurd  to  pretend  that  we  are  able  to  give  physiological 
reasons  why  the  presence  of  these  bones  is  associated 
with  certain  peculiarities  of  the  teeth  and  of  the  jaws. 
If  any  one  knows  why  four  molar  teeth  and  an  in- 


VL]  ON   THE   METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  U5 

fleeted  angle  of  the  jaw  are  very  generally  found  along 
with  marsupial  bones,  he  has  not  yet  communicated 
that  knowledge  to  the  world. 

If,  however,  Zadig  was  right  in  concluding  from 
the  likeness  of  the  hoof -prints  which  he  observed  to  a 
horse's  that  the  creature  which  made  them  had  a  tail 
like  that  of  a  horse,  Cuvier,  seeing  that  the  teeth  and 
jaw  of  his  fossil  were  just  like  those  of  an  opossum, 
had  the  same  right  to  conclude  that  the  pelvis  would 
also  be  like  an  opossum's ;  and  so  strong  was  his 
conviction  that  this  retrospective  prophecy,  about  an 
animal  which  he  had  never  seen  before,  and  which 
had  been  dead  and  buried  for  millions  of  years,  would 
be  verified,  that  he  went  to  work  upon  the  slab  which 
contained  the  pelvis  in  confident  expectation  of  finding 
and  laying  bare  the  "  marsupial  bones,"  to  the  satis- 
faction of  some  persons  whom  he  had  invited  to 
witness  their  disintennent.  As  he  says  : — "  Cette 
operation  se  fit  en  presence  de  quelques  personnes 
a  qui  j'en  avais  annonce*  d'avance  le  r^sultat,  dans 
1'intention  de  leur  prouver  par  le  fait  la  justice  de  nos 
theories  zoologiques ;  puisque  le  vrai  cachet  d'une 
theorie  est  sans  contredit  la  faculte  qu'elle  donne  de 
prevoir  les  phenomenes." 

In  the  "Ossemens  fossiles"  Cuvier  leaves  his  paper 
just  as  it  first  appeared  in  the  "Annales  du  Museum," 
as  "  a  curious  monument  of  the  force  of  zoological  laws 
and  of  the  use  which  may  be  made  of  them." 

Zoological  laws  truly,  but  not  physiological  laws. 
If  one  sees  a  live  dog's  head,  it  is  extremely  probable 
that  a  dog's  tail  is  not  far  off,  though  nobody  can  say 

L 


146  ON   THE    METHOD    OF    ZADIG.  [LECT. 

why  that  sort  of  head  and  that  sort  of  tail  go  together ; 
what  physiological  connection  there  is  between  the 
two.  So,  in  the  case  of  the  Montmartre  fossil,  Cuvier, 
finding  a  thorough  opossum's  head,  concluded  that  the 
pelvis  also  would  be  like  an  opossum's.  But,  most 
assuredly,  the  most  advanced  physiologist  of  the 
present  day  could  throw  no  light  on  the  question  why 
these  are  associated,  nor  could  pretend  to  affirm  that 
the  existence  of  the  one  is  necessarily  connected  with 
that  of  the  other.  In  fact,  had  it  so  happened  that 
the  pelvis  of  the  fossil  had  been  originally  exposed, 
while  the  head  lay  hidden,  the  presence  of  the  "mar- 
supial bones,"  however  like  they  might  have  been  to 
an  opossum's,  would  by  no  means  have  warranted  the 
prediction  that  the  skull  would  turn  out  to  be  that  of 
the  opossum.  It  might  just  as  well  have  been  like 
that  of  some  other  Marsupial ;  or  even  like  that  of 
the  totally  different  group  of  Monotremes,  of  which 
the  only  living  representatives  are  the  Echidna  and 
the  Ornithorhynchus. 

For  all  practical  purposes,  however,  the  empirical 
laws  of  co-ordination  of  structures,  which  are  embodied 
in  the  generalisations  of  morphology,  may  be  con- 
fidently trusted,  if  employed  with  due  caution,  to  lead 
to  a  just  interpretation  of  fossil  remains ;  or,  in  other 
words,  we  may  look  for  the  verification  of  the  retro- 
spective prophecies  which  are  based  upon  them. 

And  if  this  be  the  case,  the  late  advances  which 
have  been  made  in  palseontological  discovery  open 
out  a  new  field  for  such  prophecies.  For  it  has  been 
ascertained  with  respect  to  many  groups  of  animals, 


VL]  ON   THE   METHOD   OF   ZADIG.  147 

that,  as  we  trace  them  back  in  time,  their  ancestors 
gradually  cease  to  exhibit  those  special  modifications 
which  at  present  characterise  the  type,  and  more  nearly 
embody  the  general  plan  of  the  group  to  which  they 
belong. 

Thus,  in  the  well-known  case  of  the  horse,  the 
toes  which  are  suppressed  in  the  living  horse  are  found 
to  be  more  and  more  complete  in  the  older  members 
of  the  group,  until,  at  the  bottom  of  the  Tertiary 
series  of  America,  we  find  an  equine  animal  which  has 
four  toes  in  front  and  three  behind.  No  remains  of 
the  horse  tribe  are  at  present  known  from  any  Mesozoic 
deposit.  Yet  who  can  doubt  that,  whenever  a  suffi- 
ciently extensive  series  of  lacustrine  and  fluviatile 
beds  of  that  age  becomes  known,  the  lineage  which 
has  been  traced  thus  far  will  be  continued  by  equine 
quadrupeds  with  an  increasing  number  of  digits,  until 
the  horse  type  merges  in  the  five-toed  form  towards 
which  these  gradations  point  ? 

But  the  argument  which  holds  good  for  the  horse, 
holds  good,  not  only  for  all  mammals,  but  for  the 
whole  animal  world.  And  as  the  study  of  the  pedi- 
grees, or  lines  of  evolution,  to  which,  at  present,  we 
have  access,  brings  to  light,  as  it  assuredly  will  do, 
the  laws  of  that  process,  we  shall  be  able  to  reason 
from  the  facts  with  which  the  geological  record 
furnishes  us  to  those  which  have  hitherto  remained, 
and  many  of  which,  perhaps,  may  for  ever  remain, 
hidden.  The  same  method  of  reasoning  which  enables 
us,  when  furnished  with  a  fragment  of  an  extinct 
animal,  to  prophesy  the  character  which  the  whole 


148  ON   THE    METHOD    OF    ZADIG.  [LECT. 

organism  exhibited,  will,  sooner  or  later,  enable  us, 
when  we  know  a  few  of  the  later  terms  of  a  genea- 
logical series,  to  predict  the  nature  of  the  earlier 
terms. 

In  no  very  distant  future,  the  method  of  Zadig, 
applied  to  a  greater  body  of  facts  than  the  present 
generation  is  fortunate  enough  to  handle,  will  enable 
the  biologist  to  reconstruct  the  scheme  of  life  from  its 
beginning,  and  to  speak  as  confidently  of  the  character 
of  long  extinct  living  beings,  no  trace  of  which  has 
been  preserved,  as  Zadig  did  of  the  queen's  spaniel 
and  the  king's  horse.  Let  us  hope  that  they  may  be 
better  rewarded  for  their  toil  and  their  sagacity  than 
was  the  Babylonian  philosopher ;  for  perhaps,  by  that 
time,  the  Magi  also  may  be  reckoned  among  the 
members  of  a  forgotten  Fauna,  extinguished  in  the 
struggle  for  existence  against  their  great  rival,  common 
sense. 


VIL]  ANIMALS   AND   PLANTS.  149 


VII. 

ON  THE  BOEDER  TERRITORY  BETWEEN 
THE  ANIMAL  AND  THE  VEGETABLE 
KINGDOMS. 

IN  the  whole  history  of  science  there  is  nothing  more 
remarkable  than  the  rapidity  of  the  growth  of  bio- 
logical knowledge  within  the  last  half-century,  and 
the  extent  of  the  modification  which  has  thereby  been 
effected  in  some  of  the  fundamental  conceptions  of 
the  naturalist. 

In  the  second  edition  of  the  "  R&gne  Animal," 
published  in  1828,  Cuvier  devotes  a  special  section  to 
the  "  Division  of  Organised  Beings  into  Animals  and 
Vegetables,"  in  which  the  question  is  treated  with  that 
comprehensiveness  of  knowledge  and  clear  critical 
judgment  which  characterise  his  writings,  and  justify 
us  in  regarding  them  as  representative  expressions  of 
the  most  extensive,  if  not  the  profoundest,  knowledge 
of  his  time.  He  tells  us  that  living  beings  have 
been  subdivided  from  the  earliest  times  into  animated 
beings,  which  possess  sense  and  motion,  and  inani- 
mated  beings,  which  are  devoid  of  these  functions, 
and  simply  vegetate. 

Although  the  roots  of  plants  direct  themselves  to- 


150  ANIMALS    AND    PLANTS.  [LECT. 

wards  moisture,  and  their  leaves  towards  air  and 
light, — although  the  parts  of  some  plants  exhibit 
oscillating  movements  without  any  perceptible  cause, 
and  the  leaves  of  others  retract  when  touched, — yet 
none  of  these  movements  justify  the  ascription  to 
plants  of  perception  or  of  will.  From  the  mobility  of 
animals,  Cuvier,  with  his  characteristic  partiality  for 
teleological  reasoning,  deduces  the  necessity  of  the 
existence  in  them  of  an  alimentary  cavity,  or  reservoir 
of  food,  whence  their  nutrition  may  be  drawn  by  the 
vessels,  which  are  a  sort  of  internal  roots ;  and,  in 
the  presence  of  this  alimentary  cavity,  he  naturally 
sees  the  primary  and  the  most  important  distinction 
between  animals  and  plants. 

Following  out  his  teleological  argument,  Cuvier 
remarks  that  the  organisation  of  this  cavity  and  its 
appurtenances  must  needs  vary  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  aliment,  and  the  operations  which  it  has  to 
undergo,  before  it  can  be  converted  into  substances 
fitted  for  absorption;  while  the  atmosphere  and  the 
earth  supply  plants  with  juices  ready  prepared,  and 
which  can  be  absorbed  immediately.  As  the  animal 
body  required  to  be  independent  of  heat  and  of  the 
atmosphere,  there  were  no  means  by  which  the  motion 
of  its  fluids  could  be  produced  by  internal  causes. 
Hence  arose  the  second  great  distinctive  character  of 
animals,  or  the  circulatory  system,  which  is  less  im- 
portant than  the  digestive,  since  it  was  unnecessary, 
and  therefore  is  absent,  in  the  more  simple  animals. 

Animals  further  needed  muscles  for  locomotion 
and  nerves  for  sensibility.  Hence,  says  Cuvier,  it 


VIL]  ANIMALS   AND   PLANTS.  151 

was  necessary  that  the  chemical  composition  of  the  . 
animal  body  should  be  more  complicated  than  that  of 
the  plant ;  and  it  is  so,  inasmuch  as  an  additional 
substance,  nitrogen,  enters  into  it  as  an  essential 
element ;  while,  in  plants,  nitrogen  is  only  accidentally 
joined  with  the  three  other  fundamental  constituents 
of  organic  beings — carbon,  hydrogen,  and  oxygen. 
Indeed,  he  afterwards  affirms  that  nitrogen  is  peculiar 
to  animals ;  and  herein  he  places  the  third  distinction 
between  the  animal  and  the  plant.  The  soil  and  the 
atmosphere  supply  plants  with  water,  composed  of 
hydrogen  and  oxygen ;  air,  consisting  of  nitrogen  and 
oxygen;  and  carbonic  acid,  containing  carbon  and 
oxygen.  They  retain  the  hydrogen  and  the  carbon, 
exhale  the  superfluous  oxygen,  and  absorb  little  or 
no  nitrogen.  The  essential  character  of  vegetable 
life  is  the  exhalation  of  oxygen,  which  is  effected 
through  the  agency  of  light.  Animals,  on  the  con- 
trary, derive  their  nourishment  either  directly  or 
indirectly  from  plants.  They  get  rid  of  the  super- 
fluous hydrogen  and  carbon,  and  accumulate  nitrogen. 
The  relations  of  plants  and  animals  to  the  atmo- 
sphere are  therefore  inverse.  The  plant  withdraws 
water  and  carbonic  acid  from  the  atmosphere,  the 
animal  contributes  both  to  it.  Kespiration — that  is, 
the  absorption  of  oxygen  and  the  exhalation  of  car- 
bonic acid  —  is  the  specially  animal  function  of 
animals,  and  constitutes  their  fourth  distinctive 
character. 

Thus  wrote  Cuvier  in  1828.     But,  in  the  fourth 
and  fifth  decades  of  this  century,  the  greatest  and 


152  ANIMALS    AND    PLANTS.  [LEOT. 

most  rapid  revolution  which  biological  science  has 
ever  undergone  was  effected  by  the  application  of  the 
modern  microscope  to  the  investigation  of  organic 
structure ;  by  the  introduction  of  exact  and  easily 
manageable  methods  of  conducting  the  chemical 
analysis  of  organic  compounds ;  and  finally,  by  the 
employment  of  instruments  of  precision  for  the  mea- 
surement of  the  physical  forces  which  are  at  work  in 
the  living  economy. 

That  the  semi-fluid  contents  (which  we  now  term 
protoplasm)  of  the  cells  of  certain  plants,  such  as  the 
Cliarce,  are  in  constant  and  regular  motion,  was  made 
out  by  Bonaventura  Corti  a  century  ago ;  but  the  fact, 
important  as  it  was,  fell  into  oblivion,  and  had  to  be 
rediscovered  by  Treviranus  in  1807.  Kobert  Brown 
noted  the  more  complex  motions  of  the  protoplasm  in 
the  cells  of  Tradescantia  in  1831 ;  and  now  such 
movements  of  the  living  substance  of  plants  are  well 
known  to  be  some  of  the  most  widely-prevalent  pheno- 
mena of  vegetable  life. 

Agardh,  and  other  of  the  botanists  of  Cuvier's 
generation,  who  occupied  themselves  with  the  lower 
plants,  had  observed  that,  under  particular  circum- 
stances, the  contents  of  the  cells  of  certain  water-weeds 
were  set  free,  and  moved  about  with  considerable 
velocity,  and  with  all  the  appearances  of  spontaneity, 
as  locomotive  bodies,  which,  from  their  similarity  to 
animals  of  simple  organisation,  were  called  "  zoo- 
spores."  Even  as  late  as  1845,  however,  a  botanist  of 
Schleiden's  eminence  dealt  very  sceptically  with  these 
statements ;  and  his  scepticism  was  the  more  justified, 


VIL]  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  153 

since  Ehrenberg,  in  his  elaborate  and  comprehensive 
work  on  the  Infusoria,  had  declared  the  greater  num- 
ber of  what  are  now  recognised  as  locomotive  plants 
to  be  animals. 

At  the  present  day,  innumerable  plants  and  free 
plant  cells  are  known  to  pass  the  whole  or  part  of 
their  lives  in  an  actively  locomotive  condition,  in  no 
wise  distinguishable  from  that  of  one  of  the  simpler 
animals ;  and,  while  in  this  condition,  their  move- 
ments are,  to  all  appearance,  as  spontaneous  —  as 
much  the  product  of  volition  —  as  those  of  such 
animals. 

Hence  the  teleological  argument  for  Cuvier's  first 
diagnostic  character — the  presence  in  animals  of  an 
alimentary  cavity,  or  internal  pocket,  in  which  they 
can  carry  about  their  nutriment — has  broken  down, 
so  far,  at  least,  as  his  mode  of  stating  it  goes.  And, 
with  the  advance  of  microscopic  anatomy,  the  univer- 
sality of  the  fact  itself  among  animals  has  ceased  to 
be  predicable.  Many  animals  of  even  complex  struc- 
ture, which  live  parasitically  within  others,  are  wholly 
devoid  of  an  alimentary  cavity.  Their  food  is  pro- 
vided for  them,  not  only  ready  cooked,  but  ready 
digested,  and  the  alimentary  canal,  become  super- 
fluous, has  disappeared.  Again,  the  males  of  most 
Eotifers  have  no  digestive  apparatus;  as  a  German 
naturalist  has  remarked,  they  devote  themselves  en- 
tirely to  the  "  Minnedienst,"  and  are  to  be  reckoned 
among  the  few  realisations  of  the  Byronic  ideal  of  a 
lover.  Finally,  amidst  the  lowest  forms  of  animal  life, 
the  speck  of  gelatinous  protoplasm,  which  constitutes 


154  ANIMALS    AND    PLANTS.  [LECT. 

the  whole  body,  has  no  permanent  digestive  cavity  or 
mouth,  but  takes  in  its  food  anywhere ;  and  digests, 
so  to  speak,  all  over  its  body. 

But  although  Cuvier's  leading  diagnosis  of  the 
animal  from  the  plant  will  not  stand  a  strict  test,  it 
remains  one  of  the  most  constant  of  the  distinctive 
characters  of  animals.  And,  if  we  substitute  for  the 
possession  of  an  alimentary  cavity,  the  power  of  tak- 
ing solid  nutriment  into  the  body  and  there  digesting 
it,  the  definition  so  changed  will  cover  all  animals, 
except  certain  parasites,  and  the  few  and  exceptional 
cases  of  non-parasitic  animals  which  do  not  feed  at 
all.  On  the  other  hand,  the  definition  thus  amended 
will  exclude  all  ordinary  vegetable  organisms. 

Cuvier  himself  practically  gives  up  his  second 
distinctive  mark  when  he  admits  that  it  is  wanting  in 
the  simpler  animals. 

The  third  distinction  is  based  on  a  completely 
erroneous  conception  of  the  chemical  differences  and 
resemblances  between  the  constituents  of  animal  and 
vegetable  organisms,  for  which  Cuvier  is  not  re- 
sponsible, as  it  was  current  among  contemporary 
chemists.  It  is  now  established  that  nitrogen  is  as 
essential  a  constituent  of  vegetable  as  of  animal  living 
matter ;  and  that  the  latter  is,  chemically  speaking, 
just  as  complicated  as  the  former.  Starchy  substances, 
cellulose  and  sugar,  once  supposed  to  be  exclusively 
confined  to  plants,  are  now  known  to  be  regular  and 
normal  products  of  animals.  Amylaceous  and  saccha- 
rine substances  are  largely  manufactured,  even  by 
the  highest  animals ;  cellulose  is  widespread  as  a  con- 


VIL]  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  155 

stituent  of  the  skeletons  of  the  lower  animals  ;  and  it 
is  probable  that  amyloid  substances  are  universally 
present  in  the  animal  organism,  though  not  in  the 
precise  form  of  starch. 

Moreover,  although  it  remains  true  that  there  is 
an  inverse  relation  between  the  green  plant  in  sun- 
shine and  the  animal,  in  so  far  as,  under  these  circum- 
stances, the  green  plant  decomposes  carbonic  acid  and 
exhales  oxygen,  while  the  animal  absorbs  oxygen  and 
exhales  carbonic  acid ;  yet,  the  exact  researches  of 
the  modern  chemical  investigators  of  the  physiological 
processes  of  plants  have  clearly  demonstrated  the 
fallacy  of  attempting  to  draw  any  general  distinction 
between  animals  and  vegetables  on  this  ground.  In 
fact,  the  difference  vanishes  with  the  sunshine,  even  in 
the  case  of  the  green  plant ;  which,  in  the  dark, 
absorbs  oxygen  and  gives  out  carbonic  acid  like  any 
animal.1  On  the  other  hand,  those  plants,  such  as  the 
fungi,  which  contain  no  chlorophyll  and  are  not  green, 
are  always,  so  far  as  respiration  is  concerned,  in  the 
exact  position  of  animals.  They  absorb  oxygen  and 
give  out  carbonic  acid. 

Thus,  by  the  progress  of  knowledge,  Cuvier's 
fourth  distinction  between  the  animal  and  the  plant 
has  been  as  completely  invalidated  as  the  third  and 

1  There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  living  plants,  like  living 
animals,  always  respire,  and,  in  respiring,  absorb  oxygen  and  give  off 
carbonic  acid  ;  but,  that  in  green  plants  exposed  to  daylight  or  to  the 
electric  light,  the  quantity  of  oxygen  evolved  in  consequence  of  the 
decomposition  of  carbonic  acid  by  a  special  apparatus  which  green 
plants  possess  exceeds  that  absorbed  in  the  concurrent  respiratory 
process. 


156  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  [LECT. 

second ;  and  even  the  first  can  be  retained  only  in  a 
modified  form  and  subject  to  exceptions. 

But  has  the  advance  of  biology  simply  tended  to 
break  down  old  distinctions,  without  establishing  new 
ones  ? 

With  a  qualification,  to  be  considered  presently,  the 
answer  to  this  question  is  undoubtedly  in  the  affirma- 
tive. The  famous  researches  of  Schwann  and  Schlei- 
den  in  1837  and  the  following  years,  founded  the 
modern  science  of  histology,  or  that  branch  of  anatomy 
which  deals  with  the  ultimate  visible  structure  of 
organisms,  as  revealed  by  the  microscope ;  and,  from 
that  day  to  this,  the  rapid  improvement  of  methods  of 
investigation,  and  the  energy  of  a  host  of  accurate 
observers,  have  given  greater  and  greater  breadth  and 
firmness  to  Schwann's  great  generalisation,  that  a 
fundamental  unity  of  structure  obtains  in  animals  and 
plants ;  and  that,  however  diverse  may  be  the  fabrics, 
or  tissues,  of  which  their  bodies  are  composed,  all 
these  varied  structures  result  from  the  metamorphosis 
of  morphological  units  (termed  cells,  in  a  more  general 
sense  than  that  in  which  the  word  "  cells  "  was  at  first 
employed),  which  are  not  only  similar  in  animals  and 
in  plants  respectively,  but  present  a  close  resemblance, 
when  those  of  animals  and  those  of  plants  are  com- 
pared together. 

The  contractility  which  is  the  fundamental  con- 
dition of  locomotion,  has  not  only  been  discovered  to 
exist  far  more  widely  among  plants  than  was  formerly 
imagined ;  but,  in  plants,  the  act  of  contraction  has 
been  found  to  be  accompanied,  as  Dr.  Burdon  Sander- 


VII.]  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  157 

son's  interesting  investigations  have  shown,  by  a 
disturbance  of  the  electrical  state  of  the  contractile 
substance,  comparable  to  that  which  was  found  by  Du 
Bois  Eeymond  to  be  a  concomitant  of  the  activity  of 
ordinary  muscle  in  animals. 

Again,  I  know  of  no  test  by  which  the  reaction 
of  the  leaves  of  the  Sundew  and  of  other  plants  to 
stimuli,  so  fully  and  carefully  studied  by  Mr.  Darwin, 
can  be  distinguished  from  those  acts  of  contraction 
following  upon  stimuli,  which  are  called  "  reflex "  in 
animals. 

On  each  lobe  of  the  bilobed  leaf  of  Venus's  fly  trap 
(Dioncea  muscipula)  are  three  delicate  filaments  which 
stand  out  at  right  angle  from  the  surface  of  the  leaf. 
Touch  one  of  them  with  the  end  of  a  fine  human  hair 
and  the  lobes  of  the  leaf  instantly  close  together  *  in 
virtue  of  an  act  of  contraction  of  part  of  their  sub- 
stance, just  as  the  body  of  a  snail  contracts  into  its 
shell  when  one  of  its  "  horns  "  is  irritated. 

The  reflex  action  of  the  snail  is  the  result  of  the 
presence  of  a  nervous  system  in  the  animal.  A  mole- 
cular change  takes  place  in  the  nerve  of  the  tentacle, 
is  propagated  to  the  muscles  by  which  the  body  is 
retracted,  and  causing  them  to  contract,  the  act  of 
retraction  is  brought  about.  Of  course  the  similarity 
of  the  acts  does  not  necessarily  involve  the  conclusion 
that  the  mechanism  by  which  they  are  effected  is  the 
same ;  but  it  suggests  a  suspicion  of  their  identity 
which  needs  careful  testing. 

The  results  of  recent  inquiries  into  the  structure  of 

1  Darwin,  "  Insectivorous  Plants,"  p.  289, 


158  ANIMALS   AND   PLANTS.  [LEOT. 

the  nervous  system  of  animals  converge  towards  the 
conclusion  that  the  nerve  fibres,  which  we  have 
hitherto  regarded  as  ultimate  elements  of  nervous 
tissue,  are  not  such,  but  are  simply  the  visible  aggrega- 
tions of  vastly  more  attenuated  filaments,  the  diameter 
of  which  dwindles  down  to  the  limits  of  our  present 
microscopic  vision,  greatly  as  these  have  been  ex- 
tended by  modern  improvements  of  the  microscope ;  and 
that  a  nerve  is,  in  its  essence,  nothing  but  a  linear 
tract  of  specially  modified  protoplasm  between  two 
points  of  an  organism — one  of  which  is  able  to  affect 
the  other  by  means  of  the  communication  so  estab- 
lished. Hence,  it  is  conceivable  that  even  the  simplest 
living  being  may  possess  a  nervous  system.  And  the 
question  whether  plants  are  provided  with  a  nervous 
system  or  not,  thus  acquires  a  new  aspect,  and 
presents  the  histologist  and  physiologist  with  a 
problem  of  extreme  difficulty,  which  must  be  attacked 
from  a  new  point  of  view  and  by  the  aid  of  methods 
which  have  yet  to  be  invented. 

Thus  it  must  be  admitted  that  plants  may  be 
contractile  and  locomotive  ;  that,  while  locomotive, 
their  movements  may  have  as  much  appearance  of 
spontaneity  as  those  of  the  lowest  animals ;  and  that 
many  exhibit  actions,  comparable  to  those  which  are 
brought  about  by  the  agency  of  a  nervous  system  in 
animals.  And  it  must  be  allowed  to  be  possible  that 
further  research  may  reveal  the  existence  of  something 
comparable  to  a  nervous  system  in  plants.  So  that  I 
know  not  where  we  can  hope  to  find  any  absolute 
distinction  between  animals  and  plants,  unless  we 


VIL]  ANIMALS   AND   PLANTS.  159 

return  to  their  mode  of  nutrition,  and  inquire  whether 
certain  differences  of  a  more  occult  character  than 
those  imagined  to  exist  by  Cuvier,  and  which  certainly 
hold  good  for  the  vast  majority  of  animals  and  plants, 
are  of  universal  application. 

A  bean  may  be  supplied  with  water  in  which  salts  of 
ammonia  and  certain  other  mineral  salts  are  dissolved 
in  due  proportion ;  with  atmospheric  air  containing  its 
ordinary  minute  dose  of  carbonic  acid;  and  with 
nothing  else  but  sunlight  and  heat.  Under  these 
circumstances,  unnatural  as  they  are,  with  proper 
management,  the  bean  will  thrust  forth  its  radicle 
and  its  plumule  ;  the  former  will  grow  down  into 
roots,  the  latter  grow  up  into  the  stem  and  leaves  of 
a  vigorous  bean  plant ;  and  this  plant  will,  in  due 
time,  flower  and  produce  its  crop  of  beans,  just  as  if  it 
were  grown  in  the  garden  or  in  the  field. 

The  weight  of  the  nitrogenous  protein  compounds, 
of  the  oily,  starchy,  saccharine  and  woody  substances 
contained  in  the  full-grown  plant  and  its  seeds,  will 
be  vastly  greater  than  the  weight  of  the  same  sub- 
stances contained  in  the  bean  from  which  it  sprang. 
But  nothing  has  been  supplied  to  the  bean  save  water, 
carbonic  acid,  ammonia,  potash,  lime,  iron,  and  the  like, 
in  combination  with  phosphoric,  sulphuric,  and  other 
acids.  Neither  protein,  nor  fat,  nor  starch,  nor  sugar, 
nor  any  substance  in  the  slightest  degree  resembling 
them,  has  formed  part  of  the  food  of  the  bean.  But 
the  weights  of  the  carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen,  nitrogen, 
phosphorus,  sulphur,  and  other  elementary  bodies 
contained  in  the  bean -plant,  and  in  the  seeds  which 


160  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  [LECT. 

it  produces,  are  exactly  equivalent  to  the  weights  of 
the  same  elements  which  have  disappeared  from  the 
materials  supplied  to  the  bean  during  its  growth. 
Whence  it  follows  that  the  bean  has  taken  in  only  the 
raw  materials  of  its  fabric,  and  has  manufactured  them 
into  bean  stuffs. 

The  bean  has  been  able  to  perform  this  great 
chemical  feat  by  the  help  of  its  green  colouring  matter, 
or  chlorophyll ;  for  it  is  only  the  green  parts  of  the 
plant  which,  under  the  influence  •  of  sunlight,  have 
the  marvellous  power  of  decomposing  carbonic  acid, 
setting  free  the  oxygen  and  laying  hold  of  the  carbon 
which  it  contains.  In  fact,  the  bean  obtains  two  of  the 
absolutely  indispensable  elements  of  its  substance  from 
two  distinct  sources ;  the  watery  solution,  in  which 
its  roots  are  plunged,  contains  nitrogen  but  no  carbon ; 
the  air,  to  which  the  leaves  are  exposed,  contains 
carbon,  but  its  nitrogen  is  in  the  state  of  a  free  gas, 
in  which  condition  the  bean  can  make  no  use  of  it;1 
and  the  chlorophyll 2  is  the  apparatus  by  which  the 
carbon  is  extracted  from  the  atmospheric  carbonic 
acid — the  leaves  being  the  chief  laboratories  in  which 
this  operation  is  effected. 

The  great  majority  of  conspicuous  plants  are,  as 
everybody  knows,  green ;  and  this  arises  from  the 

1  I  purposely  assume  that  the  air  with  which  the  bean  is  supplied 
in  the  case  stated  contains  no  ammoniacal  salts. 

2  The  recent  researches  of  Pringsheim  have  raised  a  host  of  ques- 
tions as  to  the  exact  share  taken  by  chlorophyll  in  the  chemical  opera- 
tions which  are  effected  by  the  green  parts  of  plants.     It  may  be  that 
the  chlorophyll  is  only  a  constant  concomitant  of  the  actual  deoxidising 
apparatus. 


VII.]  ANIMALS    AND    PLANTS.  161 

abundance  of  their  chlorophyll.  The  few  which 
contain  no  chlorophyll  and  are  colourless,  are  unable 
to  extract  the  carbon  which  they  require  from  atmo- 
spheric carbonic  acid,  and  lead  a  parasitic  existence 
upon  other  plants ;  but  it  by  no  means  follows,  often 
as  the  statement  has  been  repeated,  that  the  manu- 
facturing power  of  plants  depends  on  their  chlorophyll, 
and  its  interaction  with  the  rays  of  the  sun.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  easily  demonstrated,  as  Pasteur  first 
proved,  that  the  lowest  fungi,  devoid  of  chlorophyll, 
or  of  any  substitute  for  it,  as  they  are,  nevertheless 
possess  the  characteristic  manufacturing  powers  of 
plants  in  a  very  high  degree.  Only  it  is  necessary 
that  €hey  should  be  supplied  with  a  different  kind  of 
raw  material ;  as  they  cannot  extract  carbon  from 
carbonic  acid,  they  must  be  furnished  with  something 
else  that  contains  carbon.  Tartaric  acid  is  such  a 
substance ;  and  if  a  single  spore  of  the  commonest  and 
most  troublesome  of  moulds — Penicillium — be  sown 
in  a  saucerful  of  water,  in  which  tartrate  of  ammonia, 
with  a  small  percentage  of  phosphates  and  sulphates 
is  contained,  and  kept  warm,  whether  in  the  dark  or 
exposed  to  light,  it  will,  in  a  short  time,  give  rise  to  a 
thick  crust  of  mould,  which  contains  many  million 
times  the  weight  of  the  original  spore,  in  protein 
compounds  and  cellulose.  Thus  we  have  a  very  wide 
basis  of  fact  for  the  generalisation  that  plants  are 
essentially  characterised  by  their  manufacturing  capa- 
city— by  their  power  of  working  up  mere  mineral 
matters  into  complex  organic  compounds. 

Contrariwise,  there  is  a  no  less  wide  foundation 


162  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  [LECT. 

for  the  generalisation  that  animals,  as  Cuvier  puts  it, 
depend  directly  or  indirectly  upon  plants  for  the 
materials  of  -their  bodies ;  that  is,  either  they  are 
herbivorous,  or  they  eat  other  animals  which  are 
herbivorous. 

But  for  what  constituents  of  their  bodies  are 
animals  thus  dependent  upon  plants  ?  Certainly  not 
for  their  horny  matter ;  nor  for  chondrin,  the  proxi- 
mate chemical  element  of  cartilage ;  nor  for  gelatine ; 
nor  for  syntonin,  the  constituent  of.  muscle;  nor  for 
their  nervous  or  biliary  substances ;  nor  for  their 
amyloid  matters ;  nor,  necessarily,  for  their  fats. 

It  can  be  experimentally  demonstrated  that 
animals  can  make  these  for  themselves.  But  that 
which  they  cannot  make,  but  must,  in  all  known 
cases,  obtain  directly  or  indirectly  from  plants,  is  the 
peculiar  nitrogenous  matter,  protein.  Thus  the  plant 
is  the  ideal  proUtaire  of  the  living  world,  the  worker 
who  produces ;  the  animal,  the  ideal  aristocrat,  who 
mostly  occupies  himself  in  consuming,  after  the  manner 
of  that  noble  representative  of  the  line  of  Zahdarm, 
whose  epitaph  is  written  in  Sartor  Resartus. 

Here  is  our  last  hope  of  finding  a  sharp  line  of  de- 
marcation between  plants  and  animals ;  for,  as  I  have 
already  hinted,  there  is  a  border  territory  between  the 
two  kingdoms,  a  sort  of  no-man's-land,  the  inhabitants 
of  which  certainly  cannot  be  discriminated  and  brought 
to  their  proper  allegiance  in  any  other  way. 

Some  months  ago,  Professor  Tyndall  asked  me  to 
examine  a  drop  of  infusion  of  hay,  placed  under  an 
excellent  and  powerful  microscope,  and  to  tell  him 


VII.]  ANIMALS   AND   PLANTS.  163 

what  I  thought  some  organisms  visible  in  it  were.  I 
looked  and  observed,  in  the  first  place,  multitudes  of 
Bacteria  moving  about  with  their  ordinary  intermit- 
tent spasmodic  wriggles.  As  to  the  vegetable  nature 
of  these  there  is  now  no  doubt.  Not  only  does  the 
close  resemblance  of  the  Bacteria  to  unquestionable 
plants,  such  as  the  Oscillatorice,  and  lower  forms  of 
Fungi,  justify  this  conclusion,  but  the  manufacturing 
test  settles  the  question  at  once.  It  is  only  needful 
to  add  a  minute  drop  of  fluid  containing  Bacteria,  to 
water  in  which  tartrate,  phosphate,  and  sulphate  of 
ammonia  are  dissolved ;  and,  in  a  very  short  space  of 
time,  the  clear  fluid  becomes  milky  by  reason  of  their 
prodigious  multiplication,  which,  of  course,  implies  the 
manufacture  of  living  Bacterium-stuff  out  of  these 
merely  saline  matters. 

But  other  active  organisms,  very  much  larger  than 
the  Bacteria,  attaining  in  fact  the  comparatively 
gigantic  dimensions  of  30100  of  an  inch  or  more,  in- 
cessantly crossed  the  field  of  view.  Each  of  these  had 
a  body  shaped  like  a  pear,  the  small  end  being  slightly 
incurved  and  produced  into  a  long  curved  filament,  or 
cilium,  of  extreme  tenuity.  Behind  this,  from  the 
concave  side  of  the  incurvation,  proceeded  another 
long  cilium,  so  delicate  as  to  be  discernible  only  by 
the  use  of  the  highest  powers  and  careful  management 
of  the  light.  In  the  centre  of  the  pear-shaped  body  a 
clear  round  space  could  occasionally  be  discerned,  but 
not  always ;  and  careful  watching  showed  that  this 
clear  vacuity  appeared  gradually,  and  then  shut  up 
and  disappeared  suddenly,  at  regular  intervals.  Such 


164  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  [LECT. 

a  structure  is  of  common  occurrence  among  the  lowest 
plants  and  animals,  and  is  known  as  a  contractile 
vacuole. 

The  little  creature  thus  described  sometimes  pro- 
pelled itself  with  great  activity,  with  a  curious  rolling 
motion,  by  the  lashing  of  the  front  cilium,  while  the 
second  cilium  trailed  behind ;  sometimes  it  anchored 
itself  by  the  hinder  cilium  and  was  spun  round  by  the 
working  of  the  other,  its  motions  resembling  those  of 
an  anchor  buoy  in  a  heavy  sea.  Sometimes,  when  two 
were  in  full  career  towards  one  another,  each  would 
appear  dexterously  to  get  out  of  the  other's  way ; 
sometimes  a  crowd  would  assemble  and  jostle  one 
another,  with  as  much  semblance  of  individual  effort 
as  a  spectator  on  the  Grands  Mulets  might  observe 
with  a  telescope  among  the  specks  representing  men 
in  the  valley  of  Chamounix. 

The  spectacle,  though  always  surprising,  was  not 
new  to  me.  So  my  reply  to  the  question  put  to  me 
was,  that  these  organisms  were  what  biologists  call 
Monads,  and  though  they  might  be  animals,  it  was 
also  possible  that  they  might,  like  the  Bacteria,  be 
plants.  My  friend  received  my  verdict  with  an 
expression  which  showed  a  sad  want  of  respect  for 
authority.  He  would  as  soon  believe  that  a  sheep  was 
a  plant.  Naturally  piqued  by  this  want  of  faith,  I 
have  thought  a  good  deal  over  the  matter ;  and  as  I 
still  rest  in  the  lame  conclusion  I  originally  expressed, 
and  must  even  now  confess  that  I  cannot  certainly  say 
whether  this  creature  is  an  animal  or  a  plant,  I  think 
it  may  be  well  to  state  the  grounds  of  my  hesitation 


VII.]  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  165 

at  length.  But,  in  the  first  place,  in  order  that  I  may 
conveniently  distinguish  this  "  Monad "  from  the 
multitude  of  other  things  which  go  by  the  same 
designation,  I  must  give  it  a  name  of  its  own.  I 
think  (though,  for  reasons  which  need  not  be  stated  at 
present,  I  am  not  quite  sure)  that  it  is  identical  with 
the  species  Monas  lens,  as  defined  by  the  eminent 
French  microscopist  Dujardin,  though  his  magnifying 
power  was  probably  insufficient  to  enable  him  to  see 
that  it  is  curiously  like  a  much  larger  form  of  monad 
which  he  has  named  Heteromita.  I  shall,  therefore, 
call  it  not  Monas,  but  Heteromita  lens. 

I  have  been  unable  to  devote  to  my  Heteromita 
the  prolonged  study  needful  to  work  out  its  whole 
history,  which  would  involve  weeks,  or  it  may  be 
months,  of  unremitting  attention.  But  I  the  less  re- 
gret this  circumstance,  as  some  remarkable  observa- 
tions recently  published  by  Messrs.  Dallinger  and 
Drysdale1  on  certain  Monads,  relate,  in  part,  to  a  form 
so  similar  to  my  Heteromita  lens,  that  the  history  of 
the  one  may  be  used  to  illustrate  that  of  the  other. 
These  most  patient  and  painstaking  observers,  who 
employed  the  highest  attainable  powers  of  the  micro- 
scope and,  relieving  one  another,  kept  watch  day  and 
night  over  the  same  individual  monads,  have  been 
enabled  to  trace  out  the  whole  history  of  their  Heter- 
omita ;  which  they  found  in  infusions  of  the  heads  of 
fishes  of  the  Cod  tribe. 

1  "  Researches  in  the  Life -history  of  a  Cercomonad  :  a  Lesson  in 
Biogenesis  ;"  and  "  Further  Researches  in  the  Life -history  of  the 
Monads." — "Monthly  Microscopical  Journal,"  1873. 


166  ANIMALS    AND    PLANTS.  [LECT. 

Of  the  four  monads  described  and  figured  by  these 
investigators,  one,  as  I  have  said,  very  closely 
resembles  Heteromita  lens  in  every  particular,  except 
that  it  has  a  separately  distinguishable  central  particle 
or  "  nucleus,"  which  is  not  certainly  to  be  made  out 
in  Heteromita  lens;  and  that  nothing  is  said  by 
Messrs.  Dallinger  and  Drysdale  of  the  existence  of  a 
contractile  vacuole  in  this  monad,  though  they 
describe  it  in  another. 

Their  Heteromita,  however,  multiplied  rapidly  by 
fission.  Sometimes  a  transverse  constriction  ap- 
peared ;  the  hinder  half  developed  a  new  cilium,  and 
the  hinder  cilium  gradually  split  from  its  base  to  its 
free  end,  until  it  was  divided  into  two ;  a  process 
which,  considering  the  fact  that  this  fine  filament 
cannot  be  much  more  than  xrmTJcJt)  °f  an  incn  *n 
diameter,  is  wonderful  enough.  The  constriction  of 
the  body  extended  inwards  until  the  two  portions 
were  united  by  a  narrow  isthmus ;  finally,  they  separ- 
ated and  each  swam  away  by  itself,  a  complete  Heter- 
omita, provided  with  its  two  cilia.  Sometimes  the 
constriction  took  a  longitudinal  direction,  with  the 
same  ultimate  result.  In  each  case  the  process  occu- 
pied not  more  than  six  or  seven  minutes.  At  this 
rate,  a  single  Heteromita  would  give  rise  to  a 
thousand  like  itself  in  the  course  of  an  hour,  to  about 
a  million  in  two  hours,  and  to  a  number  greater  than 
the  generally  assumed  number  of  human  beings  now 
living  in  the  world  in  three  hours ;  or,  if  we  give  each 
Heteromita  an  hour's  enjoyment  of  individual  exist- 
ence, the  same  result  will  be  obtained  in  about  a  day. 


VIL]  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  167 

The  apparent  suddenness  of  the  appearance  of  multi- 
tudes of  such  organisms  as  these,  in  any  nutritive  fluid 
to  which  one  obtains  access,  is  thus  easily  explained. 

During  these  processes  of  multiplication  by  fission, 
the  Heteromita  remains  active ;  but  sometimes  another 
mode  of  fission  occurs.  The  body  becomes  rounded 
and  quiescent,  or  nearly  so  ;  and,  while  in  this  resting 
state,  divides  into  two  portions,  each  of  which  is 
rapidly  converted  into  an  active  Heteromita. 

A  still  more  remarkable  phenomenon  is  that  kind 
of  multiplication  which  is  preceded  by  the  union  of 
two  monads,  by  a  process  which  is  termed  conjuga- 
tion. Two  active  Heteromitce  become  applied  to  one 
another,  and  then  slowly  and  gradually  coalesce  into 
one  body.  The  two  nuclei  run  into  one ;  and  the 
mass  resulting  from  the  conjugation  of  the  two 
Heteromitce,  thus  fused  together,  has  a  triangular 
form.  The  two  pairs  of  cilia  are  to  be  seen,  for  some 
time,  at  two  of  the  angles,  which  answer  to  the  small 
ends  of  the  conjoined  monads ;  but  they  ultimately 
vanish,  and  the  twin  organism,  in  which  all  visible 
traces  of  organisation  have  disappeared,  falls  into  a 
state  of  rest.  Sudden  wave -like  movements  of  its 
substance  next  occur ;  and,  in  a  short  time,  the 
apices  of  the  triangular  mass  burst,  and  give  exit  to  a 
dense  yellowish,  glairy  fluid,  filled  with  minute  gran- 
ules. This  process,  which,  it  will  be  observed, 
involves  the  actual  confluence  and  mixture  of  the 
substance  of  two  distinct  organisms,  is  effected  in  the 
space  of  about  two  hours. 

The  authors  whom  I  quote  say  that  they  "cannot 


168  ANIMALS    AND    PLANTS.  [LBCT. 

express  "  the  excessive  minuteness  of  the  granules  in 
question,  and  they  estimate  their  diameter  at  less 
than  YTJCMXX)  °^  an  inch.  Under  the  highest  powers 
of  the  microscope  at  present  applicable  such  specks 
are  hardly  discernible.  Nevertheless,  particles  of  this 
size  are  massive  when  compared  to  physical  molecules; 
whence  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  each,  small  as 
it  is,  may  have  a  molecular  structure  sufficiently  com- 
plex to  give  rise  to  the  phenomena  of  life.  And,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  by  patient  watching  of  the  place  at 
which  these  infinitesimal  living  particles  were  dis- 
charged, our  observers  assured  themselves  of  their 
growth  and  development  into  new  monads.  These, 
in  about  four  hours  from  their  being  set  free,  had 
attained  a  sixth  of  the  length  of  the  parent,  with  the 
characteristic  cilia,  though  at  first  they  were  quite 
motionless  ;  and,  in  four  hours  more,  they  had  attained 
the  dimensions  and  exhibited  all  the  activity  of  the 
adult.  These  inconceivably  minute  particles  are 
therefore  the  germs  of  the  Heteromita ;  and  from  the 
dimensions  of  these  germs  it  is  easily  shown  that  the 
body  formed  by  conjugation  may,  at  a  low  estimate, 
have  given  exit  to  thirty  thousand  of  them  ;  a  result 
of  a  matrimonial  process  whereby  the  contracting 
parties,  without  a  metaphor,  "  become  one  flesh," 
enough  to  make  a  Malthusian  despair  of  the  future  of 
the  Universe. 

I  am  not  aware  that  the  investigators  from  whom 
I  have  borrowed  this  history  have  endeavoured  to 
ascertain  whether  their  monads  take  solid  nutriment 
or  not ;  so  that  though  they  help  us  very  much  to 


VII.]  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  169 

fill  up  the  blanks  in  the  history  of  my  Heteromita, 
their  observations  throw  no  light  on  the  problem  we 
are  trying  to  solve — Is  it  an  animal  or  is  it  a  plant  ? 

Undoubtedly  it  is  possible  to  bring  forward  very 
strong  arguments  in  favour  of  regarding  Heteromita 
as  a  plant. 

For  example,  there  is  a  Fungus,  an  obscure  and 
almost  microscopic  mould,  termed  Peronospora  in- 
festans.  Like  many  other  Fungi,  the  Peronosporce 
are  parasitic  upon  other  plants;  and  this  particular 
Peronospora  happens  to  have  attained  much  notoriety 
and  political  importance,  in  a  way  not  without  a 
parallel  in  the  career  of  notorious  politicians,  namely, 
by  reason  of  the  frightful  mischief  it  has  done  to 
mankind.  For  it  is  this  Fungus  which  is  the  cause 
of  the  potato  disease ;  and,  therefore,  Peronospora 
infestans  (doubtless  of  exclusively  Saxon  origin, 
though  not  accurately  known  to  be  so)  brought  about 
the  Irish  famine.  The  plants  afflicted  with  the 
malady  are  found  to  be  infested  by  a  mould,  consist- 
ing of  fine  tubular  filaments,  termed  hyphce,  which 
burrow  through  the  substance  of  the  potato  plant, 
and  appropriate  to  themselves  the  substance  of  their 
host ;  while,  at  the  same  time,  directly  or  indirectly, 
they  set  up  chemical  changes  by  which  even  its 
woody  framework  becomes  blackened,  sodden,  and 
withered. 

In  structure,  however,  the  Peronospora  is  as  much 
a  mould  as  the  common  Penicillium;  and  just  as  the 
Penicillium  multiplies  by  the  breaking  up  of  its  hyphae 
into  separate  rounded  bodies,  the  spores;  so,  in  the 


170  ANIMALS    AND    PLANTS. 

Peronospora,  certain  of  the  hyphae  grow  out  into  the 
air  through  the  interstices  of  the  superficial  cells  of 
the  potato  plant,  and  develop  spores.  Each  of  these 
hyphge  usually  gives  off  several  branches.  The  ends 
of  the  branches  dilate  and  become  closed  sacs,  which 
eventually  drop  off  as  spores.  The  spores  falling  on 
some  part  of  the  same  potato  plant,  or  carried  by  the 
wind  to  another,  may  at  once  germinate,  throwing 
out  tubular  prolongations  which  become  hyphse,  and 
burrow  into  the  substance  of  the  plant  attacked. 
But,  more  commonly,  the  contents  of  the  spore  divide 
into  six  or  eight  separate  portions.  The  coat  of  the 
spore  gives  way,  and  each  portion  then  emerges  as  an 
independent  organism,  which  has  the  shape  of  a  bean, 
rather  narrower  at  one  end  than  the  other,  convex  on 
one  side,  and  depressed  or  concave  on  the  opposite. 
From  the  depression,  two  long  and  delicate  cilia  pro- 
ceed, one  shorter  than  the  other,  and  directed  forwards. 
Close  to  the  origin  of  these  cilia,  in  the  substance  of 
the  body,  is  a  regularly  pulsating,  contractile  vacuole. 
The  shorter  cilium  vibrates  actively,  and  effects  the 
locomotion  of  the  organism,  while  the  other  trails 
behind  ;  the  whole  body  rolling  on  its  axis  with  its 
pointed  end  forwards. 

The  eminent  botanist,  De  Bary,  who  was  not 
thinking  of  our  problem,  tells  us,  in  describing  the 
movements  of  these  "  Zoospores,"  that,  as  they  swim 
about,  "  Foreign  bodies  are  carefully  avoided,  and  the 
whole  movement  has  a  deceptive  likeness  to  the 
voluntary  changes  of  place  which  are  observed  in 
microscopic  animals." 


VIL]  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  171 

After  swarming  about  in  this  way  in  the  moisture 
on  the  surface  of  a  leaf  or  stem  (which,  film  though 
it  may  be,  is  an  ocean  to  such  a  fish)  for  half  an  hour, 
more  or  less,  the  movement  of  the  zoospore  becomes 
slower,  and  is  limited  to  a  slow  turning  upon  its 
axis,  without  change  of  place.  It  then  becomes  quite 
quiet,  the  cilia  disappear,  it  assumes  a  spherical  form, 
and  surrounds  itself  with  a  distinct,  though  delicate, 
membranous  coat.  A  protuberance  then  grows  out 
from  one  side  of  the  sphere,  and  rapidly  increasing 
in  length,  assumes  the  character  of  a  hypha.  The 
latter  penetrates  into  the  substance  of  the  potato 
plant,  either  by  entering  a  stomate,  or  by  boring 
through  the  wall  of  an  epidermic  cell,  and  ramifies,  as 
a  mycelium,  in  the  substance  of  the  plant,  destroying 
the  tissues  with  which  it  comes  in  contact.  As  these 
processes  of  multiplication  take  place  very  rapidly, 
millions  of  spores  are  soon  set  free  from  a  single 
infested  plant ;  and,  from  their  minuteness,  they  are 
readily  transported  by  the  gentlest  breeze.  Since, 
again,  the  zoospores  set  free  from  each  spore,  in  virtue 
of  their  powers  of  locomotion,  swiftly  disperse  them- 
selves over  the  surface,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  infec- 
tion, once  started,  soon  spreads  from  field  to  field,  and 
extends  its  ravages  over  a  whole  country. 

