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UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA.

G-IFT OF

CLXSS O.F 1883,

IPI

HALF HOURS

WITH

MODERN SCIENTISTS.

LECTURES AND ESSAYS

I'ROFS. HUXLEY, BARKER, STIRLING, COPE ANI>
TYNDALL.

WITH

A GENERAL INTRODUCTION

BY
NOAH PORTER, D.D., LL.D.,

PRESIDENT OF YALE COLLEGE.

FIRST

CHARLES C, CHATFIELD & Co.,
1872.

Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1872, by

CHARLES C. CHATFIELD & Co.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress^at Washington, D. C.

NEW HAVEN, CONN. :
THE COLLEGE COURANT PRINT.

ghctrotypedby E. B. Sheldon, New Haven,

CONTENTS.

GENERAL INTRODUCTION.

BY PREST. PORTER,

ON THE PHYSICAL BASIS OF LIFE.

PROF. T. H. HUXLEY,. .-*... i

CORRELATION OF VITAL AND PHYSICAL FORCES.

PROF. G. F. BARKER, M.D., ... 37

As REGARDS PROTOPLASM — REPLY TO HUXLEY.

JAMES HUTCHISON STIRLING, ... 73

ON THE HYPOTHESIS OF EVOLUTION.

PROF. E. D. COPE, 145

SCIENTIFIC ADDRESSES.

ON THE METHODS AND TENDENCIES OF PHYSICAL IN-
VESTIGATION, 219

ON HAZE AND DUST, 234

ON THE SCIENTIFIC USE OF THE IMAGINATION, . 247
PROF. JOHN TYNDALL, LL.D., F.R.S., . 217

INTRODUCTION TO THE NEW EDITION

OF HALF-HOURS WITH MODERN

SCIENTISTS.

The title of this Series of Essays — Half Hours
with Modern Scientists — suggests a variety of
thoughts, some of which may not be inappropriate
for a brief introduction to a new edition. Scientist
is a modern appellation which has been specially
selected to designate a devotee to one or more
branches of physical science. Strictly interpreted
it might properly be applied to the student of any
department of knowledge when prosecuted in a
scientific method, but for convenience it is limited
to the student of some branch of physics. It is
not thereby conceded that nature, i. e., physical or
material nature is any more legitimately or ex-
clusively the field for scientific enquiries than spirit,
or that whether the objects of science are material
or spiritual, the assumptions and processes of
science themselves should not be subjected to scien-
tific analysis and justification. There are so-called
philosophers who adopt both these conclusions.
There are those who reason and dogmatize as
though nature were synonymous with matter, or as
though spirit, if there be such an essence, must be
conceived and explained after the principles and
analogies of matter ; — others assume that a science
of scientific method can be nothing better than the

mist or moonshine which they vilify by the name of
metaphysics. But unfortunately for such opinions
the fact is constantly forced upon the attention of
scientists of every description, that the agent by
which they examine matter is more than matter,
and that this agent, whatever be its substance, asserts
its prerogatives to determine the conceptions
which the scientist forms of matter as well as to
the methods by which he investigates material pro-
perties. Even the positivist philosopher who not
only denounces metaphysics as illegitimate, but also
contends that the metaphysical era of human in-
quiry, has in the development of scientific progress
been outgrown like the measles, which is expe-
rienced but once in a life-time ; finds when his
positivist theory is brought to the test that positiv-
ism itself in its very problem and its solutions, is
but the last adopted metaphysical theory of science.
We also notice that it is very difficult, if not im-
possible, for the inquisitive scientist to limit himself
strictly to the object-matter of his own chosen field,
and not to enquire more or less earnestly — not in-
frequently to dogmatize more or less positively —
respecting the results of otfier sciences and even
respecting the foundations and processes of scien-
tific inquiry itself. Thus Mr. Huxley in the first
Essay of this Series on The Physical Basis of Life,
leaves the discussion of his appropriate theme in
order to deliver sundry very positive and pro-
nounced assertions respecting the " limits of philoso-
phical inquiry," and quotes with manifest satisfac-
tion a dictum of David Hume that is sufficiently
dogmatic and positive, as to what these limits are.