However,  it  does  not  enter  into  my  present  plan 
to  treat  of  the  potato  disease,  instructively  as  its 
history  bears  upon  that  of  other  epidemics;  and  I  have 
selected  the  case  of  the  Peronospora  simply  because 
it  affords  an  example  of  an  organism,  which,  in  one 
stage  of  its  existence,  is  truly  a  "  Monad,"  indistin- 


172  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  [LECT. 

guishable  by  any  important  character  from  our  Hetero- 
mita,  and  extraordinarily  like  it  in  some  respects. 
And  yet  this  "  Monad  "  can  be  traced,  step  by  step, 
through  the  series  of  metamorphoses  which  I  have 
described,  until  it  assumes  the  features  of  an  organism, 
which  is  as  much  a  plant  as  is  an  oak  or  an  elm. 

Moreover,  it  would  be  possible  to  pursue  the 
analogy  farther.  Under  certain  circumstances,  a  pro- 
cess of  conjugation  takes  place  in  the  Peronospora. 
Two  separate  portions  of  its  protoplasm  become  fused 
together,  surround  themselves  with  a  thick  coat,  and 
give  rise  to  a  sort  of  vegetable  egg  called  an  oospore. 
After  a  period  of  rest,  the  contents  of  the  oospore 
break  up  into  a  number  of  zoospores  like  those 
already  described,  each  of  which,  after  a  period  of 
activity,  germinates  in  the  ordinary  way.  This  process 
obviously  corresponds  with  the  conjugation  and  sub- 
sequent setting  free  of  germs  in  the  Heteromita. 

But  it  may  be  said  that  the  Peronospora  is,  after 
all,  a  questionable  sort  of  plant ;  that  it  seems  to  be 
wanting  in  the  manufacturing  power,  selected  as  the 
main  distinctive  character  of  vegetable  life ;  or,  at 
any  rate,  that  there  is  no  proof  that  it  does  not  get 
its  protein  matter  ready  made  from  the  potato  plant. 

Let  us,  therefore,  take  a  case  which  is  not  open  to 
these  objections. 

There  are  some  small  plants  known  to  botanists 
as  members  of  the  genus  Coleochcete,  which,  without 
being  truly  parasitic,  grow  upon  certain  water-weeds, 
as  lichens  grow  upon  trees.  The  little  plant  has  the 
form  of  an  elegant  green  star,  the  branching  arms  of 


VII.]  ANIMALS   AND   PLANTS.  173 

which  are  divided  into  cells.  Its  greenness  is  due  to 
its  chlorophyll,  and  it  undoubtedly  has  the  manufac- 
turing power  in  full  degree,  decomposing  carbonic 
acid  and  setting  oxygen  free,  under  the  influence  of 
sunlight.  But  the  protoplasmic  contents  of  some  of  the 
cells  of  which  the  plant  is  made  up  occasionally  divide, 
by  a  method  similar  to  that  which  effects  the  division 
of  the  contents  of  the  Peronospora  spore;  and  the 
severed  portions  are  then  set  free  as  active  monad-like 
zoospores.  Each  is  oval  and  is  provided  at  one 
extremity  with  two  long  active  cilia.  Propelled  by 
these,  it  swims  about  for  a  longer  or  shorter  time,  but 
at  length  comes  to  a  state  of  rest  and  gradually  grows 
into  a  Coleochcete.  Moreover,  as  in  the  Peronospora, 
conjugation  may  take  place  and  result  in  an  oospore ; 
the  contents  of  which  divide  and  are  set  free  as 
monadiform  germs. 

If  the  whole  history  of  the  zoospores  of  Perono- 
spora and  of  Coleochcete  were  unknown,  they  would 
undoubtedly  be  classed  among  "  Monads "  with  the 
same  right  as  Heteromita ;  why  then  may  not 
Heteromita  be  a  plant,  even  though  the  cycle  of 
forms  through  which  it  passes  shows  no  terms  quite 
so  complex  as  those  which  occur  in  Peronospora  and 
Coleochcete  ?  And,  in  fact,  there  are  some  green 
organisms,  in  every  respect  characteristically  plants, 
such  as  Chlamydomonas,  and  the  common  Volvox,  or 
so-called  "  Globe  animalcule,"  which  run  through  a 
cycle  of  forms  of  just  the  same  simple  character  as 
those  of  Heteromita. 

The  name  of  Chlamydomonas  is  applied  to  certain 


174  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  [LECT. 

microscopic  green  bodies,  each  of  which  consists  of  a 
protoplasmic  central  substance  invested  by  a  struc- 
tureless sac.  The  latter  contains  cellulose,  as  in  ordi- 
nary plants  ;  and  the  chlorophyll  which  gives  the  green 
colour  enables  the  Chlamydomonas  to  decompose  car- 
bonic acid  and  fix  carbon  as  they  do.  Two  long  cilia 
protrude  through  the  cell-wall,  and  effect  the  rapid 
locomotion  of  this  "monad,"  which,  in  all  respects 
except  its  mobility,  is  characteristically  a  plant. 
Under  ordinary  circumstances,  the  Chlamydomonas 
multiplies  by  simple  fission,  each  splitting  into  two  or 
into  four  parts,  which  separate  and  become  independent 
organisms.  Sometimes,  however,  the  Chlamydomonas 
divides  into  eight  parts,  each  of  which  is  provided 
with  four  instead  of  two  cilia,  These  "  zoospores  " 
conjugate  in  pairs,  and  give  rise  to  quiescent  bodies, 
which  multiply  by  division,  and  eventually  pass  into 
the  active  state. 

Thus,  so  far  as  outward  form  and  the  general 
character  of  the  cycle  of  modifications,  through  which 
the  organism  passes  in  the  course  of  its  life,  are  con- 
cerned, the  resemblance  between  Chlamydomonas  and 
Heteromita  is  of  the  closest  description.  And  on  the 
face  of  the  matter  there  is  no  ground  for  refusing  to 
admit  that  Heteromita  may  be  related  to  Chlamydo- 
monas, as  the  colourless  fungus  is  to  the  green  alga. 
Volvox  may  be  compared  to  a  hollow  sphere,  the 
wall  of  which  is  made  up  of  coherent  Chlamydo- 
monads ;  and  which  progresses  with  a  rotating  motion 
effected  by  the  paddling  of  the  multitudinous  pairs  of 
cilia  which  project  from  its  surface.  Each  Volvox- 


VII. ]  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  175 

monad,  moreover,  possesses  a  red  pigment  spot,  like 
the  simplest  form  of  eye  known  among  animals. 
The  methods  of  fissive  multiplication  and  of  con- 
jugation observed  in  the  monads  of  this  locomotive 
globe  are  essentially  similar  to  those  'observed  in 
Chlamydomonas  ;  and,  though  a  hard  battle  has  been 
fought  over  it,  Volvox  is  now  finally  surrendered  to 
the  Botanists. 

Thus  there  is  really  no  reason  why  Heteromita 
may  not  be  a  plant ;  and  this  conclusion  would  be 
very  satisfactory,  if  it  were  not  equally  easy  to  show 
that  there  is  really  no  reason  why  it  should  not  be  an 
animal.  For  there  are  numerous  organisms  presenting 
the  closest  resemblance  to  Heteromita,  and,  like  it, 
grouped  under  the  general  name  of  "  Monads/'  which, 
nevertheless,  can  be  observed  to  take  in  solid  nutri- 
ment, and  which,  therefore,  have  a  virtual,  if  not  an 
actual,  mouth  and  digestive  cavity,  and  thus  come 
under  Cuvier's  definition  of  an  animal.  Numerous 
forms  of  such  animals  have  been  described  by  Ehren- 
berg,  Dujardin,  H.  James  Clark,  and  other  writers  on 
the  Infusoria.  Indeed,  in  another  infusion  of  hay 
in  which  my  Heteromita  lens  occurred,  there  were 
innumerable  infusorial  animalcules  belonging  to  the 
well-known  species  Colpoda  cucullus.1 

Full-sized  specimens  of  this  animalcule  attain  a 
length  of  between  ^^  or  ^^  of  an  inch,  so  that  it 
may  have  ten  times  the  length  and  a  thousand  times 
the  mass  of  a  Heteromita.  In  shape,  it  is  not  alto- 

1  Excellently  described  by  Stein,  almost  all  of  whose  statements  I 
have  verified. 


176  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  [LECT. 

gether  unlike  Heteromita.  The  small  end,  however, 
is  not  produced  into  one  long  cilium,  but  the  general 
surface  of  the  body  is  covered  with  small  actively 
vibrating  ciliary  organs,  which  are  only  longest  at  the 
small  end.  At  the  point  which  answers  to  that  from 
which  the  two  cilia  arise  in  Heteromita,  there  is  a 
conical  depression,  the  mouth ;  and,  in  young  speci- 
mens, a  tapering  filament,  which  reminds  one  of  the 
posterior  cilium  of  Heteromita)  projects  from  this 
region. 

The  body  consists  of  a  soft  granular  protoplasmic 
substance,  the  middle  of  which  is  occupied  by  a  large 
oval  mass  called  the  "  nucleus  ;"  while,  at  its  hinder 
end,  is  "a  "  contractile  vacuole,"  conspicuous  by  its 
regular  rhythmic  appearances  and  disappearances. 
Obviously,  although  the  Colpoda  is  not  a  monad,  it 
differs  from  one  only  in  subordinate  details.  More- 
over, under  certain  conditions,  it  becomes  quiescent, 
incloses  itself  in  a  delicate  case  or  cyst,  and  then  divides 
into  two,  four,  or  more  portions,  which  are  eventually 
set  free  and  swim  about  as  active  Colpodce. 

But  this  creature  is  an  unmistakable  animal,  and 
full-sized  Colpodce  may  be  fed  as  easily  as  one  feeds 
chickens.  It  is  only  needful  to  diffuse  very  finely 
ground  carmine  through  the  water  in  which  they  live, 
and,  in  a  very  short  time,  the  bodies  of  the  Colpodce 
are  stuffed  with  the  deeply-coloured  granules  of  the 
pigment. 

And  if  this  were  not  sufficient  evidence  of  the 
animality  of  Colpoda,  there  comes  the  fact  that  it  is 
even  more  similar  to  another  well-known  animalcule, 


VII.]  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  177 

Paramcecium,  than  it  is  to  a  monad.  But  Paramce- 
cium  is  so  huge  a  creature  compared  with  those 
hitherto  discussed — it  reaches  -j^j  of  an  inch  or  more 
in  length — that  there  is  no  difficulty  in  making  out 
its  organisation  in  detail ;  and  in  proving  that  it  is 
not  only  an  animal,  but  that  it  is  an  animal  which 
possesses  a  somewhat  complicated  organisation.  For 
example,  the  surface  layer  of  its  body  is  different  in 
structure  from  the  deeper  parts.  There  are  two  con- 
tractile vacuoles,  from  each  of  which  radiates  a  system 
of  vessel-like  canals ;  and  not  only  is  there  a  conical 
depression  continuous  with  a  tube,  which  serve  as 
mouth  and  gullet,  but  the  food  ingested  takes  a 
definite  course,  and  refuse  is  rejected  from  a  definite 
region.  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  feed  these  animals, 
and  to  watch  the  particles  of  indigo  or  carmine  accu- 
mulate at  the  lower  end  of  the  gullet.  From  this 
they  gradually  project,  surrounded  by  a  ball  of  water, 
which  at  length  passes  with  a  jerk,  oddly  simulating 
a  gulp,  into  the  pulpy  central  substance  of  the  body, 
there  to  circulate  up  one  side  and  down  the  other, 
until  its  contents  are  digested  and  assimilated.  Never- 
theless, this  complex  animal  multiplies  by  division,  as 
the  monad 'does,  and,  like  the  monad,  undergoes  con- 
jugation. It  stands  in  the  same  relation  to  Hetero- 
mita  on  the  animal  side,  as  Coleochcete  does  on  the 
plant  side.  Start  from  either,  and  such  an  insensible 
series  of  gradations  leads  to  the  monad  that  it  is 
impossible  to  say  at  any  stage  of  the  progress — here 
the  line  between  the  animal  and  the  plant  must  be 
drawn. 

N 


178  ANIMALS   AND    PLANTS.  [LECT. 

There  is  reason  to  think  that  certain  organisms 
which  pass  through  a  monad  stage  of  existence,  such 
as  the  Myxomycetes,  are,  at  one  time  of  their  lives, 
dependent  upon  external  sources  for  their  protein 
matter,  or  are  animals ;  and,  at  another  period,  manu- 
facture it,  or  are  plants.  And  seeing  that  the  whole 
progress  of  modern  investigation  is  in  favour  of  the 
doctrine  of  continuity,  it  is  a  fair  and  probable 
speculation  —  though  only  a  speculation  —  that,  as 
there  are  some  plants  which  can  manufacture  protein 
out  of  such  apparently  intractable  mineral  matters  as 
carbonic  acid,  water,  nitrate  of  ammonia,  metallic  and 
earthy  salts ;  while  others  need  to  be  supplied  with 
their  carbon  and  nitrogen  in  the  somewhat  less  raw 
form  of  tartrate  of  ammonia  and  allied  compounds ; 
so  there  may  be  yet  others,  as  is  possibly  the  case  with 
the  true  parasitic  plants,  which  can  only  manage  to 
put  together  materials  still  better  prepared — still  more 
nearly  approximated  to  protein — until  we  arrive  at 
such  organisms  as  the  Psorospermice  and  the  Pan- 
histophyton,  which  are  as  much  animal  as  vegetable 
in  structure,  but  are  animal  in  their  dependence  on 
other  organisms  for  their  food. 

The  singular  circumstance  observed  by  Meyer, 
that  the  Torula  of  yeast,  though  an  indubitable 
plant,  still  flourishes  most  vigorously  when  supplied 
with  the  complex  nitrogenous  substance,  pepsin ;  the 
probability  that  the  Peronospora  is  nourished  directly 
by  the  protoplasm  of  the  potato-plant ;  and  the  won- 
derful facts  which  have  recently  been  brought  to  light 
respecting  insectivorous  plants,  all  favour  this  view ; 


VH.]  ANIMALS  AND   PLANTS.  179 

and  tend  to  the  conclusion  that  the  difference  between 
animal  and  plant  is  one  of  degree  rather  than  of  kind ; 
and  that  the  problem  whether,  in  a  given  case,  an 
organism  is  an  animal  or  a  plant,  may  be  essentially 
insoluble. 


180  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED   TO   ARISTOTLE.  [LECT. 


VIII. 

ON  CERTAIN  ERRORS  RESPECTING  THE 
STRUCTURE  OF  THE  HEART  ATTRI- 
BUTED TO  ARISTOTLE. 

IN  all  the  commentaries  upon  the  "  Historia  Ani- 
malium  "  which  I  have  met  with,  Aristotle's  express 
and  repeated  statement,  that  the  heart  of  man  and 
the  largest  animals  contains  only  three  cavities,  is 
noted  as  a  remarkable  error.  Even  Cuvier,  who  had 
a  great  advantage  over  most  of  the  commentators  in 
his  familiarity  with  the  subject  of  Aristotle's  descrip- 
tion, and  whose  habitual  caution  and  moderation 
seem  to  desert  him  when  the  opportunity  of  pane- 
gyrising the  philosopher  presents  itself,  is  betrayed 
into  something  like  a  sneer  on  this  topic. 

"  Du  reste  il  n'attribue  a  cet  organe  que  trois  cavity's,  erreur 
qui  prouve  au  moins  qu'il  en  avait  regard^  la  structure."1 

To  which  remark,  what  follows  will,  I  think, 
justify  the  reply,  that  it  "  prouve  au  moins "  that 
Cuvier  had  not  given  ordinary  attention,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  careful  study  which  they  deserve,  to 
sundry  passages  in  the  first  and  the  third  books  of  the 
"  Historia  "  which  I  proceed  to  lay  before  the  reader. 

:  "Histoire  des  Sciences  Naturelles,"  i.  p.  152. 


VIII.]  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED    TO    ARISTOTLE.  181 

For  convenience  of  reference  these  passages  are 
marked  A,  B,  C,  etc.1 

Book  i.  17. — (A)  "The  heart  has  three  cavities,  it  lies  above 
the  lung  on  the  division  of  the  windpipe,  and  has  a  fatty  and 
thick  membrane  where  it  is  united  with  the  great  vein  and  the 
aorta.  It  lies  upon  the  aorta,  with  its  point  down  the  chest,  in 
all  animals  that  have  a  chest.  In  all,  alike  in  those  that  have  a 
chest  and  in  those  that  have  none,  the  foremost  part  of  it  is  the 
apex.  This  is  often  overlooked  through  the  turning  upside  down 
of  the  dissection.  The  rounded  end  of  the  heart  is  uppermost, 
the  pointed  end  of  it  is  largely  fleshy  and  thick,  and  in  its 
cavities  there  are  tendons.  In  other  animals  which  have  a  chest 
the  heart  lies  in  the  middle  of  the  chest ;  in  men,  more  to  the 
left  side,  between  the  nipples,  a  little  inclined  to  the  left  nipple 
in  the  upper  part  of  the  chest.  The  heart  is  not  large,  and  its 
general  form  is  not  elongated  but  rounded,  except  that  the  apex 
is  produced  into  a  point. 

(B)  "  It  has,  as  already  stated,  three  cavities,  the  largest  of 
them  is  on  the  right,  the  smallest  on  the  left,  the  middle-sized 
one  in  the  middle ;  they  have  all,  also  the  two  small  ones,  pass- 
ages (T6Tprjfji€va<s)  towards  the  lung,  very  evidently  as  respects 
one  of  the  cavities.  In  the  region  of  the  union  [with  the  great 
vein  and  the  aorta]  the  largest  cavity  is  connected  with  the 
largest  vein  (near  which  is  the  mesentery) ;  the  middle  cavity 
with  the  aorta. 

(G)  "  Canals  (770/301)  from  the  heart  pass  to  the  lung  and 
divide  in  the  same  fashion  as  the  windpipe  does,  closely  accom- 
panying those  from  the  windpipe  through  the  whole  lung.  The 
canals  from  the  heart  are  uppermost. 

(D)  "  No  canal  is  common  [to  the  branches  of  the  windpipe 
and  those  of  the  vein]  (ouSeis  8'  ICTTI  KOIVOS  TTO/DOS)  but  through 


1  The  text  I  have  followed  is  that  given  by  Aubert  and  Winimer, 
"  Aristoteles  Thierkunde  ;  kritisch  berichtigter  Text  mit  deiitschen 
Uebersetzung  ;"  but  I  have  tried  here  and  there  to  bring  the  English 
version  rather  closer  to  the  original  than  the  German  translation,  ex- 
cellent as  it  is,  seems  to  me  to  be. 


182  ERRORS    ATTRIBUTED    TO    ARISTOTLE.  [LECT. 

those  parts  of  them  which  are  in  contact   (TTJV  o-vva^tv)  the 
air  passes  in  and  they  [the  TTO/OOI]  carry  it  to  the  heart. 

(E)  "  One  of  the  canals  leads  to  the  right  cavity,  the  other 
to  the  left." 

(F)  "  Of  all  the  viscera,  the  heart  alone  contains  blood  [in 
itself].     The  lung  contains  blood,  not  in  itself  but  in  the  veins, 
the  heart  in  itself ;  for  in  each  of  the  cavities  there  is  blood ; 
the  thinnest  is  in  the  middle  cavity." 

Book  iii.  3. — (G)  "Two  veins  lie  in  the  thorax  alongside  the 
spine,  on  its  inner  face  j  the  larger  more  forwards,  the  smaller 
behind ;  the  larger  more  to  the  right,  the  smaller,  which  some 
call  aorta  (on  account  of  the  tendinous  part  of  it  seen  in  dead 
bodies),  to  the  left.  These  take  their  origin  from  the  heart ; 
they  pass  entire,  preserving  the  nature  of  veins,  through  the 
other  viscera  that  they  reach ;  while  the  heart  is  rather  a  part 
of  them,  and  more  especially  of  the  anterior  and  larger  one, 
which  is  continued  into  veins  above  and  below,  while  between 
these  is  the  heart. 

(H)  "  All  hearts  contain  cavities,  but,  in  those  of  very  small 
animals,  the  largest  [cavity]  is  hardly  visible,  those  of  middling 
size  have  another,  and  the  biggest  all  three. 

(I)  "  The  point  of  the  heart  is  directed  forwards,  as  was  men- 
tioned at  first ;  the  largest  cavity  to  the  right  and  upper  side  of 
it,  the  smallest  to  the  left,  and  the  middle-sized  one  between 
these ;  both  of  these  are  much  smaller  than  the  largest. 

(K)  "  They  are  all  connected  by  passages  (a-wTtTpyvTai)  with 
the  lung,  but,  on  account  of  the  smallness  of  the  canals,  this  is 
obscure  except  in  one. 

(L)  "  The  great  vein  proceeds  from  the  largest  cavity  which 
lies  upwards  and  to  the  right ;  next  through  the  hollow  middle 
part  (8ta  TOV  KotAov  rov  fteo-ov)  it  becomes  vein  again,  this  cavity 
being  a  part  of  the  vein  in  which  the  blood  stagnates. 

(M)  "  The  aorta  [proceeds  from]  the  middle  [cavity],  but  not 
in  the  same  way,  for  it  is  connected  [with  the  middle  cavity]  by 
a  much  more  narrow  tube  (o-vpiyya). 

(N)  "  The  [great]  vein  extends  through  the  heart,  towards 
the  aorta  from  the  heart. 

(0)  "The  great  vein  is  membranous  like  skin,  the  aorta 
narrower  than  it  and  very  tendinous,  and  as  it  extends  towards 


VIII.  ]  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED    TO   ARISTOTLE.  183 

the  head  and  the  lower  parts  it  becomes  narrow  and  altogether 
tendinous. 

(P)  "In  the  first  place,  a  part  of  the  great  vein  extends 
upwards  from  the  heart  towards  the  lung  and  the  attachment  of 
the  aorta,  the  vein  being  large  and  undivided.  It  divides  into 
two  parts,  the  one  to  the  lung,  the  other  to  the  spine  and  the 
lowest  vertebra  of  the  neck. 

(Q)  "  The  vein  which  extends  to  the  lung  first  divides  into 
two  parts  for  the  two  halves  of  it  and  then  extends  alongside 
each  tube  (a-vpiyya)  and  each  passage  (rp^a),  the  larger  beside 
the  larger  and  the  smaller  beside  the  smaller,  so  that  no  part 
[of  the  lung]  can  be  found  from  which  a  passage  (lywj/Aa)  and  a 
vein  are  absent.  The  terminations  are  invisible  on  account  of 
their  minuteness,  but  the  whole  lung  appears  full  of  blood.  The 
canals  from  the  vein  lie  above  the  tubes  given  off  from  the 
windpipe." 

The  key  to  the  whole  of  the  foregoing  description 
of  the  heart  lies  in  the  passages  (G)  and  (L).  They 
prove  that  Aristotle,  like  Galen,  five  hundred  years 
afterwards,  and  like  the  great  majority  of  the  old 
Greek  anatomists,  did  not  reckon  what  we  call  the 
right  auricle  as  a  constituent  of  the  heart  at  all,  but 
as  a  hollow  part,  or  dilatation,  of  the  "  great  vein." 
Aristotle  is  careful  to  state  that  his  observations  were 
conducted  on  suffocated  animals ;  and  if  any  one  will 
lay  open  the  thorax  of  a  dog  or  a  rabbit,  which  has 
been  killed  with  chloroform,  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
avoid  wounding  any  important  vessel,  he  will  at  once 
see  why  Aristotle  adopted  this  view. 

For,  as  the  subjoined  figure  (p.  185)  shows,  the 
vena  cava  inferior  (6),  the  right  auricle  (R.a.),  and 
the  vena  cava  superior  and  innominate  vein  (F.7.) 
distended  with  blood  seem  to  form  one  continuous 
column,  to  which  the  heart  is  attached  as  a  sort 


184  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED   TO   ARISTOTLE.  [LECT. 

of  appendage.  This  column  is,  as  Aristotle  says, 
vein  above  (a)  and  vein  below  (6),  the  upper  and 
the  lower  divisions  being  connected  Sto-  TOV  KoEKov  TOV 
fjuea-ov — or  by  means  of  the  intervening  cavity  or 
chamber  (R.a.) — which  is  that  which  we  call  the 
right  auricle. 

But  when,  from  the  four  cavities  of  the  heart 
recognised  by  us  moderns,  one  is  excluded,  there 
remain  three — which  is  just  what  Aristotle  says. 
The  solution  of  the  difficulty  is,  in  fact,  as  absurdly 
simple  as  that  presented  by  the  egg  of  Columbus ; 
and  any  error  there  may  be,  is  not  to  be  put  down  to 
Aristotle,  but  to  that  inability  to  comprehend  that  the 
same  fact  may  be  accurately  described  in  different 
ways,  which  is  the  special  characteristic  of  the  com- 
mentatorial  mind.  That  the  three  cavities  mentioned 
by  Aristotle  are  just  those  which  remain  if  the  right 
auricle  is  omitted,  is  plain  enough  from  what  is  said 
in  (B),  (<7),  (E),  (/),  and  (L).  For,  in  a  suffocated 
animal,  the  "  right  cavity "  which  is  directly  con- 
nected with  the  great  vein,  and  is  obviously  the  right 
ventricle,  being  distended  with  blood,  will  look  much 
larger  than  the  middle  cavity,  which,  since  it  gives 
rise  to  the  aorta,  can  only  be  the  left  ventricle.  And 
this,  again,  will  appear  larger  than  the  thin  and 
collapsed  left  auricle,  which  must  be  Aristotle's  left 
cavity,  inasmuch  as  this  cavity  is  said  to  be  con- 
nected by  TTopoi  with  the  lung.  The  reason  why 
Aristotle  considered  the  left  auricle  to  be  a  part  of 
the  heart,  while  he  merged  the  right  auricle  in  the 
great  vein,  is,  obviously,  the  small  relative  size  of  the 


VIII.]  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED    TO   ARISTOTLE.  185 


A  dog  having  been  killed  by  chloroform,  enough  of  the  right  wall  of 
the  thorax  was  removed,  without  any  notable  bleeding,  to  expose  the 
thoracic  viscera.  A  carefully  measured  outline  sketch  of  the  parts  in  situ 
was  then  made,  and  on  dissection,  twenty-four  hours  afterwards,  the 
necessary  anatomical  details  were  added.  The  woodcut  is  a  faithfully 
reduced  copy  of  the  drawing  thus  constructed  ;  and  it  represents  the 
relations  of  the  heart  and  great  vessels  as  Aristotle  saw  them  in  a  suffocated 
animal. 

All  but  the  inner  lobe  of  the  right  lung  has  been  removed  ;  as  well  as  the  right 
half  of  the  pericardium  and  the  right  walls  of  the  right  auricle  and  ventricle. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  the  thin  transparent  pericardial  membrane 
appears  nothing  like  so  distinct  in  nature. 

«.&.,  Aristotle's  "great  vein";  F.7.,  right  vena  innominata  and  vena  cava 
superior  ;  b,  the  inferior  vena  cava  ;  R.a.,  the  "hollow  middle"  part  of  the 
great  vein  or  the  right  auricle  ;  E.v',  the  prolongation  of  the  cavity  of  the 
right  ventricle  R.v  towards  the  pulmonary  artery  ;  tr,  one  of  the  tricuspid 
valves ;  PC,  the  pericardium ;  I.sv,  superior  intercostal  vein ;  Az,  vena 
azygos  ;  P. A. ,  right  pulmonary  artery  ;  Br,  right  bronchus  ;  L,  inner 
lobe  of  the  right  lung ;  (E,  oesophagus ;  Ao,  descending  aorta  ;  H,  liver,  in 
section,  with  hepatic  vein,  vena  portse,  and  gall-bladder,  gb,  separated  by 
the  diaphragm,  also  seen  in  section,  from  the  thoracic  cavity. 


186  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED    TO    ARISTOTLE.  [LECT. 

venous  trunks  and  their  sharper  demarcation  from 
the  auricle.  Galen,  however,  perhaps  more  con- 
sistently, regarded  the  left  auricle  also  as  a  mere  part 
of  the  "  arteria  venosa."  The  canal  which  leads  from 
the  right  cavity  of  the  heart  to  the  lung  (or,  as  Aris- 
totle puts  it  (E),  from  the  lung  to  the  heart)  is,  without 
doubt,  the  pulmonary  artery.  But  it  may  be  said 
that,  in  this  case,  Aristotle  contradicts  himself,  inas- 
much as  in  (P)  and  (Q)  a  vessel,  which  is  obviously 
the  pulmonary  artery,  is  described  as  a  branch  of  the 
great  vein.  However,  this  difficulty  also  disappears, 
if  we  reflect  that,  in  Aristotle's  way  of  looking  at  the 
matter,  the  line  of  demarcation  between  the  great 
vein  and  the  heart  coincides  with  the  right  auriculo- 
ventricular  aperture ;  and  that,  inasmuch  as  the 
conical  prolongation  of  the  right  ventricle  which 
leads  to  the  pulmonary  artery  (R.v'  in  the  Figure),  lies 
close  in  front  of  the  auricle,  its  base  may  very  easily 
(as  the  figure  shows)  be  regarded  as  part  of  the 
general  opening  of  the  great  vein  into  the  right 
ventricle.  In  fact,  it  is  clear  that  Aristotle,  having 
failed  to  notice  the  valves  of  the  heart,  did  not  dis- 
tinguish the  part  of  the  right  ventricle  from  which 
the  pulmonary  artery  arises  (R.v')  from  the  proper 
trunk  of  the  artery  on  the  one  hand,  and  from  the 
right  auricle  (R.a)  on  the  other.  Thus  the  root,  as 
we  may  call  it,  of  the  pulmonary  artery  and  the  right 
auricle,  taken  together,  are  spoken  of  as  the  "  part  of 
the  great  vein  which  extends  upwards"  (P) ;  and,  as 
the  vena  azygos  (Az)  was  one  branch  of  this,  so  the 
"  vein  to  the  lung  "  was  regarded  as  another  branch  of 


VIII.]  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED   TO   ARISTOTLE.  187 

it.  But  the  latter  branch,  being  given  off  close  to 
the  connection  of  the  great  vein  with  the  ventricle, 
was  also  counted  as  one  of  the  two  iropoi  by  which  the 
"heart"  (that  is  to  say  the  right  ventricle,  the  left 
ventricle,  and  the  left  auricle  of  our  nomenclature) 
communicates  with  the  lung. 

The  only  other  difficulty  that  I  observe  is  con- 
nected with  (K).  If  Aristotle  intended  by  this  to 
affirm  that  the  middle  cavity  (the  left  ventricle),  like 
the  other  two,  is  directly  connected  with  the  lung  by 
a  TTo/309,  he  would  be  in  error.  But  he  has  excluded 
this  interpretation  of  his  words  by  (E),  in  which  the 
number  and  relations  of  the  canals,  the  existence  of 
which  he  admits,  are  distinctly  defined.  I  can  only 
imagine  then,  that,  so  far  as  this  passage  applies  to 
the  left  ventricle,  it  merely  refers  to  the  indirect 
communication  of  that  cavity  with  the  vessels  of  the 
lungs,  through  the  left  auricle. 

On  this  evidence  I  submit  that  there  is  no  escape 
from  the  conclusion  that,  instead  of  having  committed 
a  gross  blunder,  Aristotle  has  given  a  description  of 
the  heart  which,  so  far  as  it  goes,  is  remarkably 
accurate.  He  is  in  error  only  in  regard  to  the 
differences  which  he  imagines  to  exist  between  large 
and  small  hearts  (H). 

Cuvier  (who  has  been  followed  by  other  comment- 
ators) ascribes  another  error  to  Aristotle  : — 

"Aristote  suppose  que  la  trachee-artere  se  prolonge  jusqu'au 
coeur,  et  semble  croire,  en  consequence,  que  1'air  y  p6n6tre  (I.  c. 
p.  152)." 

Upon  what  foundation  Cuvier  rested  the  first  of 


188  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED    TO    ARISTOTLE.  [LECT. 

these  two  assertions,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  divine.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  it  will  appear  from  the  following 
excerpts  that  Aristotle  gives  an  account  of  the 
structure  of  the  lungs  which  is  almost  as  good  as  that 
of  the  heart,  and  that  it  contains  nothing  about  any 
prolongation  of  the  windpipe  to  the  heart. 

"Within  the  neck  lie  what  is  called  the  oesophagus  (so 
named  on  account  of  its  length  and  its  narrowness)  and  the 
windpipe  (aprrjpia).  The  position  of  the  windpipe  in  all  animals 
that  have  one,  is  in  front  of  the  oesophagus.  All  animals  which 
possess  a  lung  have  a  windpipe.  The  windpipe  is  of  a  cartila- 
ginous nature  and  is  exsanguine,  but  is  surrounded  by  many 
little  veins.  .  .  . 

"  It  goes  downwards  towards  the  middle  of  the  lung,  and 
then  divides  for  each  of  the  halves  of  the  lung.  In  all  animals 
that  possess  one,  the  lung  is  divided  into  two  parts;  but,  in 
those  which  bring  forth  their  young  alive,  the  separation  is  not 
equally  well  marked,  least  of  all  in  man. 

"  In  oviparous  animals,  such  as  birds,  and  in  quadrupeds 
which  are  oviparous,  the  one  half  of  the  lung  is  widely  separated 
from  the  other  ;  so  that  it  appears  as  if  they  had  two  lungs. 
And  from  being  single,  the  windpipe  becomes  (divided  into) 
two,  which  extend  to  each  half  of  the  lung.  It  is  fastened  to 
the  great  vein,  and  to  what  is  called  the  aorta.  When  the 
windpipe  is  blown  up,  the  air  passes  into  the  hollow  parts  of  the 
lung.  In  these,  are  cartilaginous  tubes  (Sta</>ixr€ts)  which  unite 
at  an  angle ;  from  the  tubes  passages  (r/wj/zaTa)  traverse  the 
whole  of  the  lung ;  they  are  continually  given  off,  the  smaller 
from  the  larger."  (Book  i.  16.) 

That  Aristotle  should  speak  of  the  lung  as  a  single 
organ  divided  into  two  halves,  and  should  say  that 
the  division  is  least  marked  in  man,  is  puzzling  at 
first;  but  the  statement  becomes  intelligible,  if  we 
reflect  upon  the  close  union  of  the  bronchi,  the 
pulmonary  vessels  and  the  mediastinal  walls  of  the 


VIII.  ]  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED   TO   ARISTOTLE.  189 

pleurae,  in  mammals;1  and  it  is  quite  true  that  the 
lungs  are  much  more  obviously  distinct  from  one 
another  in  birds. 

Aubert  and  Wimmer  translate  the  last  paragraph 
of  the  passage  just  cited  as  follows  :  — 

"Diese  haben  aber  knorpelige  Scheidewande,  welche  unter 
spitzen  Winkeln  zusammentreten,  und  aus  ihnen  fiihren  Oeff- 
nungen  durch  die  ganze  Lunge,  indem  sie  sich  in  immer  kleine- 
ren  verzweigen." 


But  I  cannot  think  that  by  Siaffrvaeis  and 
in  this  passage,  Aristotle  meant  either  "  partitions  "  or 
openings  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  latter  word. 
For,  in  Book  iii.  Cap.  3,  in  describing  the  distribution 
of  the  "  vein  which  goes  to  the  lung"  (the  pulmonary 
artery),  he  says  that  it 

"extends  alongside  each  tube  (rvpiyya)  and  each  passage 
(T/f>>j/m),  the  larger  beside  the  larger,  and  the  smaller  beside  the 
smaller  ;  so  that  no  part  (of  the  lung)  can  be  found  from  which 
a  passage  (r/o^a)  and  a  vein  are  absent." 


Moreover,  in  Book  i.  17,  he  says  — 

"  Canals  (TTO/XH)  from  the  heart  pass  to  the  lung  and  divide 
in  the  same  fashion  as  the  windpipe  does,  closely  accompanying 
those  from  the  windpipe  through  the  whole  lung." 

And  again  in  Book  i.  17  — 

"  It  (the  lung)  is  entirely  spongy,  and  alongside  of  each  tube 
run  canals  (iropoL)  from  the  great  vein." 


On  comparing  the  last  three  statements  with  the 
facts  of  the  case,  it  is  plain  that  by  crvpiyyes,  or  tubes, 
Aristotle  means  the  bronchi  and  so  many  of  their 

1  In  modern  works  on  Veterinary  Anatomy  the  lungs  are  sometimes 
described  as  two  lobes  of  a  single  organ. 


190  ERRORS  ATTRIBUTED   TO   ARISTOTLE.  [LECT. 

larger  divisions  as  obviously  contain  cartilages  ;  and 
that  by  Sia^vaew  xov$pd>8ei,<}  he  denotes  the  same 
things  ;  and,  if  this  be  so,  then  the  rp^ara  must  be 
the  smaller  bronchial  canals,  in  which  the  cartilages 
disappear. 

This  view  of  the  structure  of  the  lung  is  perfectly 
correct  so  far  as  it  extends  ;  and,  bearing  it  in  mind, 
we  shall  be  in  a  position  to  understand  what  Aristotle 
thought  about  the  passage  of  air  from  the  lungs  into 
the  heart.  In  every  part  of  the  lung,  he  says,  in 
effect,  there  is  an  air  tube  which  is  derived  from  the 
trachea,  and  other  tubes  which  are  derived  from  the 
Tropoi  which  connect  the  lung  with  the  heart  (suprd,  C). 
Their  applied  walls  constitute  the  thin  "synapses" 
(rr)v  vvvatyiv)  through  which  the  air  passes  out  of  the 
air  tubes  into  the  ir6poit  or  blood-vessels,  by  transuda- 
tion  or  diffusion  ;  for  there  is  no  community  between 
the  cavities  of  the  air  tubes  and  cavities  of  the  canals  ; 
that  is  to  say,  no  opening  from  one  into  the  other 
(suprd,  D). 

On  the  words  "  reowbs  TTO/JO?  "  Aubert  and  Wimmer 
remark  (1.  c.  p.  239),  "Da  A.  die  Ansicht  hat  die 
Lungenluft  wtirde  dem  Herzen  zugefuhrt,  so  postulirt 
er  statt  vieler  kleiner  Verbindungen  einen  grossen 
Verbindungsgang  zwischen  Lunge  und  Herz." 

But  does  Aristotle  make  this  assumption  ?  The 
only  evidence  so  far  as  I  know  in  favour  of  the  affir- 
mative answer  to  this  question  is  the  following 
passage  :  — 


Se   KOU  rj   KapSia  rfj  dpTrjpia,  7ri//,eAwSe<T6   Kal  Xov~ 
S/ocoSecrt  KCU  tvw8€(7t  Seoyxois*  y  Se  (rvvrjpTeTai,  KOtXov  ICTTIV. 


VIII.]  ERRORS  ATTRIBUTED   TO   ARISTOTLE.  191 


Se  Trjs  dprrjpias  juev  evicts  ei>  ov  KaraS^Aov  Trotet,  Iv  Sc  TOIS 

Ttol/   ^)0)V  S^AoV  OTt  €MT€/3^€Tat  TO  TTV€.VfJLOt>  CIS  ttVT^V  "   (1.   Cap.    16). 

"  The  heart  and  the  windpipe  are  connected  by  fatty  and 
cartilaginous  and  fibrous  bands  ;  where  they  are  connected  it  is 
hollow.  Blowing  into  the  windpipe  does  not  show  clearly  in 
some  animals,  but  in  the  larger  animals  it  is  clear  that  the  air 
goes  into  it." 

Aubert  and  Wimmer  give  a  somewhat  different 
rendering  of  this  passage  :— 

"Auch  das  Herz  hangt  mit  der  Luftrohre  durch  fettreiche, 
knorpelige  und  faserige  Bander  zusammen  ;  und  da,  wo  sie 
zusammenhangen,  ist  eine  Hohlung.  Beim  Aufblasen  der  Lunge 
wird  es  bei  manchen  Thieren  nicht  wahrnehmbar,  bei  den 
grosseren  aber  ist  es  offenbar,  dass  die  Luft  in  das  Herz  gelangt." 

The  sense  here  turns  upon  the  signification  which 
is  to  be  ascribed  to  efc  avrrjv.  But  if  these  words 
refer  to  the  heart,  then  Aristotle  has  distinctly  pointed 
out  the  road  which  the  air,  in  his  opinion,  takes, 
namely,  through  the  "  synapses"  (D)  ;  and  there  is  no 
reason  that  I  can  discover  to  believe  that  he  "  postu- 
lated "  any  other  and  more  direct  communication. 

With  respect  to  the  meaning  of  KOI\,OV  ea-Tw,  Aubert 
and  Wimmer  observe  :  — 

"  Dies  scheint  wohl  die  kurze  Lungenvene  zu  sein.  Schneider 
bezieht  dies  auf  die  Vorkammern,  allein  diese  werden  unten  als 
Hb'hlen  des  Herzens  beschrieben." 

I  am  disposed  to  think,  on  the  contrary,  that  the 
words  refer  simply  to  the  cavity  of  the  pericardium. 
For  a  part  of  this  cavity  (sinus  transversus  pericardii) 
lies  between  the  aorta,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 
pulmonary  vessels  with  the  bifurcation  of  the  trachea, 
on  the  other  hand,  and  is  much  more  conspicuous  in 


192  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED    TO   ARISTOTLE.  [LECT. 

some  animals  than  in  man.  It  is  strictly  correct, 
therefore,  in  Aristotle's  words,  to  say  that  where  the 
heart  and  the  windpipe  are  connected  "  it  is  hollow." 
If  he  had  meant  to  speak  of  one  of  the  pulmonary 
veins,  or  of  any  of  the  cavities  of  the  heart,  he  would 
have  used  the  terms  iropoi  or  Koi\ias  which  he  always 
employs  for  these  parts. 

According  to  Aristotle,  then,  the  air  taken  into 
the  lungs  passes,  from  the  final  ramifications  of  the 
bronchial  tubes  into  the  corresponding  branches  of 
the  pulmonary  blood-vessels,  not  through  openings, 
but  by  transudation,  or,  as  we  should  nowadays  say, 
diffusion,  through  the  thin  partitions  formed  by  the 
applied  coats  of  the  two  sets  of  canals.  But  the 
"pneuma"  which  thus  reached  the  interior  of  the 
blood-vessels  was  not,  in  Aristotle's  opinion,  exactly 
the  same  thing  as  the  air.  It  was  "  drfp  TTO\V<;  pecov  KOI 
aOpoos"  ("De  Mundo,"  iv.  9)  —  subtilised  and  con- 
densed air;  and  it  is  hard  to  make  out  whether 
Aristotle  considered  it  to  possess  the  physical  pro- 
perties of  an  elastic  fluid  or  those  of  a  liquid.  As  he 
affirms  that  all  the  cavities  of  the  heart  contain  blood 
(F),  it  is  clear  that  he  did  not  hold  the  erroneous  view 
propounded  in  the  next  generation  by  Erasistratus. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  fact  that  he  supposes  that  the 
spermatic  arteries  do  not  contain  blood  but  only  an 
aifj,aTwSr)s  vypov  ("  Hist.  Ammalium,"  iii.  1),  shows 
that  his  notions  respecting  the  contents  of  the  arteries 
were  vague.  Nor  does  he  seem  to  have  known  that 
the  pulse  is  characteristic  only  of  the  arteries ;  and  as 
he  thought  that  the  arteries  end  in  solid  fibrous  bands, 


VIIL]  EKRORS   ATTRIBUTED    TO   ARISTOTLE.  193 

he  naturally  could  not  have  entertained  the  faintest 
conception  of  the  true  motion  of  the  blood.  But, 
without  attempting  to  read  into  Aristotle  modern 
conceptions  which  never  entered  his  mind,  it  is  only 
just  to  observe  that  his  view  of  what  becomes  of  the 
air  taken  into  the  lungs  is  by  no  means  worthy  of 
contempt  as  a  gross  error.  On  the  contrary,  here,  as 
in  the  case  of  his  anatomy  of  the  heart,  what  Aristotle 
asserts  is  true  as  far  as  it  goes.  Something  does  actually 
pass  from  the  air  contained  in  the  lungs  through  the 
coats  of  the  vessels  into  the  blood,  and  thence  to  the 
heart ;  to  wit,  oxygen.  And  I  think  that  it  speaks  very 
well  for  ancient  Greek  science  that  the  investigator  of  so 
difficult  a  physiological  problem  as  that  of  respiration, 
should  have  arrived  at  a  conclusion,  the  statement  of 
which,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  two  thousand 
years,  can  be  accepted  as  a  thoroughly  established 
scientific  truth. 

I  trust  that  the  case  in  favour  of  removing  the 
statements  about  the  heart,  from  the  list  of  the  "  errors 
of  Aristotle"  is  now  clear;  and  that  the  evidence 
proves,  on  the  contrary,  that  they  justify  us  in  forming 
a  very  favourable  estimate  of  the  oldest  anatomical 
investigations  among  the  Greeks  of  which  any  sufficient 
record  remains. 

But  is  Aristotle  to  be  credited  with  the  merit  of 
having  ascertained  so  much  of  the  truth  ?  This 
question  will  not  appear  superfluous  to  those  who  are 
acquainted  with  the  extraordinary  history  of  Aristotle's 
works,  or  who  adopt  the  conclusion  of  Aubert  and 
Wimmer,  that,  of  the  ten  books  of  the  "  Historia 

o 


194  ERRORS    ATTRIBUTED    TO    ARISTOTLE.  [LECT. 

Animalium  "  which  have  come  down  to  us,  three  are 
largely  or  entirely  spurious,  and  that  the  others  contain 
many  interpolations  by  later  writers. 

It  so  happens,  however,  that,  apart  from  other 
reasons,  there  are  satisfactory  internal  grounds  for 
ascribing  the  account  of  the  heart  to  a  writer  of  the 
time  at  which  Aristotle  lived.  For,  within  thirty 
years  of  his  death,  the  anatomists  of  the  Alexandrian 
school  had  thoroughly  investigated  the  structure  and 
the  functions  of  the  valves  of  the  heart.  During  this 
time,  the  manuscripts  of  Aristotle  were  in  the  posses- 
sion of  Theophrastus ;  and  no  interpolator  of  later 
date  would  have  shown  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the 
nature  and  significance  of  these  important  structures, 
by  the  brief  and  obscure  allusion — "  in  its  cavities 
there  are  tendons"  (A).  On  the  other  hand,  Polybus, 
whose  account  of  the  vascular  system  is  quoted  in  the 
"  Historia  Animalium  "  was  an  elder  contemporary  of 
Aristotle.  Hence,  if  any  part  of  the  work  faithfully 
represents  that  which  Aristotle  taught,  we  may  safely 
conclude  that  the  description  of  the  heart  does  so. 
Having  granted  this  much,  however,  it  is  another 
question,  whether  Aristotle  is  to  be  regarded  as  the 
first  discoverer  of  the  facts  which  he  has  so  well  stated, 
or  whether  he,  like  other  men,  was  the  intellectual 
child  of  his  time  and  simply  carried  on  a  step  or  two 
the  work  which  had  been  commenced  by  others. 

On  the  subject  of  Aristotle's  significance  as  an 
original  worker  in  biology  extraordinarily  divergent 
views  have  been  put  forward.  If  we  are  to  adopt 
Cuvier's  estimate,  Aristotle  was  simply  a  miracle  : — 


VIII.]  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED   TO   ARISTOTLE.  195 

"  Avant  Aristote  la  philosophic,  enticement  speculative,  se 
perdait  dans  les  abstractions  de"pourvues  de  fondement ;  la  science 
n'existait  pas.  II  semble  qu'elle  soit  sortie  toute  faite  du  cerveau 
d' Aristote  comme  Minerve,  toute  arme"e,  du  cerveau  de  Jupiter. 
Seul,  en  effet,  sans  antecedents,  sans  rien  emprunter  aux  siecles 
qui  1'avaient  pre"c6de",  puisqu'ils  n'avaient  rien  produit  de  solide, 
le  disciple  de  Platon  decouvrit  et  d^montra  plus  de  v6rite"s, 
executa  plus  de  travaux  scientifiques  en  un  vie  de  soixante-deux 
ans,  qu'apres  lui  vingt  siecles  n'en  ont  pu  faire,"1  etc.  etc. 

"Aristote  est  le  premier  qui  ait  introduit  la  m^thode  de 
1'induction,  de  la  comparaison  des  observations  pour  en  faire 
sortir  des  ide"es  g6ne"rales,  et  celle  de  1'experience  pour  multiplier 
les  faits  dont  ces  id6es  g6ne"rales  peuvent  6tre  d^duites." — ii.  p. 
515. 

The  late  Mr.  G.  H.  Lewes,2  on  the  contrary,  tells 
us  "  on  a  superficial  examination,  therefore,  he 
[Aristotle]  will  seem  to  have  given  tolerable  de- 
scriptions ;  especially  if  approached  with  that  dis- 
position to  discover  marvels  which  unconsciously 
determines  us  in  our  study  of  eminent  writers. 
But  a  more  unbiassed  and  impartial  criticism  will 
disclose  that  he  has  given  no  single  anatomical 
description  of  the  least  value.  All  that  he  knew 
may  have  been  known,  and  probably  was  known, 
without  dissection.  ...  I  do  not  assert  that  he 
never  opened  an  animal ;  on  the  contrary  it  seems 
highly  probable  that  he  had  opened  many.  .  .  .  He 
never  followed  the  course  of  a  vessel  or  a  nerve; 
never  laid  bare  the  origin  and  insertion  of  a  muscle ; 
never  discriminated  the  component  parts  of  organs ; 
never  made  clear  to  himself  the  connection  of  organs 
into  systems." — (pp.  156-7.) 

1  "  Histoire  des  Sciences  Naturelles." — t.  i.  p.  1 30. 

2  "  Aristotle,  a  Chapter  from  the  History  of  Science." 


196  ERRORS    ATTRIBUTED   TO   ARISTOTLE.  [LECT. 

In  the  face  of  the  description  of  the  heart  and 
lungs,  just  quoted,  I  think  we  may  venture  to  say 
that  no  one  who  has  acquired  even  an  elementary 
practical  acquaintance  with  anatomy,  and  knows  of 
his  own  knowledge  that  which  Aristotle  describes, 
will  agree  with  the  opinion  expressed  by  Mr.  Lewes ; 
and  those  who  turn  to  the  accounts  of  the  structure 
of  the  rock  lobster  and  the  common  lobster,  or  to  that 
of  the  Cephalopods  and  other  Mollusks,  in  the  fourth 
book  of  the  "  Historia  Animalium  "  will  probably  feel 
inclined  to  object  to  it  still  more  strongly. 

On  the  other  hand,  Cuvier's  exaggerated  panegyric 
will  as  little  bear  the  test  of  cool  discussion.  In 
Greece,  the  century  before  Aristotle's  birth  was  a 
period  of  great  intellectual  activity,  in  the  field  of 
physical  science  no  less  than  elsewhere.  The  method 
of  induction  has  never  been  used  to  better  effect  than 
by  Hippocrates ;  and  the  labours  of  such  men  as 
Alkmeon,  Demokritus,  and  Polybus,  among  Aristotle's 
predecessors ;  Diokles,  and  Praxagoras,  among  his  con- 
temporaries, laid  a  solid  foundation  for  the  scientific 
study  of  anatomy  and  development,  independently 
of  his  labours.  Aristotle  himself  informs  us  that  the 
dissection  of  animals  was  commonly  practised ;  that 
the  aorta  had  been  distinguished  from  the  great  vein ; 
and  that  the  connection  of  both  with  the  heart  had 
been  observed  by  his  predecessors.  What  they  thought 
about  the  structure  of  the  heart  itself  or  that  of  the 
lungs,  he  does  not  tell  us,  and  we  have  no  means  of 
knowing.  So  far  from  arrogantly  suggesting  that  he 
owed  nothing  to  his  predecessors,  Aristotle  is  carefu] 


VTII.]  ERRORS   ATTRIBUTED    TO   ARISTOTLE.  197 

to  refer  to  their  observations,  and  to  explain  why, 
in  his  judgment,  they  fell  into  the  errors  which  he 
corrects. 

Aristotle's  knowledge,  in  fact,  appears  to  have 
stood  in  the  same  relation  to  that  of  such  men  as 
Polybus  and  Diogenes  of  Apollonia,  as  that  of 
Herophilus  and  Erasistratus  did  to  his  own,  so  far 
as  the  heart  is  concerned.  He  carried  science  a  step 
beyond  the  point  at  which  he  found  it ;  a  meritorious, 
but  not  a  miraculous,  achievement.  What  he  did, 
required  the  possession  of  very  good  powers  of 
observation ;  if  they  had  been  powers  of  the  highest 
class,  he  could  hardly  have  left  such  conspicuous 
objects  as  the  valves  of  the  heart  to  be  discovered 
by  his  successors. 

And  this  leads  me  to  make  a  final  remark  upon  a 
singular  feature  of  the  "  Historia  Animalium."  As  a 
whole,  it  is  a  most  notable  production,  full  of  accurate 
information,  and  of  extremely  acute  generalisations  of 
the  observations  accumulated  by  naturalists  up  to 
that  time.  And  yet,  every  here  and  there,  one 
stumbles  upon  assertions  respecting  matters  which  lie 
within  the  scope  of  the  commonest  inspection,  which 
are  not  so  much  to  be  called  errors,  as  stupidities. 
What  is  to  be  made  of  the  statement  that  the  sutures 
of  women's  skulls  are  different  from  those  of  men ; 
that  men  and  sundry  male  animals  have  more  teeth 
than  their  respective  females ;  that  the  back  of  the 
skull  is  empty ;  and  so  on  ?  It  is  simply  incredible 
to  me,  that  the  Aristotle  who  wrote  the  account  of  the 
heart,  also  committed  himself  to  absurdities  which 


198  ERRORS    ATTRIBUTED    TO   ARISTOTLE.  [LECT 

can  be  excused  by  no  theoretical  prepossession  and 
which  are  contradicted  by  the  plainest  observation. 

What,  after  all,  were  the  original  manuscripts  of 
the  "  Historia  Animalium  "  \  If  they  were  notes  of 
Aristotle's  lectures  taken  by  some  of  his  students,  any 
lecturer  who  has  chanced  to  look  through  such  notes, 
would  find  the  interspersion  of  a  foundation  of  general 
and  sometimes  minute  accuracy,  with  patches  of 
transcendent  blundering,  perfectly  intelligible.  Some 
competent  Greek  scholar  may  perhaps  think  it  worth 
while  to  tell  us  what  may  be  said  for  or  against 
the  hypothesis  thus  hinted.  One  obvious  difficulty 
in  the  way  of  adopting  it  is  the  fact  that,  in  other 
works,  Aristotle  refers  to  the  "  Historia  Animalium  " 
as  if  it  had  already  been  made  public  by  himself. 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  199 


IX. 

ON  THE  HYPOTHESIS  THAT  ANIMALS  AEE 
AUTOMATA,  AND  ITS  HISTOKY. 

THE  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century  is  one  of  the 
great  epochs  of  biological  science.  For  though  sug- 
gestions and  indications  of  the  conceptions  which 
took  definite  shape,  at  that  time,  are  to  be  met  with 
in  works  of  earlier  date,  they  are  little  more  than  the 
shadows  which  coming  truth  casts  forward ;  men's 
knowledge  was  neither  extensive  enough,  nor  exact 
enough,  to  show  them  the  solid  body  of  fact  which 
threw  these  shadows. 

But,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  the  idea  that  the 
physical  processes  of  life  are  capable  of  being  ex- 
plained in  the  same  way  as  other  physical  phenomena, 
and,  therefore,  that  the  living  body  is  a  mechanism, 
was  proved  to  be  true  for  certain  classes  of  vital 
actions ;  and,  having  thus  taken  firm  root  in  irrefrag- 
able fact,  this  conception  has  not  only  successfully 
repelled  every  assault  which  has  been  made  upon  it, 
but  has  steadily  grown  in  force  and  extent  of  ap- 
plication, until  it  is  now  the  expressed  or  implied 
fundamental  proposition  of  the  whole  doctrine  of 
scientific  Physiology. 


200  ANIMAL  AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

If  we  ask  to  whom  mankind  are  indebted  for  this 
great  service,  the  general  voice  will  name  William 
Harvey.  For,  by  his  discovery  of  the  circulation  of  the 
blood  in  the  higher  animals,  by  his  explanation  of  the 
nature  of  the  mechanism  by  which  that  circulation  is 
effected,  and  by  his  no  less  remarkable,  though  less 
known,  investigations  of  the  process  of  development, 
Harvey  solidly  laid  the  foundations  of  all  those 
physical  explanations  of  the  functions  of  sustentation 
and  reproduction  which  modern  physiologists  have 
achieved. 

But  the  living  body  is  not  only  sustained  and 
reproduced :  it  adjusts  itself  to  external  and  internal 
changes ;  it  moves  and  feels.  The  attempt  to  reduce 
the  endless  complexities  of  animal  motion  and  feeling 
to  law  and  order  is,  at  least,  as  important  a  part  of 
the  task  of  the  physiologist  as  the  elucidation  of  what 
are  sometimes  called  the  vegetative  processes.  Har- 
vey did  not  make  this  attempt  himself;  but  the 
influence  of  his  work  upon  the  man  who  did  make  it 
is  patent  and  unquestionable.  This  man  was  Kene 
Descartes,  who,  though  by  many  years  Harvey's 
junior,  died  before  him ;  and  yet,  in  his  short  span  of 
fifty-four  years,  took  an  undisputed  place,  not  only 
among  the  chiefs  of  philosophy,  but  amongst  the 
greatest  and  most  original  of  mathematicians ;  while, 
in  my  belief,  he  is  no  less  certainly  entitled  to  the 
rank  of  a  great  and  original  physiologist ;  inasmuch  as 
he  did  for  the  physiology  of  motion  and  sensation 
that  which  Harvey  had  done  for  the  circulation  of 
the  blood,  and  opened  up  that  road  to  the  mechanical 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  201 

theory  of  these  processes,  which  has  been  followed  by 
all  his  successors. 

Descartes  was  no  mere  speculator,  as  some  would 
have  us  believe :  but  a  man  who  knew  of  his  own 
knowledge  what  was  to  be  known  of  the  facts  of 
anatomy  and  physiology  in  his  day.  '  He  was  an 
unwearied  dissector  and  observer ;  and  it  is  said,  that, 
on  a  visitor  once  asking  to  see  his  library,  Descartes 
led  him  into  a  room  set  aside  for  dissections,  and  full 
of  specimens  under  examination.  "  There,"  said  he,  "  is 
my  library." 

I  anticipate  a  smile  of  incredulity  when  I  thus 
champion  Descartes'  claim  to  be  considered  a 
physiologist  of  the  first  rank.  I  expect  to  be  told 
that  I  have  read  into  his  works  what  I  find  there, 
and  to  be  asked,  Why  is  it  that  we  are  left  to  dis- 
cover Descartes'  deserts  at  this  time  of  day,  more 
than  two  centuries  after  his  death?  How  is  it 
that  Descartes  is  utterly  ignored  in  some  of  the  latest 
works  which  treat  expressly  of  the  subject  in  which 
he  is  said  to  have  been  so  great  ? 

It  is  much  easier  to  ask  such  questions  than  to 
answer  them,  especially  if  one  desires  to  be  on  good 
terms  with  one's  contemporaries ;  but,  if  I  must  give 
an  answer,  it  is  this  :  The  growth  of  physical  science 
is  now  so  prodigiously  rapid,  that  those  who  are 
actively  engaged  in  keeping  up  with  the  present,  have 
much  ado  to  find  time  to  look  at  the  past,  and  even 
grow  into  the  habit  of  neglecting  it.  But,  natural  as 
this  result  may  be,  it  is  none  the  less  detrimental. 
The  intellect  loses,  for  there  is  assuredly  no  more 


202  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM. 

effectual  method  of  clearing  up  one's  own  mind  on 
any  subject  than  by  talking  it  over,  so  to  speak,  with 
men  of  real  power  and  grasp,  who  have  considered  it 
from  a  totally  different  point  of  view.  The  parallax 
of  time  helps  us  to  the  true  position  of  a  conception, 
as  the  parallax  of  space  helps  us  to  that  of  a  star.  And 
the  moral  nature  loses  no  less.  It  is  well  to  turn 
aside  from  the  fretful  stir  of  the  present  and  to  dwell 
with  gratitude  and  respect  upon  the  services  of  those 
"mighty  men  of  old  who  have  gone  down  to  the 
grave  with  their  weapons  of  war,"  but  who,  while 
they  yet  lived,  won  splendid  victories  over  ignorance. 
It  is  well,  again,  to  reflect  that  the  fame  of  Descartes 
filled  all  Europe,  and  his  authority  overshadowed  it, 
for  a  century ;  while  now,  most  of  those  who  know 
his  name  think  of  him,  either  as  a  person  who  had 
some  preposterous  notions  about  vortices  and  was 
deservedly  annihilated  by  the  great  Sir  Isaac  Newton  ; 
or  as  the  apostle  of  an  essentially  vicious  method  of 
deductive  speculation ;  and  that,  nevertheless,  neither 
the  chatter  of  shifting  opinion,  nor  the  silence  of  per- 
sonal oblivion,  has  in  the  slightest  degree  affected 
the  growth  of  the  great  ideas  of  which  he  was  the 
instrument  and  the  mouthpiece. 

It  is  a  matter  of  fact  that  the  greatest  physiologist 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  Haller,  in  treating  of  the 
functions  of  nerve,  does  little  more  than  reproduce 
and  enlarge  upon  the  ideas  of  Descartes.  It  is  a 
matter  of  fact  that  David  Hartley,  in  his  remarkable 
work  the  "Essay  on  Man/'  expressly,  though  still 
insufficiently,  acknowledges  the  resemblance  of  his 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  203 

fundamental  conceptions  to  those  of  Descartes ;  and  I 
shall  now  endeavour  to  show  that  a  series  of  proposi- 
tions, which  constitute  the  foundation  and  essence  of 
the  modern  physiology  of  the  nervous  system,  are 
fully  expressed  and  illustrated  in  the  works  of 
Descartes. 

I.  The  brain  is  the  organ  of  sensation,  thought, 
and  emotion ;  that  is  to  say,  some  change  in 
the  condition  of  the  matter  of  this  organ  is  the 
invariable  antecedent  of  the  state  of  conscious- 
ness to  which  each  of  these  terms  is  applied. 

In  the  "  Principes  de  la  Philosophie"  (§  169), 
Descartes  says  : — * 

"  Although  the  soul  is  united  to  the  whole  body,  its  principal 
functions  are,  nevertheless,  performed  in  the  brain;  it  is  here 
that  it  not  only  understands  and  imagines,  but  also  feels ;  and 
this  is  effected  by  the  intermediation  of  the  nerves,  which  extend 
in  the  form  of  delicate  threads  from  the  brain  to  all  parts  of  the 
body,  to  which  they  are  attached  in  such  a  manner,  that  we  can 
hardly  touch  any  part  of  the  body  without  setting  the  extremity 
of  some  nerve  in  motion.  This  motion  passes  along  the  nerve  to 
that  part  of  the  brain  which  is  the  common  sensorium,  as  I  have 
sufficiently  explained  in  my  Treatise  on  Dioptrics;  and  the 
movements  which  thus  travel  along  the  nerves,  as  far  as  that 
part  of  the  brain  with  which  the  soul  is  closely  joined  and  united, 
cause  it,  by  reason  of  their  diverse  characters,  to  have  different 
thoughts.  And  it  is  these  different  thoughts  of  the  soul,  which 
arise  immediately  from  the  movements  that  are  excited  by  the 
nerves  in  the  brain,  which  we  properly  term  our  feelings,  or  the 
perceptions  of  our  senses." 

1  I  quote,  here  and  always,  Cousin's  edition  of  the  works  of 
Descartes,  as  most  convenient  for  reference.  It  is  entitled  "  (Euvres 
completes  de  Descartes,"  publiees  par  Victor  Cousin.  1824. 


204  ANIMAL    AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

Elsewhere,1  Descartes,  in  arguing  that  the  seat  of 
the  passions  is  not  (as  many  suppose)  the  heart,  but 
the  brain,  uses  the  following  remarkable  language  : — 

"  The  opinion  of  those  who  think  that  the  soul  receives  its 
passions  in  the  heart,  is  of  no  weight,  for  it  is  based  upon  the 
fact  that  the  passions  cause  a  change  to  be  felt  in  that  organ ; 
and  it  is  easy  to  see  that  this  change  is  felt,  as  if  it  were  in  the 
heart,  only  by  the  intermediation  of  a  little  nerve  which  descends 
from  the  brain  to  it ;  Just  as  pain  is  felt,  as  if  it  were  in  the 
foot,  by  the  intermediation  of  the  nerves  of  the  foot. ;  and  the 
stars  are  perceived,  as  if  they  were  in  the  heavens,  by  the  inter- 
mediation of  their  light  and  of  the  optic  nerves.  So  that  it  is  no 
more  necessary  for  the  soul  to  exert  its  functions  immediately  in 
the  heart,  to  feel  its  passions  there,  than  it  is  necessary  that  it 
should  be  in  the  heavens  to  see  the  stars  there." 

This  definite  allocation  of  all  the  phenomena  of 
consciousness  to  the  brain  as  their  organ,  was  a  step 
the  value  of  which  it  is  difficult  for  us  to  appraise,  so 
completely  has  Descartes'  view  incorporated  itself  with 
every-day  thought  and  common  language.  A  lunatic 
is  said  to  be  "crack-brained"  or  "touched  in  the 
head,"  a  confused  thinker  is  "  muddle-headed,"  while 
a  clever  man  is  said  to  have  "  plenty  of  brains ;"  but  it 
must  be  remembered  that  at  the  end  of  the  last 
century  a  considerable,  though  much  over-estimated, 
anatomist,  Bichat,  so  far  from  having  reached  the 
level  of  Descartes,  could  gravely  argue  that  the  appar- 
atuses of  organic  life  are  the  sole  seat  of  the  passions, 
which  in  no  way  affect  the  brain,  except  so  far  as  it  is 
the  agent  by  which  the  influence  of  the  passions  is 
transmitted  to  the  muscles.2 

1  "  Les  Passions  de  1'Ame,"  Article  xxxiii. 

2  "  Kecherches  physiologiques  sur  la  Vie  et  la  Mort."     Par  Xav. 
Bichat.     Art.  Sixieme. 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  205 

Modern  physiology,  aided  by  pathology,  easily 
demonstrates  that  the  brain  is  the  seat  of  all  forms  of 
consciousness,  and  fully  bears  out  Descartes'  explana- 
tion of  the  reference  of  those  sensations  in  the  viscera 
which  accompany  intense  emotion,  to  these  organs. 
It  proves,  directly,  that  those  states  of  consciousness 
which  we  call  sensations  are  the  immediate  consequent 
of  a  change  in  the  brain  excited  by  the  sensory  nerves; 
and,  on  the  well-known  effects  of  injuries,  of  stim- 
ulants, and  of  narcotics,  it  bases  the  conclusion  that 
thought  and  emotion  are,  in  like  manner,  the  conse- 
quents of  physical  antecedents. 

II.  The  movements  of  animals  are  due  to  the 
change  of  form  of  muscles,  which  shorten 
and  become  thicker ;  and  this  change  of  form 
in  a  muscle  arises  from  a  motion  of  the  sub- 
stance contained  within  the  nerves  which  go 
to  the  muscle. 

In  the  "  Passions  de  1'Ame,"  Art.  vii.,  Descartes 
writes : — 

"  Moreover,  we  know  that  all  the  movements  of  the  limbs 
depend  on  the  muscles,  and  that  these  muscles  are  opposed  to 
one  another  in  such  a  manner,  that  when  one  of  them  shortens, 
it  draws  along  the  part  of  the  body  to  which  it  is  attached,  and 
so  gives  rise  to  a  simultaneous  elongation  of  the  muscle  which  is 
opposed  to  it.  Then,  if  it  happens,  afterwards,  that  the  latter 
shortens,  it  causes  the  former  to  elongate,  and  draws  towards 
itself  the  part  to  which  it  is  attached.  Lastly,  we  know  that  all 
these  movements  of  the  muscles,  as  all  the  senses,  depend  on  the 
nerves,  which  are  like  little  threads  or  tubes,  which  all  come  from 
the  brain,  and,  like  it,  contain  a  certain  very  subtle  air  or  wind, 
termed  the  animal  spirits." 


206  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

The  property  of  muscle  mentioned  by  Descartes 
now  goes  by  the  general  name  of  contractility,  but 
his  definition  of  it  remains  untouched.  The  long- 
continued  controversy  whether  contractile  substance, 
speaking  generally,  has  an  inherent  power  of  contrac- 
tion, or  whether  it  contracts  only  in  virtue  of  an 
influence  exerted  by  nerve,  is  now  settled  in  Haller's 
favour;  but  Descartes'  statement  of  the  dependence 
of  muscular  contraction  on  nerve  holds  good  for  the 
higher  forms  of  muscle,  under  normal  circumstances ; 
so  that,  although  the  structure  of  the  various  modifi- 
cations of  contractile  matter  has  been  worked  out 
with  astonishing  minuteness — although  the  delicate 
physical  and  chemical  changes  which  accompany  mus- 
cular contraction  have  been  determined  to  an  extent 
of  which  Descartes  could  not  have  dreamed,  and  have 
quite  upset  his  hypothesis  that  the  cause  of  the  short- 
ening and  thickening  of  the  muscle  is  the  flow  of 
animal  spirits  into  it  from  the  nerves — the  important 
and  fundamental  part  of  his  statement  remains  per- 
fectly true. 

The  like  may  be  affirmed  of  what  he  says  about 
nerve.  We  know  now  that  nerves  are  not  exactly 
tubes,  and  that  "  animal  spirits"  are  myths ;  but  the 
exquisitely  refined  methods  of  investigation  of  Dubois- 
Keymond  and  of  Helmholz  have  no  less  clearly  proved 
that  the  antecedent  of  ordinary  muscular  contraction 
is  a  motion  of  the  molecules  of  the  nerve  going  to  the 
muscle;  and  that  this  motion  is  propagated  with  a 
measurable,  and  by  no  means  great,  velocity,  through 
the  substance  of  the  nerve  towards  the  muscle. 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  207 

With  the  progress  of  research,  the  term  "  animal 
spirits"  gave  way  to  "nervous  fluid,"  and  "nervous 
fluid"  has  now  given  way  to  "  molecular  motion  of 
nerve -substance/'  Our  conceptions  of  what  takes 
place  in  nerve  have  altered  in  the  same  way  as  our 
conceptions  of  what  takes  place  in  a  conducting  wire 
have  altered,  since  electricity  was  shown  to  be  not  a 
fluid,  but  a  mode  of  molecular  motion.  The  change 
is  of  vast  importance,  but  it  does  not  affect  Descartes7 
fundamental  idea,  that  a  change  in  the  substance  of  a 
motor  nerve  propagated  towards  a  muscle  is  the  ordi- 
nary cause  of  muscular  contraction. 

III.  The  sensations  of  animals  are  due  to  a 
motion  of  the  substance  of  the  nerves  which 
connect  the  sensory  organs  with  the  brain. 

In  La  Dioptrique  (Discours  Quatrieme),  Descartes 
explains,  more  fully  than  in  the  passage  cited  above, 
his  hypothesis  of  the  mode  of  action  of  sensory 
nerves : — 

"  It  is  the  little  threads  of  which  the  inner  substance  of  the 
nerves  is  composed  which  subserve  sensation.  You  must  con- 
ceive that  these  little  threads,  being  inclosed  in  tubes,  which  are 
always  distended  and  kept  open  by  the  animal  spirits  which  they 
contain,  neither  press  upon  nor  interfere  with  one  another,  and 
are  extended  from  the  brain  to  the  extremities  of  all  the  mem- 
bers which  are  sensitive — in  such  a  manner,  that  the  slightest 
touch  which  excites  the  part  of  one  of  the  members  to  which  a 
thread  is  attached,  gives  rise  to  a  motion  of  the  part  of  the  brain 
whence  it  arises,  just  as  by  pulling  one  of  the  ends  of  a  stretched 
cord,  the  other  end  is  instantaneously  moved.  .  .  .  And  we 
must  take  care  not  to  imagine  that,  in  order  to  feel,  the  soul 
needs  to  behold  certain  images  sent  by  the  objects  of  sense  to 


208  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

the  brain,  as  our  philosophers  commonly  suppose ;  or,  at  least, 
we  must  conceive  these  images  to  be  something  quite  different 
from  what  they  suppose  them  to  be.  For,  as  all  they  suppose  is 
that  these  images  ought  to  resemble  the  objects  which  they  re- 
present, it  is  impossible  for  them  to  show  how  they  can  be 
formed  by  the  objects  received  by  the  organs  of  the  external 
senses  and  transmitted  to  the  brain.  And  they  have  had  no 
reason  for  supposing  the  existence  of  these  images  except  this ; 
seeing  that  the  mind  is  readily  excited  by  a  picture  to  conceive 
the  object  which  is  depicted,  they  have  thought  that  it  must  be 
excited  in  the  same  way  to  conceive  those  objects  which  affect 
our  senses  by  little  pictures  of  them  formed  in  the  head  ;  instead 
of  which  we  ought  to  recollect  that  there  are  many  things  be- 
sides images  which  may  excite  the  mind,  as,  for  example,  signs 
and  words,  which  have  not  the  least  resemblance  to  the  objects 
which  they  signify." 1 

Modern  physiology  amends  Descartes'  conception 
of  the  mode  of  action  of  sensory  nerves  in  detail,  by 
showing  that  their  structure  is  the  same  as  that  of 
motor  nerves  ;  and  that  the  changes  which  take  place 
in  them,  when  the  sensory  organs  with  which  they 
are  connected  are  excited,  are  of  just  the  same  nature 
as  those  which  occur  in  motor  nerves,  when  the 
muscles  to  which  they  are  distributed  are  made  to 
contract:  there  is  a  molecular  change  which,  in  the  case 
of  the  sensory  nerve,  is  propagated  towards  the  brain. 
But  the  great  fact  insisted  upon  by  Descartes,  that  no 
likeness  of  external  things  is,  or  can  be,  transmitted  to 
the  mind  by  the  sensory  organs  ;  on  the  contrary,  that, 

1  Locke  (Human  Understanding,  Book  II.,  chap.  viii.  37)  uses  Des- 
cartes' illustration  for  the  same  purpose,  and  warns  us  that  "  most  of 
the  ideas  of  sensation  are  no  more  the  likeness  of  something  existing 
without  us  than  the  names  that  stand  for  them  are  the  likeness  of  our 
ideas,  which  yet,  upon  hearing,  they  are  apt  to  excite  in  us,"  a  declara- 
tion which  paved  the  way  for  Berkeley. 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  209 

between  the  external  cause  of  a  sensation  and  the 
sensation,  there  is  interposed  a  mode  of  motion  of 
nervous  matter,  of  which  the  state  of  consciousness  is 
no  likeness,  but  a  mere  symbol,  is  of  the  profoundest 
importance.  It  is  the  physiological  foundation  of  the 
doctrine  of  the  relativity  of  knowledge,  and  a  more 
or  less  complete  idealism  is  a  necessary  consequence 
of  it. 

For  of  two  alternatives  one  must  be  true.  Either 
consciousness  is  the  function  of  a  something  distinct 
from  the  brain,  which  we  call  the  soul,  and  a  sensa- 
tion is  the  mode  in  which  this  soul  is  affected  by  the 
motion  of  a  part  of  the  brain ;  or  there  is  no  soul,  and 
a  sensation  is  something  generated  by  the  mode  of 
motion  of  a  part  of  the  brain.  In  the  former  case, 
the  phenomena  of  the  senses  are  purely  spiritual 
affections ;  in  the  latter,  they  are  something  manu- 
factured by  the  mechanism  of  the  body,  and  as  unlike 
the  causes  which  set  that  mechanism  in  motion,  as  the 
sound  of  a  repeater  is  unlike  the  pushing  of  the  spring 
which  gives  rise  to  it. 

The  nervous  system  stands  between  consciousness 
and  the  assumed  external  world,  as  an  interpreter  who 
can  talk  with  his  fingers  stands  between  a  hidden 
speaker  and  a  man  who  is  stone  deaf — and  Eealism  is 
equivalent  to  a  belief  on  the  part  of  the  deaf  man, 
that  the  speaker  must  also  be  talking  with  his  fingers. 
"  Les  extremes  se  touchent ;"  the  shibboleth  of  materi- 
alists that  "  thought  is  a  secretion  of  the  brain,"  is  the 
Fichtean  doctrine  that  "the  phenomenal  universe  is 
the  creation  of  the  Ego,"  expressed  in  other  language. 

p 


210  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

IV.  The  motion  of  the  matter  of  a  sensory  nerve 
may  be  transmitted  through  the  brain  to 
motor  nerves,  and  thereby  give  rise  to  con- 
traction of  the  muscles  to  which  these  motor 
nerves  are  distributed;  and  this  reflection 
of  motion  from  a  sensory  into  a  motor  nerve 
may  take  place  without  volition9  or  even  con- 
trary to  it. 

In  stating  these  important  truths,  Descartes 
denned  that  which  we  now  term  "reflex  action." 
Indeed  he  almost  uses  the  term  itself,  as  he  talks  of 
the  "animal  spirits"  as  "reflechis,"1  from  the  sensory 
into  the  motor  nerves.  And  that  this  use  of  the 
word  "  reflected  "  was  no  mere  accident,  but  that  the 
importance  and  appropriateness  of  the  idea  it  suggests 
was  fully  understood  by  Descartes'  contemporaries,  is 
apparent  from  a  passage  in  "Willis's  well-known  essay, 
"De  Anima  Brutorum,"  published  in  1672,  in  which, 
in  giving  an  account  of  Descartes'  views,  he  speaks  of 
the  animal  spirits  being  diverted  into  motor  channels, 
"  velut  undulatione  reflexa."2 

Nothing  can  be  clearer  in  statement,  or  in  illus- 
tration, than  the  view  of  reflex  action  which  Descartes 
gives  in  the  "  Passions  de  1'Ame,"  Art.  xiii. 

1  "  Passions  de  1'Ame,"  Art.  xxxvi. 

2  "  Quamcumque  Bruti  actionem,  velut  automati  mechanic!  motum 
artificialem,  in  eo  consistere  quod  se  primo  sensibile  aliquod  spiritus 
animales  afficiens,  eosque  introrsum  convertens,  sensionem  excitat,  a 
qua  mox  iidem  spiritus,  velut  undulatione  reflexa*  denuo  retrorsum 
commoti  atque  pro  concinno  ipsius  fabricse  organorum,  et  partium 
ordine,  in  certos  nervos  musculosque  determinati,  respectivos  membro- 
rum  motus  perficiunt." — WILLIS  :    "De  Animsi  Brutorum,"  p.  5,  ed. 
1763. 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  211 

After  recapitulating  the  manner  in  which  sensory 
impressions  transmitted  by  the  sensory  nerves  to  the 
brain  give  rise  to  sensation,  he  proceeds  :— 

"  And  in  addition  to  the  different  feelings  excited  in  the 
soul  by  these  different  motions  of  the  brain,  the  animal  spirits, 
without  the  intervention  of  the  soul,  may  take  their  course 
towards  certain  muscles,  rather  than  towards  others,  and  thus 
move  the  limbs,  as  I  shall  prove  by  an  example.  If  some  one 
moves  his  hand  rapidly  towards  our  eyes,  as  if  he  were  going  to 
strike  us,  although  we  know  that  he  is  a  friend,  that  he  does  it 
only  in  jest,  and  that  he  will  be  very  careful  to  do  us  no  harm, 
nevertheless  it  will  be  hard  to  keep  from  winking.  And  this 
shows,  that  it  is  not  by  the  agency  of  the  soul  that  the  eyes 
shut,  since  this  action  is  contrary  to  that  volition  which  is  the 
only,  or  at  least  the  chief,  function  of  the  soul ;  but  it  is  because 
the  mechanism  of  our  body  is  so  disposed,  that  the  motion  of 
the  hand  towards  our  eyes  excites  another  movement  in  our 
brain,  and  this  sends  the  animal  spirits  into  those  muscles  which 
cause  the  eyelids  to  close." 

Since  Descartes'  time,  experiment  has  eminently 
enlarged  our  knowledge  of  the  details  of  reflex  action., 
The  discovery  of  Bell  has  enabled  us  to  follow  the 
tracks  of  the  sensory  and  motor  impulses,  along  dis- 
tinct bundles  of  nerve  fibres;  and  the  spinal  cord, 
apart  from  the  brain,  has  been  proved  to  be  a  great 
centre  of  reflex  action ;  but  the  fundamental  concep- 
tion remains  as  Descartes  left  it,  and  it  is  one  of  the 
pillars  of  nerve  physiology  at  the  present  day. 

V.  The  motion  of  any  given  portion  of  the  matter 
of  the  brain  excited  by  the  motion  of  a  sensw*y 
nerve,  leaves  behind  a  readiness  to  be  moved 
in  the  same  way,  in  that  part.  Anything 
which  resuscitates  the  motion  gives  rise  to  the 


212  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

appropriate  feeling.     This  is  the  physical 
mechanism  of  memory. 

Descartes  imagined  that  the  pineal  body  (a  curious 
appendage  to  the  upper  side  of  the  brain,  the  function 
of  which,  if  it  have  any,  is  wholly  unknown)  was  the 
instrument  through  which  the  soul  received  impres- 
sions from,  and  communicated  them  to,  the  brain. 
And  he  thus  endeavours  to  explain  what  happens 
when  one  tries  to  recollect  something : — 

"Thus  when  the  soul  wills  to  remember  anything,  this 
volition,  causing  the  [pineal]  gland  to  incline  itself  in  different 
directions,  drives  the  [animal]  spirits  towards  different  regions  of 
the  brain,  until  they  reach  that  part  in  which  are  the  traces, 
which  the  object  which  it  desires  to  remember  has  left.  These 
traces  are  produced  thus  :  those  pores  of  the  brain  through 
which  the  [animal]  spirits  have  previously  been  driven,  by  reason 
of  the  presence  of  the  object,  have  thereby  acquired  a  tendency 
to  be  opened  by  the  animal  spirits  which  return  towards  them, 
more  easily  than  other  pores,  so  that  the  animal  spirits,  imping- 
ing on  these  pores,  enter  them  more  readily  than  others.  By 
this  means  they  excite  a  particular  movement  in  the  pineal 
gland,  which  represents  the  object  to  the  soul,  and  causes  it  to 
know  what  it  is  which  it  desired  to  recollect."1 

That  memory  is  dependent  upon  some  condition 
of  the  brain  is  a  fact  established  by  many  considera- 
tions— among  the  most  important  of  which  are  the 
remarkable  phenomena  of  aphasia.  And  that  the 
condition  of  the  brain  on  which  memory  depends,  is 
largely  determined  by  the  repeated  occurrence  of  that 
condition  of  its  molecules,  which  gives  rise  to  the 
idea  of  the  thing  remembered,  is  no  less  certain. 

1  "  Les  Passions  de  Time,"  xlii. 


IX.]  ANIMAL  AUTOMATISM.  213 

Every  boy  who  learns  his  lesson  by  repeating  it 
exemplifies  the  fact.  Descartes,  as  we  have  seen, 
supposes  that  the  pores  of  a  given  part  of  the  brain 
are  stretched  by  the  animal  spirits,  on  the  occurrence 
of  a  sensation,  and  that  the  part  of  the  brain  thus 
stretched,  being  imperfectly  elastic,  does  not  return  to 
exactly  its  previous  condition,  but  remains  more  dis- 
tensible than  it  was  before.  Hartley  supposes  that 
the  vibrations,  excited  by  a  sensory,  or  other,  impres- 
sion, do  not  die  away,  but  are  represented  by  smaller 
vibrations  or  "  vibratiuncules,"  the  permanency  and 
intensity  of  which  are  in  relation  with  the  frequency 
of  repetition  of  the  primary  vibrations.  Haller  has 
substantially  the  same  idea,  but  contents  himself  with 
the  general  term  "  mutationes,"  to  express  the  cerebral 
change  which  is  the  cause  of  a  state  of  consciousness. 
These  "  mutationes  "  persist  for  a  long  time  after  the 
cause  which  gives  rise  to  them  has  ceased  to  operate, 
and  are  arranged  in  the  brain  according  to  the  order 
of  coexistence  and  succession  of  their  causes.  And  he 
gives  these  persistent  "  mutationes "  the  picturesque 
name  of  vestigia  rerum,  "  quae  non  in  mente  sed  in 
ipso  corpore  et  in  medulla  quidem  cerebri  ineffabili 
modo  incredibiliter  minutis  notis  et  copia  infinita, 
inscriptsB  sunt."1  I  do  not  know  that  any  modern 
theory  of  the  physical  conditions  of  memory  differs 
essentially  from  these,  which  are  all  children — mutatis 
mutandis — of  the  Cartesian  doctrine.  Physiology  is, 
at  present,  incompetent  to  say  anything  positively 
about  the  matter,  or  to  go  farther  than  the  expression 

1  Haller,  u  Prirnaj  LinesD,"  ecL  iii.     "  Sensus  Intend,"  dlviil 


214  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

of  the  high  probability,  that  every  molecular  change 
which  gives  rise  to  a  state  of  consciousness,  leaves  a 
more  or  less  persistent  structural  modification,  through 
which  the  same  molecular  change  may  be  regenerated 
by  other  agencies  than  the  cause  which  first  pro- 
duced it. 

Thus  far,  the  propositions  respecting  the  physiology 
of  the  nervous  system  which  are  stated  by  Descartes 
have  simply  been  more  clearly  defined,  more  fully 
illustrated,  and,  for  the  most  part,  demonstrated,  by 
modern  physiological  research.  But  there  remains  a 
doctrine  to  which  Descartes  attached  great  weight,  so 
that  full  acceptance  of  .it  became  a  sort  of  note  of  a 
thorough-going  Cartesian,  but  which,  nevertheless,  is 
so  opposed  to  ordinary  prepossessions  that  it  attained 
more  general  notoriety,  and  gave  rise  to  more  discus- 
sion, than  almost  any  other  Cartesian  hypothesis.  It 
is  the  doctrine,  that  brute  animals  are  mere  machines 
or  automata,  devoid  not  only  of  reason,  but  of  any 
kind  of  consciousness,  which  is  stated  briefly  in  the 
"Discours  de  la  Methode,"  and  more  fully  in  the 
"Keponses  aux  Quatriemes  Objections,"  and  in  the 
correspondence  with  Henry  More.1 

The  process  of  reasoning  by  which  Descartes 
arrived  at  this  startling  conclusion  is  well  shown  in 
the  folio  wing  passage  of  the  "  Keponses:" — 

"  But  as  regards  the  souls  of  beasts,  although  this  is  not  the 

1  "Keponse  de  M.  Descartes  a  M.  Moras."  1649.  "  CEuvres," 
tome  x.  p.  204.  "  Mais  le  plus  grand  de  tous  les  prejuges  que  nous 
ayons  retenus  de  notre  enfance,  est  celui  de  croire  que  les  betes 
pensent,"  etc. 


IX.]  ANIMAL  AUTOMATISM.  215 

place  for  considering  them,  and  though,  without  a  general 
exposition  of  physics,  I  can  say  no  more  on  this  subject  than  I 
have  already  said  in  the  fifth  part  of  my  Treatise  on  Method ; 
yet,  I  will  further  state,  here,  that  it  appears  to  me  to  be  a  very 
remarkable  circumstance  that  no  movement  can  take  place,  either 
in  the  bodies  of  beasts,  or  even  in  our  own,  if  these  bodies  have 
not  in  themselves  all  the  organs  and  instruments  by  means  of 
which  the  very  same  movements  would  be  accomplished  in  a 
machine.  So  that,  even  in  us,  the  spirit,  or  the  soul,  does  not 
directly  move  the  limbs,  but  only  determines  the  course  of  that 
very  subtle  liquid  which  is  called  the  animal  spirits,  which, 
running  continually  from  the  heart  by  the  brain  into  the  muscles, 
is  the  cause  of  all  the  movements  of  our  limbs,  and  often  may 
cause  many  different  motions,  one  as  easily  as  the  other. 

"And  it  does  not  even  always  exert  this  determination;  for 
among  the  movements  which  take  place  in  us,  there  are  many 
which  do  not  depend  on  the  mind  at  all,  such  as  the  beating  of 
the  heart,  the  digestion  of  food,  the  nutrition,  the  respiration, 
of  those  who  sleep ;  and,  even  in  those  who  are  awake,  walking, 
singing,  and  other  similar  actions,  when  they  are  performed 
without  the  mind  thinking  about  them.  And,  when  one  who 
falls  from  a  height  throws  his  hands  forwards  to  save  his  head, 
it  is  in  virtue  of  no  ratiocination  that  he  performs  this  action ; 
it  does  not  depend  upon  his  mind,  but  takes  place  merely 
because  his  senses  being  affected  by  the  present  danger,  some 
change  arises  in  his  brain  which  determines  the  animal  spirits 
to  pass  thence  into  the  nerves,  in  such  a  manner  as  is  required 
to  produce  this  motion,  in  the  same  way  as  in  a  machine,  and 
without  the  mind  being  able  to  hinder  it  Now  since  we  observe 
this  in  ourselves,  why  should  we  be  so  much  astonished  if  the 
light  reflected  from  the  body  of  a  wolf  into  the  eye  of  a  sheep 
has  the  same  force  to  excite  in  it  the  motion  of  flight  ? 

"  After  having  observed  this,  if  we  wish  to  learn  by  reasoning, 
whether  certain  movements  of  beasts  are  comparable  to  those 
which  are  effected  in  us  by  the  operation  of  the  mind,  or,  on  the 
contrary,  to  those  which  depend  only  on  the  animal  spirits  and 
the  disposition  of  the  organs,  it  is  necessary  to  consider  the 
difference  between  the  two,  which  I  have  explained  in  the  fifth 
part  of  the  Discourse  on  Method  (for  I  do  not  think  that  any  others 


216  ANIMAL  AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

are  discoverable),  and  then  it  will  easily  be  seen,  that  all  the  actions 
of  beasts  are  similar  only  to  those  which  we  perform  without  the 
help  of  our  minds.  For  which  reason  we  shall  be  forced  to 
conclude,  that  we  know  of  the  existence  in  them  of  no  other 
principle  of  motion  than  the  disposition  of  their  organs  and  the 
continual  affluence  of  animal  spirits  produced  by  the  heat  of  the 
heart,  which  attenuates  and  subtilises  the  blood ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  we  shall  acknowledge  that  we  have  had  no  reason  for 
assuming  any  other  principle,  except  that,  not  having  distinguished 
these  two  principles  of  motion,  and  seeing  that  the  one,  which 
depends  only  on  the  animal  spirits  and  the  organs,  exists  in  beasts 
as  well  as  in  us,  we  have  hastily  concluded  that  the  other,  which 
depends  on  mind  and  on  thought,  was  also  possessed  by  them." 

Descartes'  line  of  argument  is  perfectly  clear.  He 
starts  from  reflex  action  in  man,  from  the  unquestion- 
able fact  that,  in  ourselves,  co-ordinate,  purposive, 
actions  may  take  place,  without  the  intervention  of 
consciousness  or  volition,  or  even  contrary  to  the 
latter.  As  actions  of  a  certain  degree  of  complexity 
are  brought  about  by  mere  mechanism,  why  may  not 
actions  of  still  greater  complexity  be  the  result  of  a 
more  refined  mechanism  ?  What  proof  is  there  that 
brutes  are  other  than  a  superior  race  of  marionettes, 
which  eat  without  pleasure,  cry  without  pain,  desire 
nothing,  know  nothing,  and  only  simulate  intelligence 
as  a  bee  simulates  a  mathematician  I1 

The  Port  Koyalists  adopted  the  hypothesis  that 
brutes  are  machines,  and  are  said  to  have  carried  its 

1  Malebranche  states  the  view  taken  by  orthodox  Cartesians  in 
1689  very  forcibly :  "Ainsi  dans  les  chiens,  les  chats,  et  les  autres 
animaux,  il  n'y  a  ny  intelligence,  ny  ame  spirituelle  comme  on  1'entend 
ordinairement.  Us  mangent  sans  plaisir  ;  ils  orient  sans  douleur  ;  ils 
croissent  sans  le  s§avoir  ;  ils  ne  desirent  rien  ;  ils  ne  connoissent  rien  ; 
et  s'ils  agissent  avec  adresse  et  d'une  maniere  qui  marque  Intelligence, 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  217 

practical  applications  so  far,  as  to  treat  domestic 
animals  with  neglect,  if  not  with  actual  cruelty.  As 
late  as  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  pro- 
blem was  discussed  very  fully  and  ably  by  Bouillier, 
in  his  "Essai  philosophique  sur  Time  des  Betes," 
while  Condillac  deals  with  it  in  his  "Traite  des 
.  Animaux ; "  but  since  then  it  has  received  little 
attention.  Nevertheless,  modern  research  has  brought 
to  light  a  great  multitude  of  facts,  which  not  only 
show  that  Descartes'  view  is  defensible,  but  render  it 
far  more  defensible  than  it  was  in  his  day. 

It  must  be  premised,  that  it  is  wholly  impossible 
absolutely  to  prove  the  presence  or  absence  of  con- 
sciousness in  anything  but  one's  own  brain,  though, 
by  analogy,  we  are  justified  in  assuming  its  existence 
in  other  men.  Now  if,  by  some  accident,  a  man's 
spinal  cord  is  divided,  his  limbs  are  paralysed,  so  far 
as  his  volition  is  concerned,  below  the  point  of  injury; 
and  he  is  incapable  of  experiencing  all  those  states  of 
consciousness,  which,  in  his  uninjured  state,  would  be 
excited  by  irritation  of  those  nerves  which  come  off 
below  the  injury.  If  the  spinal  cord  is  divided  in 
the  middle  of  the  back,  for  example,  the  skin  of  the 
feet  may  be  cut,  or  pinched,  or  burned,  or  wetted 
with  vitriol,  without  any  sensation  of  touch,  or  of 
pain,  arising  in  consciousness.  So  far  as  the  man  is 
concerned,  therefore,  the  part  of  the  central  nervous 

c'est  que  Dieu  les  faisant  pour  les  conserver,  il  a  conforme  leurs  corps 
de  telle  maniere,  qu'ils  evitent  organiquement,  sans  le  s§avoir,  tout  ce 
qui  peut  les  detruire  et  qu'ils  semblent  craindre."  ("Feuillet  de 
Conches.  Meditations  Metaphysiques  et  Correspondance  de  N.  Male- 
branche.  Neuvieme  Meditation."  1841.) 


218  ANIMAL  AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

system  which  lies  beyond  the  injury  is  cut  off  from 
consciousness.  It  must  indeed  be  admitted,  that,  if 
any  one  think  fit  to  maintain  that  the  spinal  cord 
below  the  injury  is  conscious,  but  that  it  is  cut  off 
from  any  means  of  making  its  consciousness  known 
to  the  other  consciousness  in  the  brain,  there  is  no 
means  of  driving  him  from  his  position  by  logic. 
But  assuredly  there  is  no  way  of  proving  it,  and  in 
the  matter  of  consciousness,  if  in  anything,  we  may 
hold  by  the  rule,  "  De  non  apparentibus  et  de  non 
existentibus  eadem  esfc  ratio."  However  near  the 
brain  the  spinal  cord  is  injured,  consciousness  remains 
intact,  except  that  the  irritation  of  parts  below  the 
injury  is  no  longer  represented  by  sensation.  On  the 
other  hand,  pressure  upon  the  anterior  division  of  the 
brain,  or  extensive  injuries  to  it,  abolish  conscious- 
ness. Hence,  it  is  a  highly  probable  conclusion,  that 
consciousness  in  man  depends  upon  the  integrity  of 
the  anterior  division  of  the  brain,  while  the  middle 
and  hinder  divisions  of  the  brain,  and  the  rest  of  the 
nervous  centres,  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  And  it 
is  further  highly  probable,  that  what  is  true  for  man 
is  true  for  other  vertebrated  animals. 

We  may  assume,  then,  that  in  a  living  vertebrated 
animal,  any  segment  of  the  cerebro-spinal  axis  (or 
spinal  cord  and  brain)  separated  from  that  anterior 
division  of  the  brain  which  is  the  organ  of  conscious- 
ness, is  as  completely  incapable  of  giving  rise  to 
consciousness,  as  we  know  it  to  be  incapable  of  carry- 
ing out  volitions.  Nevertheless,  this  separated  seg- 
ment of  the  spinal  cord  is  not  passive  and  inert.  On 


IX.]  ANIMAL  AUTOMATISM.  219 

the  contrary,  it  is  the  seat  of  extremely  remarkable 
powers.  In  our  imaginary  case  of  injury,  the  man 
would,  as  we  have  seen,  be  devoid  of  sensation  in  his 
legs,  and  would  have  not  the  least  power  of  moving 
them.  But,  if  the  soles  of  his  feet  were  tickled,  the 
legs  would  be  drawn  up,  just  as  vigorously  as  they 
would  have  been  before  the  injury.  We  know 
exactly  what  happens  when  the  soles  of  the  feet  are 
tickled ;  a  molecular  change  takes  place  in  the  sen- 
sory nerves  of  the  skin,  and  is  propagated  along  them 
and  through  the  posterior  roots  of  the  spinal  nerves, 
which  are  constituted  by  them,  to  the  grey  matter 
of  the  spinal  cord.  Through  that  grey  matter,  the 
molecular  motion  is  reflected  into  the  anterior  roots  of 
the  same  nerves,  constituted  by  the  filaments  which 
supply  the  muscles  of  the  legs,  and,  travelling  along 
these  motor  filaments,  reaches  the  muscles,  which  at 
once  contract,  and  cause  the  limbs  to  be  drawn  up. 

In  order  to  move  the  legs  in  this  way,  a  definite 
co-ordination  of  muscular  contractions  is  necessary; 
the  muscles  must  contract  in  a  certain  order  and  with 
duly  proportioned  force ;  and  moreover,  as  the  feet 
are  drawn  away  from  the  source  of  irritation,  it  may 
be  said  that  the  action  has  a  final  cause,  or  is 
purposive. 

Thus  it  follows,  that  the  grey  matter  of  the  seg- 
ment of  the  man's  spinal  cord,  though  it  is  devoid 
of  consciousness,  nevertheless  responds  to  a  simple 
stimulus  by  giving  rise  to  a  complex  set  of  muscular 
contractions,  co-ordinated  towards  a  definite  end,  and 
serving  an  obvious  purpose. 


220  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

If  the  spinal  cord  of  a  frog  is  cut  across,  so  as  to 
provide  us  with  a  segment  separated  from  the  brain, 
we  shall  have  a  subject  parallel  to  the  injured  man, 
on  which  experiments  can  be  made  without  remorse ; 
as  we  have  a  right  to  conclude  that  a  frog's  spinal 
cord  is  not  likely  to  be  conscious,  when  a  man's 
is  not. 

Now  the  frog  behaves  just  as  the  man  did.  The 
legs  are  utterly  paralysed,  so  far  as  voluntary  move- 
ment is  concerned ;  but  they  are  vigorously  drawn  up 
to  the  body  when  any  irritant  is  applied  to  the  foot. 
But  let  us  study  our  frog  a  little  farther.  Touch  the 
skin  of  the  side  of  the  body  with  a  little  acetic  acid, 
which  gives  rise  to  all  the  signs  of  great  pain  in  an 
uninjured  frog.  In  this  case,  there  can  be  no  pain, 
because  the  application  is  made  to  a  part  of  the  skin 
supplied  with  nerves  which  come  off  from  the  cord 
below  the  point  of  section ;  nevertheless,  the  frog 
lifts  up  the  limb  of  the  same  side,  and  applies  the 
foot  to  rub  off  the  acetic  acid ;  and,  what  is  still  more 
remarkable,  if  the  limb  be  held  so  that  the  frog 
cannot  use  it,  it  will,  by-and-by,  move  the  limb  of 
the  other  side,  turn  it  across  the  body,  and  use  it  for 
the  same  rubbing  process.  It  is  impossible  that  the 
frog,  if  it  were  in  its  entirety  and  could  reason, 
should  perform  actions  more  purposive  than  these : 
and  yet  we  have  most  complete  assurance  that,  in 
this  case,  the  frog  is  not  acting  from  purpose,  has  no 
consciousness,  and  is  a  mere  insensible  machine. 

But  now  suppose  that,  instead  of  making  a  section 
of  the  cord  in  the  middle  of  the  body,  it  had  been 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  221 

made  in  such  a  manner  as  to  separate  the  hindermost 
division  of  the  brain  from  the  rest  of  the  organ, 
and  suppose  the  foremost  two -thirds  of  the  brain 
entirely  taken  away.  The  frog  is  then  absolutely 
devoid  of  any  spontaneity ;  it  sits  upright  in  the 
attitude  which  a  frog  habitually  assumes  ;  and  it  will 
not  stir  unless  it  is  touched ;  but  it  differs  from  the 
frog  which  I  have  just  described  in  this,  that,  if  it  be 
thrown  into  the  water,  it  begins  to  swim,  and  swims 
just  as  well  as  the  perfect  frog  does.  But  swimming 
requires  the  combination  and  successive  co-ordination 
of  a  great  number  of  muscular  actions.  And  we  are 
forced  to  conclude,  that  the  impression  made  upon 
the  sensory  nerves  of  the  skin  of  the  frog  by  the  con- 
tact with  the  water  into  which  it  is  thrown,  causes  the 
transmission  to  the  central  nervous  apparatus  of  an 
impulse,  which  sets  going  a  certain  machinery  by 
which  all  the  muscles  of  swimming  are  brought  into 
play  in  due  co-ordination.  If  the  frog  be  stimulated 
by  some  irritating  body,  it  jumps  or  walks  as  well 
as  the  complete  frog  can  do.  The  simple  sensory 
impression,  acting  through  the  machinery  of  the  cord, 
gives  rise  to  these  complex  combined  movements. 