Vll

In more than one of his Lay sermons, he rushes
headlong into the most p/onounced assertions in re-
spect to the nature of matter and of spirit. The elo-
quent Tyndall, in No. 5, expounds at length The
Methods and Tendencies of Physical Investigation and
discourses eloquently, if occasionally somewhat po-
etically, of Tlie Scientific use of tJie Imagination. But
Messrs. Huxley and Tyndall are eminent examples
of scientists who are severely and successfully
devoted respectively to physiology and the higher
physics. No one will contend that they have not
faithfully cultivated their appropriate fields of in-
quiry. The fact that neither can be content to con-
fine himself within his special field, forcibly illus-
trates the tendency of every modern science to
concern itself with its relations to its neighbors,
and the unresistible necessity which forces the most
rigid physicist to become a metaphysician in spite of
himself. So much for the appellation " Scientists'.'

"Half Hours" suggests the very natural inquiry
— What can a scientist communicate in half an
hour, especially to a reader who may be ignorant
of the elements of the science which he would ex-
pound ? Does not the phrase Half Hours with
Modern Scientists stultify itself and suggest the
folly of any attempt to treat of science with effect
in a series of essays ? In reply we would ask the
attention of the reader to the following considera-
tions.

The tendency is universal among the scientific
men of all nations, to present the principles of
science in such brief summaries or statements as
may bring them within the reach of common readers.

Vlll

The tendency indicates that there is a large body of
readers who are so far instructed in the elements of
science as to be able to understand these summaries.
In England, Germany, France and this country such
brief essays are abundant, either in the form of con-
tributions to popular and scientific journals, or in
that of popular lectures, or in that of brief manuals,
or of monographs on separate topics ; especially
such topics as are novel, or are interesting to the
public for their theoretic brilliancy, or their applica-
tions to industry and art.

These essays need not be and they are not always
superficial, because they are brief. They often are
the more profound on account of their conciseness,
as when they contain a condensed summary of the
main principles of the art or science in question,
or a brief history of the successive experiments
which have issued in some brilliant discovery.
These essays are very generally read, even though
they are both concise and profound. But they could
not be read even though they were less profound
than they are, were there not provided a numerous
company of readers who are sufficiently instructed
in science to appreciate them. That such a body
of readers exists in the countries referred to, is
easily explained by the existence of public schools
and schools of science and technology, by the
enormous extension of the knowledge of machinery,
engineering, mining, dyeing, etc., etc., all of which
imply a more or less distinct recognition of scien-
tific principles and stimulate the curiosity in regard
to scientific truth. Popular lectures also, illustrated
by experiments, have been repeated before thousands

of excited listeners, and the eager and inventive
minds of multitudes of ingenious youths have been
trained by this distribution of science, to the ca-
pacity to comprehend the compact and pointed
scientific essay, even though it taxes the attention
and suspends the breath for a half-hour by its close-
ness and severity.

The fact is also worthy of notice, that many of
the ablest scientists of our times have made a special
study of the art of expounding and presenting scien-
tific truth. Some of them have schooled themselves
to that lucid and orderly method by which a science
seems to spring into being a second time, under
the creative hand of its skilful expositor. Others
have made a special study of philosophic diction.
Others have learned how to adorn scientific truth
with the embellishments of an affluent imagination.
Some of the ablest writers of our time are found
among the devotees of physical science. That a
few scientific writers and lecturers may have ex-
emplified some of the most offensive features of the
demagogue and the sophist cannot be denied, but
we may not forget that many have attained to the
consummate skill of the accomplished essayist and
impressive and eloquent orator.

One advantage cannot be denied of this now
popular and established method of setting forth
scientific truth, viz., that it prescribes a convenient
method of bringing into contrast the arguments for
and against any disputed position in science. If
materialism can furnish its ready advocate with a
convenient vehicle for its ready diffusion, the an-
tagonist theory can avail itself of a similar vehicle

for the communication of the decisive and pungent
reply. The one is certain to call forth the other,
and if the two are present side by side in the same
series, so much the better is it for the truth and so
much the worse for the error. The teacher before
his class, the lecturer in the presence of his audience,
has the argument usually to himself ; he allows few
questionings and admits no reply. An erroneous
theory may entrench itself within a folio against
arguments which would annihilate its positions if
these were condensed in a tract.