It  is  possible  to  go  a  step  farther.  Suppose  that 
only  the  anterior  division  of  the  brain — so  much  of  it 
as  lies  in  front  of  the  "  optic  lobes  " — is  removed.  If 
that  operation  is  performed  quickly  and  skilfully,  the 
frog  may  be  kept  in  a  state  of  full  bodily  vigour  for 
months,  or  it  may  be  for  years ;  but  it  will  sit  un- 
moved. It  sees  nothing;  it  hears  nothing.  It  will 
starve  sooner  than  feed  itself,  although  food  put  into 


222  ANIMAL  AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

its  mouth  is  swallowed.  On  irritation,  it  jumps  or 
walks ;  if  thrown  into  the  water  it  swims.  If  it  be 
put  on  the  hand,  it  sits  there,  crouched,  perfectly 
quiet,  and  would  sit  there  for  ever.  If  the  hand  be 
inclined  very  gently  and  slowly,  so  that  the  frog 
would  naturally  tend  to  slip  off,  the  creature's  fore 
paws  are  shifted  on  to  the  edge  of  the  hand,  until  he  can 
just  prevent  himself  from  falling.  If  the  turning  of 
the  hand  be  slowly  continued,  he  mounts  up  with  great 
care  and  deliberation,  putting  first  one  leg  forward 
and  then  another,  until  he  balances  himself  with 
perfect  precision  upon  the  edge ;  and,  if  the  turning  of 
the  hand  is  continued,  over  he  goes  through  the 
needful  set  of  muscular  operations,  until  he  comes  to 
be  seated  in  security,  upon  the  back  of  the  hand.  The 
doing  of  all  this  requires  a  delicacy  of  co-ordination, 
and  a  precision  of  adjustment  of  the  muscular  apparatus 
of  the  body,  which  are  only  comparable  to  those  of  a 
rope-dancer.  To  the  ordinary  influences  of  light,  the 
frog,  deprived  of  its  cerebral  hemispheres,  appears  to 
be  blind.  Nevertheless,  if  the  animal  be  put  upon  a 
table,  with  a  book  at  some  little  distance  between  it 
and  the  light,  and  the  skin  of  the  hinder  part  of  its 
body  is  then  irritated,  it  will  jump  forward,  avoiding 
the  book  by  passing  to  the  right  or  left  of  it. 
Therefore,  although  the  frog  appears  to  have  no 
sensation  of  light,  visible  objects  act  through  its  brain 
upon  the  motor  mechanism  of  its  body.1 

1  See  the  remarkable  essay  of  Goltz,  "  Beitrage  zur  Lehre  von  den 
Functionen  der  Nervencentren  des  Frosches,"  published  in  1869.  I 
have  repeated  Goltz's  experiments,  and  obtained  the  same  results. 


IX.]  ANIMAL    AUTOMATISM.  223 

It  is  obvious,  that  had  Descartes  been  acquainted 
with  these  remarkable  results  of  modern  research, 
they  would  have  furnished  him  with  far  more  power- 
ful arguments  than  he  possessed  in  favour  of  his  view 
of  the  automatism  of  brutes.  The  habits  of  a  frog, 
leading  its  natural  life,  involve  such  simple  adapta- 
tions to  surrounding  conditions,  that  the  machinery 
which  is  competent  to  do  so  much  without  the  inter- 
vention of  consciousness,  might  well  do  all.  And  this 
argument  is  vastly  strengthened  by  what  has  been 
learned  in  recent  times  of  the  marvellously  complex 
operations  which  are  performed  mechanically,  and  to 
all  appearance  without  consciousness,  by  men,  when, 
in  consequence  of  injury  or  disease,  they  are  reduced 
to  a  condition  more  or  less  comparable  to  that  of  a 
frog,  in  which  the  anterior  part  of  the  brain  has  been 
removed.  A  case  has  recently  been  published  by  an 
eminent  French  physician,  Dr.  Mesnet,  which  illus- 
trates this  condition  so  remarkably,  that  I  make  no 
apology  for  dwelling  upon  it  at  considerable  length.1 

A  sergeant  of  the  French  army,  F ,  twenty- 
seven  years  of  age,  was  wounded  during  the  battle  of 
Bazeilles,  by  a  ball  which  fractured  his  left  parietal 
bone.  He  ran  his  bayonet  through  the  Prussian 
soldier  who  wounded  him,  but  almost  immediately 
his  right  arm  became  paralysed  ;  after  walking  about 

1  "De  1'Automatisme  de  la  Memoire  et  du  Souvenir,  dans  le 
Somnambulisme  pathologique."  Par  le  Dr.  E.  Mesnet,  Medecin  de 
I'Hopital  Saint- Antoine.  "L'Union  Medicale,"  Juillet  21  et  23,  1874. 
My  attention  was  first  called  to  a  summary  of  this  remarkable  case, 
which  appeared  in  the  "  Journal  des  Debats  "  for  the  7th  of  August 
1874,  by  my  friend  General  Straohey,  F.E.S. 


224  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

two  hundred  yards,  his  right  leg  became  similarly 
affected,  and  he  lost  his  senses.  When  he  recovered 
them,  three  weeks  afterwards,  in  hospital  at  Mayence, 
the  right  half  of  the  body  was  completely  paralysed, 
and  remained  in  this  condition  for  a  year.  At  present, 
the  only  trace  of  the  paralysis  which  remains  is  a 
slight  weakness  of  the  right  half  of  the  body.  Three 
or  four  months  after  the  wound  was  inflicted,  periodi- 
cal disturbances  of  the  functions  of  the  brain  made 
their  appearance,  and  have  continued  ever  since.  The 
disturbances  last  from  fifteen  to  thirty  hours;  the 
intervals  at  which  they  occur  being  from  fifteen  to 
thirty  days. 

For  four  years,  therefore,  the  life  of  this  man 
has  been  divided  into  alternating  phases  —  short 
abnormal  states  intervening  between  long  normal 
states. 

In  the  periods  of  normal  life,  the  ex-sergeant's 
health  is  perfect;  he  is  intelligent  and  kindly,  and 
performs,  satisfactorily,  the  duties  of  a  hospital 
attendant.  The  commencement  of  the  abnormal 
state  is  ushered  in  by  uneasiness  and  a  sense  of 
weight  about  the  forehead,  which  the  patient  com- 
pares to  the  constriction  of  a  circle  of  iron;  and, 
after  its  termination,  he  complains,  for  some  hours, 
of  dulness  and  heaviness  of  the  head.  But  the 
transition  from  the  normal  to  the  abnormal  state 
takes  place  in  a  few  minutes,  without  convulsions 
or  cries,  and  without  anything  to  indicate  the  change 
to  a  bystander.  His  movements  remain  free  and  his 
expression  calm,  except  for  a  contraction  of  the  brow, 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  225 

an  incessant  movement  of  the  eyeballs,  and  a  chewing 
motion  of  the  jaws.  The  eyes  are  wide  open,  and 
their  pupils  dilated.  If  the  man  happens  to  be  in  a 
place  to  which  he  is  accustomed,  he  walks  about  as 
usual ;  but,  if  he  is  in  a  new  place,  or  if  obstacles  are 
intentionally  placed  in  his  way,  he  stumbles  gently 
against  them,  stops,  and  then,  feeling  over  the  objects 
with  his  hands,  passes  on  one  side  of  them.  He  offers 
no  resistance  to  any  change  of  direction  which  may 
be  impressed  upon  him,  or  to  the  forcible  acceleration 
or  retardation  of  his  movements.  He  eats,  drinks, 
smokes,  walks  about,  dresses  and  undresses  himself, 
rises  and  goes  to  bed  at  the  accustomed  hours. 
Nevertheless,  pins  may  be  run  into  his  body,  or 
strong  electric  shocks  sent  through  it,  without  causing 
the  least  indication  of  pain ;  no  odorous  substance, 
pleasant  or  unpleasant,  makes  the  least  impression ; 
he  eats  and  drinks  with  avidity  whatever  is  offered, 
and  takes  asafoetida,  or  vinegar,  or  quinine,  as  readily 
as  water ;  no  noise  affects  him ;  and  light  influences 
him  only  under  certain  conditions.  Dr.  Mesnet  re- 
marks, that  the  sense  of  touch  alone  seems  to  persist, 
and  indeed  to  be  more  acute  and  delicate  than  in  the 
normal  state ;  and  it  is  by  means  of  the  nerves 
of  touch,  almost  exclusively,  that  his  organism  is 
brought  into  relation  with  the  external  world.  Here 
a  difficulty  arises.  It  is  clear  from  the  facts  detailed, 
that  the  nervous  apparatus  by  which,  in  the  normal 
state,  sensations  of  touch  are  excited,  is  that  by 
which  external  influences  determine  the  movements 
of  the  body,  in  the  abnormal  state.  But  does  the 

Q 


226  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

state  of  consciousness,  which  we  term  a  tactile  sen- 
sation, accompany  the  operation  of  this  nervous 
apparatus  in  the  abnormal  state  ?  or  is  consciousness 
utterly  absent,  the  man  being  reduced  to  an  insensible 
mechanism  1 

It  is  impossible  to  obtain  direct  evidence  in 
favour  of  the  one  conclusion  or  the  other ;  all  that 
can  be  said  is,  that  the  case  of  the  frog  shows  that 
the  man  may  be  devoid  of  any  kind  of  consciousness. 

A  further  difficult  problem  is  this.  The  man  is 
insensible  to  sensory  impressions  made  through  the 
ear,  the  nose,  the  tongue,  and,  to  a  great  extent,  the 
eye ;  nor  is  he  susceptible  of  pain  from  causes  operat- 
ing during  his  abnormal  state.  Nevertheless,  it  is 
possible  so  to  act  upon  his  tactile  apparatus,  as  to 
give  rise  to  those  molecular  changes  in  his  sensorium, 
which  are  ordinarily  the  causes  of  associated  trains  of 
ideas.  I  give  a  striking  example  of  this  process  in 
Dr.  Mesnet's  words  : — 

"II  sepromenait  dans  le  jardin,  sous  un  massif  d'arbres,  on 
lui  remet  a  la  main  sa  canne  qu'il  avait  Iaiss6  tomber  quelques 
minutes  avant.  II  la  palpe,  promene  a  plusieurs  reprises  la  main 
sur  la  poigne"e  coudee  de  sa  canne — devient  attentif — semble 
prater  1'oreille  —  et,  tout-a-coup,  appelle  *  Henri!7  Puis,  'Les 
voila !  Us  sont  au  moins  une  vingtaine !  a  nous  deux,  nous  en 
viendrons  a  bout ! '  Et  alors  portant  la  main  derriere  son  dos 
comme  pour  prendre  une  cartouche,  il  fait  le  mouvement  de 
charger  son  arme,  se  couche  dans  1'herbe  a  plat  ventre,  la  tete 
cache'e  par  un  arbre,  dans  la  position  d'un  tirailleur,  et  suit, 
1'arme  e"paulee,  tous  les  mouvements  de  I'euuemi  qu'il  croit  voir 
a  courte  distance." 

In   a   subsequent   abnormal   period,   Dr.    Mesnet 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  227 

caused  the  patient  to  repeat  this  scene  by  placing 
him  in  the  same  conditions.  Now,  in  this  case,  the 
question  arises  whether  the  series  of  actions  constitut- 
ing this  singular  pantomime  was  accompanied  by 
the  ordinary  states  of  consciousness,  the  appropriate 
train  of  ideas,  or  not  ?  Did  the  man  dream  that  he 
was  skirmishing  ?  or  was  he  in  the  condition  of  one  of 
Vaucauson's  automata — a  senseless  mechanism  worked 
by  molecular  changes  in  his  nervous  system  ?  The 
analogy  of  the  frog  shows  that  the  latter  assumption 
is  perfectly  justifiable. 

The  ex-sergeant  has  a  good  voice,  and  had,  at  one 
time,  been  employed  as  a  singer  at  a  cafe.  In  one  of 
his  abnormal  states  he  was  observed  to  begin  hum- 
ming a  tune.  He  then  went  to  his  room,  dressed 
himself  carefully,  and  took  up  some  parts  of  a  period- 
ical novel,  which  lay  on  his  bed,  as  if  he  were  trying 
to  find  something.  Dr.  Mesnet,  suspecting  that  he 
was  seeking  his  music,  made  up  one  of  these .  into  a 
roll  and  put  it  into  his  hand.  He  appeared  satisfied, 
took  up  his  cane  and  went  down-stairs  to  the  door. 
Here  Dr.  Mesnet  turned  him  round,  and  he  walked 
quite  contentedly,  in  the  opposite  direction,  towards 
the  room  of  the  concierge.  The  light  of  the  sun 
shining  through  a  window  now  happened  to  fall  upon 
him,  and  seemed  to  suggest  the  footlights  of  the  stage 
on  which  he  was  accustomed  to  make  his  appear- 
ance. He  stopped,  opened  his  roll  of  imaginary 
music,  put  himself  into  the  attitude  of  a  singer,  and 
sang,  with  perfect  execution,  three  songs,  one  after 
the  other.  After  which  he  wiped  his  face  with  his 


228  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

handkerchief  and  drank,  without  a  grimace,  a  tumbler 
of  strong  vinegar  and  water  which  was  put  into  his 
hand. 

An  experiment  which  may  be  performed  upon  the 
frog  deprived  of  the  fore  part  of  its  brain,  well  known 
as  Goltz's  "  Quak-versuch,"  affords  a  parallel  to  this 
performance.  If  the  skin  of  a  certain  part  of  the  back 
of  such  a  frog  is  gently  stroked  with  the  finger,  it 
immediately  croaks.  It  never  croaks  unless  it  is  so 
stroked,  and  the  croak  always  follows  the  stroke,  just 
as  the  sound  of  a  repeater  follows  the  touching  of  the 
spring.  In  the  frog,  this  "  song  "  is  innate — so  to 
speak  d  priori — and  depends  upon  a  mechanism  in 
the  brain  governing  the  vocal  apparatus,  which  is  set 
at  work  by  the  molecular  change  set  up  in  the  sen- 
sory nerves  of  the  skin  of  the  back  by  the  contact  of 
a  foreign  body. 

In  man  there  is  also  a  vocal  mechanism,  and  the 
cry  of  an  infant  is  in  the  same  sense  innate  and  d 
priori,  inasmuch  as  it  depends  on  an  organic  relation 
between  its  sensory  nerves  and  the  nervous  mechanism 
which  governs  the  vocal  apparatus.  Learning  to 
speak,  and  learning  to  sing,  are  processes  by  which 
the  vocal  mechanism  is  set  to  new  tunes.  A  song 
which  has  been  learned  has  its  molecular  equivalent, 
which  potentially  represents  it  in  the  brain,  just  as 
a  musical  box  wound  up  potentially  represents  an 
overture.  Touch  the  stop  and  the  overture  begins ; 
send  a  molecular  impulse  along  the  proper  afferent 
nerve  and  the  singer  begins  his  song. 

Again,  the   manner   in   which  the   frog,  though 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  229 

apparently  insensible  to  light,  is  yet,  under  some 
circumstances,  influenced  by  visual  images,  finds  a 
singular  parallel  in  the  case  of  the  ex-sergeant. 

Sitting  at  a  table,  in  one  of  his  abnormal  states, 
he  took  up  a  pen,  felt  for  paper  and  ink,  and  began 
to  write  a  letter  to  his  general,  in  which  he  recom- 
mended himself  for  a  medal,  on  account  of  his  good 
conduct  and  courage.  It  occurred  to  Dr.  Mesnet  to 
ascertain  experimentally  how  far  vision  was  concerned 
in  this  act  of  writing.  He  therefore  interposed  a 
screen  between  the  man's  eyes  and  his  hands ;  under 
these  circumstances  he  went  on  writing  for  a  short 
time,  but  the  words  became  illegible,  and  he  finally 
stopped,  without  manifesting  any  discontent.  On  the 
withdrawal  of  the  screen  he  began  to  write  again 
where  he  had  left  off.  The  substitution  of  water  for 
ink  in  the  inkstand  had  a  similar  result.  He  stopped, 
looked  at  his  pen,  wiped  it  on  his  coat,  dipped  it  in 
the  water,  and  began  again,  with  the  same  effect. 

On  one  occasion,  he  began  to  write  upon  the  top- 
most of  ten  superimposed  sheets  of  paper.  After 
he  had  written  a  line  or  two,  this  sheet  was  suddenly 
drawn  away.  There  was  a  slight  expression  of  sur- 
prise, but  he  continued  his  letter  on  the  second  sheet 
exactly  as  if  it  had  been  the  first.  This  operation 
was  repeated  five  times,  so  that  the  fifth  sheet  con- 
tained nothing  but  the  writer's  signature  at  the  bottom 
of  the  page.  Nevertheless,  when  the  signature  was 
finished,  his  eyes  turned  to  the  top  of  the  blank  sheet, 
and  he  went  through  the  form  of  reading  over  what 
he  had  written,  a  movement  of  the  lips  accompany- 


230  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

ing  each  word;  moreover,  with  his  pen,  he  put  in 
such  corrections  as  were  needed,  in  that  part  of  the 
blank  page  which  corresponded  with  the  position  of 
the  words  which  required  correction,  in  the  sheets 
which  had  been  taken  away.  If  the  five  sheets  had 
been  transparent,  therefore,  they  would,  when  super- 
posed, have  formed  a  properly  written  and  corrected 
letter. 

Immediately  after  he  had  written  his  letter,  F 

got  up,  walked  down  to  the  garden,  made  himself  a 
cigarette,  lighted  and  smoked  it.  He  was  about  to 
prepare  another,  but  sought  in  vain  for  his  tobacco- 
pouch,  which  had  been  purposely  taken  away.  The 
pouch  was  now  thrust  before  his  eyes  and  put  under 
his  nose,  but  he  neither  saw  nor  smelt  it ;  but,  when 
it  was  placed  in  his  hand,  he  at  once  seized  it,  made  a 
fresh  cigarette,  and  ignited  a  match  to  light  the  latter. 
The  match  was  blown  out,  and  another  lighted  match 
placed  close  before  his  eyes,  but  he  made  no  attempt 
to  take  it ;  and,  if  his  cigarette  was  lighted  for  him, 
he  made  no  attempt  to  smoke.  All  this  time  the 
eyes  were  vacant,  and  neither  winked,  nor  exhibited 
any  contraction  of  the  pupils.  From  these  and  other 
experiments,  Dr.  Mesnet  draws  the  conclusion  that 
his  patient  sees  some  things  and  not  others  ;  that  the 
sense  of  sight  is  accessible  to  all  things  which  are 
brought  into  relation  with  him  by  the  sense  of  touch, 
and,  on  the  contrary,  insensible  to  things  which  lie 
outside  this  relation.  He  sees  the  match  he  holds, 
and  does  not  see  any  other. 

Just  so  the  frog  "  sees  "  the  book  which  is  in  the 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  231 

way  of  his  jump,  at  the  same  time  that  isolated  visual 
impressions  take  no  effect  upon  him.1 

As  I  have  pointed  out,  it  is  impossible  to  prove 

that  F is  absolutely  unconscious  in  his  abnormal 

state,  but  it  is  no  less  impossible  to  prove  the  con- 
trary; and  the  case  of  the  frog  goes  a  long  way  to 
justify  the  assumption  that,  in  the  abnormal  state, 
the  man  is  a  mere  insensible  machine. 

If  such  facts  as  these  had  come  under  the  know- 
ledge of  Descartes,  would  they  not  have  formed  an 

1  Those  who  have  had  occasion  to  become  acquainted  with  the 
phenomena  of  somnambulism  and  of  mesmerism,  will  be  struck  with 
the  close  parallel  which  they  present  to  the  proceedings  of  F.  in  his 
abnormal  state.  But  the  great  value  of  Dr.  Mesnet's  observations  lies 
in  the  fact  that  the  abnormal  condition  is  traceable  to  a  definite  injury 
to  the  brain,  and  that  the  circumstances  are  such  as  to  keep  us  clear  of 
the  cloud  of  voluntary  and  involuntary  fictions  in  which  the  truth  is 
too  often  smothered  in  such  cases.  In  the  unfortunate  subjects  of 
such  abnormal  conditions  of  the  brain,  the  disturbance  of  the  sensory 
and  intellectual  faculties  is  not  unfrequently  accompanied  by  a  perturb- 
ation of  the  moral  nature,  which  may  manifest  itself  in  a  most 
astonishing  love  of  lying  for  its  own  sake.  And,  in  this  respect,  also, 
F.'s  case  is  singularly  instructive,  for  though,  in  his  normal  state,  he  is 
a  perfectly  honest  man,  in  his  abnormal  condition  he  is  an  inveterate 
thief,  stealing  and  hiding  away  whatever  he  can  lay  hands  on,  with 
much  dexterity,  and  with  an  absurd  indifference  as  to  whether  the 
property  is  his  own  or  not.  Hoffman's  terrible  conception  of  the 
"  Doppelt-ganger  "  is  realised  by  men  in  this  state — who  live  two  lives, 
in  the  one  of  which  they  may  be  guilty  of  the  most  criminal  acts, 
while,  in  the  other,  they  are  eminently  virtuous  and  respectable. 
Neither  life  knows  anything  of  the  other.  Dr.  Mesnet  states  that  he 
has  watched  a  man  in  his  abnormal  state  elaborately  prepare  to  hang 
himself,  and  has  let  him  go  on  until  asphyxia  set  in,  when  he  cut  him 
down.  But  on  passing  into  the  normal  state  the  would-be  suicide 
was  wholly  ignorant  of  what  had  happened.  The  problem  of  respon- 
sibility is  here  as  complicated  as  that  of  the  prince-bishop,  who  swore 
as  a  prince  and  not  as  a  bishop.  "  But,  highness,  if  the  prince  is 
damned,  what  will  become  of  the  bishop  ? "  said  the  peasant. 


232  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

apt  commentary  upon  that  remarkable  passage  in  the 
"Traite*  de  THomme,"  which  I  have  quoted  elsewhere,1 
but  which  is  worth  repetition  ? — 

"  All  the  functions  which  I  have  attributed  to  this  machine 
(the  body),  as  the  digestion  of  food,  the  pulsation  of  the  heart 
and  of  the  arteries ;  the  nutrition  and  the  growth  of  the  limbs ; 
respiration,  wakefulness,  and  sleep ;  the  reception  of  light,  sounds, 
odours,  flavours,  heat,  and  such  like  qualities,  in  the  organs  of 
the  external  senses ;  the  impression  of  the  ideas  of  these  in  the 
organ  of  common  sensation  and  in  the  imagination ;  the  retention 
or  the  impression  of.  these  ideas  on  the  memory  :  the  internal 
movements  of  the  appetites  and  the  passions  j  and  lastly  the  ex- 
ternal movements  of  all  the  limbs,  which  follow  so  aptly,  as  well 
the  action  of  the  objects  which  are  presented  to  the  senses,  as  the 
impressions  which  meet  in  the  memory,  that  they  imitate  as 
nearly  as  possible  those  of  a  real  man ;  I  desire,  I  say,  that  you 
should  consider  that  these  functions  in  the  machine  naturally 
proceed  from  the  mere  arrangement  of  its  organs,  neither  more 
nor  less  than  do  the  movements  of  a  clock,  or  other  automaton, 
from  that  of  its  weights  and  its  wheels ;  so  that,  so  far  as  these  are 
concerned,  it  is  not  necessary  to  conceive  any  other  vegetative  or 
sensitive  soul,  nor  any  other  principle  of  motion  or  of  life,  than 
the  blood  and  the  spirits  agitated  by  the  fire  which  burns  con- 
tinually in  the  heart,  and  which  is  no  wise  essentially  different 
from  all  the  fires  which  exist  in  inanimate  bodies." 

And  would  Descartes  not  have  been  justified  in  asking 
why  we  need  deny  that  animals  are  machines,  when 
men,  in  a  state  of  unconsciousness,  perform,  mechani- 
cally, actions  as  complicated  and  as  seemingly  rational 
as  those  of  any  animals  ? 

But  though  I  do  not  think  that  Descartes' 
hypothesis  can  be  positively  refuted,  I  am  not  dis- 
posed to  accept  it.  The  doctrine  of  continuity  is  too 
well  established  for  it  to  be  permissible  to  me  to 

1  "  Lay  Sermons,  Essays  and  Reviews,"  p.  355. 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  233 

suppose  that  any  complex  natural  phenomenon  comes 
into  existence  suddenly,  and  without  being  preceded 
by  simpler  modifications ;  and  very  strong  arguments 
would  be  needed  to  prove  that  such  complex  pheno- 
mena, as  those  of  consciousness,  first  make  their 
appearance  in  man.  We  know,  that,  in  the  individual 
man,  consciousness  grows  from  a  dim  glimmer  to  its 
full  light,  whether  we  consider  the  infant  advancing 
in  years,  or  the  adult  emerging  from  slumber  and 
swoon.  We  know,  further,  that  the  lower  animals 
possess,  though  less  developed,  that  part  of  the  brain 
which  we  have  every  reason  to  believe  to  be  the  organ 
of  consciousness  in  man ;  and  as,  in  other  cases,  func- 
tion and  organ  are  proportional,  so  we  have  a  right  to 
conclude  it  is  with  the  brain ;  and  that  the  brutes, 
though  they  may  not  possess  our  intensity  of  conscious- 
ness, and  though,  from  the  absence  of  language,  they 
can  have  no  trains  of  thoughts,  but  only  trains  of 
feelings,  yet  have  a  consciousness  which,  more  or  less 
distinctly,  foreshadows  our  own. 

I  confess  that,  in  view  of  the  struggle  for  existence 
which  goes  on  in  the  animal  world,  and  of  the  fright- 
ful quantity  of  pain  with  which  it  must  be  accom- 
panied, I  should  be  glad  if  the  probabilities  were  in 
favour  of  Descartes'  hypothesis;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  considering  the  terrible  practical  consequences 
to  domestic  animals  which  might  ensue  from  any  error 
on  our  part,  it  is  as  well  to  err  on  the  right  side,  if  we 
err  at  all,  and  deal  with  them  as  weaker  brethren,  who 
are  bound,  like  the  rest  of  us,  to  pay  their  toll  for 
living,  and  suffer  what  is  needful  for  the  general  good. 


234  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

As  Hartley  finely  says,  "  We  seem  to  be  in  the  place 
of  God  to  them ;  "  and  we  may  justly  follow  the  pre- 
cedents He  sets  in  nature  in  our  dealings  with  them. 

But  though  we  may  see  reason  to  disagree  with 
Descartes'  hypothesis  that  brutes  are  unconscious 
machines,  it  does  not  follow  that  he  was  wrong  in  re- 
garding them  as  automata.  They  may  be  more  or 
less  conscious,  sensitive,  automata ;  and  the  view  that 
they  are  such  conscious  machines  is  that  which  is 
implicitly,  or  explicitly,  adopted  by  most  persons. 
When  we  speak  of  the  actions  of  the  lower  animals 
being  guided  by  instinct  and  not  by  reason,  what  we 
really  mean  is  that,  though  they  feel  as  we  do,  yet 
their  actions  are  the  results  of  their  physical  organisa- 
tion. We  believe,  in  short,  that  they  are  machines, 
one  part  of  which  (the  nervous  system)  not  only  sets 
the  rest  in  motion,  and  co-ordinates  its  movements  in 
relation  with  changes  in  surrounding  bodies,  but  is 
provided  with  special  apparatus,  the  function  of  which 
is  the  calling  into  existence  of  those  states  of  con- 
sciousness which  are  termed  sensations,  emotions,  and 
ideas.  I  believe  that  this  generally  accepted  view  is 
the  best  expression  of  the  facts  at  present  known. 

It  is  experimentally  demonstrable — any  one  who 
cares  to  run  a  pin  into  himself  may  perform  a  suffi- 
cient demonstration  of  the  fact — that  a  mode  of 
motion  of  the  nervous  system  is  the  immediate  ante- 
cedent of  a  state  of  consciousness.  All  but  the 
adherents  of  "Occasionalism,"  or  of  the  doctrine  of 
"  Pre-established  Harmony  "  (if  any  such  now  exist), 
must  admit  that  we  have  as  much  reason  for  regarding 


IX.]  ANIMAL    AUTOMATISM.  235 

the  mode  of  motion  of  the  nervous  system  as  the  cause 
of  the  state  of  consciousness,  as  we  have  for  regarding 
any  event  as  the  cause  of  another.  How  the  one 
phenomenon  causes  the  other  we  know,  as  much  or  as 
little,  as  in  any  other  case  of  causation ;  but  we  have 
as  much  right  to  believe  that  the  sensation  is  an  effect 
of  the  molecular  change,  as  we  have  to  believe  that 
motion  is  an  effect  of  impact ;  and  there  is  as  much 
propriety  in  saying  that  the  brain  evolves  sensation, 
as  there  is  in  saying  that  an  iron  rod,  when  hammered, 
evolves  heat. 

As  I  have  endeavoured  to  show,  we  are  justified 
in  supposing  that  something  analogous  to  what 
happens  in  ourselves  takes  place  in  the  brutes,  and 
that  the  affections  of  their  sensory  nerves  give  rise  to 
molecular  changes  in  the  brain,  which  again  give  rise 
to,  or  evolve,  the  corresponding  states  of  consciousness. 
Nor  can  there  be  any  reasonable  doubt  that  the 
emotions  of  brutes,  and  such  ideas  as  they  possess, 
are  similarly  dependent  upon  molecular  brain  changes. 
Each  sensory  impression  leaves  behind  a  record  in  the 
structure  of  the  brain — an  "  ideagenous  "  molecule,  so 
to  speak,  which  is  competent,  under  certain  conditions, 
to  reproduce,  in  a  fainter  condition,  the  state  of  con- 
sciousness which  corresponds  with  that  sensory  impres- 
sion ;  and  it  is  these  "  ideagenous  molecules "  which 
are  the  physical  basis  of  memory. 

It  may  be  assumed,  then,  that  molecular  changes 
in  the  brain  are  the  causes  of  all  the  states  of  con- 
sciousness of  brutes.  Is  there  any  evidence  that  these 
states  of  consciousness  may,  conversely,  cause  those 


236  ANIMAL    AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

molecular  changes  which  give  rise  to  muscular  motion  ? 
I  see  no  such  evidence.  The  frog  walks,  hops,  swims, 
and  goes  through  his  gymnastic  performances  quite  as 
well  without  consciousness,  and  consequently  without 
volition,  as  with  it;  and,  if  a  frog,  in  his  natural 
state,  possesses  anything  corresponding  with  what  we 
call  volition,  there  is  no  reason  to  think  that  it  is 
anything  but  a  concomitant  of  the  molecular  changes 
in  the  brain  which  form  part  of  the  series  involved  in 
the  production  of  motion. 

The  consciousness  of  brutes  would  appear  to  be 
related  to  the  mechanism  of  their  body  simply  as  a 
collateral  product  of  its  working,  and  to  be  as  com- 
pletely without  any  power  of  modifying  that  working 
as  the  steam -whistle  which  accompanies  the  work  of 
a  locomotive  engine  is  without  influence  upon  its 
machinery.  Their  volition,  if  they  have  any,  is  an 
emotion  indicative  of  physical  changes,  not  a  cause  of 
such  changes. 

This  conception  of  the  relations  of  states  of  con- 
sciousness with  molecular  changes  in  the  brain — of 
psychoses  with  neuroses — does  not  prevent  us  from 
ascribing  free  will  to  brutes.  For  an  agent  is  free 
when  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  him  from  doing  that 
which  he  desires  to  do.  If  a  greyhound  chases  a 
hare,  he  is  a  free  agent,  because  his  action  is  in  entire 
accordance  with  his  strong  desire  to  catch  the  hare ; 
while  so  long  as  he  is  held  back  by  the  leash  he  is  not 
free,  being  prevented  by  external  force  from  following 
his  inclination.  And  the  ascription  of  freedom  to  the 
greyhound  under  the  former  circumstances  is  by  no 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  237 

means  inconsistent  with  the  other  aspect  of  the  facts 
of  the  case — that  he  is  a  machine  impelled  to  the 
chase,  and  caused,  at  the  same  time,  to  have  the  desire 
to  catch  the  game  by  the  impression  which  the  rays  of 
light  proceeding  from  the  hare  make  upon  his  eyes, 
and  through  them  upon  his  brain. 

Much  ingenious  argument  has,  at  various  times, 
been  bestowed  upon  the  question  :  How  is  it  possible 
to  imagine  that  volition,  which  is  a  state  of  conscious- 
ness, and,  as  such,  has  not  the  slightest  community  of 
nature  with  matter  in  motion,  can  act  upon  the 
moving  matter  of  which  the  body  is  composed,  as  it 
is  assumed  to  do  in  voluntary  acts  ?  But  if,  as  is 
here  suggested,  the  voluntary  acts  of  brutes — or,  in 
other  words,  the  acts  which  they  desire  to  perform — 
are  as  purely  mechanical  as  the  rest  of  their  actions, 
and  are  simply  accompanied  by  the  state  of  conscious- 
ness called  volition,  the  inquiry,  so  far  as  they  are 
concerned,  becomes  superfluous.  Their  volitions  do 
not  enter  into  the  chain  of  causation  of  their  actions 
at  all. 

The  hypothesis  that  brutes  are  conscious  automata 
is  perfectly  consistent  with  any  view  that  may  be 
held  respecting  the  often  discussed  and  curious 
question  whether  they  have  souls  or  not ;  and,  if  they 
have  souls,  whether  those  souls  are  immortal  or  not. 
It  is  obviously  harmonious  with  the  most  literal 
adherence  to  the  text  of  Scripture  concerning  "the 
beast  that  perisheth  ;  "  but  it  is  not  inconsistent  with 
the  amiable  conviction  ascribed  by  Pope  to  his 
"untutored  savage,"  that  when  he  passes  to  the 


238  ANIMAL    AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

happy  hunting-grounds  in  the  sky,  "  his  faithful  dog 
shall  bear  him  company."  If  the  brutes  have  con- 
sciousness and  no  souls,  then  it  is  clear  that,  in  them, 
consciousness  is  a  direct  function  of  material  changes  ; 
while,  if  they  possess  immaterial  subjects  of  conscious- 
ness, or  souls,  then,  as  consciousness  is  brought  into 
existence  only  as  the  consequence  of  molecular  motion 
of  the  brain,  it  follows  that  it  is  an  indirect  product 
of  material  changes.  The  soul  stands  related  to  the 
body  as  the  bell  of  a  clock  to  the  works,  and  con- 
sciousness answers  to  the  sound  which  the  bell  gives 
out  when  it  is  struck. 

Thus  far  I  have  strictly  confined  myself  to  the 
problem  with  which  I  proposed  to  deal  at  starting — 
the  automatism  of  brutes.  The  question  is,  I  believe, 
a  perfectly  open  one,  and  I  feel  happy  in  running  no 
risk  of  either  Papal  or  Presbyterian  condemnation  for 
the  views  which  I  have  ventured  to  put  forward. 
And  there  are  so  very  few  interesting  questions  which 
one  is,  at  present,  allowed  to  think  out  scientifically — 
to  go  as  far  as  reason  leads,  and  stop  where  evidence 
comes  to  an  end — without  speedily  being  deafened  by 
the  tattoo  of  "the  drum  ecclesiastic" — that  I  have 
luxuriated  in  my  rare  freedom,  and  would  now 
willingly  bring  this  disquisition  to  an  end  if  I  could 
hope  that  other  people  would  go  no  farther.  Unfortu- 
nately, past  experience  debars  me  from  entertaining 
any  such  hope,  even  if 

" that  drum's  discordant  sound 

Parading  round  and  round  and  round," 

were  not,  at  present,  as  audible  to  me,  as  it  was  to  the 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  239 

mild  poet  who  ventured  to  express  his  hatred  of  drums 
in  general,  in  that  well-known  couplet. 

It  will  be  said,  that  I  mean  that  the  conclusions 
deduced  from  the  study  of  the  brutes  are  applicable 
to  man,  and  that  the  logical  consequences  of  such 
application  are  fatalism,  materialism,  and  atheism — 
whereupon  the  drums  will  beat  the  pas  de  charge. 

One  does  not  do  battle  with  drummers;  but  I 
venture  to  offer  a  few  remarks  for  the  calm  considera- 
tion of  thoughtful  persons,  untrammelled  by  foregone 
conclusions,  unpledged  to  shore-up  tottering  dogmas, 
and  anxious  only  to  know  the  true  bearings  of  the 
case. 

It  is  quite  true  that,  to  the  best  of  my  judgment, 
the  argumentation  which  applies  to  brutes  holds 
equally  good  of  men  ;  and,  therefore,  that  all  states 
of  consciousness  in  us,  as  in  them,  are  immediately 
caused  by  molecular  changes  of  the  brain-substance. 
It  seems  to  me  that  in  men,  as  in  brutes,  there  is  no 
proof  that  any  state  of  consciousness  is  the  cause  of 
change  in  the  motion  of  the  matter  of  the  organism. 
If  these  positions  are  well  based,  it  follows  that  our 
mental  conditions  are  simply  the  symbols  in  conscious- 
ness of  the  changes  which  take  place  automatically  in 
the  organism  ;  and  that,  to  take  an  extreme  illustration, 
the  feeling  we  call  volition  is  not  the  cause  of  a 
voluntary  act,  but  the  symbol  of  that  state  of  the 
brain  which  is  the  immediate  cause  of  that  act.  We 
are  conscious  automata,  endowed  with  free  will  in  the 
only  intelligible  sense  of  that  much-abused  term — 
inasmuch  as  in  many  respects  we  are  able  to  do  as  we 


'240  ANIMAL    AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

like — but  none  the  less  parts  of  the  great  series  of 
causes  and  effects  which,  in  unbroken  continuity, 
composes  that  which  is,  and  has  been,  and  shall  be — 
the  sum  of  existence. 

As  to  the  logical  consequences  of  this  conviction 
of  mine,  I  may  be  permitted  to  remark  that  logical 
consequences  are  the  scarecrows  of  fools  and  the 
beacons  of  wise  men.  The  only  question  which  any 
wise  man  can  ask  himself,  and  which  any  honest  man 
will  ask  himself,  is  whether  a  doctrine  is  true  or  false. 
Consequences  will  take  care  of  themselves  ;  at  most 
their  importance  can  only  justify  us  in  testing  with 
extra  care  the  reasoning  process  from  which  they 
result. 

So  that  if  the  view  I  have  taken  did  really  and 
logically  lead  to  fatalism,  materialism,  and  atheism, 
I  should  profess  myself  a  fatalist,  materialist,  and 
atheist;  and  I  should  look  upon  those  who,  while 
they  believed  in  my  honesty  of  purpose  and  intel- 
lectual competency,  should  raise  a  hue  and  cry  against 
me,  as  people  who  by  their  own  admission  preferred 
lying  to  truth,  and  whose  opinions  therefore  were 
unworthy  of  the  smallest  attention. 

But,  as  I  have  endeavoured  to  explain  on  other 
occasions,  I  really  have  no  claim  to  rank  myself 
among  fatalistic,  materialistic,  or  atheistic  philoso- 
phers. Not  among  fatalists,  for  I  take  the  conception 
of  necessity  to  have  a  logical,  and  not  a  physical 
foundation ;  not  among  materialists,  for  I  am  utterly 
incapable  of  conceiving  the  existence  of  matter  if  there 
is  no  mind  in  which  to  picture  that  existence ;  not 


IX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  241 

among  atheists,  for  the  problem  of  the  ultimate  cause 
of  existence  is  one  which  seems  to  me  to  be  hopelessly 
out  of  reach  of  my  poor  powers.  Of  all  the  senseless 
babble  I  have  ever  had  occasion  to  read,  the  demon- 
strations of  these  philosophers  who  undertake  to  tell 
us  all  about  the  nature  of  God  would  be  the  worst,  if 
they  were  not  surpassed  by  the  still  greater  absurdities 
of  the  philosophers  who  try  to  prove  that  there  is  no 
God. 

And  if  this  personal  disclaimer  should  not  be 
enough,  let  me  further  point  out  that  a  great  many 
persons  whose  acuteness  and  learning  will  not  be 
contested,  and  whose  Christian  piety,  and,  in  some 
cases,  strict  orthodoxy,  are  above  suspicion,  have  held 
more  or  less  definitely  the  view  that  man  is  a  conscious 
automaton. 

It  is  held,  for  example,  in  substance,  by  the  whole 
school  of  predestinarian  theologians,  typified  by  St. 
Augustine,  Calvin,  and  Jonathan  Edwards — the  great 
work  of  the  latter  on  the  will  showing  in  this,  as  in 
other  cases,  that  the  growth  of  physical  science  has 
introduced  no  new  difficulties  of  principle  into  theo- 
logical problems,  but  has  merely  given  visible  body, 
as  it  were,  to  those  which  already  existed. 

Among  philosophers,  the  pious  Geulincx  and  the 
whole  school  of  occasionalist  Cartesians  held  this  view ; 
the  orthodox  Leibnitz  invented  the  term  "  automate 
spirituel,"  and  applied  it  to  man ;  the  fervent  Christian, 
Hartley,  was  one  of  the  chief  advocates  and  best 
expositors  of  the  doctrine ;  while  another  zealous 
apologist  of  Christianity  in  a  sceptical  age,  and  a  con- 

R 


242  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

temporary  of  Hartley,  Charles  Bonnet,  the  Genevese 
naturalist,  has  embodied  the  doctrine  in  language  of 
such  precision  and  simplicity,  that  I  will  quote  the 
little-known  passage  of  his  "  Essai  de  Psychologic " 
at  length : — 

"  ANOTHER  HYPOTHESIS  CONCERNING  THE  MECHANISM 

OF  IDEAS.1 

"  Philosophers  accustomed  to  judge  of  things  by  that  which 
they  are  in  themselves,  and  not  by  their  relation  to  received 
ideas,  would  not  be  shocked  if  they  met  with  the  proposition 
that  the  soul  is  a  mere  spectator  of  the  movements  of  its  body : 
that  the  latter  performs  of  itself  all  that  series  of  actions  which 
constitutes  life  :  that  it  moves  of  itself :  that  it  is  the  body  alone 
which  reproduces  ideas,  compares  and  arranges  them;  which 
forms  reasonings,  imagines  and  executes  plans  of  all  kinds,  etc. 
This  hypothesis,  though  perhaps  of  an  excessive  boldness,  never- 
theless deserves  some  consideration. 

"  It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  Supreme  Power  could  create  an 
automaton  which  should  exactly  imitate  all  the  external  and 
internal  actions  of  man. 

"  I  understand  by  external  actions,  all  those  movements  which 
pass  under  our  eyes;  I  term  internal  actions,  all  the  motions 
which  in  the  natural  state  cannot  be  observed  because  they  take 
place  in  the  interior  of  the  body — such  as  the  movements  of 
digestion,  circulation,  sensation,  etc.  Moreover,  I  include  in  this 
category  the  movements  which  give  rise  to  ideas,  whatever  be 
their  nature. 

"  In  the  automaton  which  we  are  considering  everything  would 
be  precisely  determined.  Everything  would  occur  according  to 
the  rules  of  the  most  admirable  mechanism :  one  state  would 
succeed  another  state,  one  operation  would  lead  to  another 
operation,  according  to  invariable  laws  ;  motion  would  become 
alternately  cause  and  effect,  effect  and  cause;  reaction  would 
answer  to  action,  and  reproduction  to  production. 

1 "  Essai  de  Psychologie,"  chap,  xxvii 


IX.]  ANIMAL  AUTOMATISM.  243 

"  Constructed  with  definite  relations  to  the  activity  of  the 
beings  which  compose  the  world,  the  automaton  would  receive 
impressions  from  it,  and,  in  faithful  correspondence  thereto,  it 
would  execute  a  corresponding  series  of  motions. 

"  Indifferent  towards  any  determination,  it  would  yield  equally 
to  all,  if  the  first  impressions  did  not,  so  to  speak,  wind  up  the 
machine  and  decide  its  operations  and  its  coursa 

"  The  series  of  movements  which  this  automaton  could  execute 
would  distinguish  it  from  all  others  formed  on  the  same  model, 
but  which,  not  having  been  placed  in  similar  circumstances,  would 
not  have  experienced  the  same  impressions,  or  would  not  have 
experienced  them  in  the  same  order. 

"  The  senses  of  the  automaton,  set  in  motion  by  the  objects 
presented  to  it,  would  communicate  their  motion  to  the  brain, 
the  chief  motor  apparatus  of  the  machine.  This  would  put  in 
action  the  muscles  of  the  hands  and  feet,  in  virtue  of  their  secret 
connection  with  the  senses.  These  muscles,  alternately  contracted 
and  dilated,  would  approximate  or  remove  the  automaton  from 
the  objects,  in  the  relation  which  they  would  bear  to  the  con- 
servation or  the  destruction  of  the  machine. 

"  The  motions  of  perception  and  sensation  which  the  objects 
would  have  impressed  on  the  brain,  would  be  preserved  in  it  by 
the  energy  of  its  mechanism.  They  would  become  more  vivid 
according  to  the  actual  condition  of  the  automaton,  considered  in 
itself  and  relatively  to  the  objects. 

"  Words  being  only  the  motions  impressed  on  the  organ  of 
hearing  and  that  of  voice,  the  diversity  of  these  movements, 
their  combination,  the  order  in  which  they  would  succeed  one 
another,  would  represent  judgments,  reasoning,  and  all  the  oper- 
ations of  the  mind. 

"  A  close  correspondence  between  the  organs  of  the  senses, 
either  by  the  opening  into  one  another  of  their  nervous  ramifica- 
tions, or  by  interposed  springs  (ressorts),  would  establish  such  a 
connection  in  their  working,  that,  on  the  occasion  of  the  move- 
ments impressed  on  one  of  these  organs,  other  movements  would 
be  excited,  or  would  become  more  vivid  in  some  of  the  other 
senses. 

"Give  the  automaton  a  soul  which  contemplates  its  movements, 
which  believes  itself  to  be  the  author  of  them,  which  has  different 


244  ANIMAL  AUTOMATISM.  [LECT. 

volitions  on  the  occasion  of  the  different  movements,  and  you 
will  on  this  hypothesis  construct  a  man. 

"  But  would  this  man  be  free  ?  Can  the  feeling  of  our  liberty, 
this  feeling  which  is  so  clear  and  so  distinct  and  so  vivid  as  to 
persuade  us  that  we  are  the  authors  of  our  actions,  be  conciliated 
with  this  hypothesis  1  If  it  removes  the  difficulty  which  attends 
the  conception  of  the  action  of  the  soul  on  the  body,  on  the  other 
hand  it  leaves  untouched  that  which  meets  us  in  endeavouring 
to  conceive  the  action  of  the  body  on  the  soul." 

But  if  Leibnitz,  Jonathan  Edwards,  and  Hartley — 
men  who  rank  among  the  giants  of  the  world  of 
thought — could  see  no  antagonism  between  the  doc- 
trine under  discussion  and  Christian  orthodoxy,  is  it 
not  just  possible  that  smaller  folk  may  be  wrong  in 
making  such  a  coil  about  "  logical  consequences "  ? 
And,  seeing  how  large  a  share  of  this  clamour  is  raised 
by  the  clergy  of  one  denomination  or  another,  may 
I  say,  in  conclusion,  that  it  really  would  be  well  if 
ecclesiastical  persons  would  reflect  that  ordination, 
whatever  deep-seated  graces  it  may  confer,  has  never 
been  observed  to  be  followed  by  any  visible  increase 
in  the  learning  or  the  logic  of  its  subject.  Making  a 
man  a  Bishop,  or  entrusting  him  with  the  office  of 
ministering  to  even  the  largest  of  Presbyterian 
congregations,  or  setting  him  up  to  lecture  to  a 
Church  congress,  really  does  not  in  the  smallest 
degree  augment  such  title  to  respect  as  his  opinions 
may  intrinsically  possess.  And,  when  such  a  man 
presumes  on  an  authority  which  was  conferred  upon 
him  for  other  purposes,  to  sit  in  judgment  upon 
matters  his  incompetence  to  deal  with  which  is 
patent,  it  is  permissible  to  ignore  his  sacerdotal  pre- 


TX.]  ANIMAL   AUTOMATISM.  245 

tensions,  and  to  tell  him,  as  one  would  tell  a  mere 
common,  unconsecrated,  layman  :  that  it  is  not  neces- 
sary for  any  man  to  occupy  himself  with  problems  of 
this  kind  unless  he  so  choose ;  life  is  filled  full 
enough  by  the  performance  of  its  ordinary  and 
obvious  duties.  But  that,  if  a  man  elect  to  become 
a  judge  of  these  grave  questions ;  still  more,  if  he 
assume  the  responsibility  of  attaching  praise  or  blame 
to  his  fellow-men  for  the  conclusions  at  which  they 
arrive  touching  them,  he  will  commit  a  sin  more 
grievous  than  most  breaches  of  the  Decalogue,  unless 
he  avoid  a  lazy  reliance  upon  the  information  that  is 
gathered  by  prejudice  and  filtered  through  passion, 
unless  he  go  back  to  the  prime  sources  of  knowledge 
—the  facts  of  nature,  and  the  thoughts  of  those  wise 
men  who  for  generations  past  have  been  her  best 
interpreters. 


246    SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEKOUS   ORGANS.     [LECT. 


X. 

ON  SENSATION  AND  THE  UNITY  OF 
STEUCTUEE  OF  SENSIFEEOUS   OEGANS. 

THE  maxim  that  metaphysical  inquiries  are  barren  of 
result,  and  that  the  serious  occupation  of  the  mind 
with  them  is  a  mere  waste  of  time  and  labour,  finds 
much  favour  in  the  eyes  of  the  many  persons  who 
pride  themselves  on  the  possession  of  sound  common 
sense ;  and  we  sometimes  hear  it  enunciated  by 
weighty  authorities,  as  if  its  natural  consequence, 
the  suppression  of  such  studies,  had  the  force  of  a 
moral  obligation. 

In  this  case,  however,  as  in  some  others,  those 
who  lay  down  the  law  seem  to  forget  that  a  wise 
legislator  will  consider,  not  merely  whether  his  pro- 
posed enactment  is  desirable,  but  whether  obedience 
to  it  is  possible.  For,  if  the  latter  question  is 
answered  negatively,  the  former  is  surely  hardly 
worth  debate. 

Here,  in  fact,  lies  the  pith  of  the  reply  to  those 
who  would  make  metaphysics  contraband  of  intellect. 
Whether  it  is  desirable  to  place  a  prohibitory  duty 
upon  philosophical  speculations  or  not,  it  is  utterly 
impossible  to  prevent  the  importation  of  them  into 


X.]        SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.        247 

the  mind.  And  it  is  not  a  little  curious  to  observe 
that  those  who  most  loudly  profess  to  abstain  from 
such  commodities  are,  all  the  while,  unconscious  con- 
sumers, on  a  great  scale,  of  one  or  other  of  their  mul- 
titudinous disguises  or  adulterations.  With  mouths 
full  of  the  particular  kind  of  heavily  buttered  toast 
which  they  affect,  they  inveigh  against  the  eating  of 
plain  bread.  In  truth,  the  attempt  to  nourish  the 
human  intellect  upon  a  diet  which  contains  no  meta- 
physics is  about  as  hopeful  as  that  of  certain  Eastern 
sages  to  nourish  their  bodies  without  destroying  life. 
Everybody  has  heard  the  story  of  the  pitiless  micro- 
scopist,  who  ruined  the  peace  of  mind  of  one  of  these 
mild  enthusiasts  by  showing  him  the  animals  moving 
in  a  drop  of  the  water  with  which,  in  the  innocency 
of  his  heart,  he  slaked  his  thirst ;  and  the  unsuspect- 
ing devotee  of  plain  common  sense  may  look  for  as 
unexpected  a  shock  when  the  magnifier  of  severe 
logic  reveals  the  germs,  if  not  the  full-grown  shapes, 
of  lively  metaphysical  postulates  rampant  amidst  his 
most  positive  and  matter-of-fact  notions. 

By  way  of  escape  from  the  metaphysical  Will-o'- 
the-wisps  generated  in  the  marshes  of  literature  and 
theology,  the  serious  student  is  sometimes  bidden  to 
betake  himself  to  the  solid  ground  of  physical  science. 
But  the  fish  of  immortal  memory,  who  threw  himself 
out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire,  was  not  more  ill 
advised  than  the  man  who  seeks  sanctuary  from  philo- 
sophical persecution  within  the  walls  of  the  observa- 
tory or  of  the  laboratory.  It  is  said  that "  metaphysics  " 
owe  their  name  to  the  fact  that,  in  Aristotle's  works, 


248     SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.     [LECT. 

questions  of  pure  philosophy  are  dealt  with  imme- 
diately after  those  of  physics.  If  so,  the  accident 
is  happily  symbolical  of  the  essential  relations  of 
things ;  for  metaphysical  speculation  follows  as  closely 
upon  physical  theory  as  black  care  upon  the  horse- 
man. 

One  need  but  mention  such  fundamental,  and 
indeed  indispensable,  conceptions  of  the  natural  philo- 
sopher as  those  of  atoms  and  forces  :  or  that  of  attrac- 
tion considered  as  action  at  a  distance ;  or  that  of 
potential  energy ;  or  the  antinomies  of  a  vacuum  and 
a  plenum;  to  call  to  mind  the  metaphysical  back- 
ground of  physics  and  chemistry ;  while,  in  the  bio- 
logical sciences,  the  case  is  still  worse.  What  is  an 
individual  among  the  lower  plants  and  animals  ?  Are 
genera  and  species  realities  or  abstractions  ?  Is  there 
such  a  thing  as  Vital  Force  ?  or  does  the  name  denote 
a  mere  relic  of  metaphysical  fetichisin  ?  Is  the  doc- 
trine of  final  causes  legitimate  or  illegitimate  ?  These 
are  a  few  of  the  metaphysical  topics  which  are  sug- 
gested by  the  most  elementary  study  of  biological 
facts.  But,  more  than  this,  it  may  be  truly  said  that 
the  roots  of  every  system  of  philosophy  lie  deep 
among  the  facts  of  physiology.  No  one  can  doubt 
that  the  organs  and  the  functions  of  sensation  are  as 
much  a  part  of  the  province  of  the  physiologist,  as  are 
the  organs  and  functions  of  motion,  or  those  of  diges- 
tion ;  and  yet  it  is  impossible  to  gain  an  acquaintance 
with  even  the  rudiments  of  the  physiology  of  sensation 
without  being  led  straight  to  one  of  the  most  funda- 
mental of  all  metaphysical  problems.  In  fact,  the 


X.]        SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.        249 

sensory  operations  have  been,  from  time  immemorial, 
the  battle-ground  of  philosophers. 

I  have  more  than  once  taken  occasion  to  point 
out  that  we  are  indebted  to  Descartes,  who  happened 
to  be  a  physiologist  as  well  as  a  philosopher,  for  the 
first  distinct  enunciation  of  the  essential  elements  of 
the  true  theory  of  sensation.  In  later  times,  it  is  not 
to  the  works  of  the  philosophers,  if  Hartley  and  James 
Mill  are  excepted,  but  to  those  of  the  physiologists, 
that  we  must  turn  for  an  adequate  account  of  the 
sensory  process.  Haller's  luminous,  though  summary, 
account  of  sensation  in  his  admirable  "  Primse  Lineae," 
the  first  edition  of  which  was  printed  in  1747,  offers 
a  striking  contrast  to  the  prolixity  and  confusion  of 
thought  which  prevade  Keid's  "  Inquiry,"  of  seventeen 
years'  later  date.1  Even  Sir  William  Hamilton, 
learned  historian  and  acute  critic  as  he  was,  not  only 
failed  to  apprehend  the  philosophical  bearing  of  long- 
established  physiological  truths ;  but,  when  he  affirmed 
that  there  is  no  reason  to  deny  that  the  mind  feels 
at  the  finger  points,  and  none  to  assert  that  the 
brain  is  the  sole  organ  of  thought,2  he  showed  that 

1  In  justice  to  Reid,  however,  it  should  be  stated  that  the  chapters 
on  sensation  in  the  "  Essays  on  the  Intellectual  Powers  "  (1785)  exhibit 
a  great  improvement.     He  is,  in  fact,  in  advance  of  his  commentator,  as 
the  note  to  Essay  II.  chap.  ii.  p.  248  of  Hamilton's  edition  shows. 

2  Haller,   amplifying   Descartes,  writes  in   the   "  Primaa   Lineae," 
CCCLXVI. — "Non  est  adeo  obscurum  sensum  omnem  oriri  a*b  objecti 
sensibilis  impressione  in  nervum  quemcumque  corporis  humani,  et 
eamdem  per  eum  nervum  ad  cerebrum  pervenientem  tune  demum  re- 
presentari  animse,  quando  cerebrum  adtigit.     Ut  etiam  hoc  falsum  sit 
animam   inproximo   per   sensoria   nervorumque  ramos  sentire."  .'.,. 
DLVII. — "  Dum  ergo  sentimus  quinque  diversissima  entia  conjunguntur  : 


250     SENSATION  AND   THE   SENSIFEKOUS   ORGANS.      [LECT, 

he  had  not  apprehended  the  significance  of  the  revo- 
lution commenced,  two  hundred  years  before  his 
time,  by  Descartes,  and  effectively  followed  up  by 
Haller,  Hartley,  and  Bonnet,  in  the  middle  of  the  last 
century. 

In  truth,  the  theory  of  sensation,  except  in  one 
point,  is,  at  the  present  moment,  very  much  where 
Hartley,  led  by  a  hint  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton's,  left  it, 
when,  a  hundred  and  twenty  years  since,  the  "  Ob- 
servations on  Man :  his  Frame,  his  Duty,  and  his 
Expectations,"  was  laid  before  the  world.  The  whole 
matter  is  put  in  a  nutshell  in  the  following  passages 
of  this  notable  book. 

"External  objects  impressed  upon  the  senses  occasion,  first 
on  the  nerves  on  which  they  are  impressed,  and  then  on  the 
brain,  vibrations  of  the  small  and,  as  we  may  say,  infinitesimal 
medullary  particles. 

"  These  vibrations  are  motions  backwards  and  forwards  of 
the  small  particles ;  of  the  same  kind  with  the  oscillations  of 
pendulums  and  the  tremblings  of  the  particles  of  sounding 
bodies.  They  must  be  conceived  to  be  exceedingly  short  and 
small,  so  as  not  to  have  the  least  efficacy  to  disturb  or  move  the 
whole  bodies  of  the  nerves  or  brain."  x 

"The  white  medullary  substance  of  the  brain  is  also  the 

corpus  quod  sentimus  :  organi  sensorii  adfectio  ab  eo  corpore  :  cerebri 
adfectio  a  sensorii  percussione  nata :  in  anima  nata  mutatio :  animse 
denique  conscientia  et  sensationis  adperceptio."  Nevertheless,  Sir 
William  Hamilton  gravely  informs  his  hearers  : — "  We  have  no  more 
right  to  deny  that  the  mind  feels  at  the  finger  points,  as  consciousness 
assures  us,  than  to  assert  that  it  thinks  exclusively  in  the  brain." — 
"  Lecture  on  Metaphysics  and  Logic,"  ii.  p.  128.  "  We  have  no  reason 
whatever  to  doubt  the  report  of  consciousness,  that  we  actually  perceive 
at  the  external  point  of  sensation,  and  that  we  perceive  the  material 
reality."—  Ibid.  p.  129. 

1  "Observations  on  Man,"  vol.  i.  p.  11. 


X]        SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.       251 

immediate  instrument  by  which  ideas  are  presented  to  the 
mind  j  or,  in  other  words,  whatever  changes  are  made  in  this 
substance,  corresponding  changes  are  made  in  our  ideas;  and 


Hartley,  like  Haller,  had  no  conception  of  the 
nature  and  functions  of  the  grey  matter  of  the  brain. 
But,  if  for  "  white  medullary  substance,"  in  the  latter 
paragraph,  we  substitute  "grey  cellular  substance," 
Hartley's  propositions  embody  the  most  probable  con- 
clusions which  are  to  be  drawn  from  the  latest 

• 

investigations  of  physiologists.  In  order  to  judge 
how  completely  this  is  the  case,  it  will  be  well  to 
study  some  simple  case  of  sensation,  and,  following  the 
example  of  Keid  and  of  James  Mill,  we  may  begin 
with  the  sense  of  smell.  Suppose  that  I  become 
aware  of  a  musky  scent,  to  which  the  name  of 
"muskiness"  may  be  given.  I  call  this  an  odour, 
and  I  class  it  along  with  the  feelings  of  light,  colours, 
sounds,  tastes,  and  the  like,  among  those  phenomena 
which  are  known  as  sensations.  To  say  that  I  am 
aware  of  this  phenomenon,  or  that  I  have  it,  or  that 
it  exists,  are  simply  different  modes  of  affirming  the 
same  facts.  If  I  am  asked  how  I  know  that  it 
exists,  I  can  only  reply  that  its  existence  and  my 
knowledge  of  it  are  one  and  the  same  thing ;  in  short, 
that  my  knowledge  is  immediate  or  intuitive,  and,  as 
such,  is  possessed  of  the  highest  conceivable  degree 
of  certainty. 

1  Ibid.  p.  8.  The  speculations  of  Bonnet  are  remarkably  similar 
to  those  of  Hartley  ;  and  they  appear  to  have  originated  independently, 
though  the  "Essai  de  Psychologie"  (1754)  is  of  five  years'  later  date 
than  the  "Observations  on  Man"  (1749). 


252     SENSATION   AND   THE    SENSIFEROUS    ORGANS.     [LECT. 

The  pure  sensation  of  muskiness  is  almost  sure  to 
be  followed  by  a  mental  state  which  is  not  a  sensation, 
but  a  belief,  that  there  is  somewhere  close  at  hand  a 
something  on  which  the  existence  of  the  sensation 
depends.  It  may  be  a  musk-deer,  or  a  musk-rat,  or  a 
musk -plant,  or  a  grain  of  dry  musk,  or  simply  a 
scented  handkerchief;  but  former  experience  leads  us 
to  believe  that  the  sensation  is  due  to  the  presence  of 
one  or  other  of  these  objects,  and  that  it  will  vanish 
if  the  object  is  removed.  In  other  words,  -there 
arises  a  belief  in  an  external  cause  of  the  muskiness, 
which,  in  common  language,  is  termed  an  odorous 
body. 

But  the  manner  in  which  this  belief  is  usually  put 
into  words  is  strangely  misleading.  If  we  are  dealing 
with  a  musk -plant,  for  example,  we  do  not  confine 
ourselves  to  a  simple  statement  of  that  which  we  be- 
lieve, and  say  that  the  musk-plant  is  the  cause  of  the 
sensation  called  muskiness ;  but  we  say  that  the  plant 
has  a  musky  smell,  and  we  speak  of  the  odour  as  a 
quality,  or  property,  inherent  in  the  plant.  And  the 
inevitable  reaction  of  words  upon  thought  has  in  this 
case  become  so  complete,  and  has  penetrated  so  deeply, 
that  when  an  accurate  statement  of  the  case — namely, 
that  muskiness,  inasmuch  as  the  term  denotes  nothing 
but  a  sensation,  is  a  mental  state,  and  has  no  exist- 
ence except  as  a  mental  phenomenon — is  first  brought 
under  the  notice  of  common-sense  folks,  it  is  usually 
regarded  by  them  as  what  they  are  pleased  to  call  a 
mere  metaphysical  paradox  and  a  patent  example  of 
useless  subtlety.  Yet  the  slightest  reflection  must 


X.]        SENSATION    AND   THE    SENSIFEROUS    ORGANS.        253 

suffice  to  convince  any  one  possessed  of  sound  reason- 
ing faculties,  that  it  is  as  absurd  to  suppose  that 
muskiness  is  a  quality  inherent  in  one  plant,  as  it 
would  be  to  imagine  that  pain  is  a  quality  inherent 
in  another,  because  we  feel  pain  when  a  thorn  pricks 
the  finger. 

Even  the  common -sense  philosopher,  par  excel- 
lence, says  of  smell :  "It  appears  to  be  a  simple  and 
original  affection  or  feeling  of  the  mind,  altogether 
inexplicable  and  unaccountable.  It  is  indeed  impos- 
sible that  it  can  be  in  any  body :  it  is  a  sensation,  and 
a  sensation  can  only  be  in  a  sentient  thing." ] 

That  which  is  true  of  muskiness  is  true  of  every 
other  odour.  Lavender -smell,  clove-smell,  garlic- 
smell,  are,  like  "  muskiness,"  names  of  states  of  con- 
sciousness, and  have  no  existence  except  as  such. 
But,  in  ordinary  language,  we  speak  of  all  these 
odours  as  if  they  were  independent  entities  residing 
in  lavender,  cloves,  and  garlic ;  and  it  is  not  without 
a  certain  struggle  that  the  false  metaphysic  of  so- 
called  common  sense,  thus  ingrained  in  us,  is  expelled. 

For  the  present  purpose,  it  is  unnecessary  to  in- 
quire into  the  origin  of  our  belief  in  external  bodies, 

1  "  An  Inquiry  into  the  Human  Mind  on  the  Principles  of  Common 
Sense,"  chap.  ii.  §  2.  Reid  affirms  that  "  it  is  genius,  and  not  the  want 
of  it,  that  adulterates  philosophy,  and  fills  it  with  error  and  false 
theory  ;"  and  no  doubt  his  own  lucubrations  are  free  from  the  small- 
est taint  of  the  impurity  to  which  he  objects.  But,  for  want  of 
something  more  than  that  sort  of  "common  sense,"  which  is  very 
common  and  a  little  dull,  the  contemner  of  genius  did  not  notice  that 
the  admission  here  made  knocks  so  big  a  hole  in  the  bottom  of 
"  common  sense  philosophy,"  that  nothing  can  save  it  from  founder- 
ing in  the  dreaded  abyss  of  Idealism. 


254    SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.     [LECT. 

or  into  that  of  the  notion  of  causation.  Assuming 
the  existence  of  an  external  world,  there  is  no  diffi- 
culty in  obtaining  experimental  proof  that,  as  a 
general  rule,  olfactory  sensations  are  caused  by 
odorous  bodies ;  and  we  may  pass  on  to  the  next 
step  of  the  inquiry — namely,  how  the  odorous  body 
produces  the  effect  attributed  to  it. 

The  first  point  to  be  noted  here  is  another  fact 
revealed  by  experience;  that  the  appearance  of  the 
sensation  is  governed,  not  only  by  the  presence  of  the 
odorous  substance,  but  by  the  condition  of  a  certain 
part  of  our  corporeal  structure,  the  nose.  If  the 
nostrils  are  closed,  the  presence  of  the  odorous  sub- 
stance does  not  give  rise  to  the  sensation ;  while, 
when  they  are  open,  the  sensation  is  intensified  by 
the  approximation  of  the  odorous  substance  to  them, 
and  by  snuffing  up  the  adjacent  air  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  draw  it  into  the  nose.  On  the  other  hand,  look- 
ing at  an  odorous  substance,  or  rubbing  it  on  the 
skin,  or  holding  it  to  the  ear,  does  not  awaken  the 
sensation.  Thus,  it  can  be  readily  established  by 
experiment  that  the  perviousness  of  the  nasal  passages 
is,  in  some  way,  essential  to  the  sensory  function  ; 
in  fact,  that  the  organ  of  that  function  is  lodged 
somewhere  in  the  nasal  passages.  And,  since  odor- 
ous bodies  give  rise  to  their  effects  at  considerable 
distances,  the  suggestion  is  obvious  that  something 
must  pass  from  them  into  the  sense  organ.  What 
is  this  "  something,"  which  plays  the  part  of  an  in- 
termediary between  the  odorous  body  and  the  sensory 
organ  ? 


X.]        SENSATION   AND   THE    SENSIFEROUS    ORGANS.        255 

The  oldest  speculation  about  the  matter  dates 
back  to  Democritus  and  the  Epicurean  School,  and  it 
is  to  be  found  fully  stated  in  the  fourth  book  of 
Lucretius.  It  comes  to  this  :  that  the  surfaces  of 
bodies  are  constantly  throwing  off  excessively  atten- 
uated films  of  their  own  substance  :  and  that  these 
films,  reaching  the  mind,  excite  the  appropriate  sen- 
sations in  it. 

Aristotle  did  not  admit  the  existence  of  any  such 
material  films,  but  conceived  that  it  was  the  form  of 
the  substance,  and  not  its  matter,  which  affected  sense, 
as  a  seal  impresses  wax,  without  losing  anything  in  the 
process.  While  many,  if  not  the  majority,  of  the 
Schoolmen  took  up  an  intermediate  position  and 
supposed  that  a  something,  which  was  not  exactly 
either  material  or  immaterial,  and  which  they  called 
an  "  intentional  species,"  effected  the  needful  com- 
munication between  the  bodily  cause  of  sensation  and 
the  mind. 

But  all  these  notions,  whatever  may  be  said  for 
or  against  them  in  general,  are  fundamentally  defect- 
ive, by  reason  of  an  oversight  which  was  inevitable, 
in  the  state  of  knowledge  at  the  time  in  which  they 
were  promulgated.  What  the  older  philosophers  did 
not  know,  and  could  not  know,  before  the  anatomist  and 
the  physiologist  had  done  their  work,  is  that,  between 
the  external  object  and  that  mind  in  which  they  sup- 
posed the  sensation  to  inhere,  there  lies  a  physical 
obstacle.  The  sense  organ  is  not  a  mere  passage  by 
which  the  "tenuia  simulacra  rerum,"  or  the  "inten- 
tional species"  cast  off  by  objects,  or  the  "forms "of 


256     SENSATION  AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   OEGANS.     [LECT. 

sensible  things,  pass  straight  to  the  mind  ;  on  the 
contrary,  it  stands  as  a  firm  and  impervious  barrier, 
through  which  no  material  particle  of  the  world  with- 
out can  make  its  way  to  the  world  within. 

Let  us  consider  the  olfactory  sense  organ  more 
nearly.  Each  of  the  nostrils  leads  into  a  passage 
completely  separated  from  the  other  by  a  partition, 
and  these  two  passages  place  the  nostrils  in  free  com- 
munication with  the  back  of  the  throat,  so  that  they 
freely  transmit  the  air  passing  to  the  lungs  when  the 
mouth  is  shut,  as  in  ordinary  breathing.  The  floor  of 
each  passage  is  flat,  but  its  roof  is  a  high  arch,  the  crown 
of  which  is  seated  between  the  orbital  cavities  of  the 
skull,  which  serve  for  the  lodgment  and  protection  of 
the  eyes ;  and  it  therefore  lies  behind  the  apparent 
limits  of  that  feature  which,  in  ordinary  language,  is 
called  the  nose.  From  the  side  walls  of  the  upper 
and  back  part  of  these  arched  chambers,  certain  deli- 
cate plates  of  bone  project,  and  these,  as  well  as  a 
considerable  part  of  the  partition  between  the  two 
chambers,  are  covered  by  a  fine,  soft,  moist  membrane. 
It  is  to  this  "Schneiderian,"  or  olfactory,  membrane 
that  odorous  bodies  must  obtain  direct  access,  if  they 
are  to  give  rise  to  their  appropriate  sensations ;  and  it 
is  upon  the  relatively  large  surface,  which  the  olfactory 
membrane  offers,  that  we  must  seek  for  the  seat  of  the 
organ  of  the  olfactory  sense.  The  only  essential  part 
of  that  organ  consists  of  a  multitude  of  minute  rod- 
like  bodies,  set  perpendicularly  to  the  surface  of  the 
membrane,  and  forming  a  part  of  the  cellular  coat,  or 
epithelium,  which  covers  the  olfactory  membrane,  as 


X.]         SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.       257 

the  epidermis  covers  the  skin.  In  the  case  of  the  olfac- 
tory sense,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Democritic 
hypothesis,  at  any  rate  for  such  odorous  substances 
as  musk,  has  a  good  foundation.  Infinitesimal  par- 
ticles of  musk  fly  off  from  the  surface  of  the  odorous 
body,  and,  becoming  diffused  through  the  air,  are 
carried  into  the  nasal  passages,  and  thence  into  the 
olfactory  chambers,  where  they  come  into  contact  with 
the  filamentous  extremities  of  the  delicate  olfactory 
epithelium. 

But  this  is  not  all.  The  "mind"  is  not,  so  to 
speak,  upon  the  other  side  of  the  epithelium.  On  the 
contrary,  the  inner  ends  of  the  olfactory  cells  are  con- 
nected with  nerve  fibres,  and  these  nerve  fibres,  pass- 
ing into  the  cavity  of  the  skull,  at  length  end  in  a 
part  of  the  brain,  the  olfactory  sensorium.  It  is 
certain  that  the  integrity  of  each,  and  the  physical 
inter -connection  of  all  these  three  structures,  the 
epithelium  of  the  sensory  organ,  the  nerve  fibres, 
and  the  sensorium,  are  essential  conditions  of  ordinary 
sensation.  That  is  to  say,  the  air  in  the  olfactory 
chambers  may  be  charged  with  particles  of  musk ;  but, 
if  either  the  epithelium,  or  the  nerve  fibres,  or  the  sen- 
sorium is  injured,  or  if  they  are  physically  disconnected 
from  one  another,  sensation  will  not  arise.  Moreover, 
the  epithelium  may  be  said  to  be  receptive,  the  nerve 
fibres  transmissive,  and  the  sensorium  sensifacient. 
For,  in  the  act  of  smelling,  the  particles  of  the  odorous 
substance  produce  a  molecular  change  (which  Hartley 
was  in  all  probability  right  in  terming  a  vibration)  in 
the  epithelium,  and  this  change  being  transmitted  to 


258    SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.     [LECT. 

the  nerve  fibres,  passes  along  them  with  a  measurable 
velocity,  and,  finally  reaching  the  sensorium,  is  imme- 
diately followed  by  the  sensation. 

Thus,  modern  investigation  supplies  a  represent- 
ative of  the  Epicurean  simulacra  in  the  volatile 
particles  of  the  musk ;  but  it  also  gives  us  the  stamp 
of  the  particles  on  the  olfactory  epithelium,  without 
any  transmission  of  matter,  as  the  equivalent  of  the 
Aristotelian  "form;"  while,  finally,  the  modes  of 
motion  of  the  molecules  of  the  olfactory  cells,  of  the 
nerve,  and  of  the  cerebral  sensorium,  which  are 
Hartley's  vibrations,  may  stand  very  well  for  a  double 
of  the  "  intentional  species  "  of  the  Schoolmen.  And 
this  last  remark  is  not  intended  merely  to  suggest  a 
fanciful  parallel ;  for,  if  the  cause  of  the  sensation  is, 
as  analogy  suggests,  to  be  sought  in  the  mode  of 
motion  of  the  object  of  sense,  then  it  is  quite  possible 
that  the  particular  mode  of  motion  of  the  object  is  re- 
produced in  the  sensorium ;  exactly  as  the  diaphragm 
of  a  telephone  reproduces  the  mode  of  motion  taken  up 
at  its  receiving  end.  In  other  words,  the  secondary 
"intentional  species"  may  be,  as  the  Schoolmen  thought 
the  primary  one  was,  the  last  link  between  matter  and 
mind. 

None  the  less,  however,  does  it  remain  true  that 
no  similarity  exists,  nor  indeed  is  conceivable,  between 
the  cause  of  the  sensation  and  the  sensation.  Attend 
as  closely  to  the  sensations  of  muskiness,  or  any  other 
odour,  as  we  will,  no  trace  of  extension,  resistance,  or 
motion  is  discernible  in  them.  They  have  no  attri- 
bute in  common  with  those  which  we  ascribe  to 


X.]        SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.       259 

matter ;  they  are,  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  words, 
immaterial  entities. 

Thus,  the  most  elementary  study  of  sensation 
justifies  Descartes'  position,  that  we  know  more  of 
mind  than  we  do  of  body ;  that  the  immaterial  world 
is  a  firmer  reality  than  the  material.  For  the  sensa- 
tion "  muskiness  "  is  known  immediately.  So  long  as 
it  persists,  it  is  a  part  of  what  we  call  our  thinking 
selves,  and  its  existence  lies  beyond  the  possibility  of 
doubt.  The  knowledge  of  an  objective  or  material 
cause  of  the  sensation,  on  the  other  hand,  is  mediate ; 
it  is  a  belief  as  contradistinguished  from  an  intuition ; 
and  it  is  a  belief  which,  in  any  given  instance  of 
sensation,  may,  by  possibility,  be  devoid  of  foundation. 
For  odours,  like  other  sensations,  may  arise  from  the 
occurrence  of  the  appropriate  molecular  changes  in 
the  nerve  or  in  the  sensorium,  by  the  operation  of  a 
cause  distinct  from  the  affection  of  the  sense  organ  by 
an  odorous  body.  Such  "subjective"  sensations  are 
as  real  existences  as  any  others,  and  as  distinctly 
suggest  an  external  odorous  object  as  their  cause ;  but 
the  belief  thus  generated  is  a  delusion.  And,  if 
beliefs  are  properly  termed  "  testimonies  of  conscious- 
ness," then  undoubtedly  the  testimony  of  consciousness 
may  be,  and  often  is,  untrustworthy. 

Another  very  important  consideration  arises  out  of 
the  facts  as  they  are  now  known.  That  which,  in  the 
absence  of  a  knowledge  of  the  physiology  of  sensation, 
we  call  the  cause  of  the  smell,  and  term  the  odorous 
object,  is  only  such,  mediately,  by  reason  of  its  emit- 
ting particles  which  give  rise  to  a  mode  of  motion  in 


260     SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.     [LECT. 

the  sense  organ.  The  sense  organ,  again,  is  only  a 
mediate  cause  by  reason  of  its  producing  a  molecular 
change  in  the  nerve  fibre ;  while  this  last  change  is 
also  only  a  mediate  cause  of  sensation,  depending,  as 
it  does,  upon  the  change  which  it  excites  in  the 
sensorium. 

The  sense  organ,  the  nerve,  and  the  sensorium, 
taken  together,  constitute  the  sensiferous  apparatus. 
They  make  up  the  thickness  of  the  wall  between  the 
mind,  as  represented  by  the  sensation  "muskiness," 
and  the  object,  as  represented  by  the  particle  of  musk 
in  contact  with  the  olfactory  epithelium. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  sensiferous  wall  and 
the  external  world  are  of  the  same  nature ;  whatever 
it  is  that  constitutes  them  both  is  expressible  in  terms 
of  matter  and  motion.  Whatever  changes  take  place 
in  the  sensiferous  apparatus  are  continuous  with,  and 
similar  to,  those  which  take  place  in  the  external 
world.1  But,  with  the  sensorium,  matter  and  motion 

1  The  following  diagrammatic  scheme  may  help  to  elucidate  the 
theory  of  sensation  : — 

Mediate  Knowledge 


Sensiferous  Apparatus                                Knowledge 

Objects  of  Sense 

Receptive       Transmissive 
(Sense  Organ)         (Nerve) 

Sensificatory 
(Sensorium) 

Sensations  and 
other  States  of 
Consciousness 

Hypothetical 
Substance  of 
Matter 

Hypothetical 
Substance  of 
Mind 

Physical  World 


Mental  World 


Not  Self 


Self 


Non-Ego  or  Object  Ego  or  Subject 

Immediate  knowledge  is  confined  to  states  of  consciousness,  or,  in  other 


X.]        SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.        261 

come  to  an  end ;  while  phenomena  of  another  order, 
or  immaterial  states  of  consciousness,  make  their 
appearance.  How  is  the  relation  between  the  material 
and  the  immaterial  phenomena  to  be  conceived? 
This  is  the  metaphysical  problem  of  problems,  and 
the  solutions  which  have  been  suggested  have  been 
made  the  corner-stones  of  systems  of  philosophy. 
Three  mutually  irreconcilable  readings  of  the  riddle 
have  been  offered. 

The  first  is,  that  an  immaterial  substance  of  mind 
exists  ;  and  that  it  is  affected  by  the  mode  of  motion 
of  the  sensorium  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  rise  to  the 
sensation. 

The  second  is,  that  the  sensation  is  a  direct  effect 
of  the  mode  of  motion  of  the  sensorium,  brought 
about  without  the  intervention  of  any  substance  of 
mind. 

The  third  is,  that  the  sensation  is  neither  directly 
nor  indirectly  an  effect  of  the  mode  of  motion  of  the 
sensorium,  but  that  it  has  an  independent  cause. 
Properly  speaking,  therefore,  it  is  not  an  effect  of 
the  motion  of  the  sensorium,  but  a  concomitant  of  it. 

As  none  of  these  hypotheses  is  capable  of  even 
an  approximation  to  demonstration,  it  is  almost  need- 
less to  remark  that  they  have  been  severally  held  with 

words,  to  the  phenomena  of  mind.  Knowledge  of  the  physical  world, 
or  of  one's  own  body  and  of  objects  external  to  it,  is  a  system  of 
beliefs  or  judgments  based  on  the  sensations.  The  term  "self"  is 
applied  not  only  to  the  series  of  mental  phenomena  which  constitute 
the  ego,  but  to  the  fragment  of  the  physical  world  which  is  their  con- 
stant concomitant.  The  corporeal  self,  therefore,  is  part  of  the  non- 
ego  ;  and  is  objective  in  relation  to  the  ego  as  subject. 


262     SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS    ORGANS.     [LECT. 

tenacity  and  advocated  with  passion.  I  do  not  think 
it  can  be  said  of  any  of  the  three  that  it  is  inconceiv- 
able, or  that  it  can  be  assumed  on  d,  priori  grounds 
to  be  impossible. 

Consider  the  first,  for  example  ;  an  immaterial 
substance  is  perfectly  conceivable.  In  fact,  it  is 
obvious  that,  if  we  possessed  no  sensations  but  those 
of  smell  and  hearing,  we  should  be  unable  to  conceive 
a  material  substance.  We  might  have  a  conception 
of  time,  but  could  have  none  of  extension,  or  of  resist- 
ance, or  of  motion.  And  without  the  three  latter 
conceptions  no  idea  of  matter  could  be  formed.  Our 
whole  knowledge  would  be  limited  to  that  of  a  shift- 
ing succession  of  immaterial  phenomena.  But,  if  an 
immaterial  substance  may  exist,  it  may  have  any 
conceivable  properties ;  and  sensation  may  be  one  of 
them.  All  these  propositions  may  be  affirmed  with 
complete  dialectic  safety,  inasmuch  as  they  cannot 
possibly  be  disproved ;  but  neither  can  a  particle  of 
demonstrative  evidence  be  offered  in  favour  of  the 
existence  of  an  immaterial  substance. 

As  regards  the  second  hypothesis,  it  certainly  is 
not  inconceivable,  and  therefore  it  may  be  true,  that 
sensation  is  the  direct  effect  of  certain  kinds  of  bodily 
motion.  It  is  just  as  easy  to  suppose  this  as  to  sup- 
pose, on  the  former  hypothesis,  that  bodily  motion 
affects  an  immaterial  substance.  But  neither  is  it 
susceptible  of  proof. 

And,  as  to  the  third  hypothesis,  since  the  logic  of 
induction  is  in  no  case  competent  to  prove  that 
events  apparently  standing  in  the  relation  of  cause 


X.]        SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.       263 

and  effect  may  not  both  be  effects  of  a  common  cause 
— that  also  is  as  safe  from  refutation,  if  as  incapable 
of  demonstration,  as  the  other  two. 

In  my  own  opinion,  neither  of  these  speculations 
can  be  regarded  seriously  as  anything  but  a  more  or 
less  convenient  working  hypothesis.  But,  if  I  must 
choose  among  them,  I  take  the  "  law  of  parcimony  " 
for  my  guide,  and  select  the  simplest — namely,  that 
the  sensation  is  the  direct  effect  of  the  mode  of 
motion  of  the  sensorium.  It  may  justly  be  said  that 
this  is  not  the  slightest  explanation  of  sensation ;  but 
then  am  I  really  any  the  wiser,  if  I  say  that  a  sensa- 
tion is  an  activity  (of  which  I  know  nothing)  of  a 
substance  of  mind  (of  which  also  I  know  nothing)  ? 
Or,  if  I  say  that  the  Deity  causes  the  sensation  to 
arise  in  my  mind  immediately  after  He  has  caused 
the  particles  of  the  sensorium  to  move  in  a  certain 
way,  is  anything  gained  ?  In  truth,  a  sensation,  as 
we  have  already  seen,  is  an  intuition — a  part  of 
immediate  knowledge.  As  such,  it  is  an  ultimate  fact 
and  inexplicable ;  and  all  that  we  can  hope  to  find 
out  about  it,  and  that  indeed  is  worth  finding  out,  is 
its  relation  to  other  natural  facts.  That  relation 
appears  to  me  to  be  sufficiently  expressed,  for  all 
practical  purposes,  by  saying  that  sensation  is  the 
invariable  consequent  of  certain  changes  in  the  sen- 
sorium— or,  in  other  words,  that,  so  far  as  we  know, 
the  change  in  the  sensorium  is  the  cause  of  the 
sensation. 

I  permit  myself  to  imagine  that  the  untutored,  if 
noble,  savage  of  "  common  sense  "  who  has  been  misled 


264     SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.    [LECT. 

into  reading  thus  far  by  the  hope  of  getting  positive 
solid  information  about  sensation,  giving  way  to  not 
unnatural  irritation,  may  here  interpellate :  "  The 
upshot  of  all  this  long  disquisition  is  that  we  are 
profoundly  ignorant.  We  knew  that  to  begin  with, 
and  you  have  merely  furnished  another  example  of 
the  emptiness  and  uselessness  of  metaphysics."  But 
I  venture  to  reply,  Pardon  me,  you  were  ignorant,  but 
you  did  not  know  it.  On  the  contrary,  you  thought 
you  knew  a  great  deal,  and  were  quite  satisfied  with 
the  particularly  absurd  metaphysical  notions  which 
you  were  pleased  to  call  the  teachings  of  common 
sense.  You  thought  that  your  sensations  were  pro- 
perties of  external  things,  and  had  an  existence 
outside  of  yourself.  You  thought  that  you  knew 
more  about  material  than  you  do  about  immaterial 
existences.  And  if,  as  a  wise  man  has  assured  us, 
the  knowledge  of  what  we  don't  know  is  the  next 
best  thing  to  the  knowledge  of  what  we  do  know, 
this  brief  excursion  into  the  province  of  philosophy 
has  been  highly  profitable. 

Of  all  the  dangerous  mental  habits,  that  which 
schoolboys  call  "  cocksureness  "  is  probably  the  most 
perilous ;  and  the  inestimable  value  of  metaphysical 
discipline  is  that  it  furnishes  an  effectual  counterpoise 
to  this  evil  proclivity.  Whoso  has  mastered  the 
elements  of  philosophy  knows  that  the  attribute  of 
unquestionable  certainty  appertains  only  to  the  ex- 
istence of  a  state  of  consciousness  so  long  as  it  exists  ; 
all  other  beliefs  are  mere  probabilities  of  a  higher 
or  lower  order.  Sound  metaphysic  is  an  amulet 


X.]         SENSATION  AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.      265 

which  renders  its  possessor  proof  alike  against  the 
poison  of  superstition  and  the  counter -poison  of 
nihilism  ;  by  showing  that  the  affirmations  of  the 
former  and  the  denials  of  the  latter  alike  deal  with 
matters  about  which,  for  lack  of  evidence,  nothing 
can  be  either  affirmed  or  denied. 

I  have  dwelt  at  length  upon  the  nature  and  origin 
of  our  sensations  of  smell,  on  account  of  the  compara- 
tive freedom  of  the  olfactory  sense  from  the  compli- 
cations which  are  met  with  in  most  of  the  other 
senses. 

Sensations  of  taste,  however,  are  generated  in 
almost  as  simple  a  fashion  as  those  of  smell.  In  this 
case,  the  sense  organ  is  the  epithelium  which  covers 
the  tongue  and  the  palate :  and  which  sometimes, 
becoming  modified,  gives  rise  to  peculiar  organs 
termed  "  gustatory  bulbs,"  in  which  the  epithelial  cells 
elongate  and  assume  a  somewhat  rod-like  form.  Nerve 
fibres  connect  the  sensory  organ  with  the  sensorium, 
and  tastes  or  flavours  are  states  of  consciousness 
caused  by  the  change  of  molecular  state  of  the  latter. 
In  the  case  of  the  sense  of  touch  there  is  often  no 
sense  organ  distinct  from  the  general  epidermis.  But 
many  fishes  and  amphibia  exhibit  local  modifications 
of  the  epidermic  cells  which  are  sometimes  extra- 
ordinarily like  the  gustatory  bulbs ;  more  commonly, 
both  in  lower  and  higher  animals,  the  effect  of  the 
contact  of  external  bodies  is  intensified  by  the  develop- 
ment of  hair-like  filaments,  or  of  true  hairs,  the  bases 
of  which  are  in  immediate  relation  with  the  ends  of 


266     SENSATION  AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.     [LECT. 

the  sensory  nerves.  Every  one  must  have  noticed 
the  extreme  delicacy  of  the  sensations  produced  by 
the  contact  of  bodies  with  the  ends  of  the  hairs  of  the 
head ;  and  the  "  whiskers  "  of  cats  owe  their  functional 
importance  to  the  abundant  supply  of  nerves  to  the 
follicles  in  which  their  bases  are  lodged.  What  part, 
if  any,  the  so-called  "  tactile  corpuscles,"  "  end  bulbs," 
and  "  Pacinian  bodies,"  play  in  the  mechanism  of  touch 
is  unknown.  If  they  are  sense  organs,  they  are 
exceptional  in  character,  in  so  far  as  they  do  not 
appear  to  be  modifications  of  the  epidermis.  Nothing 
is  known  respecting  the  organs  of  those  sensations  of 
resistance  which  are  grouped  under  the  head  of  the 
muscular  sense  ;  nor  of  the  sensations  of  warmth  and 
cold;  nor  of  that  very  singular  sensation  which  we 
call  tickling. 

In  the  case  of  heat  and  cold,  the  organism  not 
only  becomes  affected  by  external  bodies,  far  more 
remote  than  those  which  affect  the  sense  of  smell ; 
but  the  Democritic  hypothesis  is  obviously  no  longer 
permissible.  When  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun  fall 
upon  the  skin,  the  sensation  of  heat  is  certainly  not 
caused  by  "  attenuated  films "  thrown  off  from  that 
luminary,  but  is  due  to  a  mode  of  motion  which  is  trans- 
mitted to  us.  In  Aristotelian  phrase,  it  is  the  form 
without  the  matter  of  the  sun  which  stamps  the  sense 
organ ;  and  this,  translated  into  modern  language, 
means  nearly  the  same  thing  as  Hartley's  vibrations. 
Thus  we  are  prepared  for  what  happens  in  the  case  of 
the  auditory  and  the  visual  senses.  For  neither  the 
ear,  nor  the  eye,  receives  anything  but  the  impulses  or 


X.]        SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS    ORGANS.       267 

vibrations  originated  by  sonorous  or  luminous  bodies. 
Nevertheless,  the  receptive  apparatus  still  consists  of 
nothing  but  specially  modified  epithelial  cells.  In  the 
labyrinth  of  the  ear  of  the  higher  animals,  the  free 
ends  of  these  cells  terminate  in  excessively  delicate 
hair -like  filaments ;  while,  in  the  lower  forms  of 
auditory  organ,  its  free  surface  is  beset  with  delicate 
hairs  like  those  of  the  surface  of  the  body,  and  the 
transmissive  nerves  are  connected  with  the  bases  of 
these  hairs.  Thus  there  is  an  insensible  gradation  in 
the  forms  of  the  receptive  apparatus,  from  the  organ 
of  touch,  on  the  one  hand,  to  those  of  taste  and  smell ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  to  that  of  hearing.  Even  in 
the  case  of  the  most  refined  of  all  the  sense  organs, 
that  of  vision,  the  receptive  apparatus  departs  but  little 
from  the  general  type.  The  only  essential  constituent 
of  the  visual  sense  organ  is  the  retina,  which  forms  so 
small  a  part  of  the  eyes  of  the  higher  animals ;  and 
the  simplest  eyes  are  nothing  but  portions  of  the 
integument,  in  which  the  cells  of  the  epidermis  have 
become  converted  into  glassy  rod-like  retinal  corpuscles. 
The  outer  ends  of  these  are  turned  towards  the  light ; 
their  sides  are  more  or  less  extensively  coated  with 
a  dark  pigment,  and  their  inner  ends  are  connected 
with  the  transmissive  nerve  fibres.  The  light,  imping- 
ing on  these  visual  rods,  produces  a  change  in  them 
which  is  communicated  to  the  nerve  fibres,  and,  being 
transmitted  to  the  sensorium,  gives  rise  to  the  sensa- 
tion— if  indeed  all  animals  which  possess  eyes  are 
endowed  with  what  we  understand  as  sensation. 

In  the  higher  animals,  a  complicated  apparatus  of 


268     SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.     [LECT. 

lenses,  arranged  on  the  principle  of  a  camera  obscura, 
serves  at  once  to  concentrate  and  to  individualise  the 
pencils  of  light  proceeding  from  external  bodies.  But 
the  essential  part  of  the  organ  of  vision  is  still  a  layer 
of  cells,  which  have  the  form  of  rods  with  truncated  or 
conical  ends.  By  what  seems  a  strange  anomaly, 
however,  the  glassy  ends  of  these  are  turned  not 
towards,  but  away  from,  the  light ;  and  the  latter  has 
to  traverse  the  layer  of  nervous  tissues  with  which 
their  outer  ends  are  connected,  before  it  can  affect 
them.  Moreover,  the  rods  and  cones  of  the  vertebrate 
retina  are  so  deeply  seated,  and  in  many  respects  so 
peculiar  in  character,  that  it  appears  impossible,  at 
first  sight,  that  they  can  have  anything  to  do  with 
that  epidermis  of  which  gustatory  and  tactile,  and  at 
any  rate  the  lower  forms  of  auditory  and  visual, 
organs  are  obvious  modifications. 

Whatever  be  the  apparent  diversities  among  the 
sensiferous  apparatuses,  however,  they  share  certain 
common  characters.  Each  consists  of  a  receptive,  a 
transmissive,  and  a  sensificatory  portion.  The  essen- 
tial part  of  the  first  is  an  epithelium,  of  the  second, 
nerve  fibres,  of  the  third,  a  part  of  the  brain  ;  the  sensa- 
tion is  always  the  consequence  of  the  mode  of  motion 
excited  in  the  receptive,  and  sent  along  the  trans- 
missive,  to  the  sensificatory  part  of  the  sensiferous 
apparatus.  And,  in  all  the  senses,  there  is  no  like- 
ness whatever  between  the  object  of  sense,  which  is 
matter  in  motion,  and  the  sensation,  which  is  an 
immaterial  phenomenon. 

On  the  hypothesis  which  appears  to  me  to  be  the 


X.]       SENSATION   AND   THE    SENSIFEROUS    ORGANS.        269 

most  convenient,  sensation  is  a  product  of  the  sensifer- 
ous  apparatus  caused  by  certain  modes  of  motion 
which  are  set  up  in  it  by  impulses  from  without. 
The  sensiferous  apparatuses  are,  as  it  were,  factories, 
all  of  which  at  the  one  end  receive  raw  materials 
of  a  similar  kind — namely,  modes  of  motion — while, 
at  the  other,  each  turns  out  a  special  product,  the 
feeling  which  constitutes  the  kind  of  sensation  charac- 
teristic of  it. 

Or,  to  make  use  of  a  closer  comparison,  each 
sensiferous  apparatus  is  comparable  to  a  musical -box 
wound  up ;  with  as  many  tunes  as  there  are  separate 
sensations.  The  object  of  a  simple  sensation  is  the 
agent  which  presses  down  the  stop  of  one  of  these 
tunes,  and  the  more  feeble  the  agent,  the  more  delicate 
must  be  the  mobility  of  the  stop.1 

But,  if  this  be  true,  if  the  recipient  part  of  the 
sensiferous  apparatus  is,  in  all  cases,  merely  a  mechan- 
ism affected  by  coarser  or  finer  kinds  of  material 
motion,  we  might  expect  to  find  that  all  sense  organs 
are  fundamentally  alike,  and  result  from  the  modifica- 
tion of  the  same  morphological  elements.  And  this  is 
exactly  what  does  result  from  all  recent  histological 
and  embryological  investigations. 

It  has  been  seen  that  the  receptive  part  of  the 
olfactory  apparatus  is  a  slightly  modified  epithelium, 
which  lines  an  olfactory  chamber  deeply  seated  between 
the  orbits  in  adult  human  beings.  But,  if  we  trace 
back  the  nasal  chambers  to  their  origin  in  the  embryo, 

1  "  Charlie  fibre  est  une  espece  de  touche  ou  de  marteau  destine  a 
rendre  un  certain  ton." — Bonnet,  "  Essai  de  Psychologic,"  chap.  iv. 


270     SENSATION  AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.    [LECT. 

we  find,  that,  to  begin  with,  they  are  mere  depressions 
of  the  skin  of  the  fore  part  of  the  head,  lined  by  a 
continuation  of  the  general  epidermis.  These  depres- 
sions become  pits,  and  the  pits,  by  the  growth  of  the 
adjacent  parts,  gradually  acquire  the  position  which 
they  finally  occupy.  The  olfactory  organ,  therefore, 
is  a  specially  modified  part  of  the  general  integument 
The  human  ear  would  seem  to  present  greater 
difficulties.  For  the  essential  part  of  the  sense  organ, 
in  this  case,  is  the  membranous  labyrinth,  a  bag  of 
complicated  form,  which  lies  buried  in  the  depths  of 
the  floor  of  the  skull,  and  is  surrounded  by  dense  and 
solid  bone.  Here,  however,  recourse  to  the  study  of 
development  readily  unravels  the  mystery.  Shortly 
after  the  time  when  the  olfactory  organ  appears,  as  a 
depression  of  the  skin  on  the  side  of  the  fore  part  of 
the  head,  the  auditory  organ  appears  as  a  similar  de- 
pression on  the  side  of  its  back  part.  The  depression, 
rapidly  deepening,  becomes  a  small  pouch ;  and  then, 
the  communication  with  the  exterior  becoming  shut 
off,  the  pouch  is  converted  into  a  closed  bag,  the 
epithelial  lining  of  which  is  a  part  of  the  general 
epidermis  segregated  from  the  rest.  The  adjacent 
tissues,  changing  first  into  cartilage  and  then  into 
bone,  enclose  the  auditory  sac  in  a  strong  case,  in 
which  it  undergoes  its  further  metamorphoses ;  while 
the  drum,  the  ear  bones,  and  the  external  ear,  are 
superadded  by  no  less  extraordinary  modifications  of 
the  adjacent  parts.  Still  more  marvellous  is  the 
history  of  the  development  of  the  organ  of  vision. 
In  the  place  of  the  eye,  as  in  that  of  the  nose  and 


X.]       SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEKOUS   OKGANS.        271 

that  of  the  ear,  the  young  embryo  presents  a  depres- 
sion of  the  general  integument ;  but,  in  man  and  the 
higher  animals,  this  does  not  give  rise  to  the  proper 
sensory  organ,  but  only  to  part  of  the  accessory 
structures  concerned  in  vision.  In  fact,  this  depres- 
sion, deepening  and  becoming  converted  into  a  shut 
sac,  produces  only  the  cornea,  the  aqueous  humour, 
and  the  crystalline  lens  of  the  perfect  eye. 

The  retina  is  added  to  this  by  the  outgrowth  of 
the  wall  of  a  portion  of  the  brain  into  a  sort  of  bag,  or 
sac,  with  a  narrow  neck,  the  convex  bottom  of  which 
is  turned  outwards,  or  towards  the  crystalline  lens. 
As  the  development  of  the  eye  proceeds,  the  con- 
vex bottom  of  the  bag  becomes  pushed  in,  so  that  it 
gradually  obliterates  the  cavity  of  the  sac,  the  pre- 
viously convex  wall  of  which  becomes  deeply  concave. 
The  sac  of  the  brain  is  now  like  a  double  nightcap 
ready  for  the  head,  but  the  place  which  the  head 
would  occupy  is  taken  by  the  vitreous  humour,  while 
the  layer  of  nightcap  next  it  becomes  the  retina.  The 
cells  of  this  layer  which  lie  farthest  from  the  vitreous 
humour,  or,  in  other  words,  bound  the  original  cavity 
of  the  sac,  are  metamorphosed  into  the  rods  and  cones. 
Suppose  now  that  the  sac  of  the  brain  could  be  brought 
back  to  its  original  form ;  then  the  rods  and  cones 
would  form  part  of  the  lining  of  a  side  pouch  of  the 
brain.  But  one  of  the  most  wonderful  revelations  of 
embryology  is  the  proof  of  the  fact  that  the  brain 
itself  is,  at  its  first  beginning,  merely  an  infolding  of 
the  epidermic  layer  of  the  general  integument.  Hence 
it  follows  that  the  rods  and  cones  of  the  vertebrate 


272     SENSATION   AND   THE   SENSIFEROUS    ORGANS.     [LECT. 

eye  are  modified  epidermic  cells,  as  much  as  the 
crystalline  cones  of  the  insect  or  crustacean  eye  are ; 
and  that  the  inversion  of  the  position  of  the  former  in 
relation  to  light  arises  simply  from  the  roundabout 
way  in  which  the  vertebrate  retina  is  developed. 