This consideration should dispel all the alarm
that is felt by the defenders of religion in view of
the general diffusion of popular scientific treatises.
The brief statement of a false or groundless scien-
tific theory, even by its defender, is often its most
effectual refutation. A magnificently imposing
argument often shrinks into insignificance when its
advocate is forced to state its substance in a com-
pact and close-jointed outline. The articulations
are seen to be defective, the joints do not fit one
another, the coherence is conspicuously wanting.
Let then error do its utmost in the field of science.
Its deficient data and its illogical processes are cer-
tain to be exposed, sometimes even by its own advo-
cates. If this does not happen the defender of that
scientific truth which seems to be essential to the
teachings and faiths of religion, must scrutinize its
reasonings by the rules and methods of scientific
inquiry. If science seems to be hostile to religion,
this very seeming should arouse the defender of
Theism and Christianity to examine into the grounds
both by the light and methods which are appropriate

to science itself. The more brief and compact and
popular is the argument which he is to refute, the
more feasible is the task of exposure and reply.
Only let this be a cardinal maxim with the defender
of the truth, that whatever is scientifically defended
and maintained must be scientifically refuted and
overthrown. The great Master of our faith never
uttered a more comprehensive or a grander maxim
than the memorable words, " To this end was I born
and for this cdns e came I into the world, that I should
bear witness imto the truth. Everyone that is of the
truth heareth my voice" It would be easy to show
that the belief in moral and religious truth and the
freedom in searching for and defending it which was
inspired by these words have been most efficient in
training the human mind to that faith in the results
of scientific investigation which characterize the
modern scientist. That Christian believer must
either have a very imperfect view of the spirit of
his own faith, or a very narrow conception of the
evidences and the effect of its teachings, who im-
agines that the freest spirit of scientific inquiry, or
the most penetrating insight into the secrets of
matter or of spirit can have any other consequence
than to strengthen and brighten the evidence for
Christian truth.

N. P.
YALE COLLEGE, May, 1872,

PUBLISHERS' NOTE TO SECOND EDITION.

The five lectures embodied in this First Series of Half Hours
with Modern Scientists were first published as Nos. I. — V. of the
Univefsity Scientific Series. In this series the publishers have
aimed to give to the public in a cheap pamphlet form, the advance
thought in the Scientific world. The intrinsic value of these lec-
tures has created a very general desire to have them put in a perma-
nent form. They therefore have brought them out in this style.
Each five succeeding numbers of this celebrated series will be
printed and bound in uniform style with this volume, and be desig-
nated as second series, third series, and so on. Henceforth it will
be the design of the publishers to give preference to those lectures
and essays of American scientists which contain original research
and discovery, rather than to reprinting from European sources. The
lectures in the second series will be (i) On Natural Selection as
Applied to Man, by Alfred Russel Wallace ; (2) three profoundly
interesting lectures on Spectrum Analysis, by Profs. Roscoe, Hug*
gins, and Lockyer ; (3) the Sun and its Different Atmospheres,
a lecture by Prof. C. A. Young, Ph.D., of Dartmouth College ; (4)
the Earth a great Magnet, by Prof. A. M. Mayer, Ph.D., of Stevens
Institute ; and (5) the Mysteries of the Voice and Ear, by Prof.
Ogden N. Rood, of Columbia College. The last three lectures
contain many original discoveries and brilliant experiments, and are
finely illustrated.

ON THE PHYSICAL BASIS OF LIFE.