Thus  all  the  higher  sense  organs  start  from  one 
foundation,  and  the  receptive  epithelium  of  the  eye, 
or  of  the  ear,  is  as  much  modified  epidermis  as  is  that 
of  the  nose.  The  structural  unity  of  the  sense  organs 
is  the  morphological  parallel  to  their  identity  of 
physiological  function,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  is  to 
be  impressed  by  certain  modes  of  motion ;  and  they 
are  fine  or  coarse,  in  proportion  to  the  delicacy  or  the 
strength  of  the  impulses  by  which  they  are  to  be 
affected. 

In  ultimate  analysis,  then,  it  appears  that  a  sensa- 
tion is  the  equivalent  in  terms  of  consciousness  for  a 
mode  of  motion  of  the  matter  of  the  sensorium.  But, 
if  inquiry  is  pushed  a  stage  farther,  and  the  question 
is  asked,  What  then  do  we  know  about  matter  and 
motion?  there  is  but  one  reply  possible.  All  that 
we  know  about  motion  is  that  it  is  a  name  for  certain 
changes  in  the  relations  of  our  visual,  tactile,  and 
muscular  sensations;  and  all  that  we  know  about 
matter  is  that  it  is  the  hypothetical  substance  of 
physical  phenomena — the  assumption  of  the  existence 
of  which  is  as  pure  a  piece  of  metaphysical  speculation 
as  is  that  of  the  existence  of  the  substance  of  mind. 

Our  sensations,  our  pleasures,  our  pains,  and  the 
relations  of  these,  make  up  the  sum  total  of  the 


X.]     SENSATION   AND    THE   SENSIFEROUS   ORGANS.          273 

elements  of  positive,  unquestionable  knowledge.  We 
call  a  large  section  of  these  sensations  and  their 
relations  matter  and  motion ;  the  rest  we  term  mind 
and  thinking;  and  experience  shows  that  there  is  a 
certain  constant  order  of  succession  between  some  of 
the  former  and  some  of  the  latter. 

This  is  all  that  just  metaphysical  criticism  leaves 
of  the  idols  set  up  by  the  spurious  metaphysics  of 
vulgar  common  sense.  It  is  consistent  either  with 
pure  Materialism,  or  with  pure  Idealism,  but  it  is 
neither.  For  the  Idealist,  not  content  with  declaring 
the  truth  that  our  knowledge  is  limited  to  facts  of 
consciousness,  affirms  the  wholly  unprovable  proposi- 
tion that  nothing  exists  beyond  these  and  the  substance 
of  mind.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Materialist, 
holding  by  the  truth  that,  for  anything  that  appears 
to  the  contrary,  material  phenomena  are  the  causes  of 
mental  phenomena,  asserts  his  unprovable  dogma,  that 
material  phenomena  and  the  substance  of  matter  are 
the  sole  primary  existences. 

Strike  out  the  propositions  about  which  neither 
controversialist  does  or  can  know  anything,  and  there 
is  nothing  left  for  them  to  quarrel  about.  Make  a 
desert  of  the  Unknowable,  and  the  divine  Astrsea  of 
philosophic  peace  will  commence  her  blessed  reign. 


274  EVOLUTION    IN   BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 


XI. 

EVOLUTION  IN  BIOLOGY. 

IN  the  former  half  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  term 
"  evolution  "  was  introduced  into  biological  writings,  in 
order  to  denote  the  mode  in  which  some  of  the  most 
eminent  physiologists  of  that  time  conceived  that 
the  generation  of  living  things  took  place ;  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  hypothesis  advocated,  in  the  preceding 
century,  by  Harvey  in  that  remarkable  work l  which 
would  give  him  a  claim  to  rank  among  the  founders 
of  biological  science,  even  had  he  not  been  the  dis- 
coverer of  the  circulation  of  the  blood. 

One  of  Harvey's  prime  objects  is  to  defend  and 
establish,  on  the  basis  of  direct  observation,  the 
opinion  already  held  by  Aristotle ;  that,  in  the  higher 
animals  at  any  rate,  the  formation  of  the  new  organism 
by  the  process  of  generation  takes  place,  not  suddenly, 
by  simultaneous  accretion  of  rudiments  of  all,  or  of  the 
most  important,  of  the  organs  of  the  adult;  nor  by 
sudden  metamorphosis  of  a  formative  substance  into  a 
miniature  of  the  whole,  which  subsequently  grows ; 
but  by  epigenesis,  or  successive  differentiation  of  a 

1  The  "  Exercitationes  de  Generations  Animalium,"  which  Dr.  George 
Ent  extracted  from  him  and  published  in  1651. 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  275 

relatively  homogeneous  rudiment  into  the  parts  and 
structures  which  are  characteristic  of  the  adult. 

"Et  primd,  quidem,  quoniam  per  epigenesin  sive  partium 
superexorientium  additamentum  pullum  fabricari  certum  est : 
qusenam  pars  ante  alias  omnes  exstruatur,  et  quid  de  ilia  ejusque 
generandi  modo  observandum  veniat,  dispiciemus.  Ratum  sane 
est  et  in  ovo  manifesto  apparet  quod  Aristoteles  de  perfectorum 
animalium  generatione  enuntiat :  nimirum,  non  omnes  partes 
simul  fieri,  sed  ordine  aliam  post  aliam;  primumque  existere 
particulam  genitalem,  cujus  virtute  postea  (tanquam  ex  principio 
quodam)  reliquse  omnes  partes  prosiliant.  Qualem  in  plantarum 
seminibus  (fabis,  puta,  aut  glandibus)  gemmam  sive  apicem  pro- 
tuberantem  cernimus,  totius  futurse  arboris  principium.  Estque 
hcec  particula  velut  filius  emancipatus  seorsumque  collocatus,  et  prin- 
cipium per  se  vivens;  unde  postea  membrorum  ordo  describitur ;  et 
qucecunque  ad  dbsolvendum  animal  pertinent,  disponuntur.1  Quoniam 
enim  nulla  pars  se  ipsam  general;  sed  postquam  generata  est,  se  ipsam 
jam  auget ;  ideo  earn  primum  oriri  necesse  est,  quce  principium  augendi 
contineat  (sive  enim  planla,  sive  animal  est,  ceque  omnibus  inest  quod 
vim  habeat  vegetandi,  sive  nutriendi),2  simulque  reh'quas  omnes 
partes  suo  quamque  ordine  distinguat  et  formet ;  proindeque  in 
eadem  primogenita  particula  anima  primario  inest,  sensus,  mo- 
tusque,  et  totius  vitae  auctor  et  principium,"  (Exercitatio  51.) 

Harvey  proceeds  to  contrast  this  view  with  that  of 
the  "  Medici,"  or  followers  of  Hippocrates  and  Galen, 
who,  "  badly  philosophising,"  imagined  that  the  brain, 
the  heart,  and  the  liver  were  simultaneously  first 
generated  in  the  form  of  vesicles ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  while  expressing  his  agreement  with  Aristotle  in 
the  principle  of  epigenesis,  he  maintains  that  it  is  the 
blood  which  is  the  primal  generative  part,  and  not,  as 
Aristotle  thought,  the  heart. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the 

1  "  De  Generatione  Animalium,"  lib  ii.  cap.  x. 
2  "  De  Generatione,"  lib.  ii.  cap.  iv. 


276  EVOLUTION    IN   BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

doctrine  of  epigenesis,  thus  advocated  by  Harvey,  was 
controverted,  on  the  ground  of  direct  observation,  by 
Malpighi,  who  affirmed  that  the  body  of  the  chick  is 
to  be  seen  in  the  egg,  before  the  punctum  sanguineum 
makes  its  appearance.  But,  from  this  perfectly  correct 
observation  a  conclusion  which  is  by  no  means 
warranted  was  drawn ;  namely,  that  the  chick,  as  a 
whole,  really  exists  in  the  egg  antecedently  to  incuba- 
tion ;  and  that  what,  happens  in  the  course  of  the  latter 
process  is  no  addition  of  new  parts,  "  alias  post  alias 
natas,"  as  Harvey  puts  it,  but  a  simple  expansion,  or 
unfolding,  of  the  organs  which  already  exist,  though 
they  are  too  small  and  inconspicuous  to  be  discovered. 
The  weight  of  Malpighi's  observations  therefore  fell 
into  the  scale  of  that  doctrine  which  Harvey  terms 
metamorphosis,  in  contradistinction  to  epigenesis. 

The  views  of  Malpighi  were  warmly  welcomed,  on 
philosophical  grounds,  by  Leibnitz,1  who  found  in  them 
a  support  to  his  hypothesis  of  monads,  and  by  Male- 

1  "Cependant,  pour  revenir  aux  formes  ordinaires  ou  aux  ames 
materielles,  cette  duree  qu'il  leur  faut  attribuer  a  la  place  de  celle  qu'on 
avoit  attribute  aux  atomes  pourroit  faire  douter  si  elles  ne  vont  pas  de 
corps  en  corps ;  ce  qui  seroit  la  metempsychose,  a  peu  pres  comme 
quelques  philosophes  ont  cru  la  transmission  du  mouvement  et  celle'des 
especes.  Mais  cette  imagination  est  bien  eloignee  de  la  nature  des 
choses.  11  n'y  a  point  de  tel  passage  ;  et  c'est  ici  ou  les  transformations 
de  Messieurs  Swammerdam,  Malpighi,  et  Leewenhoek,  qui  sont  des  plus 
excellens  observateurs  de  notre  terns,  sont  venues  a  mon  secours,  et 
in' ont  fait  admettre  plus  aisement,  que  1'animal,  et  toute  autre  substance 
organisee  ne  commence  point  lorsque  nous  le  croyons,  et  que  sa  genera- 
tion apparente  n'est  qu'une  developpement  et  une  espece  d'augmenta- 
tion.  Aussi  ai  je  remarque  que  1'auteur  de  la  "  Recherche  de  la  Verite," 
M.  Regis,  M.  Hartsoeker,  et  d'autres  habiles  hommes  n'ont  pas  ete  fort 
eloignes  de  ce  sentiment."  Leibnitz,  "  Systeme  nouveau  de  la  Nature," 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  277 

branche;1  while,  in  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  not  only  speculative  considerations,  but  a 
great  number  of  new  and  interesting  observations  on 
the  phenomena  of  generation,  led  the  ingenious 
Bonnet,  and  Haller,2  the  first  physiologist  of  the  age, 
to  adopt,  advocate,  and  extend  them. 

Bonnet  affirms  that,  before  fecundation,  the  hen's 
egg  contains  an  excessively  minute  but  complete  chick  ; 
and  that  fecundation  and  incubation  simply  cause  this 
germ  to  absorb  nutritious  matters,  which  are  deposited 
in  the  interstices  of  the  elementary  structures  of  which 
the  miniature  chick,  or  germ,  is  made  up.  The  con- 
sequence of  this  intussusceptive  growth  is  the  "  de- 
velopment" or  "evolution"  of  the  germ  into  the 
visible  bird.  Thus  an  organised  individual  (tout 
organise)  "is  a  composite  body  consisting  of  the 
original,  or  elementary,  parts  and  of  the  matters 
which  have  been  associated  with  them  by  the  aid  of 
nutrition  ;"  so  that,  if  these  matters  could  be  extracted 
from  the  individual  (tout),  it  would,  so  to  speak, 
become  concentrated  in  a  point,  and  would  thus  be 

1695.  The  doctrine  of  "  Emboitement"  is  contained  in  the  "  Considera- 
tions sur  le  principe  de  vie,"  1705  ;  the  preface  to  the  "  Theodicee," 
1710  ;  and  the  " Principes  de  la  Nature  et  de  la  Grace"  (§  6),  1718. 

1  "  II  est  vrai  que  la  pensee  la  plus  raisonnable  et  la  plus  conforme 
a  1'experience  sur  cette  question  tres  difficile  de  la  formation  du  foetus  ; 
c'est  que  les  enfans  sont  deja  presque  tout  formes  avant  meme  1'action 
par  laquelle  ils  sont  concus  ;  et  que  leurs  meres  DC  font  que  leur  donner 
I'accroissement    ordinaire  dans   le   temps    de  la    grossesse."     "De  la 
Recherche  de  la  Verite,"  livre  ii.  chap.  vii.  p.  334,  7th  ed.,  1721. 

2  The  writer  is  indebted  to  Dr.  Allen  Thomson  for  reference  to  the 
evidence  contained  in  a  note  to  Bailer's  edition  of  Boerhaave's  "  Prselec- 
tiones  Academicae,"  vol.  v.  pt.  ii.  p.  497,  published  in  1744,  that  Haller 
originally  advocated  epigenesis. 


278  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

restored  to  its  primitive  condition  of  a  germ ;  "just  as 
by  extracting  from  a  bone  the  calcareous  substance 
which  is  the  source  of  its  hardness,  it  is  reduced  to  its 
primitive  state  of  gristle  or  membrane."1 

"Evolution"  and  "development"  are,  for  Bonnet, 
synonymous  terms ;  and  since  by  "  evolution "  he 
means  simply  the  expansion  of  that  which  was  invisible 
into  visibility,  he  was  naturally  led  to  the  conclusion, 
at  which  Leibnitz  had  arrived  by  a  different  line  of 
reasoning,  that  no  such  thing  as  generation,  in  the 
proper  sense  of  the  word,  exists  in  nature.  The 
growth  of  an  organic  being  is  simply  a  process  of 
enlargement,  as  a  particle  of  dry  gelatine  may  be 
swelled  up  by  the  intussusception  of  water ;  its  death 
is  a  shrinkage,  such  as  the  swelled  jelly  might  under- 
go on  desiccation.  Nothing  really  new  is  produced  in 
the  living  world,  but  the  germs  which  develop  have 
existed  since  the  beginning  of  things;  and  nothing 
really  dies,  but,  when  what  we  call  death  takes  place, 
the  living  thing  shrinks  back  into  its  germ  state.2 

1  "  Considerations  sur  les  Corps  organises,"  chap.  x. 

2  Bonnet  had  the  courage  of  his  opinions,  and  in  the  "  Palingenesie 
Philosophique,"  part  vi.  chap,  iv.,  he  develops  a  hypothesis  which  he 
terms  "  evolution  naturelle  ;"  and  which,  making  allowance  for  his 
peculiar  views  of  the  nature  of  generation,  bears  no  small  resemblance 
to  what  is  understood  by  "  evolution  "  at  the  present  day  : — 

"  Si  la  volonte  divine  a  cree  par  un  seul  Acte  rUniversalite"  des 
etres,  d'ou  venoient  ces  plantes  et  ces  animaux  dont  Moyse  nous  decrit 
la  Production  au  troisieme  et  au  cinquieme  jour  du  renouvellement  de 
notre  monde  1 

"  Abuserois-je  de  la  liberte  de  conjectures  si  je  disois,  que  les  Plantes 
et  les  Animaux  qui  existent  aujourd'hui  sont  parvenus  par  une  sorte 
d'evolution  naturelle  des  Etres  organises  qui  peuplaient  ce  premier 
Monde,  sorti  immediatement  des  MAINS  du  CREATEUR  ? .  .  . 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  279 

The  two  parts  of  Bonnet's  hypothesis,  namely,  the 
doctrine  that  all  living  things  proceed  from  pre-exist- 
ing germs,  and  that  these  contain,  one  inclosed  within 
the  other,  the  germs  of  all  future  living  things,  which 
is  the  hypothesis  of  "  emboitement ;"  and  the  doctrine 
that  every  germ  contains  in  miniature  all  the  organs 
of  the  adult,  which  is  the  hypothesis  of  evolution  or 
development,  in  the  primary  senses  of  these  words, 
must  be  carefully  distinguished.  In  fact,  while  hold- 
ing firmly  by  the  former,  Bonnet  more  or  less  modified 
the  latter  in  his  later  writings,  and,  at  length,  he 
admits  that  a  "  germ  "  need  not  be  an  actual  miniature 
of  the  organism;  but  that  it  may  be  merely  an 
"original  preform ation "  capable  of  producing  the 
latter.1 

But,  thus  defined,  the  germ  is  neither  more  nor 
less  than  the  "  particula  genitalis  "  of  Aristotle,  or  the 
"  primordium  vegetale  "or  "  ovum  "  of  Harvey ;  and 
the  "  evolution  "  of  such  a  germ  would  not  be  dis- 
tinguishable from  "  epigenesis." 

Supported  by  the  great  authority  of  Haller,  the  doc- 

"  Ne  supposons  que  trois  revolutions.  La  Terre  vient  de  sortir  des 
MAINS  du  CREATEUR.  Des  causes  preparees  par  sa  SAGESSE  font 
developper  de  toutes  parts  les  Germes.  Les  Etres  organises  commencent 
a  jbuir  de  1'existence.  Ils  etoient  probablement  alors  bien  differens  de 
ce  qu'ils  sont  aujourd'hui.  Ils  1'etoient  autant  que  ce  premier  Monde 
differoit  de  celui  que  nous  habitons.  Nous  manquons  de  moyens  pour 
juger  de  ces  dissemblances,  et  peut-etre  que  le  plus  habile  Naturaliste 
qui  auroit  ete  place  dans  ce  premier  Monde  y  auroit  entitlement 
meconnu  nos  Plantes  et  nos  Animaux." 

1  "  Ce  mot  (germe)  ne  designera  pas  seulement  un  corps  organise 
re'duit  en  petit ;  il  designera  encore  toute  espece  de  ^reformation  originelle 
dont  un  Tout  organique  pent  resulter  comme  de  son  principe  immediat." — 
"  Palingenesie  Philosophique,"  part  x.  chap.  ii. 


280  EVOLUTION   IN  BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

trine  of  evolution,  or  development,  prevailed  through- 
out the  whole  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  Cuvier 
appears  to  have  substantially  adopted  Bonnet's  later 
views,  though  probably  he  would  not  have  gone  all 
lengths  in  the  direction  of  "emboltement."  In  a 
well-known  note  to  Laurillards'  "  filoge,"  prefixed  to 
the  last  edition  of  the  "Ossemens  fossiles,"  the  "radical 
de  1'etre"  is  much  the  same  thing  as  Aristotle's 
"partieula  genitalis"  and  Harvey's  "  ovum."  l 

Bonnet's  eminent  contemporary,  Buffon,  held 
nearly  the  same  views  with  respect  to  the  nature  of 
the  germ,  and  expresses  them  even  more  confidently. 

"  Ceux  qui  ont  cru  que  le  coeur  e"toit  le  premier  forme,  se 
sont  trompe's ;  ceux  qui  disent  que  c'est  le  sang  se  trompent 
aussi :  tout  est  forme"  en  m&me  temps.  Si  Ton  ne  consulte  que 
1'observation,  le  poulet  se  voit  dans  I'oeuf  avant  qui'il  ait  etc* 
couve"." 

"  J'ai  ouvert  une  grande  quantite  d'ceufs  a  difFerens  temps 
avant  et  apres  I'incubation,  et  je  me  suis  convaincu  par  mes  yeux 
que  le  poulet  existe  en  entier  dans  le  milieu  de  la  cicatricule  au 
moment  qu'il  sort  du  corps  de  la  poule."  3 

The  "  moule  interieur  "  of  Bufibn  is  the  aggregate 
of  elementary  parts  which  constitute  the  individual, 

1  u  M.  Cuvier  considerant  que  tous  les  etres  organises  sont  derives  de 
parens,  et  ne  voyant  dans  la  nature  aucune  force  capable  de  produire 
1'organisation,  croyait  a  la  pre-existence  des  germes  ;  non  pas  a  la  pre- 
existence  d'un  etre  tout  forme,  puisqu'il  est  bien  evident  que  ce  n'est 
que  par  des  developpemens  successifs  que  1'etre  acquiert  sa  forme ;  mais, 
si  1'on  peut  s'exprimer  ainsi,  a  la  pre-existence  du  radical  de  I'etre, 
radical  qui  existe  avant  que  la  serie  des  evolutions  ne  commence,  et 
qui  remonte  certainement,  suivant  la  belle  observation  de  Bonnet,  a 
plusieurs  generations."- — Laurillard,  "!Eloge  de  Cuvier,"  note  12. 

2  "Histoire  Naturelle,"  torn.  ii.  ed.  ii.  1750,  p.  350. 

3  Ibid.  p.  351. 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  281 

and  is  thus  the  equivalent  of  Bonnet's  germ,1  as 
defined  in  the  passage  cited  above.  But  Buffon 
further  imagined  that  innumerable  "  molecules  organ - 
iques "  are  dispersed  throughout  the  world,  and  that 
alimentation  consists  in  the  appropriation  by  the 
parts  of  an  organism  of  those  molecules  which  are 
analogous  to  them.  Growth,  therefore,  was,  on  this 
hypothesis,  a  process  partly  of  simple  evolution,  and 
partly  of  what  has  been  termed  "  syngenesis."  Buffon's 
opinion  is,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  combination  of  views, 
essentially  similar  to  those  of  Bonnet,  with  others, 
somewhat  similar  to  those  of  the  "Medici"  whom 
Harvey  condemns.  The  "  molecules  organiques  "  are 
physical  equivalents  of  Leibnitz's  "  monads." 

It  is  a  striking  example  of  the  difficulty  of  get- 
ting people  to  use  their  own  powers  of  investigation 
accurately,  that  this  form  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution 
should  have  held  its  ground  so  long;  for  it  was 
thoroughly  and  completely  exploded,  not  long  after 
its  enunciation,  by  Caspar  Friederich  Wolff,  who  in 
his  "Theoria  Generations, "  published  in  1759,  placed 
the  opposite  theory  of  epigenesis  upon  the  secure 
foundation  of  fact,  from  which  it  has  never  been 
displaced.  But  Wolff  had  no  immediate  successors. 
The  school  of  Cuvier  was  lamentably  deficient  in 
embryologists ;  and  it  was  only  in  the  course  of  the 
first  thirty  years  of  the  present  century,  that  Prevost 
and  Dumas  in  France,  and,  later  on,  Dollinger, 
Pander,  Von  Bar,  Kathke,  and  Remak  in  Germany, 
founded  modern  embryology ;  while,  at  the  same  time, 

1  See  particularly  Buffon,  l.o.  p.  41. 


282  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

they  proved  the  utter  incompatibility  of  the  hypothesis 
of  evolution,  as  formulated  by  Bonnet  and  Haller,  with 
easily  demonstrable  facts. 

Nevertheless,  though  the  conceptions  originally 
denoted  by  "evolution"  and  "development"  were 
shown  to  be  untenable,  the  words  retained  their 
application  to  the  process  by  which  the  embryos  of 
living  beings  gradually  make  their  appearance;  and 
the  terms  "Development/'  "  Entwickelung,"  and 
"Evolutio,"  are  now  indiscriminately  used  for  the 
series  of  genetic  changes  exhibited  by  living  beings, 
by  writers  who  would  emphatically  deny  that  "  De- 
velopment" or  "Entwickelung"  or  "Evolutio,"  in 
the  sense  in  which  these  words  were  usually  em- 
ployed by  Bonnet  or  by  Haller,  ever  occurs. 

Evolution,  or  development,  is,  in  fact,  at  present 
employed  in  biology  as  a  general  name  for  the  history 
of  the  steps  by  which  any  living  being  has  acquired 
the  morphological  and  the  physiological  characters 
which  distinguish  it.  As  civil  history  may  be  divided 
into  biography,  which  is  the  history  of  individuals, 
and  universal  history,  which  is  the  history  of  the 
human  race,  so  evolution  falls  naturally  into  two 
categories, — the  evolution  of  the  individual,  and  the 
evolution  of  the  sum  of  living  beings.  It  will  be 
convenient  to  deal  with  the  modern  doctrine  of  evolu- 
tion under  these  two  heads. 

I.  The  Evolution  of  the  Individual. 
No    exception    is,   at   this    time,   known   to   the 
general  law,  established  upon  an  immense  multitude 


XL]  EVOLUTION  IN  BIOLOGY.  283 

of  direct  observations,  that  every  living  thing  is 
evolved  from  a  particle  of  matter  in  which  no  trace  of 
the  distinctive  characters  of  the  adult  form  of  that 
living  thing  is  discernible.  This  particle  is  termed  a 
germ.  Harvey1  says — 

"  Omnibus  viventibus  primordium  insit,  ex  quo  et  a  quo  pro- 
veniant.  Liceat  hoc  nobis  primordium  vegetale  nominare ;  nempe 
substaiitiam  quandam  corpoream  vitam  habentem  potentiH, ;  vel 
quoddam  per  se  existens,  quod  aptum  sit,  in  vegetativam  formam, 
ab  interno  principio  operante,  mutarl  Quale  nempe  primordium, 
ovum  est  et  plantarum  semen ;  tale  etiam  viviparorum  conceptus, 
et  insectorum  vermis  ab  Aristotele  dictus  :  diversa  scilicet  diver- 
sorum  viventium  primordia." 

The  definition  of  a  germ  as  "matter  potentially 
alive,  and  having  within  itself  the  tendency  to  assume 
a  definite  living  form,"  appears  to  meet  all  the  re- 
quirements of  modern  science.  For,  notwithstanding 
it  might  be  justly  questioned  whether  a  germ  is  not 
merely  potentially,  but  rather  actually,  alive,  though 
its  vital  manifestations  are  reduced  to  a  mini  mum, 
the  term  "  potential "  may  fairly  be  used  in  a  sense 
broad  enough  to  escape  the  objection.  And  the 
qualification  of  "potential"  has  the  advantage  of 
reminding  us  that  the  great  characteristic  of  the  germ 
is  not  so  much  what  it  is,  but  what  it  may,  under 
suitable  conditions,  become.  Harvey  shared  the  be- 
lief of  Aristotle — whose  writings  he  so  often  quotes, 
and  of  whom  he  speaks  as  his  precursor  and  model, 
with  the  generous  respect  with  which  one  genuine 
worker  should  regard  another — that  such  germs  may 

1  "  Exercitationes  de  Generatione."  Ex.  62,  "  Ovum  esse  primor- 
dium commune  omnibus  animalibus." 


284  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

arise  by  a  process  of  "  equivocal  generation "  out  of 
not-living  matter;  and  the  aphorism  so  commonly 
ascribed  to  him,  "  omne  vivum  ex  ovo"  and  which  is 
indeed  a  fair  summary  of  his  reiterated  assertions, 
though  incessantly  employed  against  the  modern 
advocates  of  spontaneous  generation,  can  be  honestly 
so  used  only  by  those  who  have  never  read  a  score 
of  pages  of  the  "  Exercitationes."  Harvey,  in  fact, 
believed  as  implicitly  as  Aristotle  did  in  the  equivocal 
generation  of  the  lower  animals.  But,  while  the 
course  of  modern  investigation  has  only  brought  out 
into  greater  prominence  the  accuracy  of  Harvey's 
conception  of  the  nature  and  mode  of  development  of 
germs,  it  has  as  distinctly  tended  to  disprove  the  occur- 
rence of  equivocal  generation,  or  abiogenesis,  in  the 
present  course  of  nature.  In  the  immense  majority 
of  both  plants  and  animals,  it  is  certain  that  the  germ 
is  not  merely  a  body  in  which  life  is  dormant  or 
potential,  but  that  it  is  itself  simply  a  detached  por- 
tion of  the  substance  of  a  pre-existing  living  body; 
and  the  evidence  has  yet  to  be  adduced  which  will 
satisfy  any  cautious  reasoner  that  "omne  vivum  ex 
vivo  "  is  not  as  well-established  a  law  of  the  existing 
course  of  nature  as  "  omne  vivum  ex  ovo." 

In  all  instances  which  have  yet  been  investi- 
gated, the  substance  of  this  germ  has  a  peculiar 
chemical  composition,  consisting  of  at  fewest  four 
elementary  bodies,  viz.  carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen, 
and  nitrogen,  united  into  the  ill-defined  compound 
known  as  protein,  and  associated  with  much  water, 
and  very  generally,  if  not  always,  with  sulphur  and 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  285 

phosphorus  in  minute  proportions.  Moreover,  up  to 
the  present  time,  protein  is  known  only  as  a  product 
and  constituent  of  living  matter.  Again,  a  true  germ 
is  either  devoid  of  any  structure  discernible  by  optical 
means,  or,  at  most,  it  is  a  simple  nucleated  cell.1 

In  all  cases,  the  process  of  evolution  consists  in  a 
succession  of  changes  of  the  form,  structure,  and 
functions  of  the  germ,  by  which  it  passes,  step  by 
step,  from  an  extreme  simplicity,  or  relative  homo- 
geneity, of  visible  structure,  to  a  greater  or  less  degree 
of  complexity  or  heterogeneity ;  and  the  course  of 
progressive  differentiation  is  usually  accompanied  by 
growth,  which  is  effected  by  intussusception.  This 
intussusception,  however,  is  a  very  different  process 
from  that  imagined  either  by  Buffon,  or  by  Bonnet. 
The  substance  by  the  addition  of  which  the  germ  is 
enlarged  is,  in  no  case,  simply  absorbed  ready-made 
from  the  not-living  world  and  packed  between  the 
elementary  constituents  of  the  germ,  as  Bonnet  im- 
agined; still  less  does  it  consist  of  the  "molecules 
organiques  "  of  Buffon.  The  new  material  is,  in  great 
measure,  not  only  absorbed  but  assimilated,  so  that  it 
becomes  part  and  parcel  of  the  molecular  structure  of 
the  living  body  into  which  it  enters.  And,  so  far 
from  the  fully  developed  organism  being  simply  the 
germ  plus  the  nutriment  which  it  has  absorbed,  it  is 
probable  that  the  adult  contains  neither  in  form,  nor  in 
substance,  more  than  an  inappreciable  fraction  of  the 

1  In  some  cases  of  sexless  multiplication  the  germ  is  a  cell-aggre- 
gate— if  we  call  germ  only  that  which  is  already  detached  from  the 
parent  organism. 


286  EVOLUTION   IN    BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

constituents  of  the  germ,  and  that  it  is  almost,  if  not 
wholly,  made  up  of  assimilated  and  metamorphosed 
nutriment.  In  the  great  majority  of  cases,  at  any 
rate,  the  full-grown  organism  becomes  what  it  is  by 
the  absorption  of  not-living  matter,  and  its  conversion 
into  living  matter  of  a  specific  type.  As  Harvey  says 
(Ex.  45),  all  parts  of  the  body  are  nourished  "  ab 
eodem  succo  alibili,  aliter  aliterque  cambiato,"  "ut 
plantse  omnes  ex  eodem  communi  nutrimento  (sive 
rore  seu  terrse  humore)." 

In  all  animals  and  plants,  above  the  lowest,  the 
germ  is  a  nucleated  cell,  using  that  term  in  its. 
broadest  sense ;  and  the  first  step  in  the  process  of 
the  evolution  of  the  individual  is  the  division  of  this 
cell  into  two  or  more  portions.  The  process  of 
division  is  repeated,  until  the  organism,  from  being 
unicellular,  becomes  multicellular.  The  single  cell 
becomes  a  cell- aggregate  ;  and  it  is  to  the  growth  and 
metamorphosis  of  the  cells  of  the  cell-aggregate  thus 
produced,  that  all  the  organs  and  tissues  of  the  adult 
owe  their  origin. 

In  certain  animals  belonging  to  every  one  of  the 
chief  groups  into  which  the  Metazoa  are  divisible,  the 
cells  of  the  cell -aggregate  which  results  from  the 
process  of  yelk-division,  and  which  is  termed  a 
morula,  diverge  from  one  another  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  give  rise  to  a  central  space,  around  which  they 
dispose  themselves  as  a  coat  or  envelope;  and  thus 
the  raorula  becomes  a  vesicle  filled  with  fluid,  the 
planula.  The  wall  of  the  planula  is  next  pushed  in 
on  one  side,  or  invaginated,  whereby  it  is  converted 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  287 

into  a  double-walled  sac  with  an  opening,  the  blasto- 
pore,  which  leads  into  the  cavity  lined  by  the  inner 
wall.  This  cavity  is  the  primitive  alimentary  cavity 
or  archenteron;  the  inner,  or  invaginated,  layer  is 
the  hypoblast,  the  outer  the  epiblast ;  and  the 
embryo,  in  this  stage,  is  termed  a  gastrula.  In  all 
the  higher  animals,  a  layer  of  cells  makes  its  appear- 
ance between  the  hypoblast  and  the  epiblast,  and  is 
termed  the  mesoblast.  In  the  further  course  of 
development,  the  epiblast  becomes  the  ectoderm  or 
epidermic  layer  of  the  body ;  the  hypoblast  becomes 
the  epithelium  of  the  middle  portion  of  the  alimentary 
canal ;  and  the  mesoblast  gives  rise  to  all  the  other 
tissues,  except  the  central  nervous  system,  which 
originates  from  an  ingrowth  of  the  epiblast. 

With  more  or  less  modification  in  detail,  the 
embryo  has  been  observed  to  pass  through  these 
successive  evolutional  stages  in  sundry  Sponges, 
Coelenterates,  Worms,  Echinoderms,  Tunicates,  Arth- 
ropods, Mollusks,  and  Vertebrates ;  and  there  are 
valid  reasons  for  the  belief,  that  all  animals  of  higher 
organisation  than  the  Protozoa  agree  in  the  general 
character  of  the  early  stages  of  their  individual  evolu- 
tion. Each,  starting  from  the  condition  of  a  simple 
nucleated  cell,  becomes  a  cell-aggregate;  and  this  passes 
through  a  condition  which  represents  the  gastrula 
stage,  before  taking  on  the  features  distinctive  of  the 
group  to  which  it  belongs.  Stated  in  this  form,  the 
"  gasteea  theory  "  of  Haeckel  appears  to  the  present 
writer  to  be  one  of  the  most  important  and  best 
founded  of  recent  generalisations.  So  far  as  indi- 


288  EVOLUTION    IN    BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

vidual  plants  and  animals  are  concerned,  therefore, 
evolution  is  not  a  speculation  but  a  fact ;  and  it 
takes  place  by  epigenesis. 

"Animal  .  .  .  per  epigenesin  procreatur,  materiam  simul 
attralrit,  parat,  concoquit,  et  eadem  utitur;  formatur  simul  et 
augetur  .  .  .  primum  futuri  corporis  concrementuin  .  .  .  prout 
augetur,  dividitur  sensim  et  distinguitur  in  partes,  non  simul 
omnes,  sed  alias  post  alias  natas,  et  ordine  quasque  suo  emer- 
gentes."1 

In  these  words,  by  the  divination  of  genius, 
Harvey,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  summed  up  the 
outcome  of  the  work  of  all  those  who,  with  appliances 
he  could  not  dream  of,  are  continuing  his  labours  in 
the  nineteenth  century. 

Nevertheless,  though  the  doctrine  of  epigenesis, 
as  understood  by  Harvey,  has  definitively  triumphed 
over  the  doctrine  of  evolution,  as  understood  by  his 
opponents  of  the  eighteenth  century,  it  is  not  im- 
possible that,  when  the  analysis  of  the  process  of 
development  is  carried  still  farther,  and  the  origin  of 
the  molecular  components  of  the  physically  gross, 
though  sensibly  minute,  bodies  which  we  term  germs 
is  traced,  the  theory  of  development  will  approach 
more  nearly  to  metamorphosis  than  to  epigenesis. 
Harvey  thought  that  impregnation  influenced  the 
female  organism  as  a  contagion ;  and  that  the  blood, 
which  he  conceived  to  be  the  first  rudiment  of  the 
germ,  arose  in  the  clear  fluid  of  the  "colliquamentum" 
of  the  ovum  by  a  process  of  concrescence,  as  a  sort 

1  Harvey,  "  Exercitationes  de  Generatione."  Ex.  45,  "  Quaenam 
sit  pulli  materia  et  quomodo  fiat  in  Ovo." 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN  BIOLOGY.  289 

of  living  precipitate.  We  now  know,  on  the  contrary, 
that  the  female  germ  or  ovum,  in  all  the  higher 
animals  and  plants,  is  a  body  which  possesses  the 
structure  of  a  nucleated  cell;  that  impregnation 
consists  in  the  fusion  of  the  substance1  of  another 
more  or  less  modified  nucleated  cell,  the  male 
germ,  with  the  ovum ;  and  that  the  structural 
components  of  the  body  of  the  embryo  are  all 
derived,  by  a  process  of  division,  from  the  coalesced 
male  and  female  germs.  Hence  it  is  conceivable,  and 
indeed  probable,  that  every  part  of  the  adult  contains 
molecules,  derived  both  from  the  male  and  from  the 
female  parent;  and  that,  regarded  as  a  mass  of 
molecules,  the  entire  organism  may  be  compared  to  a 
web  of  which  the  warp  is  derived  from  the  female 
and  the  woof  from  the  male.  And  each  of  these  may 
constitute  one  individuality,  in  the  same  sense  as  the 
whole  organism  is  one  individual,  although  the  matter 
of  the  organism  has  been  constantly  changing.  The 
primitive  male  and  female  molecules  may  play  the 
part  of  Buffon's  "  moules  organiques,"  and  mould  the 
assimilated  nutriment,  each  according  to  its  own  type, 
into  innumerable  new  molecules.  From  this  point  of 
view  the  process,  which,  in  its  superficial  aspect,  is 
epigenesis,  appears  in  essence,  to  be  evolution,  in  the 
modified  sense  adopted  in  Bonnet's  later  writings; 
and  development  is  merely  the  expansion  of  a  poten- 
tial organism  or  "  original  preformation "  according 
to  fixed  laws. 

1  Not  yet  actually  demonstrated  in  the  case  of  pha3nogamous  plants. 

U 


290  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

II.   The  Evolution  of  the  Sum  of  Living  Beings. 

The  notion  that  all  the  kinds  of  animals  and  plants 
may  have  come  into  existence  by  the  growth  and 
modification  of  primordial  germs  is  as  old  as  speculative 
thought ;  but  the  modern  scientific  form  of  the  doctrine 
can  be  traced  historically  to  the  influence  of  several 
converging  lines  of  philosophical  speculation  and  of 
physical  observation,  none  of  which  go  farther  back 
than  the  seventeenth  century.  These  are  : — 

1.  The  enunciation  by  Descartes  of  the  conception 
that  the  physical  universe,  whether  living  or  not  living, 
is  a  mechanism,  and  that,  as  such,  it  is  explicable  on 
physical  principles. 

2.  The  observation  of  the  gradations  of  structure, 
from   extreme   simplicity  to  very  great  complexity, 
presented  by  living  things,  and  of  the  relation  of  these 
graduated  forms  to  one  another. 

3.  The  observation  of  the  existence  of  an  analogy 
between   the   series  of  gradations  presented  by  the 
species  which  compose  any  great  group  of  animals  or 
plants,  and  the  series  of  embryonic  conditions  of  the 
highest  members  of  that  group. 

4.  The  observation  that  large  groups  of  species  of 
widely  different  habits  present  the  same  fundamental 
plan  of  structure  ;  and  that  parts  of  the  same  animal 
or  plant,  the  functions  of  which  are  very  different, 
likewise  exhibit  modifications  of  a  common  plan. 

5.  The  observation  of  the  existence  of  structures, 
in  a  rudimentary  and  apparently  useless  condition,  in 
one  species  of  a  group,  which  are  fully  developed  and 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  291 

have  definite  functions  in  other  species  of  the  same 
group. 

6.  The  observation  of  the  effects  of  varying  con- 
ditions in  modifying  living  organisms. 

7.  The  observation  of  the  facts  of  geographical 
distribution. 

8.  The  observation  of  the  facts  of  the  geological 
succession  of  the  forms  of  life. 

1.  Notwithstanding  the  elaborate  disguise  which 
fear  of  the  powers  that  were  led  Descartes  to  throw 
over  his  real  opinions,  it  is  impossible  to  read  the 
"  Principes  de  la  Philosophic  "  without  acquiring  the 
conviction  that  this  great  philosopher  held  that  the 
physical  world  and  all  things  in  it,  whether  living  or 
not  living,  have  originated  by  a  process  of  evolution, 
due  to  the  continuous  operation  of  purely  physical 
causes,  out  of  a  primitive  relatively  formless  matter.1 

The  following  passage  is  especially  instructive  : — 

"  Et  tant  s'en  faut  que  je  veuille  que  Ton  croie  toutes  les 
choses  que  j'e"crirai,  que  meme  je  pretends  en  proposer  ici  quelques 
unes  que  je  crois  absolument  etre  fausses ;  a  savoir,  je  ne  doute 
point  que  le  monde  n'ait  etc"  cre'e'  au  commencement  avec  autant 
de  perfection  qu'il  en  a ;  en  sorte  que  le  soleil,  la  terre,  la  lune, 
et  les  6toiles  ont  e"t6  des  lors  ;  et  que  la  terre  n'a  pas  eu  seulement 
en  soi  les  semences  des  plantes,  mais  que  les  plantes  meme  en 
ont  couvert  une  partie ;  et  qu'  Adam  et  Eve  n'ont  pas  e'te'  cree"s 
enfaiis  mais  en  age  d'hommes  parfaits.  La  religion  chre"tienne 
veut  que  nous  le  croyons  ainsi,  et  la  raison  naturelle  nous  persuade 
entierement  cette  verite ;  car  si  nous  considerons  la  toute  puissance 

1  As  Bnffon  has  well  said  : — "  L'idee  de  ramener  Implication  de 
tons  les  phenomenes  a  des  principes  mecaniques  est  assurement  grande 
et  belle,  ce  pas  est  le  plus  hardi  qu'on  pent  faire  en  philosophic,  et 
c'est  Descartes  qni  1'a  fait." — le.  p.  50. 


292  EVOLUTION    IN    BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

de  Dieu,  nous  devons  juger  que  tout  ce  qu'il  a  fait  a  eu  des  le 
commencement  toute  la  perfection  qu'il  devoit  avoir.  Mais 
ne"anmoins,  comme  on  connditroit  beaucoup  mieux  quelle  a  ete  la 
nature  d'Adam  et  celle  des  arbres  de  Paradis  si  on  avoit  examine" 
comment  les  enfants  se  forment  peu  &  peu  dans  le  ventre  de  leurs 
meres  et  comment  les  plantes  sortent  de  leurs  semences,  que  si 
on  avoit  seulement  conside're'  quels  ils  ont  etc"  quand  Dieu  les  a 
crees  :  tout  de  m£me,  nous  ferons  mieux  entendre  quelle  est 
g6ne"ralement  la  nature  de  toutes  les  choses  qui  sont  au  monde  si 
nous  pouvons  imaginer  quelques  principes  qui  soient  fort  intelli- 
gibles  et  fort  simples,  desquels  nous  puissions  voir  clairement  que 
les  astres  et  la  terre  et  enfin  tout  ce  monde  visible  auroit  pu  6tre 
produit  ainsi  que  de  quelques  semences  (bien  que  nous  sachions 
qu'il  n'a  pas  etc"  produit  en  cette  fa9on)  que  si  nous  la  decrivions 
seulement  comme  il  est,  ou  bien  comme  nous  croyons  qu'il  a  e"te" 
cree.  Et  parceque  je  pense  avoir  trouv6  des  principes  qui  sont 
tels,  je  tacherai  ici  de  les  expliquer."1 

If  we  read  between  the  lines  of  this  singular  ex- 
hibition of  force  of  one  kind  and  weakness  of  another, 
it  is  clear  that  Descartes  believed  that  he  had  divined 
the  mode  in  which  the  physical  universe  had  been 
evolved ;  and  the  "  Traite  de  1'homme,"  and  the  essay 
"  Sur  les  Passions"  afford  abundant  additional  evidence 
that  he  sought  for,  and  thought  he  had  found,  an 
explanation  of  the  phenomena  of  physical  life  by 
deduction  from  purely  physical  laws. 

Spinoza  abounds  in  the  same  sense,  and  is  as  usual 
perfectly  candid — 

"  Naturae  leges  et  regulse,  secundum  quas  omnia  fiunt  et  ex 
unis  formis  in  alias  rnutantur,  sunt  ubique  et  semper  eadem."2 

Leibnitz's  doctrine  of  continuity  necessarily  led 
him  in  the  same  direction ;  and,  of  the  infinite  multi- 

1  "  Principes  de  la  Philosophic,"  Troisieme  partie,  §  45. 
2  "  Ethices,"  Pars  tertia,  Preefatio. 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  293 

tude  of  monads  with  which  he  peopled  the  world, 
each  is  supposed  to  be  the  focus  of  an  endless  process 
of  evolution  and  involution.  In  the  "  Protogsea," 
xxvi.,  Leibnitz  distinctly  suggests  the  mutability  of 

species — 

"  Alii  mirantur  in  saxis  passim  species  videri  quas  vel  in  orbe 
cognito,  vel  saltern  in  vicinis  locis  frustra  quaeras.  Ita  "  Cornua 
Ammonis,"  quae  ex  nautilorum  numero  habeantur,  passim  et  forma 
et  magnitudine  (nam  et  pedali  diametro  aliquando  reperiuntur) 
ab  omnibus  illis  naturis  discrepare  dicunt,  quas  praebet  mare.  Sed 
quis  absconditos  ejus  recessus  aut  subterraneas  abyssos  pervesti- 
gavif?  quam  multa  nobis  animalia  antea  ignota  offert  novus  orbis  1 
Et  credibile  est  per  magnas  illas  conversiones  etiam  animalium 
species  plurimum  immutatas." 

Thus,  in  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the 
seed  was  sown  which  has,  at  intervals,  brought  forth 
recurrent  crops  of  evolutional  hypotheses,  based,  more 
or  less  completely,  on  general  reasonings. 

Among  the  earliest  of  these  speculations  is  that 
put  forward  by  Benoit  de  Maillet  in  his  "  Telliamed," 
which,  though  printed  in  1735,  was  not  published 
until  twenty-three  years  later.  Considering  that  this 
book  was  written  before  the  time  of  Haller,  or  Bonnet, 
or  Linnaeus,  or  Button,  it  surely  deserves  more  respect- 
ful consideration  than  it  usually  receives.  For  De 
Maillet  not  only  has  a  definite  conception  of  the 
plasticity  of  living  things,  and  of  the  production  of 
existing  species  by  the  modification  of  their  prede- 
cessors ;  but  he  clearly  apprehends  the  cardinal  maxim 
of  modern  geological  science,  that  the  explanation  of 
the  structure  of  the  globe  is  to  be  sought  in  the 
deductive  application  to  geological  phenomena  of  the 


294  EVOLUTION    IN   BIOLOGY.  [LEOT. 

principles  established  inductively  by  the  study  of  the 
present  course  of  nature.  Somewhat  later,  Maupertuis1 
suggested  a  curious  hypothesis  as  to  the  causes  of 
variation,  which  he  thinks  may  be  sufficient  to  account 
for  the  origin  of  all  animals  from  a  single  pair. 
Kobinet 2  followed  out  much  the  same  line  of  thought 
as  De  Maillet,  but  less  soberly ;  and  Bonnet's  specula- 
tions in  the  "  Palinge*nesie,"  which  appeared  in  1769, 
have  already  been  mentioned.  Buffon  (1753-1778), 
at  first  a  partisan  of  the  absolute  immutability  of 
species,  subsequently  appears  to  have  believed  that 
larger  or  smaller  groups  of  species  have  been  pro- 
duced by  the  modification  of  a  primitive  stock ;  but 
he  contributed  nothing  to  the  general  doctrine  of 
evolution. 

Erasmus  Darwin  ("Zoonomia,"  1794),  though  a 
zealous  evolutionist,  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  made 
any  real  advance  on  his  predecessors ;  and,  notwith- 
standing that  Goethe  (1791-4)  had  the  advantage  of 
a  wide  knowledge  of  morphological  facts,  and  a  true 
insight  into  their  signification,  while  he  threw  all  the 
power  of  a  great  poet  into  the  expression  of  his 
conceptions,  it  may  be  questioned  whether  he  supplied 
the  doctrine  of  evolution  with  a  firmer  scientific  basis 
than  it  already  possessed.  Moreover,  whatever  the 
value  of  Goethe's  labours  in  that  field,  they  were  not 
published  before  1820,  long  after  evolutionism  had 

1  "  Systeme  de  la  Nature."     "  Essai  sur  la  Formation  des  Corps 
Organises,"  1751,  xiv. 

2  "  Considerations   Philosophiques  sur  la  gradation  naturelle  des 
formes  de  1'etre  ;  ou  les  essak  de  la  nature  qui  apprend  a  faire  Phomme," 
1768. 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  295 

taken  a  new  departure  from  the  works  of  Treviranus 
and  Lamarck — the  first  of  its  advocates  who  were 
equipped  for  their  task  with  the  needful  large  and 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  phenomena  of  life,  as  a 
whole.  It  is  remarkable  that  each  of  these  writers 
seems  to  have  been  led,  independently  and  contem- 
poraneously, to  invent  the  same  name  of  "  Biology " 
for  the  science  of  the  phenomena  of  life;  and  thus, 
following  Buffon,  to  have  recognised  the  essential 
unity  of  these  phenomena,  and  their  contradistinction 
from  those  of  inanimate  nature.  And  it  is  hard  to 
say  whether  Lamarck  or  Treviranus  has  the  priority 
in  propounding  the  main  thesis  of  the  doctrine  of 
evolution  ;  for  though  the  first  volume  of  Treviranus's 
"Biologie"  appeared  only  in  1802,  he  says,  in  the  preface 
to  his  later  work,  the  "Erscheinungen  und  Gesetze  des 
organischen  Lebens,"  dated  1831,  that  he  wrote  the 
first  volume  of  the  " Biologie"  "nearly  five-and-thirty 
years  ago/'  or  about  1796. 

Now,  in  1794,  there  is  evidence  that  Lamarck  held 
doctrines  which  present  a  striking  contrast  to  those 
which  are  to  be  found  in  the  "  Philosophic  Zoologique," 
as  the  following  passages  show  : — 

"685.  Quoique  mon  unique  objet  dans  cet  article  n'ait  ete  que 
de  trailer  de  la  cause  physique  de  1'entretien  de  la  vie  des  e^res 
organiques,  malgre  cela  j'ai  os6  avancer  en  debutant,  que  1'existence 
de  ces  etres  etonnants  n'appartiennent  nullement  a  la  nature ;  que 
tout  ce  qu'on  peut  entendre  par  le  mot  nature,  ne  pouvoit  donner 
la  vie,  c'est-a-dire,  que  toutes  les  qualites  de  la  matiere,  jointes  a 
toutes  les  circonstances  possibles,  et  nieme  a  1'activite  repandue 
dans  Tunivers,  ne  pouvaient  point  produire  un  etre  muni  du 
mouvement  organique,  capable  de  reproduire  son  semblable,  et 
sujet  a  la  mort. 