INTRODUCTION,

The following remarkable discourse was originally delivered in
Edinburg, November i8th, 1868, as the first of a series of Sunday
evening addresses, upon non-religious topics, instituted by the Rev.
J. Cranbrook. It was subsequently published in London as the
leading article in the Fortnightly Review, for February, 1869, and at-
tracted so much attention that five editions of that number of the
magazine have already been issued. It is now re-printed in this
country, in permanent form, for the first time, and will doubtless
prove of great interest to American readers. The author is
Thomas Henry Huxley, of London, Professor of Natural History
in the Royal School of Mines, and of Comparative Anatomy and
Physiology in the Royal College of Surgeons. He is also Presi-
dent of the Geological Society of London. Although comparatively
a young man, his numerous and valuable contributions to Natural
Science entitle him to be considered one of the first of living Nat-
uralists, especially in the departments of Zoology and Paleontol-
ogy, to which he has mainly devoted himself. He is undoubtedly
the ablest English advocate of Darwin's theory of the Origin of
Species, particularly with reference to its application to the human
race, which he believes to be nearly related to the higher apes. It
is, indeed, through his discussion of this question that he is, per-
haps, best known to the general public, as his late work entitled
" Man's Place in Nature," and other writings on similar topics,
have been very widely read in this country and in Europe. In the
present lecture Professor Huxley discusses a kindred subject of no
less interest and importance, and should have an equally candid
hearing.

YALE COLLEGE, March 30^, 1869.

On the Physical Basis of Life.

In order to make the title of this discourse generally
intelligible, I have translated the term "Protoplasm,"
which is the scientific name of the substance of which I
am about to speak, by the words " the physical basis of
life." I suppose that, to many, the idea that there is
such a thing as a physical basis, or matter, of life may
be novel — so widely spread is the conception of life as
a something which works through matter, but is inde-
pendent of it ; and even those who are aware that mat-
ter and life are inseparably connected, may not be pre-
pared for the conclusion plainly suggested by the phrase
" the physical basis or matter of life," that there is some
one kind of matter which is common to all living beings,
and that their endless diversities are bound together by
a physical, as well as an ideal, unity. In fact, when first
apprehended, such a doctrine as this appears almost
shocking to common sense. What, truly, can seem to be
more obviously different from one another in ficulty, in
form, and in substance, than the various kinds of living
beings ? What community of faculty can there be be-
tween the brightly-colored lichen, which so nearly re-
sembles a mere mineral incrustation of the bare rock on

which it grows, and the painter, to whom it is instinct with
beauty, or the botanist, whom it feeds with knowledge ?

Again, think of the microscopic fungus — a mere in-
finitesimal ovoid particle, which finds space and duration
enough to multiply into countless millions in the body
of a living fly ; and then of the wealth of foliage, the
luxuriance of flower and fruit, which lies between this
bald sketch of a plant and the giant pine of California,
towering to the dimensions of a cathedral spire, or the
Indian fig, which covers acres with its profound shadow,
and endures while nations and empires come and go
around its vast circumference ! Or, turning to the other
half of the world of life, picture to yourselves the great
finner whale, hugest of beasts that live, or have lived,
disporting his eighty or ninety feet of bone, muscle and
blubber, with easy roll, among waves in which the stout-
est ship that ever left dockyard would founder hope-
lessly ; and contrast him with the invisible animalcules —
mere gelatinous specks, multitudes of which could, in
fact, dance upon the point of a needle with the same ease
as the angels of the schoolmen could, in imagination.
With these images before your minds, you may well ask
what community of form, or structure, is there between
the animalcule and the whale, or between the fungus and
fig-tree ? And, a fortiori, between all four ?

Finally, if we regard substance, or material composi-
tion, what hidden bond can connect the flower which a
girl wears in her hair and the blood which courses through
her youthful veins ; or, what is there in common between
the dense and resisting mass of the oak, or the strong
fabric of the tortoise, and tb^**. broad disks of glassy

jelly which may be seen pulsating through the waters of
a calm sea, but which drain away to mere films in the
hand which raises them out of their element ? Such ob-
jections as these must, I think, arise in the mind of every
one who ponders, for the first time, upon the conception
of a single physical basis of life underlying all the diver-
sities of vital existence ; but I propose to demonstrate
to you that, notwithstanding these apparent difficulties,
a threefold unity — namely, a unity of power or faculty,
a unity of form, and a unity of substantial composition —
does pervade the whole living world. No very abstruse
argumentation is needed, in the first place, to prove that
the powers, or faculties, of all kinds of living matter, di-
verse as they may be in degree, are substantially similar
in kind. Goethe has condensed a survey of all the pow-
ers of mankind into the well-known epigram :

" Warum treibt sich das Volk so und schreit ? Es will sich ernahren

Kinder zeugen, und sie nahren so gut es vermag.
* ** ** ****

Weiter bringt es kein Mensch, stelF er sich, wie er auch will."