296  EVOLUTION    IN    BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

"686.  Tous  les  individus  de  cette  nature,  qui  existent,  pro- 
viennent  d'individus  semblables  qui  tous  ensemble  constituent 
1'espece  entiere.  Or,  je  crois  qu'il  est  aussi  impossible  a  rhomme 
de  conn6itre  la  cause  physique  du  premier  individu  de  chaque 
espece,  que  d'assigner  aussi  physiquement  la  cause  de  1'existence 
de  la  matiere  ou  de  1'univers  entier.  C'est  au  moins  ce  que  le 
re*sultat  de  mes  connaissances  et  de  mes  reflexions  me  portent  a 
penser.  S'il  existe  beaucoup  de  varie"te"s  produites  par  1'effet  des 
circonstances,  ces  varie"tes  ne  denaturent  point  les  especes ;  mais 
on  se  trompe,  sans  doute  souvent,  en  indiquant  comme  espece,  ce 
qui  n'est  que  varie"t6 ;  et  alors  je  sens  que  cette  erreur  peut  tirer 
a  consequence  dans  les  raisonnements  que  Ton  fait  sur  cette 
matiere." 1 

The  first  three  volumes  of  Treviranus's  "  Biologie," 
which  contain  his  general  views  of  evolution,  appeared 
between  1802  and  1805.  The  "  Eecherches  sur  1'organ- 
isation  des  corps  vivants,"  in  which  the  outlines  of 
Lamarck's  doctrines  are  given,  was  published  in  1802  ; 
but  the  full  development  of  his  views,  in  the  "  Philo- 
sophic Zoologique,"  did  not  take  place  until  1809. 

The  "Biologie"  and  the" Philosophic Zoologique" are 
both  very  remarkable  productions,  and  are  still  worthy 
of  attentive  study,  but  they  fell  upon  evil  times. 
The  vast  authority  of  Cuvier  was  employed  in  support 
of  the  traditionally  respectable  hypotheses  of  special 
creation  and  of  catastrophism ;  and  the  wild  specula- 
tions of  the  "Discours  sur  les  Kevolutions  de  la  Surface 

1  "  Recherches  sur  les  causes  des  principaux  faits  physiques,"  par  J. 
B.  Lamarck.  Paris.  Seconde  annee  de  la  Republique.  In  the  preface, 
Lamarck  says  that  the  work  was  written  in  1776,  and  presented  to  the 
Academy  in  1780  ;  but  it  was  not  published  before  1794,  and,  at  that 
time,  it  presumably  expressed  Lamarck's  mature  views.  It  would  be 
interesting  to  know  what  brought  about  the  change  of  opinion  mani- 
fested in  the  "  Recherches  sur  1'organisation  des  corps  vivants,"  published 
only  seven  years  later. 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  297 

du  Globe  "  were  held  to  be  models  of  sound  scientific 
thinking,  while  the  really  much  more  sober  and 
philosophical  hypotheses  of  the  "  Hydrogeologie  "  were 
scouted.  For  many  years  it  was  the  fashion  to  speak 
of  Lamarck  with  ridicule,  while  Treviranus  was 
altogether  ignored. 

Nevertheless,  the  work  had  been  done.  The  con- 
ception of  evolution  was  henceforward  irrepressible, 
and  it  incessantly  reappears,  in  one  shape  or  another,1 
up  to  the  year  1858,  when  Mr.  Darwin  and  Mr. 
Wallace  published  their  "  Theory  of  Natural  Selection." 
The  "  Origin  of  Species  "  appeared  in  1859  ;  and  it  is 
within  the  knowledge  of  all  whose  memories  go  back 
to  that  time,  that,  henceforward,  the  doctrine  of  evolu- 
tion has  assumed  a  position  and  acquired  an  import- 
ance which  it  never  before  possessed.  In  the  "  Origin 
of  Species,"  and  in  his  other  numerous  and  important 
contributions  to  the  solution  of  the  problem  of  bio- 
logical evolution,  Mr.  Darwin  confines  himself  to  the 
discussion  of  the  causes  which  have  brought  about  the 
present  condition  of  living  matter,  assuming  such 
matter  to  have  once  come  into  existence.  On  the 
other  hand,  Mr.  Spencer2  and  Professor  Haeckel3 
have  dealt  with  the  whole  problem  of  evolution.  The 
profound  and  vigorous  writings  of  Mr.  Spencer  em- 
body the  spirit  of  Descartes  in  the  knowledge  of  our 
own  day,  and  may  be  regarded  as  the  "  Principes  de  la 

1  See  the  "  Historical  Sketch "  prefixed  to  the  last  edition  of  the 
"  Origin  of  Species." 

2  "First  Principles"  and  "Principles  of  Biology,"  1860-1864. 

3  "Generelle  Morphologic,"  1866. 


298  EVOLUTION    IN    BIOLOGY.  [LECT- 

Philosophie  "  of  the  nineteenth  century ;  while,  what- 
ever hesitation  may  not  unfrequently  be  felt  by  less 
daring  minds,  in  following  Haeckel  in  many  of  his 
speculations,  his  attempt  to  systematise  the  doctrine 
of  evolution  and  to  exhibit  its  influence  as  the  central 
thought  of  modern  biology,  cannot  fail  to  have  a  far- 
reaching  influence  on  the  progress  of  science. 

If  we  seek  for  the  reason  of  the  difference  between 
the  scientific  position  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  a 
century  ago,  and  that  which  it  occupies  now,  we  shall 
find  it  in  the  great  accumulation  of  facts,  the  several 
classes  of  which  have  been  enumerated  above,  under 
the  second  to  the  eighth  heads.  For  those  which  are 
grouped  under  the  second  to  the  seventh  of  these 
classes,  respectively,  have  a  clear  significance  on  the 
hypothesis  of  evolution,  while  they  are  unintelligible 
if  that  hypothesis  be  denied.  And  those  of  the  eighth 
group  are  not  only  unintelligible  without  the  assump- 
tion of  evolution,  but  can  be  proved  never  to  be  dis- 
cordant with  that  hypothesis,  while,  in  some  cases, 
they  are  exactly  such  as  the  hypothesis  requires.  The 
demonstration  of  these  assertions  would  require  a 
volume,  but  the  general  nature  of  the  evidence  on 
which  they  rest  may  be  briefly  indicated. 

2.  The  accurate  investigation  of  the  lowest  forms 
of  animal  life,  commenced  by  Leeuwenhoek  and  Swam- 
merdam,  and  continued  by  the  remarkable  labours 
of  Eeaumur,  Trembley,  Bonnet,  and  a  host  of  other 
observers,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  and  the 
first  half  of  the  eighteenth  centuries,  drew  the  atten- 
tion of  biologists  to  the  gradation  in  the  complexity  of 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN  BIOLOGY.  299 

organisation  which  is  presented  by  living  beings,  and 
culminated  in  the  doctrine  of  the  "  echelle  des  etres," 
so  powerfully  and  clearly  stated  by  Bonnet;  and, 
before  him,  adumbrated  by  Locke  and  by  Leibnitz. 
In  the  then  state  of  knowledge,  it  appeared  that  all 
the  species  of  animals  and  plants  could  be  arranged  in 
one  series;  in  such  a  manner  that,  by  insensible 
gradations,  the  mineral  passed  into  the  plant,  the 
plant  into  the  polype,  the  polype  into  the  worm,  and 
so,  through  gradually  higher  forms  of  life,  to  man,  at 
the  summit  of  the  animated  world. 

But,  as  knowledge  advanced,  this  conception  ceased 
to  be  tenable  in  the  crude  form  in  which  it  was  first 
put  forward.  Taking  into  account  existing  animals 
and  plants  alone,  it  became  obvious  that  they  fell  into 
groups  which  were  more  or  less  sharply  separated  from 
one  another ;  and,  moreover,  that  even  the  species  of 
a  genus  can  hardly  ever  be  arranged  in  linear  series. 
Their  natural  resemblances  and  differences  are  only 
to  be  expressed  by  disposing  them  as  if  they  were 
branches  springing  from  a  common  hypothetical 
centre. 

Lamarck,  while  affirming  the  verbal  proposition 
that  animals  form  a  single  series,  was  forced  by  his 
vast  acquaintance  with  the  details  of  zoology  to  limit 
the  assertion  to  such  a  series  as  may  be  formed  out  of 
the  abstractions  constituted  by  the  common  characters 
of  each  group.1 

1 "  II  s'agit  done  de  prouver  que  la  serie  qui  constitute  1'echelle 
animale  reside  essentiellement  dans  la  distribution  des  masses  princi- 
pales  qui  la  composent  et  non  dans  celle  des  especes  ni  meme  tou- 
jours  dans  celle  des  genres." — "  Phil.  Zoologique,"  chap.  v. 


300  EVOLUTION    IN    BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

Cuvier  on  anatomical,  and  Von  Baer  on  embryo- 
logical  grounds,  made  the  further  step  of  proving  that, 
even  in  this  limited  sense,  animals  cannot  be  arranged 
in  a  single  series,  but  that  there  are  several  distinct 
plans  of  organisation  to  be  observed  among  them,  no 
one  of  which,  in  its  highest  and  most  complicated 
modification,  leads  to  any  of  the  others. 

The  conclusions  enunciated  by  Cuvier  and  Von 
Baer  have  been  confirmed,  in  principle,  by  all  subse- 
quent research  into  the  structure  of  animals  and  plants. 
But  the  effect  of  the  adoption  of  these  conclusions  has 
been  rather  to  substitute  a  new  metaphor  for  that  of 
Bonnet  than  to  abolish  the  conception  expressed  by 
it.  Instead  of  regarding  living  things  as  capable  of 
arrangement  in  one  series  like  the  steps  of  a  ladder, 
the  results  of  modern  investigation  compel  us  to  dis- 
pose them  as  if  they  were  the  twigs  and  branches  of  a 
tree.  The  ends  of  the  twigs  represent  individuals,  the 
smallest  groups  of  twigs  species,  larger  groups  genera, 
and  so  on,  until  we  arrive  at  the  source  of  all  these 
ramifications  of  the  main  branch,  which  is  represented 
by  a  common  plan  of  stru  cture.  At  the  present  moment, 
it  is  impossible  to  draw  up  any  definition,  based  on 
broad  anatomical  or  developmental  characters,  by 
which  any  one  of  Cuvier's  great  groups  shall  be 
separated  from  all  the  rest.  On  the  contrary,  the 
lower  members  of  each  tend  to  converge  towards  the 
lower  members  of  all  the  others.  The  same  may  be 
said  of  the  vegetable  world.  The  apparently  clear 
distinction  between  flowering  and  flowerless  plants 
has  been  broken  down  by  the  series  of  gradations 


XL]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  301 

between  the  two  exhibited  by  the  Lycopodiacece, 
RhizocarpecBj  and  Gymnospermece.  The  groups  of 
Fungi,  Lichenes,  and  Algce  have  completely  run  into 
one  another,  and,  when  the  lowest  forms  of  each  are 
alone  considered,  even  the  animal  and  vegetable  king- 
doms cease  to  have  a  definite  frontier. 

If  it  is  permissible  to  speak  of  the  relations  of 
living  forms  to  one  another  metaphorically,  the  simili- 
tude chosen  must  undoubtedly  be  that  of  a  common 
root,  whence  two  main  trunks,  one  representing  the 
vegetable  and  one  the  animal  world,  spring ;  and,  each 
dividing  into  a  few  main  branches,  these  subdivide 
into  multitudes  of  branchlets  and  these  into  smaller 
groups  of  twigs. 

As  Lamarck  has  well  said — * 

"  II  n'y  a  que  ceux  qui  se  sont  longtemps  et  fortement  occupe*s 
de  la  determination  des  especes,  et  qui  ont  consults*  de  riches 
collections,  qui  peuvent  savoir  jusqu'a  quel  point  les  espkces,  parmi 
les  corps  vivants  se  fondent  les  unes  dans  les  autres,  et  qui  ont 
pu  se  convaincre  que,  dans  les  parties  ou  nous  voyons  des  espkces 
isoles,  cela  n'est  ainsi  que  parcequ'il  nous  en  manque  d'autres  qui 
en  sont  plus  voisines  et  que  nous  n'avons  pas  encore  recueillies. 

"  Je  ne  veux  pas  dire  pour  cela  que  les  animaux  qui  existent 
forment  une  se'rie  tres-  simple  et  partout  egalement  nuancee ; 
mais  je  dis  qu'ils  forment  une  se'rie  ramense,  irre'gulierement 
gradue"e  et  qui  n'a  point  de  discontinuity  dans  ses  parties,  ou  qui, 
du  moins,  n'en  a  toujours  pas  eu,  s'il  est  vrai  que,  par  suite  de 
quelques  especes  perdues,  il  s'en  trouve  quelque  part.  II  en 
resulte  que  les  espkces  qui  terminent  chaque  rameau  de  la  se'rie 
gene"rale  tiennent,  au  moins  d'un  cote,  a  d'autres  especes  voisines 
qui  se  nuancent  avec  elles.  Voila  ce  que  Tetat  bien  connu  des 
choses  me  met  maintenant  k  porte'e  de  demontrer.  Je  n'ai 

1  Philosophic  Zoologique,  premiere  partie,  chap,  iii 


302  EVOLUTION    IN   BIOLOGY.  [LECT 

besoin  d'aucune  hypothese  ni  d'aucune  supposition  pour  cela:  j'en 
atteste  tous  les  naturalistes  observateurs." 

3.  In  a  remarkable  essay *  Meckel  remarks— 

"  There  is  no  good  physiologist  who  has  not  been  struck  by 
the  observation  that  the  original  form  of  all  organisms  is  one 
and  the  same,  and  that  out  of  this  one  form,  all,  the  lowest  as  well 
as  the  highest,  are  developed  in  such  a  manner  that  the  latter  pass 
through  the  permanent  forms  of  the  former  as  transitory  stages. 
Aristotle,  Haller,  Harvey,  Kielmeyer,  Autenrieth,  and  many 
others,  have  either  made  this  observation  incidentally,  or,  espe- 
cially the  latter,  have  drawn  particular  attention  to  it,  and 
drawn  therefrom  results  of  permanent  importance  for  physiology." 

Meckel  proceeds  to  exemplify  the  thesis,  that  the 
lower  forms  of  animals  represent  stages  in  the  course 
of  the  development  of  the  higher,  with  a  large  series 
of  illustrations. 

After  comparing  the  Salamanders  and  the  perenni- 
branchiate  Urodela  with'  the  Tadpoles  and  the  Frogs, 
and  enunciating  the  law  that  the  more  highly  any 
animal  is  organised  the  more  quickly  does  it  pass 
through  the  lower  stages,  Meckel  goes  on  to  say — 

"From  these  lowest  Vertebrata  to  the  highest,  and  to  the 
highest  forms  among  these,  the  comparison  between  the  embry- 
onic conditions  of  the  higher  animals  and  the  adult  states  of  the 
lower  can  be  more  completely  and  thoroughly  instituted  than  if 
the  survey  is  extended  to  the  Invertebrata,  inasmuch  as  the  latter 
are  in  many  respects  constructed  upon  an  altogether  too  dis- 
similar type  j  indeed  they  often  differ  from  one  another  far 
more  than  the  lowest  vertebrate  does  from  the  highest  mammal; 
yet  the  following  pages  will  show  that  the  comparison  may  also 

1  "  Entwurf  einer  Darstellung  der  zwischen  dern  Embryozustan.de 
der  hoheren  Thiere  und  dem  permanenten  der  niederen  stattfindenden 
Parallele,"  "  Beytrage  zur  Vergleichenden  Anatomie,"  Bd.  ii.  1811. 


XL]  EVOLUTION    IN   BIOLOGY.  303 

be  extended  to  them  with  interest.  In  fact,  there  is  a  period 
when,  as  Aristotle  long  ago  said,  the  embryo  of  the  highest 
animal  has  the  form  of  a  mere  worm ;  and,  devoid  of  internal 
and  external  organisation,  is  merely  an  almost  structureless  lump 
of  polype -substance.  Notwithstanding  the  origin  of  organs, 
it  still  for  a  certain  time,  by  reason  of  its  want  of  an  internal 
bony  skeleton,  remains  worm  and  mollusk,  and  only  later  enters 
into  the  series  of  the  Vertebrata,  although  traces  of  the  vertebral 
column  even  in  the  earliest  periods  testify  its  claim  to  a  place  in 
that  series." — Op.  cit.  pp.  4,  5. 

If  Meckel's  proposition  is  so  far  qualified,  that  the 
comparison  of  adult  with  embryonic  forms  is  restricted 
within  the  limits  of  one  type  of  organisation ;  and,  if 
it  is  further  recollected  that  the  resemblance  between 
the  permanent  lower  form  and  the  embryonic  stage  of 
a  higher  form  is  not  special  but  general,  it  is  in  entire 
accordance  with  modern  embryology ;  although  there 
is  no  branch  of  biology  which  has  grown  so  largely, 
and  improved  its  methods  so  much,  since  Meckel's 
time,  as  this.  In  its  original  form,  the  doctrine  of 
"arrest  of  development,"  as  advocated  by  Geoffrey 
Saint-Hilaire  and  Serres,  was  no  doubt  an  over-state- 
ment of  the  case.  It  is  not  true,  for  example,  that  a 
fish  is  a  reptile  arrested  in  its  development,  or  that  a 
reptile  was  ever  a  fish  :  but  it  is  true  that  the  reptile 
embryo,  at  one  stage  of  its  development,  is  an  organism 
which,  if  it  had  an  independent  existence,  must  be 
classified  among  fishes;  and  all  the  organs  of  the 
reptile  pass,  in  the  course  of  their  development,  through 
conditions  which  are  closely  analogous  to  those  which 
are  permanent  in  some  fishes. 

4.  That  branch  of  biology  which  is  termed  Mor- 


304  EVOLUTION    IN   BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

phology  is  a  commentary  upon,  and  expansion  of,  the 
proposition  that  widely  different  animals  or  plants, 
and  widely  different  parts  of  animals  or  plants,  are 
constructed  upon  the  same  plan.  From  the  rough  com- 
parison of  the  skeleton  of  a  bird  with  that  of  a  man 
by  Belon,  in  the  sixteenth  century  (to  go  no  farther 
back),  down  to  the  theory  of  the  limbs  and  the  theory 
of  the  skull  at  the  present  day;  or,  from  the  first 
demonstration  of  the  homologies  of  the  parts  of  a 
flower  by  C.  F.  Wolff,  to  the  present  elaborate  analysis 
of  the  floral  organs,  morphology  exhibits  a  continual 
advance  towards  the  demonstration  of  a  fundamental 
unity  among  the  seeming  diversities  of  living  struc- 
tures. And  this  demonstration  has  been  completed 
by  the  final  establishment  of  the  cell  theory,  which 
involves  the  admission  of  a  primitive  conformity,  not 
only  of  all  the  elementary  structures  in  animals  and 
plants  respectively,  but  of  those  in  the  one  of  these 
great  divisions  of  living  things  with  those  in  the  other. 
No  d  priori  difficulty  can  be  said  to  stand  in  the  way 
of  evolution,  when  it  can  be  shown  that  all  animals 
and  all  plants  proceed  by  modes  of  development, 
which  are  similar  in  principle,  from  a  fundamental 
protoplasmic  material. 

5.  The  innumerable  cases  of  structures,  which  are 
rudimentary  and  apparently  useless,  in  species,  the 
close  allies  of  which  possess  well  developed  and  func- 
tionally important  homologous  structures,  are  readily 
intelligible  on  the  theory  of  evolution,  while  it  is  hard 
to  conceive  their  raison  d'etre  on  any  other  hypothesis. 
However,  a  cautious  reasoner  will  probably  rather 


XI  ]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  305 

explain  such  cases  deductively  from  the  doctrine  of 
evolution  than  endeavour  to  support  the  doctrine  of 
evolution  by  them.  For  it  is  almost  impossible  to 
prove  that  any  structure,  however  rudimentary,  is 
useless — that  is  to  say,  that  it  plays  no  part  whatever 
in  the  economy ;  and,  if  it  is  in  the  slightest  degree 
useful,  there  is  no  reason  why,  on  the  hypothesis  of 
direct  creation,  it  should  not  have  been  created. 
Nevertheless,  double-edged  as  is  the  argument  from 
rudimentary  organs,  there  is  probably  none  which 
has  produced  a  greater  effect  in  promoting  the  general 
acceptance  of  the  theory  of  evolution. 

6.  The  older  advocates  of  evolution  sought  for 
the  causes  of  the  process  exclusively  in  the  influence 
of  varying  conditions,  such  as  climate  and  station,  or 
hybridisation,  upon  living  forms.  Even  Treviranus 
has  got  no  farther  than  this  point.  Lamarck  intro- 
duced the  conception  of  the  action  of  an  animal  on 
itself  as  a  factor  in  producing  modification.  Starting 
from  the  well-known  fact  that  the  habitual  use  of  a 
limb  tends  to  develop  the  muscles  of  the  limb,  and  to 
produce  a  greater  and  greater  facility  in  using  it,  he 
made  the  general  assumption  that  the  effort  of  an 
animal  to  exert  an  organ  in  a  given  direction  tends  to 
develop  the  organ  in  that  direction.  But  a  little 
consideration  showed  that,  though  Lamarck  had  seized 
what,  as  far  as  it  goes,  is  a  true  cause  of  modification, 
it  is  a  cause  the  actual  effects  of  which  are  wholly 
inadequate  to  account  for  any  considerable  modifica- 
tion in  animals,  and  which  can  have  no  influence  at 
all  in  the  vegetable  world ;  and  probably  nothing  con- 


306  EVOLUTION    IN  BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

tributed  so  much  to  discredit  evolution,  in  the  early 
part  of  this  century,  as  the  floods  of  easy  ridicule 
which  were  poured  upon  this  part  of  Lamarck's  specu- 
lation. The  theory  of  natural  selection,  or  survival 
of  the  fittest,  was  suggested  by  Wells  in  1813, 
and  further  elaborated  by  Matthew  in  1831.  But 
the  pregnant  suggestions  of  these  writers  remained 
practically  unnoticed  and  forgotten,  until  the  theory 
was  independently  devised  and  promulgated  by 
Darwin  and  Wallace  in  1858,  and  the  effect  of  its 
publication  was  immediate  and  profound. 

Those  who  were  unwilling  to  accept  evolution, 
without  better  grounds  than  such  as  are  offered  by 
Lamarck,  or  the  author  of  that  particularly  unsatis- 
factory book,  the  "  Vestiges  of  the  Natural  History  of 
the  Creation,"  and  who  therefore  preferred  to  suspend 
their  judgment  on  the  question,  found,  in  the  principle 
of  selective  breeding,  pursued  in  all  its  applications 
with  marvellous  knowledge  and  skill  by  Mr.  Darwin, 
a  valid  explanation  of  the  occurrence  of  varieties  and 
races ;  and  they  saw  clearly  that,  if  the  explanation 
would  apply  to  species,  it  would  not  only  solve  the 
problem  of  their  evolution,  but  that  it  would  account 
for  the  facts  of  teleology,  as  well  as  for  those  of  mor- 
phology ;  and  for  the  persistence  of  some  forms  of  life 
unchanged  through  long  epochs  of  time,  while  others 
undergo  comparatively  rapid  metamorphosis. 

How  far  "  natural  selection"  suffices  for  the  pro- 
duction of  species  remains  to  be  seen.  Few  can  doubt 
that,  if  not  the  whole  cause,  it  is  a  very  important 
factor  in  that  operation ;  and  that  it  must  play  a 


XI.]  EVOLUTION   IN   BIOLOGY.  307 

great  part  in  the  sorting  out  of  varieties  into  those 
which  are  transitory  and  those  which  are  permanent. 

But  the  causes  and  conditions  of  variation  have 
yet  to  be  thoroughly  explored ;  and  the  importance  of 
natural  selection  will  not  be  impaired,  even  if  further 
inquiries  should  prove  that  variability  is  definite,  and 
is  determined  in  certain  directions  rather  than  in 
others,  by  conditions  inherent  in  that  which  varies. 
It  is  quite  conceivable  that  every  species  tends  to 
produce  varieties  of  a  limited  number  and  kind,  and 
that  the  effect  of  natural  selection  is  to  favour  the 
development  of  some  of  these,  while  it  opposes  the 
development  of  others  along  their  predetermined  lines 
of  modification. 

7.  No  truths  brought  to  light  by  biological  invest- 
igation were  better  calculated  to  inspire  distrust  of 
the  dogmas  intruded  upon  science  in  the  name  of 
theology,  than  those  which  relate  to  the  distribution 
of  animals  and  plants  on  the  surface  of  the  earth. 
Very  skilful  accommodation  was  needful,  if  the  limita- 
tion of  sloths  to  South  America,  and  of  the  ornitho- 
rhynchus  to  Australia,  was  to  be  reconciled  with  the 
literal  interpretation  of  the  history  of  the  deluge ;  and, 
with  the  establishment  of  the  existence  of  distinct 
provinces  of  distribution,  any  serious  belief  in  the 
peopling  of  the  world  by  migration  from  Mount  Ararat 
came  to  an  end. 

Under  these  circumstances,  only  one  alternative 
was  left  for  those  who  denied  the  occurrence  of  evolu- 
tion— namely,  the  supposition  that  the  characteristic 
animals  and  plants  of  each  great  province  were 


308  EVOLUTION   IN    BIOLOGY.  [LECT. 

created,  as  such,  within  the  limits  in  which  we  find 
them.  And  as  the  hypothesis  of  "  specific  centres," 
thus  formulated,  was  heterodox  from  the  theological 
point  of  view,  and  unintelligible  under  its  scientific 
aspect,  it  may  be  passed  over  without  further  notice, 
as  a  phase  of  transition  from  the  creational  to  the 
evolutional  hypothesis. 

8.  In  fact,  the  strongest  and  most  conclusive 
arguments  in  favour  of  evolution  are  those  which 
are  based  upon  the  facts  of  geographical,  taken  in 
conjunction  with  those  of  geological,  distribution. 

Both  Mr.  Darwin  and  Mr.  Wallace  lay  great  stress 
on  the  close  relation  which  obtains  between  the  exist- 
ing fauna  of  any  region  and  that  of  the  immediately 
antecedent  geological  epoch  in  the  same  region ;  and 
rightly,  for  it  is  in  truth  inconceivable  that  there 
should  be  no  genetic  connection  between  the  two.  It 
is  possible  to  put  into  words  the  proposition  that  all 
the  animals  and  plants  of  each  geological  epoch  were 
annihilated,  and  that  a  new  set  of  very  similar  forms 
was  created  for  the  next  epoch  ;  but  it  may  be  doubted 
if  any  one  who  ever  tried  to  form  a  distinct  mental 
image  of  this  process  of  spontaneous  generation  on  the 
grandest  scale,  ever  really  succeeded  in  realising  it. 

Within  the  last  twenty  years,  the  attention  of  the 
best  palaeontologists  has  been  withdrawn  from  the 
hodman's  work  of  making  "new  species"  of  fossils, 
to  the  scientific  task  of  completing  our  knowledge  of 
individual  species,  and  tracing  out  the  succession  of 
the  forms  presented  by  any  given  type  in  time. 

Those  who   desire   to  inform  themselves  of  the 


XL]  EVOLUTION  IN  BIOLOGY.  309 

nature  and  extent  of  the  evidence  bearing  on  these 
questions  may  consult  the  works  of  Kiitimeyer, 
Gaudry,  Kowalewsky,  Marsh,  and  the  writer  of  the 
present  article.  It  must  suffice,  in  this  place,  to  say 
that  the  successive  forms  of  the  Equine  type  have 
been  fully  worked  out ;  while  those  of  nearly  all  the 
other  existing  types  of  Ungulate  mammals  and  of 
the  Carnivora  have  been  almost  as  closely  followed 
through  the  Tertiary  deposits;  the  gradations  be- 
tween birds  and  reptiles  have  been  traced;  and  the 
modifications  undergone  by  the  Crocodilia,  from  the 
Triassic  epoch  to  the  present  day,  have  been  demon- 
strated. On  the  evidence  of  palaeontology,  the  evo- 
lution of  many  existing  forms  of  animal  life  from 
their  predecessors  is  no  longer  an  hypothesis,  but  an 
historical  fact;  it  is  only  the  nature  of  the  physio- 
logical factors  to  which  that  evolution  is  due  which  is 
still  open  to  discussion. 


310  THE   COMING   OF   AGE   OF  [LECT. 


XII. 

THE  COMING  OF  AGE  OF  "THE  OKIGIN 
OF  SPECIES." 

MANY  of  you  will  be  familiar  with  the  aspect  of  this 
small  green-covered  book.  It  is  a  copy  of  the  first 
edition  of  the  "  Origin  of  Species,"  and  bears  the  date 
of  its  production — the  1st  of  October  1859.  Only  a 
few  months,  therefore,  are  needed  to  complete  the  full 
tale  of  twenty- one  years  since  its  birthday. 

Those  whose  memories  carry  them  back  to  this 
time  will  remember  that  the  infant  was  remarkably 
lively,  and  that  a  great  number  of  excellent  persons 
mistook  its  manifestations  of  a  vigorous  individuality 
for  mere  naughtiness ;  in  fact  there  was  a  very  pretty 
turmoil  about  its  cradle.  My  recollections  of  the 
period  are  particularly  vivid ;  for,  having  conceived  a 
tender  affection  for  a  child  of  what  appeared  to  me  to 
be  such  remarkable  promise,  I  acted  for  some  time  in 
the  capacity  of  a  sort  of  under-nurse,  and  thus  came 
in  for  my  share  of  the  storms  which  threatened  the 
very  life  of  the  young  creature.  For  some  years  it 
was  undoubtedly  warm  work ;  but  considering  how 
exceedingly  unpleasant  the  apparition  of  the  new- 
comer must  have  been  to  those  who  did  not  fall  in 


XIL]  "THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES."  311 

love  with  him  at  first  sight,  I  think  it  is  to  the  credit 
of  our  age  that  the  war  was  not  fiercer,  and  that  the 
more  bitter  and  unscrupulous  forms  of  opposition  died 
away  as  soon  as  they  did. 

I  speak  of  this  period  as  of  something  past  and 
gone,  possessing  merely  an  historical,  I  had  almost 
said  an  antiquarian  interest.  For,  during  the  second 
decade  of  the  existence  of  the  "  Origin  of  Species," 
opposition,  though  by  no  means  dead,  assumed  a 
different  aspect.  On  the  part  of  all  those  who  had 
any  reason  to  respect  themselves,  it  assumed  a  thor- 
oughly respectful  character.  By  this  time,  the  dullest 
began  to  perceive  that  the  child  was  not  likely  to 
perish  of  any  congenital  weakness  or  infantile  dis- 
order, but  was  growing  into  a  stalwart  personage, 
upon  whom  mere  goody  scoldings  and  threatenings 
with  the  birch-rod  were  quite  thrown  away. 

In  fact,  those  who  have  watched  the  progress  of 
science  within  the  last  ten  years  will  bear  me  out  to 
the  full,  when  I  assert  that  there  is  no  field  of  bio- 
logical inquiry  in  which  the  influence  of  the  "  Origin 
of  Species"  is  not  traceable;  the  foremost  men  of 
science  in  every  country  are  either  avowed  champions 
of  its  leading  doctrines,  or  at  any  rate  abstain  from 
opposing  them ;  a  host  of  young  and  ardent  investi- 
gators seek  for  and  find  inspiration  and  guidance  in 
Mr.  Darwin's  great  work ;  and  the  general  doctrine 
of  evolution,  to  one  side  of  which  it  gives  expression, 
obtains,  in  the  phenomena  of  biology,  a  firm  base  of 
operations  whence  it  may  conduct  its  conquest  of  the 
whole  realm  of  nature. 


312  THE   COMING   OF  AGE   OF  [LECT. 

History  warns  us,  however,  that  it  is  the  cus- 
tomary fate  of  new  truths  to  begin  as  heresies  and  to 
end  as  superstitions ;  and,  as  matters  now  stand,  it  is 
hardly  rash  to  anticipate  that,  in  another  twenty 
years,  the  new  generation,  educated  under  the  influ- 
ences of  the  present  day,  will  be  in  danger  of  accepting 
the  main  doctrines  of  the  "  Origin  of  Species,"  with  as 
little  reflection,  and  it  may  be  with  as  little  justifica- 
tion, as  so  many  of  our  contemporaries,  twenty  years 
ago,  rejected  them. 

Against  any  such  a  consummation  let  us  all 
devoutly  pray ;  for  the  scientific  spirit  is  of  more 
value  than  its  products,  and  irrationally  held  truths 
may  be  more  harmful  than  reasoned  errors.  Now  the 
essence  of  the  scientific  spirit  is  criticism.  It  tells  us 
that  whenever  a  doctrine  claims  our  assent  we  should 
reply,  Take  it  if  you  can  compel  it.  The  struggle  for 
existence  holds  as  much  in  the  intellectual  as  in  the 
physical  world.  A  theory  is  a  species  of  thinking, 
and  its  right  to  exist  is  coextensive  with  its  power  of 
resisting  extinction  by  its  rivals. 

From  this  point  of  view,  it  appears  to  me  that  it 
would  be  but  a  poor  way  of  celebrating  the  Coming  of 
Age  of  the  "  Origin  of  Species/'  were  I  merely  to 
dwell  upon  the  facts,  undoubted  and  remarkable  as 
they  are,  of  its  far-reaching  influence  and  of  the  great 
following  of  ardent  disciples  who  are  occupied  in 
spreading  and  developing  its  doctrines.  Mere  insani- 
ties and  inanities  have  before  now  swollen  to  por- 
tentous size  in  the  course  of  twenty  years.  Let  us 
rather  ask  this  prodigious  change  in  opinion  to  justify 


XIL]  "THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES."  313 

itself;  let  us  inquire  whether  anything  has  happened 
since  1859,  which  will  explain,  on  rational  grounds, 
why  so  many  are  worshipping  that  which  they  burned, 
and  burning  that  which  they  worshipped.  It  is  only 
in  this  way  that  we  shall  acquire  the  means  of  judg- 
ing whether  the  movement  we  have  witnessed  is  a 
mere  eddy  of  fashion,  or  truly  one  with  the  irrevers- 
ible current  of  intellectual  progress,  and,  like  it,  safe 
from  retrogressive  reaction. 

Every  belief  is  the  product  of  two  factors  :  the 
first  is  the  state  of  the  mind  to  which  the  evidence  in 
favour  of  that  belief  is  presented ;  and  the  second  is 
the  logical  cogency  of  the  evidence  itself.  In  both 
these  respects,  the  history  of  biological  science  during 
the  last  twenty  years  appears  to  me  to  afford  an 
ample  explanation  of  the  change  which  has  taken 
place ;  and  a  brief  consideration  of  the  salient  events 
of  that  history  will  enable  us  to  understand  why,  if 
the  "  Origin  of  Species  "  appeared  now,  it  would  meet 
with  a  very  different  reception  from  that  which 
greeted  it  in  1859. 

One-and-twenty  years  ago,  in  spite  of  the  work 
commenced  by  Hutton  and  continued  with  rare  skill 
and  patience  by  Lyell,  the  dominant  view  of  the  past 
history  of  the  earth  was  catastrophic.  Great  and 
sudden  physical  revolutions,  wholesale  creations  and 
extinctions  of  living  beings,  were  the  ordinary  machi- 
nery of  the  geological  epic  brought  into  fashion  by 
the  misapplied  genius  of  Cuvier.  It  was  gravely 
maintained  and  taught  that  the  end  of  every  geo- 
logical epoch  was  signalised  by  a  cataclysm,  by  which 


314  THE   COMING   OF   AGE   OF  [LECT. 

every  living  being  on  the  globe  was  swept  away, 
to  be  replaced  by  a  brand-new  creation  when  the 
world  returned  to  quiescence.  A  scheme  of  nature 
which  appeared  to  be  modelled  on  the  likeness  of  a 
succession  of  rubbers  of  whist,  at  the  end  of  each  of 
which  the  players  upset  the  table  and  called  for  a 
new  pack,  did  not  seem  to  shock  anybody. 

I  may  be  wrong,  but  I  doubt  if,  at  the  present 
time,  there  is  a  single  responsible  representative  of 
these  opinions  left.  The  progress  of  scientific  geo- 
logy has  elevated  the  fundamental  principle  of  uni- 
formitarianism,  that  the  explanation  of  the  past  is  to 
be  sought  in  the  study  of  the  present,  into  the  position 
of  an  axiom;  and  the  wild  speculations  of  the  catastro- 
phists,  to  which  we  all  listened  with  respect  a  quarter 
of  a  century  ago,  would  hardly  find  a  single  patient 
hearer  at  the  present  day.  No  physical  geologist 
now  dreams  of  seeking,  outside  the  range  of  known 
natural  causes,  for  the  explanation  of  anything  that 
happened  millions  of  years  ago,  any  more  than  he 
would  be  guilty  of  the  like  absurdity  in  regard  to 
current  events. 

The  effect  of  this  change  of  opinion  upon  biological 
speculation  is  obvious.  For,  if  there  have  been  no 
periodical  general  physical  catastrophes,  what  brought 
about  the  assumed  general  extinctions  and  re-creations 
of  life  which  are  the  corresponding  biological  cata- 
strophes? And,  if  no  such  interruptions  of  the 
ordinary  course  of  nature  have  taken  place  in  the 
organic,  any  more  than  in  the  inorganic,  world,  what 
alternative  is  there  to  the  admission  of  evolution  ? 


XIL]  "THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES.  315 

The  doctrine  of  evolution  in  biology  is  the  neces- 
sary result  of  the  logical  application  of  the  principles 
of  uniformitarianism  to  the  phenomena  of  life.  Dar- 
win is  the  natural  successor  of  Button  and  Lyell,  and 
the  "Origin  of  Species"  the  logical  sequence  of  the 
"  Principles  of  Geology." 

The  fundamental  doctrine  of  the  "Origin  of 
Species,"  as  of  all  forms  of  the  theory  of  evolution 
applied  to  biology,  is  "  that  the  innumerable  species, 
genera,  and  families  of  organic  beings  with  which  the 
world  is  peopled  have  all  descended,  each  within  its 
own  class  or  group,  from  common  parents,  and  have 
all  been  modified  in  the  course  of  descent."  l 

And,  in  view  of  the  facts  of  geology,  it  follows 
that  all  living  animals  and  plants  "  are  the  lineal 
descendants  of  those  which  lived  long  before  the 
Silurian  epoch." 2 

It  is  an  obvious  consequence  of  this  theory  of 
descent  with  modification,  as  it  is  sometimes  called, 
that  all  plants  and  animals,  however  different  they 
may  now  be,  must,  at  one  time  or  other,  have  been 
connected  by  direct  or  indirect  intermediate  grada- 
tions, and  that  the  appearance  of  isolation  presented 
by  various  groups  of  organic  beings  must  be  unreal. 

No  part  of  Mr.  Darwin's  work  ran  more  directly 
counter  to  the  prepossessions  of  naturalists  twenty 
years  ago  than  this.  And  such  prepossessions  were 
very  excusable,  for  there  was  undoubtedly  a  great 
deal  to  be  said,  at  that  time,  in  favour  of  the  fixity  of 

1 "  Origin  of  Species,"  ed.  1,  p.  457. 
2  Ibid.  p.  458. 


316  THE   COMING   OF  AGE   OF  [LECT. 

species  and  of  the  existence  of  great  breaks,  which 
there  was  no  obvious  or  probable  means  of  filling  up, 
between  various  groups  of  organic  beings. 

For  various  reasons,  scientific  and  unscientific,  much 
had  been  made  of  the  hiatus  between  man  and  the 
rest  of  the  higher  mammalia,  and  it  is  no  wonder 
that  issue  was  first  joined  on  this  part  of  the  con- 
troversy. I  have  no  wish  to  revive  past  and  happily 
forgotten  controversies ;  but  I  must  state  the  simple 
fact  that  the  distinctions  in  the  cerebral  and  other 
characters,  which  were  so  hotly  affirmed  to  separate 
man  from  all  other  animals  in  1860,  have  all  been 
demonstrated  to  be  non-existent,  and  that  the  con- 
trary doctrine  is  now  universally  accepted  and  taught. 

But  there  were  other  cases  in  which  the  wide 
structural  gaps  asserted  to  exist  between  one  group 
of  animals  and  another. were  by  no  means  fictitious; 
and,  when  such  structural  breaks  were  real,  Mr. 
Darwin  could  account  for  them  only  by  supposing 
that  the  intermediate  forms  which  once  existed  had 
become  extinct.  In  a  remarkable  passage  he  says — 

"  We  may  thus  account  even  for  the  distinctness  of 
whole  classes  from  each  other — for  instance,  of  birds 
from  all  other  vertebrate  animals — by  the  belief  that 
many  animal  forms  of  life  have  been  utterly  lost, 
through  which  the  early  progenitors  of  birds  were 
formerly  connected  with  the  early  progenitors  of  the 
other  vertebrate  classes." ] 

Adverse  criticism  made  merry  over  such  sugges- 
tions as  these.  Of  course  it  was  easy  to  get  out  of 

1  "Origin  of  the  Species,"  p.  431. 


XIL]  "THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES."  317 

the  difficulty  by  supposing  extinction ;  but  where  was 
the  slightest  evidence  that  such  intermediate  forms 
between  birds  and  reptiles  as  the  hypothesis  required 
ever  existed  ?  And  then  probably  followed  a  tirade 
upon  this  terrible  forsaking  of  the  paths  of  "Baconian 
induction." 

But  the  progress  of  knowledge  has  justified  Mr. 
Darwin  to  an  extent  which  could  hardly  have  been 
anticipated.  In  1862,  the  specimen  of  Archceopteryx, 
which,  until  the  last  two  or  three  years,  has  remained 
unique,  was  discovered  ;  and  it  is  an  animal  which,  in 
its  feathers  and  the  greater  part  of  its  organisation, 
is  a  veritable  bird,  while,  in  other  parts,  it  is  as  dis- 
tinctly reptilian. 

In  1868, 1  had  the  honour  of  bringing  under  your 
notice,  in  this  theatre,  the  results  of  investigations 
made,  up  to  that  time,  into  the  anatomical  characters 
of  certain  ancient  reptiles,  which  showed  the  nature 
of  the  modifications  in  virtue  of  which  the  type  of 
the  quadrupedal  reptile  passed  into  that  of  a  bipedal 
bird ;  and  abundant  confirmatory  evidence  of  the 
justice  of  the  conclusions  which  I  then  laid  before 
you  has  since  come  to  light. 

In  1875,  the  discovery  of  the  toothed  birds  of  the 
cretaceous  formation  in  North  America  by  Professor 
Marsh  completed  the  series  of  transitional  forms 
between  birds  and  reptiles,  and  removed  Mr.  Darwin's 
proposition  that  "many  animal  forms  of  life  have 
been  utterly  lost,  through  which  the  early  progenitors 
of  birds  were  formerly  connected  with  the  early 
progenitors  of  the  other  vertebrate  classes,"  from 


318  THE   COMING   OF  AGE   OF  [LECT. 

the  region  of  hypothesis  to  that  of  demonstrable 
fact. 

In  1859,  there  appeared  to  be  a  very  sharp  and 
clear  hiatus  between  vertebrated  and  invertebrated 
animals,  not  only  in  their  structure,  but,  what  was 
more  important,  in  their  development.  I  do  not 
think  that  we  even  yet  know  the  precise  links  of 
connection  between  the  two ;  but  the  investigations 
of  Kowalewsky  and  others  upon  the  development  of 
Amphioxus  and  of  the  Tunicata  prove,  beyond  a 
doubt,  that  the  differences  which  were  supposed  to 
constitute  a  barrier  between  the  two  are  non-existent. 
There  is  no  longer  any  difficulty  in  understanding 
how  the  vertebrate  type  may  have  arisen  from  the 
invertebrate,  though  the  full  proof  of  the  manner  in 
which  the  transition  was  actually  effected  may  still 
be  lacking. 

Again,  in  1859,  there  appeared  to  be  a  no  less 
sharp  separation  between  the  two  great  groups  of 
flowering  and  flowerless  plants.  It  is  only  subse- 
quently that  the  series  of  remarkable  investigations 
inaugurated  by  Hofmeister  has  brought  to  light  the 
extraordinary  and  altogether  unexpected  modifications 
of  the  reproductive  apparatus  in  the  Lycopodiacece,  the 
Rhizocarpece,  and  the  Gymnospermece,  by  which  the 
ferns  and  the  mosses  are  gradually  connected  with  the 
Phanerogamic  division  of  the  vegetable  world. 

So,  again,  it  is  only  since  1859  that  we  have  ac- 
quired that  wealth  of  knowledge  of  the  lowest  forms 
of  life  which  demonstrates  the  futility  of  any  attempt 
to  separate  the  lowest  plants  from  the  lowest  animals. 


xn.  ]  "THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES."  319 

and  shows  that  the  two  kingdoms  of  living  nature 
have  a  common  borderland  which  belongs  to  both  or 
to  neither. 

Thus  it  will  be  observed  that  the  whole  tendency 
of  biological  investigation,  since  1859,  has  been  in  the 
direction  of  removing  the  difficulties  which  the  appa- 
rent breaks  in  the  series  created  at  that  time ;  and  the 
recognition  of  gradation  is  the  first  step  towards  the 
acceptance  of  evolution. 

As  another  great  factor  in  bringing  about  the 
change  of  opinion  which  has  taken  place  among 
naturalists,  I  count  the  astonishing  progress  which 
has  been  made  in  the  study  of  embryology.  Twenty 
years  ago,  not  only  were  we  devoid  of  any  accurate 
knowledge  of  the  mode  of  development  of  many 
groups  of  animals  and  plants,  but  the  methods  of  in- 
vestigation were  rude  and  imperfect.  At  the  present 
time,  there  is  no  important  group  of  organic  beings 
the  development  of  which  has  not  been  carefully 
studied ;  and  the  modern  methods  of  hardening  and 
section -making  enable  the  embryologist  to  determine 
the  nature  of  the  process,  in  each  case,  with  a  degree 
of  minuteness  and  accuracy  which  is  truly  astonishing 
to  those  whose  memories  carry  them  back  to  the 
beginnings  of  modern  histology.  And  the  results  of 
these  embryological  investigations  are  in  complete 
harmony  with  the  requirements  of  the  doctrine  of 
evolution.  The  first  beginnings  of  all  the  higher 
forms  of  animal  life  are  similar,  and  however  diverse 
their  adult  conditions,  they  start  from  a  common 
foundation.  Moreover,  the  process  of  development 


320  THE   COMING   OF   AGE    OF  [LECT. 

of  the  animal  or  the  plant  from  its  primary  egg  or 
germ  is  a  true  process  of  evolution — a  progress  from 
almost  formless  to  more  or  less  highly  organised 
matter,  in  virtue  of  the  properties  inherent  in  that 
matter. 

To  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  process  of 
development,  all  d  priori  objections  to  the  doctrine  of 
biological  evolution  appear  childish.  Any  one  who 
has  watched  the  gradual  formation  of  a  complicated 
animal  from  the  protoplasmic  mass,  which  constitutes 
the  essential  element  of  a  frog's  or  a  hen's  egg,  has 
had  under  his  eyes  sufficient  evidence  that  a  similar 
evolution  of  the  whole  animal  world  from  the  like 
foundation  is,  at  any  rate,  possible. 

Yet  another  product  of  investigation  has  largely 
contributed  to  the  removal  of  the  objections  to  the 
doctrine  of  evolution  current  in  1859.  It  is  the  proof 
afforded  by  successive  discoveries  that  Mr.  Darwin  did 
not  over-estimate  the  imperfection  of  the  geological 
record.  No  more  striking  illustration  of  this  is 
needed  than  a  comparison  of  our  knowledge  of  the 
mammalian  fauna  of  the  Tertiary  epoch  in  1859  with 
its  present  condition.  M.  Gaudry's  researches  on  the 
fossils  of  Pikermi  were  published  in  1868,  those  of 
Messrs.  Leidy,  Marsh,  and  Cope,  on  the  fossils  of  the 
Western  Territories  of  America,  have  appeared  almost 
wholly  since  1870,  those  of  M.  Filhol  on  the  phos- 
phorites of  Quercy  in  1878.  The  general  effect  of 
these  investigations  has  been  to  introduce  to  us  a 
multitude  of  extinct  animals,  the  existence  of  which 
was  previously  hardly  suspected ;  just  as  if  zoologists 


" 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES."  321 


were  to  become  acquainted  with  a  country,  hitherto 
unknown,  as  rich  in  novel  forms  of  life  as  Brazil  or 
South  Africa  once  were  to  Europeans.  Indeed,  the 
fossil  fauna  of  the  Western  Territories  of  America  bids 
fair  to  exceed  in  interest  and  importance  all  other 
known  Tertiary  deposits  put  together  ;  and  yet,  with 
the  exception  of  the  case  of  the  American  tertiaries, 
these  investigations  have  extended  over  very  limited 
areas  ;  and,  at  Pikermi,  were  confined  to  an  extremely 
small  space. 

Such  appear  to  me  to  be  the  chief  events  in  the 
history  of  the  progress  of  knowledge  during  the  last 
twenty  years,  which  account  for  the  changed  feeling 
with  which  the  doctrine  of  evolution  is  at  present 
regarded  by  those  who  have  followed  the  advance  of 
biological  science,  in  respect  of  those  problems  which 
bear  indirectly  upon  that  doctrine. 

But  all  this  remains  mere  secondary  evidence.  It 
may  remove  dissent,  but  it  does  not  compel  assent. 
Primary  and  direct  evidence  in  favour  of  evolution 
can  be  furnished  only  by  palaeontology.  The  geologi- 
cal record,  so  soon  as  it  approaches  completeness, 
must,  when  properly  questioned,  yield  either  an 
affirmative  or  a  negative  answer  :  if  evolution  has 
taken  place,  there  will  its  mark  be  left  ;  if  it  has  not 
taken  place,  there  will  lie  its  refutation. 

What  was  the  state  of  matters  in  1859  ?  Let  us 
hear  Mr.  Darwin,  who  may  be  trusted  always  to  state 
the  case  against  himself  as  strongly  as  possible. 

"  On  this  doctrine  of  the  extermination  of  an 

Y 


322  THE   COMING   OF  AGE   OF  [LECT. 

infinitude  of  connecting  links  between  the  living  and 
extinct  inhabitants  of  the  world,  and  at  each  succes- 
sive period  between  the  extinct  and  still  older  species, 
why  is  not  every  geological  formation  charged  with 
such  links  \  Why  does  not  every  collection  of  fossil 
remains  afford  plain  evidence  of  the  gradation  and 
mutation  of  the  forms  of  life?  We  meet  with  no 
such  evidence,  and  this  is  the  most  obvious  and 
plausible  of  the  many  objections  which  may  be  urged 
against  my  theory." * 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  useful  to  the 
opposition  than  this  characteristically  candid  avowal, 
twisted  as  it  immediately  was  into  an  admission  that 
the  writer's  views  were  contradicted  by  the  facts  of 
palaeontology.  But,  in  fact,  Mr.  Darwin  made  no 
such  admission.  What  he  says  in  effect  is,  not  that 
palseontological  evidence  is  against  him,  but  that  it  is 
not  distinctly  in  his  favour ;  and,  without  attempting 
to  attenuate  the  fact,  he  accounts  for  it  by  the 
scantiness  and  the  imperfection  of  that  evidence. 

What  is  the  state  of  the  case  now,  when,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  amount  of  our  knowledge  respecting 
the  mammalia  of  the  Tertiary  epoch  is  increased 
fifty-fold,  and  in  some  directions  even  approaches 
completeness  1 

Simply  this,  that,  if  the  doctrine  of  evolution  had 
not  existed,  palaeontologists  must  have  invented  it,  so 
irresistibly  is  it  forced  upon  the  mind  by  the  study  of 
the  remains  of  the  Tertiary  mammalia  which  have 
been  brought  to  light  since  1859. 

1  "  Origin  of  Species,"  ed.  1,  p.  463. 


XIL]  "THE  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES."  323 

Among  the  fossils  of  Pikermi,  Gaudry  found  the 
successive  stages  by  which  the  ancient  civets  passed 
into  the  more  modern  hyaenas ;  through  the  Tertiary 
deposits  of  Western  America,  Marsh  tracked  the  suc- 
cessive forms  by  which  the  ancient  stock  of  the  horse 
has  passed  into  its  present  form ;  and  innumerable  less 
complete  indications  of  the  mode  of  evolution  of  other 
groups  of  the  higher  mammalia  have  been  obtained. 
In  the  remarkable  memoir  on  the  phosphorites  of 
Quercy,  to  which  I  have  referred,  M.  Filhol  describes 
no  fewer  than  seventeen  varieties  of  the  genus  Cyno- 
dictis,  which  fill  up  all  the  interval  between  the 
viverine  animals  and  the  bear-like  dog  Amphicyon ; 
nor  do  I  know  any  solid  ground  of  objection  to  the 
supposition  that,  in  this  Cynodictis- Amphicyon  group, 
we  have  the  stock  whence  all  the  Viveridse,  Felidae, 
Hysenidse,  Canidae,  and  perhaps  the  Procyonidaa  and 
Ursidae,  of  the  present  fauna  have  been  evolved.  On 
the  contrary,  there  is  a  great  deal  to  be  said  in  favour. 

In  the  course  of  summing  up  his  results,  M.  Filhol 
observes : — 

"  During  the  epoch  of  the  phosphorites,  great 
changes  took  place  in  animal  forms,  and  almost  the 
same  types  as  those  which  now  exist  became  defined 
from  one  another. 

"Under  the  influence  of  natural  conditions  of 
which  we  have  no  exact  knowledge,  though  traces  of 
them  are  discoverable,  species  have  been  modified  in 
a  thousand  ways  :  races  have  arisen  which,  becoming 
fixed,  have  thus  produced  a  corresponding  number  of 
secondary  species." 


324          COMING  OP  AGE  OF  "  ORIGIN  OF  SPECIES."      [LECT. 

ID  1859,  language  of  which  this  is  an  unin- 
tentional paraphrase,  occurring  in  the  "  Origin  of 
Species,"  was  scouted  as  wild  speculation ;  at  present, 
it  is  a  sober  statement  of  the  conclusions  to  which  an 
acute  and  critically -minded  investigator  is  led  by 
large  and  patient  study  of  the  facts  of  palaeontology. 
I  venture  to  repeat  what  I  have  said  before,  that,  so 
far  as  the  animal  world  is  concerned,  evolution  is  no 
longer  a  speculation,  but  a  statement  of  historical 
fact.  It  takes  its  place  alongside  of  those  accepted 
truths  which  must  be  reckoned  with  by  philosophers 
of  all  schools. 

Thus  when,  on  the  first  day  of  October  next,  the 
"  Origin  of  Species  "  comes  of  age,  the  promise  of  its 
youth  will  be  amply  fulfilled ;  and  we  shall  be  pre- 
pared to  congratulate  the  venerated  author  of  the 
book,  not  only  that  the  greatness  of  his  achievement 
and  its  enduring  influence  upon  the  progress  of  know- 
ledge have  won  him  a  place  beside  our  Harvey ;  but, 
still  more,  that,  like  Harvey,  he  has  lived  long  enough 
to  outlast  detraction  and  opposition,  and  to  see  the 
stone  that  the  builders  rejected  become  the  head-stone 
of  the  corner. 


XIIL]      THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.       325 


XIII. 

THE  CONNECTION  OF  THE  BIOLOGICAL 
SCIENCES  WITH  MEDICINE. 

THE  great  body  of  theoretical  and  practical  knowledge 
which  has  been  accumulated  by  the  labours  of  some 
eighty  generations,  since  the  dawn  of  scientific  thought 
in  Europe,  has  no  collective  English  name  to  which 
an  objection  may  not  be  raised ;  and  I  use  the  term 
1  'medicine"  as  that  which  is  least  likely  to  be  mis- 
understood ;  though,  as  every  one  knows,  the  name  is 
commonly  applied,  in  a  narrower  sense,  to  one  of  the 
chief  divisions  of  the  totality  of  medical  science. 

Taken  in  this  broad  sense,  "  medicine  "  not  merely 
denotes  a  kind  of  knowledge,  but  it  comprehends  the 
various  applications  of  that  knowledge  to  the  allevia- 
tion of  the  sufferings,  the  repair  of  the  injuries,  and 
the  conservation  of  the  health,  of  living  beings.  In 
fact,  the  practical  aspect  of  medicine  so  far  dominates 
over  every  other,  that  the  "  Healing  Art "  is  one  of 
its  most  widely-received  synonyms.  It  is  so  difficult 
to  think  of  medicine  otherwise  than  as  something 
which  is  necessarily  connected  with  curative  treat- 
ment, that  we  are  apt  to  forget  that  there  must  be, 


326      THE  BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.      [LECT. 

and  is,  such  a  thing  as  a  pure  science  of  medicine— 
a  "pathology"  which  has  no  more  necessary  sub- 
servience to  practical  ends  than  has  zoology  or 
botany. 

The  logical  connection  between  this  purely  scientific 
doctrine  of  disease,  or  pathology,  and  ordinary  biology, 
is  easily  traced.  Living  matter  is  characterised  by  its 
innate  tendency  to  exhibit  a  definite  series  of  the 
morphological  and  physiological  phenomena  which 
constitute  organisation  and  life.  Given  a  certain 
range  of  conditions,  and  these  phenomena  remain 
the  same,  within  narrow  limits,  for  each  kind  of 
living  thing.  They  furnish  the  normal  and  typical 
character  of  the  species,  and,  as  such,  they  are  the 
subject-matter  of  ordinary  biology. 

Outside  the  range  of  these  conditions,  the  normal 
course  of  the  cycle  of  vital  phenomena  is  disturbed ; 
abnormal  structure  makes  its  appearance,  or  the  pro- 
per character  and  mutual  adjustment  of  the  functions 
cease  to  be  preserved.  The  extent  and  the  importance 
of  these  deviations  from  the  typical  life  may  vary  in- 
definitely. They  may  have  no  noticeable  influence  on 
the  general  well-being  of  the  economy,  or  they  may 
favour  it.  On  the  other  hand,  they  may  be  of  such  a 
nature  as  to  impede  the  activities  of  the  organism,  or 
even  to  involve  its  destruction. 

In  the  first  case,  these  perturbations  are  ranged 
under  the  wide  and  somewhat  vague  category  of 
"  variations  ; "  in  the  second,  they  are  called  lesions, 
states  of  poisoning,  or  diseases ;  and,  as  morbid  states, 
they  lie  within  the  province  of  pathology.  No  sharp 


XIII.]      THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.       327 

line  of  demarcation  can  be  drawn  between  the  two 
classes  of  phenomena.  No  one  can  say  where  ana- 
tomical variations  end  and  tumours  begin,  nor  where 
modification  of  function,  which  may  at  first  promote 
health,  passes  into  disease.  All  that  can  be  said  is, 
that  whatever  change  of  structure  or  function  is  hurt- 
ful belongs  to  pathology.  Hence  it  is  obvious  that 
pathology  is  a  branch  of  biology;  it  is  the  morphology, 
the  physiology,  the  distribution,  the  aetiology  of  ab- 
normal life. 

However  obvious  this  conclusion  may  be  now,  it 
was  nowise  apparent  in  the  infancy  of  medicine.  For 
it  is  a  peculiarity  of  the  physical  sciences,  that  they 
are  independent  in  proportion  as  they  are  imperfect ; 
and  it  is  only  as  they  advance  that  the  bonds  which 
really  unite  them  all  become  apparent.  Astronomy 
had  no  manifest  connection  with  terrestrial  physics 
before  the  publication  of  the  "  Principia ; "  that  of 
chemistry  with  physics  is  of  still  more  modern  revela- 
tion ;  that  of  physics  and  chemistry  with  physiology, 
has  been  stoutly  denied  within  the  recollection  of  most 
of  us,  and  perhaps  still  may  be. 

Or,  to  take  a  case  which  affords  a  closer  parallel 
with  that  of  medicine.  Agriculture  has  been  culti- 
vated from  the  earliest  times,  and,  from  a  remote 
antiquity,  men  have  attained  considerable  practical 
skill  in  the  cultivation  of  the  useful  plants,  and  have 
empirically  established  many  scientific  truths  concern- 
ing the  conditions  under  which  they  flourish.  But,  it 
is  within  the  memory  of  many  of  us,  that  chemistry 
on  the  one  hand,  and  vegetable  physiology  on  the 


328     THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND    MEDICINE.       [LECT. 

other,  attained  a  stage  of  development  such  that  they 
were  able  to  furnish  a  sound  basis  for  scientific  agri- 
culture. Similarly,  medicine  took  its  rise  in  the 
practical  needs  of  mankind.  At  first,  studied  without 
reference  to  any  other  branch  of  knowledge,  it  long 
maintained,  indeed  still  to  some  extent  maintains, 
that  independence.  Historically,  its  connection  with 
the  biological  sciences  has  been  slowly  established, 
and  the  full  extent  and  intimacy  of  that  connection 
are  only  now  beginning  to  be  apparent.  I  trust  I 
have  not  been  mistaken  in  supposing  that  an  attempt 
to  give  a  brief  sketch  of  the  steps  by  which  a  philo- 
sophical necessity  has  become  an  historical  reality, 
may  not  be  devoid  of  interest,  possibly  of  instruction, 
to  the  members  of  this  great  Congress,  profoundly 
interested  as  all  are  in  the  scientific  development  of 
medicine. 

The  history  of  medicine  is  more  complete  and 
fuller  than  that  of  any  other  science,  except,  perhaps, 
astronomy ;  and,  if  we  follow  back  the  long  record  as 
far  as  clear  evidence  lights  us,  we  find  ourselves  taken 
to  the  early  stages  of  the  civilisation  of  Greece.  The 
oldest  hospitals  were  the  temples  of  JSsculapius ;  to 
these  Asclepeia,  always  erected  on  healthy  sites,  hard 
by  fresh  springs  and  surrounded  by  shady  groves,  the 
sick  and  the  maimed  resorted  to  seek  the  aid  of  the 
god  of  health.  Votive  tablets  or  inscriptions  recorded 
the  symptoms,  no  less  than  the  gratitude,  of  those  who 
were  healed;  and,  from  these  primitive  clinical  records, 
the  half-priestly,  half -philosophic  caste  of  the  Ascle- 
piads  compiled  the  data  upon  which  the  earliest 


XIII. ]       THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.       329 

generalisations  of  medicine,  as  an  inductive  science, 
were  based. 

In  this  state,  pathology,  like  all  the  inductive 
sciences  at  their  origin,  was  merely  natural  history ; 
it  registered  the  phenomena  of  disease,  classified  them, 
and  ventured  upon  a  prognosis,  wherever  the  observa- 
tion of  constant  co-existences  and  sequences  suggested 
a  rational  expectation  of  the  like  recurrence  under 
similar  circumstances. 

Further  than  this  it  hardly  went.  In  fact,  in  the 
then  state  of  knowledge,  and  in  the  condition  of  philo- 
sophical speculation  at  that  time,  neither  the  causes 
of  the  morbid  state,  nor  the  rationale  of  treatment, 
were  likely  to  be  sought  for  as  we  seek  for  them  now. 
The  anger  of  a  god  was  a  sufficient  reason  for  the 
existence  of  a  malady,  and  a  dream  ample  warranty 
for  therapeutic  measures ;  that  a  physical  phenomenon 
must  needs  have  a  physical  cause  was  not  the  implied 
or  expressed  axiom  that  it  is  to  us  moderns. 

The  great  man  whose  name  is  inseparately  con- 
nected with  the  foundation  of  medicine,  Hippocrates, 
certainly  knew  very  little,  indeed  practically  nothing, 
of  anatomy  or  physiology ;  and  he  would,  probably, 
have  been  perplexed,  even  to  imagine  the  possibility 
of  a  connection  between  the  zoological  studies  of  his 
contemporary  Democritus  and  medicine.  Neverthe- 
less, in  so  far  as  he,  and  those  who  worked  before  and 
after  him,  in  the  same  spirit,  ascertained,  as  matters 
of  experience,  that  a  wound,  or  a  luxation,  or  a  fever, 
presented  such  and  such  symptoms,  and  that  the 
return  of  the  patient  to  health  was  facilitated  by  such 


330       THE   BIOLOGICAL    SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.     [LECT. 

and  such  measures,  they  established  laws  of  nature, 
and  began  the  construction  of  the  science  of  pathology. 
All  true  science  begins  with  empiricism — though  all 
true  science  is  such  exactly,  in  so  far  as  it  strives  to 
pass  out  of  the  empirical  stage  into  that  of  the  deduc- 
tion of  empirical  from  more  general  truths.  Thus,  it 
is  not  wonderful,  that  the  early  physicians  had  little 
or  nothing  to  do  with  the  development  of  biological 
science;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  early  bio- 
logists did  not  much  concern  themselves  with  medi- 
cine. There  is  nothing  to  show  that  the  Asclepiads 
took  any  prominent  share  in  the  work  of  founding 
anatomy,  physiology,  zoology,  and  botany.  Eather 
do  these  seem  to  have  sprung  from  the  early  philo- 
sophers, who  were  essentially  natural  philosophers, 
animated  by  the  characteristically  Greek  thirst  for 
knowledge  as  such.  Pythagoras,  Alcmeon,  Democritus, 
Diogenes  of  Apollonia,  are  all  credited  with  anatomical 
and  physiological  investigations ;  and,  though  Aristotle 
is  said  to  have  belonged  to  an  Asclepiad  family,  and 
not  improbably  owed  his  taste  for  anatomical  and 
zoological  inquiries  to  the  teachings  of  his  father, 
the  physician  Nicomachus,  the  "  Historia  Animalium," 
and  the  treatise  "  De  Partibus  Animalium,"  are  as  free 
from  any  allusion  to  medicine  as  if  they  had  issued 
from  a  modern  biological  laboratory. 

It  may  be  added,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  see  in  what 
way  it  could  have  benefited  a  physician  of  Alexander's 
time  to  know  all  that  Aristotle  knew  on  these  subjects. 
His  human  anatomy  was  too  rough  to  avail  much  in 
diagnosis  ;  his  physiology  was  too  erroneous  to  supply 


XIIL]       THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.      331 

data  for  pathological  reasoning.  But  when  the  Alex- 
andrian school,  with  Erasistratus  and  Herophilus  at 
their  head,  turned  to  account  the  opportunities  of 
studying  human  structure,  afforded  to  them  by  the 
Ptolemies,  the  value  of  the  large  amount  of  accurate 
knowledge  thus  obtained  to  the  surgeon  for  his 
operations,  and  to  the  physician  for  his  diagnosis  of 
internal  disorders,  became  obvious,  and  a  connection 
was  established  between  anatomy  and  medicine,  which 
has  ever  become  closer  and  closer.  Since  the  revival 
of  learning,  surgery,  medical  diagnosis,  and  anatomy 
have  gone  hand  in  hand.  Morgagni  called  his  great 
work,  "  De  sedibus  et  causis  morborum  per  anatomen 
indagatis,"  and  not  only  showed  the  way  to  search  out 
the  localities  and  the  causes  of  disease  by  anatomy, 
but  himself  travelled  wonderfully  far  upon  the  road. 
Bichat,  discriminating  the  grosser  constituents  of  the 
organs  and  parts  of  the  body,  one  from  another, 
pointed  out  the  direction  which  modern  research 
must  take ;  until,  at  length,  histology,  a  science  of 
yesterday,  as  it  seems  to  many  of  us,  has  carried  the 
work  of  Morgagni  as  far  as  the  microscope  can  take 
us,  and  has  extended  the  realm  of  pathological  anatomy 
to  the  limits  of  the  invisible  world. 

Thanks  to  the  intimate  alliance  of  morphology 
with  medicine,  the  natural  history  of  disease  has,  at 
the  present  day,  attained  a  high  degree  of  perfection. 
Accurate  regional  anatomy  has  rendered  practicable 
the  exploration  of  the  most  hidden  parts  of  the 
organism,  and  the  determination,  during  life,  of  morbid 
changes  in  them ;  anatomical  and  histological  post- 


332      THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.      [LECT. 

mortem  investigations  have  supplied  physicians  with 
a  clear  basis  upon  which  to  rest  the  classification  of 
diseases,  and  with  unerring  tests  of  the  accuracy  or 
inaccuracy  of  their  diagnoses. 

If  men  could  be  satisfied  with  pure  knowledge,  the 
extreme  precision  with  which,  in  these  days,  a  sufferer 
may  be  told  what  is  happening,  and  what  is  likely  to 
happen,  even  in  the  most  recondite  parts  of  his  bodily 
frame,  should  be  as  satisfactory  to  the  patient  as  it  is 
to  the  scientific  pathologist  who  gives  him  the  infor- 
mation. But  I  am  afraid  it  is  not;  and  even  the 
practising  physician,  while  nowise  underestimating 
the  regulative  value  of  accurate  diagnosis,  must  often 
lament  that  so  much  of  his  knowledge  rather  prevents 
him  from  doing  wrong  than  helps  him  to  do  right. 

A  scorner  of  physic  once  said  that  nature  and  dis- 
ease may  be  compared  to  two  men  fighting,  the  doctor 
to  a  blind  man  with  a  club,  who  strikes  into  the  melee, 
sometimes  hitting  the  disease,  and  sometimes  hitting 
nature.  The  matter  is  not  mended  if  you  suppose  the 
blind  man's  hearing  to  be  so  acute  that  he  can  register 
every  stage  of  the  struggle,  and  pretty  clearly  predict 
how  it  will  end.  He  had  better  not  meddle  at  all, 
until  his  eyes  are  opened — until  he  can  see  the  exact 
position  of  the  antagonists,  and  make  sure  of  the 
effect  of  his  blows.  But  that  which  it  behoves  the 
physician  to  see,  not,  indeed,  with  his  bodily  eye,  but 
with  clear,  intellectual  vision,  is  a  process,  and  the 
chain  of  causation  involved  in  that  process.  Disease, 
as  we  have  seen,  is  a  perturbation  of  the  normal 
activities  of  a  living  body,  and  it  is,  and  must  remain, 


XIII.]      THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.      333 

unintelligible,  so  long  as  we  are  ignorant  of  the  nature 
of  these  normal  activities.  In  other  words,  there  could 
be  no  real  science  of  pathology  until  the  science  of 
physiology  had  reached  a  degree  of  perfection  un- 
attained,  and  indeed  unattainable,  until  quite  recent 
times. 

So  far  as  medicine  is  concerned,  I  am  not  sure 
that  physiology,  such  as  it  was  down  to  the  time  of 
Harvey,  might  as  well  not  have  existed.  Nay,  it 
is  perhaps  no  exaggeration  to  say  that,  within  the 
memory  of  living  men,  justly  renowned  practitioners 
of  medicine  and  surgery  knew  less  physiology  than  is 
now  to  be  learned  from  the  most  elementary  text-book ; 
and,  beyond  a  few  broad  facts,  regarded  what  they  did 
know  as  of  extremely  little  practical  importance. 
Nor  am  I  disposed  to  blame  them  for  this  conclusion ; 
physiology  must  be  useless,  or  worse  than  useless,  to 
pathology,  so  long  as  its  fundamental  conceptions  are 
erroneous. 

Harvey  is  often  said  to  be  the  founder  of  modern 
physiology;  and  there  can  be  no  question  that  the 
elucidations  of  the  function  of  the  heart,  of  the  nature 
of  the  pulse,  and  of  the  course  of  the  blood,  put  forth 
in  the  ever-memorable  little  essay,  "  De  motu  cordis," 
directly  worked  a  revolution  in  men's  views  of  the 
nature  and  of  the  concatenation  of  some  of  the  most 
important  physiological  processes  among  the  higher 
animals  ;  while,  indirectly,  their  influence  was  perhaps 
even  more  remarkable. 

But,  though  Harvey  made  this  signal  and  peren- 
nially important  contribution  to  the  physiology  of  the 


334      THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.      [LECT. 

moderns,  his  general  conception  of  vital  processes 
was  essentially  identical  with  that  of  the  ancients; 
and,  in  the  "  Exercitationes  de  generatione,"  and 
notably  in  the  singular  chapter  "  De  calido  innato," 
he  shows  himself  a  true  son  of  Galen  and  of  Aristotle. 

For  Harvey,  the  blood  possesses  powers  superior 
to  those  of  the  elements  ;  it  is  the  seat  of  a  soul  which 
is  not  only  vegetative,  but  also  sensitive  and  motor. 
The  blood  maintains  and  fashions  all  parts  of  the 
body,  "  idque  summa  cum  providentia  et  intellectu  in 
finem  certum  agens,  quasi  ratiocinio  quodam  uteretur." 

Here  is  the  doctrine  of  the  "  pneuma,"  the  product 
of  the  philosophical  mould  into  which  the  animism  of 
primitive  men  ran  in  Greece,  in  full  force.  Nor  did  its 
strength  abate  for  long  after  Harvey's  time.  The 
same  ingrained  tendency  of  the  human  mind  to  sup- 
pose that  a  process  is  explained  when  it  is  ascribed 
to  a  power  of  which  nothing  is  known  except  that  it 
is  the  hypothetical  agent  of  the  process,  gave  rise,  in 
the  next  century,  to  the  animism  of  Stahl ;  and,  later, 
to  the  doctrine  of  a  vital  principle,  that  "asylum 
ignorantiae"  of  physiologists,  which  has  so  easily 
accounted  for  everything  and  explained  nothing, 
down  to  our  own  times. 

Now  the  essence  of  modern,  as  contrasted  with 
ancient,  physiological  science  appears  to  me  to  lie  in 
its  antagonism  to  animistic  hypotheses  and  animistic 
phraseology.  It  offers  physical  explanations  of  vital 
phenomena,  or  frankly  confesses  that  it  has  none  to 
offer.  And,  so  far  as  I  know,  the  first  person  who 
gave  expression  to  this  modern  view  of  physiology, 


XIII.]       THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.      335 

who  was  bold  enough  to  enunciate  the  proposition 
that  vital  phenomena,  like  all  the  other  phenomena  of 
the  physical  world,  are,  in  ultimate  analysis,  resolvable 
into  matter  and  motion,  was  Eene  Descartes. 

The  fifty-four  years  of  life  of  this  most  original 
and  powerful  thinker  are  widely  overlapped,  on  both 
sides,  by  the  eighty  of  Harvey,  who  survived  his 
younger  contemporary  by  seven  years,  and  takes 
pleasure  in  acknowledging  the  French  philosopher's 
appreciation  of  his  great  discovery. 

In  fact,  Descartes  accepted  the  doctrine  of  the 
circulation  as  propounded  by  "Harvaeus  medecin 
d'Angleterre,"  and  gave  a  full  account  of  it  in  his  first 
work,  the  famous  "  Discours  de  la  Methode,"  which  was 
published  in  1637,  only  nine  years  after  the  exercita- 
tion  "  De  motu  cordis ; "  and,  though  differing  from 
Harvey  on  some  important  points  (in  which  it  may  be 
noted,  in  passing,  Descartes  was  wrong  and  Harvey 
right),  he  always  speaks  of  him  with  great  respect. 
And  so  important  does  the  subject  seem  to  Descartes, 
that  he  returns  to  it  in  the  "  Traite  des  Passions,"  and 
in  the  "Traite  de  I'Homme." 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  Harvey's  work  must  have 
had  a  peculiar  significance  for  the  subtle  thinker,  to 
whom  we  owe  both  the  spiritualistic  and  the  material- 
istic philosophies  of  modern  times.  It  was  in  the 
very  year  of  its  publication,  1628,  that  Descartes 
withdrew  into  that  life  of  solitary  investigation  and 
meditation  of  which  his  philosophy  was  the  fruit. 
And,  as  the  course  of  his  speculations  led  him  to 
establish  an  absolute  distinction  of  nature  between 


336     THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.       [LECT. 

the  material  and  the  mental  worlds,  he  was  logically 
compelled  to  seek  for  the  explanation  of  the  pheno- 
mena of  the  material  world  within  itself ;  and  having 
allotted  the  realm  of  thought  to  the  soul,  to  see  nothing 
but  extension  and  motion  in  the  rest  of  nature. 
Descartes  uses  "  thought "  as  the  equivalent  of  our 
modern  term  "  consciousness."  Thought  is  the  func- 
tion of  the  soul,  and  its  only  function.  Our  natural 
heat  and  all  the  movements  of  the  body,  says  he,  do 
not  depend  on  the  soul.  Death  does  not  take  place 
from  any  fault  of  the  soul,  but  only  because  some  of 
the  principal  parts  of  the  body  become  corrupted. 
The  body  of  a  living  man  differs  from  that  of  a  dead 
man  in  the  same  way  as  a  watch  or  other  automaton 
(that  is  to  say,  a  machine  which  moves  of  itself)  when 
it  is  wound  up  and  has,  in  itself,  the  physical  principle 
of  the  movements  which  the  mechanism  is  adapted  to 
perform,  differs  from  the  same  watch,  or  other  machine, 
when  it  is  broken,  and  the  physical  principle  of  its 
movement  no  longer  exists.  All  the  actions  which 
are  common  to  us  and  the  lower  animals  depend  only 
on  the  conformation  of  our  organs,  and  the  course 
which  the  animal  spirits  take  in  the  brain,  the  nerves, 
and  the  muscles ;  in  the  same  way  as  the  movement 
of  a  watch  is  produced  by  nothing  but  the  force  of  its 
spring  and  the  figure  of  its  wheels  and  other  parts. 

Descartes'  "  Treatise  on  Man  "  is  a  sketch  of  human 
physiology,  in  which  a  bold  attempt  is  made  to  explain 
all  the  phenomena  of  life,  except  those  of  conscious- 
ness, by  physical  reasonings.  To  a  mind  turned  in 
this  direction,  Harvey's  exposition  of  the  heart  and 


XIII.]     THE    BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES    AND    MEDICINE.         337 

vessels  as  a  hydraulic  mechanism   must  have  been 
supremely  welcome. 

Descartes  was  not  a  mere  philosophical  theorist, 
but  a  hardworking  dissector  and  experimenter,  and  he 
held  the  strongest  opinion  respecting  the  practical 
value  of  the  new  conception  which  he  was  introducing. 
He  speaks  of  the  importance  of  preserving  health,  and 
of  the  dependence  of  the  mind  on  the  body  being  so 
close  that,  perhaps,  the  only  way  of  making  men 
wiser  and  better  than  they  are,  is  to  be  sought  in 
medical  science.  "  It  is  true,"  says  he,  "  that  as  medi- 
cine is  now  practised,  it  contains  little  that  is  very 
useful ;  but  without  any  desire  to  depreciate,  I  am 
sure  that  there  is  no  one,  even  among  professional 
men,  who  will  not  declare  that  all  we  know  is  very 
little  as  compared  with  that  which  remains  to  be 
known ;  and  that  we  might  escape  an  infinity  of 
diseases  of  the  mind,  no  less  than  of  the  body,  and 
even  perhaps  from  the  weakness  of  old  age,  if  we  had 
sufficient  knowledge  of  their  causes,  and  of  all  the 
remedies  with  which  nature  has  provided  us." *  So 
strongly  impressed  was  Descartes  with  this,  that  he 
resolved  to  spend  the  rest  of  his  life  in  trying  to 
acquire  such  a  knowledge  of  nature  as  would  lead  to 
the  construction  of  a  better  medical  doctrine.2  The 
anti- Cartesians  found  material  for  cheap  ridicule  in 
these  aspirations  of  the  philosopher ;  and  it  is  almost 
needless  to  say  that,  in  the  thirteen  years  which 
elapsed  between  the  publication  of  the  "Discours  "  and 

i  "  Discours  de  la  Methode,"  6e  partie,  Ed.  Cousin,  p.  193 
2  Ibid.  pp.  193  and  211. 
z 


338      THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND    MEDICINE.      [LECT. 

the  death  of  Descartes,  he  did  not  contribute  much  to 
their  realisation.  But,  for  the  next  century,  all  pro- 
gress in  physiology  took  place  along  the  lines  which 
Descartes  laid  down. 

The  greatest  physiological  and  pathological  work 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  Borelli's  treatise  "De 
Motu  Animalium,"  is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  a 
development  of  Descartes'  fundamental  conception ; 
and  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  physiology  and 
pathology  of  Boerhaave,  whose  authority  dominated 
in  the  medical  world  of  the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth 
century. 

With  the  origin  of  modern  chemistry,  and  of 
electrical  science,  in  the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  aids  in  the  analysis  of  the  phenomena  of  life, 
of  which  Descartes  could  not  have  dreamed,  were 
offered  to  the  physiologist.  And  the  greater  part  of 
the  gigantic  progress  which  has  been  made  in  the 
present  century  is  a  justification  of  the  prevision  of 
Descartes.  For  it  consists,  essentially,  in  a  more  and 
more  complete  resolution  of  the  grosser  organs  of  the 
living  body  into  physico-chemical  mechanisms. 

"  I  shall  try  to  explain  our  whole  bodily  machinery 
in  such  a  way,  that  it  will  be  no  more  necessary  for 
us  to  suppose  that  the  soul  produces  such  movements 
as  are  not  voluntary,  than  it  is  to  think  that  there  is 
in  a  clock  a  soul  which  causes  it  to  show  the  hours."1 
These  words  of  Descartes  might  be  appropriately  taken 
as  a  motto  by  the  author  of  any  modern  treatise  on 
physiology. 

1  "  De  la  Formation  du  Foetus." 


XIII.]       THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.       339 

But  though,  as  I  think,  there  is  no  doubt  that 
Descartes  was  the  first  to  propound  the  fundamental 
conception  of  the  living  body  as  a  physical  mechanism, 
which  is  the  distinctive  feature  of  modern,  as  con- 
trasted with  ancient  physiology,  he  was  misled  by  the 
natural  temptation  to  carry  out,  in  all  its  details,  a 
parallel  between  the  machines  with  which  he  was 
familiar,  such  as  clocks  and  pieces  of  hydraulic 
apparatus,  and  the  living  machine.  In  all  such 
machines  there  is  a  central  source  of  power,  and  the 
parts  of  the  machine  are  merely  passive  distributors  of 
that  power.  The  Cartesian  school  conceived  of  the 
living  body  as  a  machine  of  this  kind;  and  herein 
they  might  have  learned  from  Galen,  who,  what- 
ever ill  use  he  may  have  made  of  the  doctrine  of 
"  natural  faculties,"  nevertheless  had  the  great  merit 
of  perceiving  that  local  forces  play  a  great  part  in 
physiology. 

The  same  truth  was  recognised  by  Glisson,  but  it 
was  first  prominently  brought  forward  in  the  Hallerian 
doctrine  of  the  "vis  insita"  of  muscles.  If  muscle 
can  contract  without  nerve,  there  is  an  end  of  the 
Cartesian  mechanical  explanation  of  its  contraction  by 
the  influx  of  animal  spirits. 

The  discoveries  of  Trembley  tended  in  the  same 
direction.  In  the  freshwater  Hydra,  no  trace  was  to 
be  found  of  that  complicated  machinery  upon  which 
the  performance  of  the  functions  in  the  higher 
animals  was  supposed  to  depend.  And  yet  the  hydra 
moved,  fed,  grew,  multiplied,  and  its  fragments  ex- 
hibited all  the  powers  of  the  whole.  And,  finally, 


340     THE   BIOLOGICAL    SCIENCES   AND    MEDICINE.       [LECT. 

the  work  of  Caspar  F.  Wolff,1  by  demonstrating  the 
fact  that  the  growth  and  development  of  both  plants 
and  animals  take  place  antecedently  to  the  existence 
of  their  grosser  organs,  and  are,  in  fact,  the  causes 
and  not  the  consequences  of  organisation  (as  then 
understood),  sapped  the  foundations  of  the  Cartesian 
physiology  as  a  complete  expression  of  vital  pheno- 
mena. 

For  Wolff,  the  physical  basis  of  life  is  a  fluid, 
possessed  of  a  "  vis  essentialis  "  and  a  "  solidescibili- 
tas,"  in  virtue  of  which  it  gives  rise  to  organisation ; 
and,  as  he  points  out,  this  conclusion  strikes  at  the 
root  of  the  whole  iatro-mechanical  system. 

In  this  country,  the  great  authority  of  John 
Hunter  exerted  a  similar  influence ;  though  it  must 
be  admitted  that  the  too  sibylline  utterances  which 
are  the  outcome  of  Hunter's  struggles  to  define  his 
conceptions  are  often  susceptible  of  more  than  one 
interpretation.  Nevertheless,  on  some  points  Hunter 
is  clear  enough.  For  example,  he  is  of  opinion  that 
"  Spirit  is  only  a  property  of  matter"  ("  Introduction 
to  Natural  History,"  p.  6),  he  is  prepared  to  renounce 
animism  (I.e.  p.  8),  and  his  conception  of  life  is  so 
completely  physical  that  he  thinks  of  it  as  something 
which  can  exist  in  a  state  of  combination  in  the  food. 
"  The  aliment  we  take  in  has  in  it,  in  a  fixed  state, 
the  real  life ;  and  this  does  not  become  active  until  it 
has  got  into  the  lungs ;  for  there  it  is  freed  from  its 
prison"  ("Observations  on  Physiology,"  p.  113). 
He  also  thinks  that  "It  is  more  in  accord  with  the 

1  "Theoria  Generationis,"  1759. 


XIII.  ]     THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES  AND   MEDICINE.        341 

general  principles  of  the  animal  machine  to  suppose 
that  none  of  its  effects  are  produced  from  any 
mechanical  principle  whatever  ;  and  that  every  effect 
is  produced  from  an  action  in  the  part ;  which  action 
is  produced  by  a  stimulus  upon  the  part  which  acts, 
or  upon  some  other  part  with  which  *  this  part 
sympathises  so  as  to  take  up  the  whole  action" 
(Lc.  p.  152). 

And  Hunter  is  as  clear  as  Wolff,  with  whose  work 
he  was  probably  unacquainted,  that  "whatever  life  is, 
it  most  certainly  does  not  depend  upon  structure  or 
organisation"  (I.e.  p.  114). 

Of  course  it  is  impossible  that  Hunter  could  have 
intended  to  deny  the  existence  of  purely  mechanical 
operations  in  the  animal  body.  But  while,  with 
Borelli  and  Boerhaave,  he  looked  upon  absorption, 
nutrition,  and  secretion  as  operations  effected  by 
means  of  the  small  vessels,  he  differed  from  the 
mechanical  physiologists,  who  regarded  these  opera- 
tions as  the  result  of  the  mechanical  properties  of  the 
small  vessels,  such  as  the  size,  form,  and  disposition 
of  their  canals  and  apertures.  Hunter,  on  the  con- 
trary, considers  them  to  be  the  effect  of  properties  of 
these  vessels  which  are  not  mechanical  but  vital. 
"  The  vessels,"  says  he,  "  have  more  of  the  polypus  in 
them  than  any  other  part  of  the  body,"  and  he  talks 
of  the  "  living  and  sensitive  principles  of  the  arteries," 
and  even  of  the  "dispositions  or  feelings  of  the  arteries." 
"  When  the  blood  is  good  and  genuine  the  sensations 
of  the  arteries,  or  the  dispositions  for  sensation,  are 
agreeable.  ...  It  is  then  they  dispose  of  the  blood 


342       THE    BIOLOGICAL    SCIENCES    AND   MEDICINE.      [LECT. 

to  the  best  advantage,  increasing  the  growth  of  the 
whole,  supplying  any  losses,  keeping  up  a  due  succes- 
sion, etc."  (I.e.  p.  133). 

If  we  follow  Hunter's  conceptions  to  their  logical 
issue,  the  life  of  one  of  the  higher  animals  is  essentially 
the  sum  of  the  lives  of  all  the  vessels,  each  of  which 
is  a  sort  of  physiological  unit,  answering  to  a  polype ; 
and,  as  health  is  the  result  of  the  normal  "  action  of 
the  vessels,"  so  is  disease  an  effect  of  their  abnormal 
action.  Hunter  thus  stands  in  thought,  as  in  time, 
midway  between  Borelli  on  the  one  hand,  and  Bichat 
on  the  other. 

The  acute  founder  of  general  anatomy,  in  fact, 
outdoes  Hunter  in  his  desire  to  exclude  physical 
reasonings  from  the  realm  of  life.  Except  in  the 
interpretation  of  the  action  of  the  sense  organs,  he 
will  not  allow  physics  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
physiology. 

"  To  apply  the  physical  sciences  to  physiology  is 
to  explain  the  phenomena  of  living  bodies  by  the  laws 
of  inert  bodies.  Now  this  is  a  false  principle,  hence 
all  its  consequences  are  marked  with  the  same  stamp. 
Let  us  leave  to  chemistry  its  affinity ;  to  physics,  its 
elasticity  and  its  gravity.  Let  us  invoke  for  physiology 
only  sensibility  and  contractility."1 

Of  all  the  unfortunate  dicta  of  men  of  eminent 
ability  this  seems  one  of  the  most  unhappy,  when  we 
think  of  what  the  application  of  the  methods  and 
the  data  of  physics  and  chemistry  has  done  towards 
bringing  physiology  into  its  present  state.  It  is  not 

1  "  Anatomie  generate,"  i.  p.  liv. 


xm.]      THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND    MEDICINE.       343 

too  much  to  say  that  one  half  of  a  modern  text-book 
of  physiology  consists  of  applied  physics  and  chemistry; 
and  that  it  is  exactly  in  the  exploration  of  the  pheno- 
mena of  sensibility  and  contractility  that  physics  and 
chemistry  have  exerted  the  most  potent  influence. 

Nevertheless,  Bichat  rendered  a  solid  service  to 
physiological  progress  by  insisting  upon  the  fact  that 
what  we  call  life,  in  one  of  the  higher  animals,  is  not 
an  indivisible  unitary  archseus  dominating,  from  its 
central  seat,  the  parts  of  the  organism,  but  a  com- 
pound result  of  the  synthesis  of  the  separate  lives  of 
those  parts. 

"  All  animals,"  says  he,  "  are  assemblages  of  dif- 
ferent organs,  each  of  which  performs  its  function  and 
concurs,  after  its  fashion,  in  the  preservation  of  the 
whole.  They  are  so  many  special  machines  in  the 
general  machine  which  constitutes  the  individual. 
But  each  of  these  special  machines  is  itself  com- 
pounded of  many  tissues  of  very  different  natures, 
which  in  truth  constitute  the  elements  of  those  organs  " 
(I.e.  Ixxix.)  "  The  conception  of  a  proper  vitality  is 
applicable  only  to  these  simple  tissues,  and  not  to  the 
organs  themselves  "  (I.e.  Ixxxiv.) 

And  Bichat  proceeds  to  make  the  obvious  applica- 
tion of  this  doctrine  of  synthetic  life,  if  I  may  so  call 
it,  to  pathology.  Since  diseases  are  only  alterations 
of  vital  properties,  and  the  properties  of  each  tissue 
are  distinct"  from  those  of  the  rest,  it  is  evident  that 
the  diseases  of  each  tissue  must  be  different  from  those 
of  the  rest.  Therefore,  in  any  organ  composed  of 
different  tissues,  one  may  be  diseased  and  the  other 


344       THE    BIOLOGICAL    SCIENCES   AND    MEDICINE.      [LECT. 

remain  healthy ;  and  this  is  what  happens  in  most 
cases  (I.e.  Ixxxv.) 

In  a  spirit  of  true  prophecy,  Bichat  says,  "  We  have 
arrived  at  an  epoch,  in  which  pathological  anatomy 
should  start  afresh."  For,  as  the  analysis  of  the  organs 
had  led  him  to  the  tissues,  as  the  physiological  units 
of  the  organism ;  so,  in  a  succeeding  generation,  the 
analysis  of  the  tissues  led  to  the  cell  as  the  physio- 
logical element  of  the  tissues.  The  contemporaneous 
study  of  development  brought  out  the  same  result ; 
and  the  zoologists  and  botanists,  exploring  the  sim- 
plest and  the  lowest  forms  of  animated  beings,  con- 
firmed the  great  induction  of  the  cell  theory.  Thus 
the  apparently  opposed  views,  which  have  been 
battling  with  one  another  ever  since  the  middle  of  the 
last  century,  have  proved  to  be  each  half  the  truth. 

The  proposition  of  Descartes  that  the  body  of  a 
living  man  is  a  machine,  the  actions  of  which  are 
explicable  by  the  known  laws  of  matter  and  motion, 
is  unquestionably  largely  true.  But  it  is  also  true, 
that  the  living  body  is  a  synthesis  of  innumerable 
physiological  elements,  each  of  which  may  nearly  be 
described,  in  Wolff's  words,  as  a  fluid  possessed  of 
a  "vis  essentialis,"  and  a  "  solidescibilitas " ;  or,  in 
modern  phrase,  as  protoplasm  susceptible  of  structural 
metamorphosis  and  functional  metabolism :  and  that 
the  only  machinery,  in  the  precise  sense  in  which  the 
Cartesian  school  understood  mechanism,  is,  that  which 
co-ordinates  and  regulates  these  physiological  units 
into  an  organic  whole. 

In  fact,  the  body  is  a  machine  of  the  nature  of  an 


XIII.  ]      THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.       345 

army,  not  of  that  of  a  watch  or  of  a  hydraulic  apparatus. 
Of  this  army  each  cell  is  a  soldier,  an  organ  a  brigade, 
the  central  nervous  system  headquarters  and  field 
telegraph,  the  alimentary  and  circulatory  system  the 
commissariat.  Losses  are  made  good  by  recruits 
born  in  camp,  and  the  life  of  the  individual  is  a 
campaign,  conducted  successfully  for  a  number  of 
years,  but  with  certain  defeat  in  the  long  run, 

The  efficacy  of  an  army,  at  any  given  moment, 
depends  on  the  health  of  the  individual  soldier,  and 
on  the  perfection  of  the  machinery  by  which  he  is  led 
and  brought  into  action  at  the  proper  time;  and, 
therefore,  if  the  analogy  holds  good,  there  can  be 
only  two  kinds  of  diseases,  the  one  dependent  on 
abnormal  states  of  the  physiological  units,  the  other 
on  perturbations  of  their  co-ordinating  and  alimenta- 
tive  machinery. 

Hence,  the  establishment  of  the  cell  theory,  in 
normal  biology,  was  swiftly  followed  by  a  "  cellular 
pathology,"  as  its  logical  counterpart.  I  need  not 
remind  you  how  great  an  instrument  of  investigation 
this  doctrine  has  proved  in  the  hands  of  the  man  of 
genius  to  whom  its  development  is  due,  and  who 
would  probably  be  the  last  to  forget  that  abnormal 
conditions  of  the  co  -  ordinative  and  distributive 
machinery  of  the  body  are  no  less  important  factors 
of  disease. 

Henceforward,  as  it  appears  to  me,  the  connection 
of  medicine  with  the  biological  sciences  is  clearly 
defined.  Pure  pathology  is  that  branch  of  biology 
which  defines  the  particular  perturbation  of  cell-life, 


346      THE    BIOLOGICAL    SCIENCES    AND    MEDICINE.      [LECT. 

or  of  the  co-ordinating  machinery,  or  of  both,  on 
which  the  phenomena  of  disease  depend. 

Those  who  are  conversant  with  the  present  state 
of  biology  will  hardly  hesitate  to  admit  that  the  con- 
ception of  the  life  of  one  of  the  higher  animals  as  the 
summation  of  the  lives  of  a  cell  aggregate,  brought 
into  harmonious  action  by  a  co-ordinative  machinery 
formed  by  some  of  these  cells,  constitutes  a  permanent 
acquisition  of  physiological  science.  But  the  last 
form  of  the  battle  between  the  animistic  and  the 
physical  views  of  life  is  seen  in  the  contention  whether 
the  physical  analysis  of  vital  phenomena  can  be  carried 
beyond  this  point  or  not. 

There  are  some  to  whom  living  protoplasm  is  a 
substance,  even  such  as  Harvey  conceived  the  blood 
to  be,  "  summ&  cum  providentia  et  intellectu  in  finem 
certum  agens,  quasi  ratiocinio  quodam ; "  and  who 
look  with  as  little  favour  as  Bichat  did,  upon  any 
attempt  to  apply  the  principles  and  the  methods  of 
physics  and  chemistry  to  the  investigation  of  the  vital 
processes  of  growth,  metabolism,  and  contractility. 
They  stand  upon  the  ancient  ways ;  only,  in  accord- 
ance with  that  progress  towards  democracy,  which  a 
great  political  writer  has  declared  to  be  the  fatal 
characteristic  of  modern  times,  they  substitute  a 
republic  formed  by  a  few  billion  of  "  animulse "  for 
the  monarchy  of  the  all-pervading  "  anima." 

Others,  on  the  contrary,  supported  by  a  robust 
faith  in  the  universal  applicability  of  the  principles 
laid  down  by  Descartes,  and  seeing  that  the  actions 
called  "  vital "  are,  so  far  as  we  have  any  means  of 


XIII.]      THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.       347 

knowing,  nothing  but  changes  of  place  of  particles  of 
matter,  look  to  molecular  physics  to  achieve  the 
analysis  of  the  living  protoplasm  itself  into  a  mole- 
cular mechanism.  If  there  is  any  truth  in  the 
received  doctrines  of  physics,  that  contrast  between 
living  and  inert  matter,  on  which  Bichat  lays  so  much 
stress,  does  not  exist.  In  nature,  nothing  is  at  rest, 
nothing  is  amorphous;  the  simplest  particle  of  that 
which  men  in  their  blindness  are  pleased  to  call 
"brute  matter"  is  a  vast  aggregate  of  molecular 
mechanisms  performing  complicated  movements  of 
immense  rapidity,  and  sensitively  adjusting  themselves 
to  every  change  in  the  surrounding  world.  Living 
matter  differs  from  other  matter  in  degree  and  not  in 
kind;  the  microcosm  repeats  the  macrocosm;  and 
one  chain  of  causation  connects  the  nebulous  original 
of  suns  and  planetary  systems  with  the  protoplasmic 
foundation  of  life  and  organisation. 

From  this  point  of  view,  pathology  is  the  analogue 
of  the  theory  of  perturbations  in  astronomy;  and 
therapeutics  resolves  itself  into  the  discovery  of  the 
means  by  which  a  system  of  forces  competent  to 
eliminate  any  given  perturbation  may  be  introduced 
into  the  economy.  And,  as  pathology  bases  itself 
upon  normal  physiology,  so  therapeutics  rests  upon 
pharmacology ;  which  is,  strictly  speaking,  a  part  of 
the  great  biological  topic  of  the  influence  of  conditions 
on  the  living  organism,  and  has  no  scientific  founda- 
tion apart  from  physiology. 

It  appears  to  me  that  there  is  no  more  hopeful 
indication  of  the  progress  of  medicine  towards  the 


348     THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND   MEDICINE.      [LECT. 

ideal  of  Descartes  than  is  to  be  derived  from  a  com- 
parison of  the  state  of  pharmacology,  at  the  present 
day,  with  that  which  existed  forty  years  ago.  If  we 
consider  the  knowledge  positively  acquired,  in  this 
short  time,  of  the  modus  operandi  of  urari,  of  atropia, 
of  physostigmin,  of  veratria,  of  casca,  of  strychnia,  of 
bromide  of  potassium,  of  phosphorus,  there  can  surely 
be  no  ground  for  doubting  that,  sooner  or  later,  the 
pharmacologist  will  supply  the  physician  with  the 
means  of  affecting,  in  any  desired  sense,  the  functions 
of  any  physiological  element  of  the  body.  It  will,  in 
short,  become  possible  to  introduce  into  the  economy 
a  molecular  mechanism  which,  like  a  very  cunningly- 
contrived  torpedo,  shall  find  its  way  to  some  particular 
group  of  living  elements,  and  cause  an  explosion 
among  them,  leaving  the  rest  untouched. 

The  search  for  the  explanation  of  diseased  states 
in  modified  cell-life ;  the  discovery  of  the  important 
part  played  by  parasitic  organisms  in  the  aetiology  of 
disease ;  the  elucidation  of  the  action  of  medicaments 
by  the  methods  and  the  data  of  experimental  physio- 
logy ;  appear  to  me  to  be  the  greatest  steps  which 
have  ever  been  made  towards  the  establishment  of 
medicine  on  a  scientific  basis.  I  need  hardly  say  they 
could  not  have  been  made  except  for  the  advance  of 
normal  biology. 

There  can  be  no  question,  then,  as  to  the  nature  or 
the  value  of  the  connection  between  medicine  and  the 
biological  sciences.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
future  of  pathology  and  of  therapeutics,  and,  therefore, 
that  of  practical  medicine,  depends  upon  the  extent 


XIII.  ]     THE   BIOLOGICAL   SCIENCES   AND    MEDICINE.        349 

to  which  those  who  occupy  themselves  with  these 
subjects  are  trained  in  the  methods  and  impregnated 
with  the  fundamental  truths  of  biology. 

And,  in  conclusion,  I  venture  to  suggest  that  the 
collective  sagacity  of  this  Congress  could  occupy  itself 
with  no  more  important  question  than  with  this  :  How 
is  medical  education  to  be  arranged,  so  that,  without 
entangling  the  student  in  those  details  of  the  system- 
atist  which  are  valueless  to  him,  lie  may  be  enabled 
to  obtain  a  firm  grasp  of  the  great  truths  respecting 
animal  and  vegetable  life,  without  which,  notwith- 
standing all  the  progress  of  scientific  medicine,  he  will 
still  find  himself  an  empiric  ? 


THE  END. 


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