In physiological language this means, that all the multi-
farious and complicated activities of man are compre-
hensible under three categories. Either they are imme-
diately directed towards the maintenance and devel-
opment of the body, or they effect transitory changes
in the relative positions of parts of the body, or they
tend towards the continuance of the species. Even
those manifestations of intellect, of feeling, and of will,
which we rightly name the higher faculties, are not ex-
cluded from this classification, inasmuch as to every one
but the subject of them, they are known only as transit-

ory changes in the relative positions of parts of the body.
Speech, gesture, and every other form of human action
are, in the long run, resolvable into muscular contrac-
tion., and muscular contraction is but a transitory change
in the relative positions of the parts of a muscle. But
the scheme, which is large enough to embrace the activ-
ities of the highest form of life, covers all those of the
lower creatures. The lowest plant, or animalcule, feeds,
grows and reproduces its kind. In addition, all animals
manifest those transitory changes of form which we class
under irritability and contractility ; and it is more than
probable, that when the vegetable world is thoroughly
explored, we shall find all plants in possession of the
same powers, at one time or other of their existence. I
am not now alluding to such phenomena, at once rare
and conspicuous, as those exhibited by the leaflets of
the sensitive plant, or the stamens of the barberry, but
to much more widely-spread, and, at the same time, more
subtle and hidden, manifestations of vegetable contrac-
tility. You are doubtless aware that the common nettle
owes its stinging property to the innumerable stiff and
needle-like, though exquisitely delicate, hairs which cover
its surface. Each stinging-needle tapers from a broad
base to a slender summit, which, though rounded at the
end, is of such microscopic fineness that it readily pen-
etrates, and breaks off in, the skin. The whole hair
consists of a very delicate outer case of wood, closely
applied to the inner surface of which is a layer of semi-
fluid matter, full of innumerable granules of extreme
minuteness. This semi-fluid lining is protoplasm, which
thus constitutes a kind of bag, full of a limpid liquid,

and roughly corresponding in form with the interior of
the hair which it fills. When viewed with a sufficiently
high magnifying power, the protoplasmic layer of the
nettle hair is seen to be in a condition of unceasing ac-
tivity. Local contractions of the whole thickness of its
substance pass slowly and gradually from point to point,
and give rise to the appearance of progressive waves,
just as the bending of successive stalks of corn by a
breeze produces the apparent billows of a corn-field.
But, in addition to these movements, and independently
of them, the granules are driven, in relatively rapid
streams, through channels in the protoplasm which seem
to have a considerable amount of persistence. Most
commonly, the currents in adjacent parts of the proto-
plasm take similar directions j and, thus, there is a gen-
eral stream up one side of the hair and down the other.
But this does not prevent the existence of partial cur-
' rents which take different routes ; and, sometimes, trains
of granules may be seen coursing swiftly in opposite
directions, within a twenty-thousandth of an inch of one
another j while, occasionally, opposite streams come
into direct collision, and, after a longer or shorter strug-
gle, one predominates. The cause of these currents
seem to lie in contractions of the protoplasm which
bounds the channels in which they flow, but which are
so minute that the best microscopes show only their
effects, and not themselves.

The spectacle afforded by the wonderful energies pris-
oned within the compass of the microscopic hair of a
plant, which we commonly regard as a merely passive
organism, is not easily forgotten by one who has watched

its display continued hour after hour, without pause or
sign of weakening. The possible complexity of many
other organic forms, seemingly as simple as the proto-
plasm of the nettle, dawns upon one; and the compari-
son of such a protoplasm to a body with an internal
circulation, which has been put forward by an eminent
physiologist, loses much of its startling character. Cur-
rents similar to those of the hairs of the nettle have
been observed in a great multitude of very different
plants, and weighty authorities have suggested that they
probably occur, in more or les? perfection, in all young
vegetable cells. If such be the case, the wonderful
noonday silence of a tropical forest is, after all, due only
to the dullness of our hearing ; and could our ears catch
the murmur of these tiny maelstroms, as they whirl in
the innumerable myriads of living cells which constitute
each tree, we should be stunned, as with the roar of a
great city.

Among the lower plants, it is the rule rather than the
exception, that contractility should be still more openly
manifested at some periods of their existence. The
protoplasm of Algce and Fungi becomes, under many
circumstances, partially, or completely, freed from its
woody case, and exhibits movements of its whole mass,
or is propelled by the contractility of one or more hair-
like prolongations of its body, which are called vibratile
cilia. And, so far as the conditions of the manifesta-
tion of the phenomena of contractility have yet been
studied, they are the same for the plant as for the ani-
mal. Heat and electric shocks influence both, and in
the same way, though it may be in different degrees. It
is by no means my intention to suggest that there is no

difference in faculty between the lowest plant and the
highest, or between plants and animals. But the differ-
ence between the powers of the lowest plant, or animal,
and those of the highest is one of degree, not of kind,
and depends, as Milne-Edwards long ago so well pointed
out, upon the extent to which the principle of the divis-
ion of labor is carried out in the living economy. In the
lowest organism all parts are competent to perform all
functions, and one and the same portion of protoplasm
may successively take on the function of feeding, mov-
ing, or reproducing apparatus. In the highest, on the
contrary, a great number of parts combine to perform
each function, each part doing its allotted share of the
work with great accuracy and efficiency, but being use-
less for any other purpose. On the other hand, notwith-
standing all the fundamental resemblances which exist
between the powers of the protoplasm in plants and in
animals, they present a striking difference (to which I
shall advert more at length presently,) in the fact that
plants can manufacture fresh protoplasm out of mineral
compounds, whereas animals are obliged to procure it
ready made, and hence, in the long run, depend upon
plants. Upon what condition this difference in the pow-
ers of the two great divisions of the world of life de-
pends, nothing is at present known.

With such qualification as arises out of the last-
mentioned fact, it may be truly said that the acts of all
living things are fundamentally one. Is any such unity
predicable of their forms ? Let us seek in easily verified
facts for a reply to this question. If a drop of blood be
drawn by pricking one's finger, and viewed with proper

precautions and under a sufficiently high microscopic
power, there will be seen, among the innumerable mul-
titude of little, circular, discoidal bodies, or corpuscles,
which float in it and give it its color, a comparatively
small number of colorless corpuscles, of somewhat lar-
ger size and very irregular shape. If the drop of blood
be kept at the temperature of the body, these colorless
corpuscles will be seen to exhibit a marvelous activity,
changing their forms with great rapidity, drawing in and
thrusting out prolongations of their substance, and creep-
ing about as if they were independent organisms. The
substance which is thus active is a mass of protoplasm,
and its activity differs in detail, rather than in principle,
from that of the protoplasm of the nettle. Under sun-
dry circumstances the corpuscle dies and becomes dis-
tended into a round mass, in the midst of which is seen
a smaller spherical body, which existed, but was more or
less hidden, in the living corpuscle, and is called its
nucleus. Corpuscles of essentially similar structure are
to be found in the skin, in the lining of the mouth, and
scattered through the whole frame work of the body.
Nay, more ; in the earliest condition of the human or-
ganism, in that state in which it has just become distin-
guishable from the egg in which it arises, it is nothing
but an aggregation of such corpuscles, and every organ
of the body, was, once, -no more than such an aggrega-
tion. Thus a nucleated mass of protoplasm turns out
to be what may be termed the structural unit of the hu-
man body. As a matter of fact, the body, in its earliest
state, is a mere multiple of such units ; and, in its per-
fect condition, it is a multiple of such units, variously

modified. But does the formula which expresses the es-
sential structural character of the highest animal cover
all the rest, as the statement of its powers and faculties
covered that of all others ? Very nearly. Beast and
fowl, reptile and fish, mollusk, worm, and polype, are all
composed of structural units of the same character,
namely, masses of protoplasm with a nucleus. There
are sundry very low animals, each of which, structurally,
is a mere colorless blood-corpuscle, leading an independ-
ent life. But, at the very bottom of the animal scale,
even this simplicity becomes simplified, and all the phe-
nomena of life are manifested by a particle of proto-
plasm without a nucleus. Nor are such organisms
insignificant by reason of their want of complexity. It
is a fair question whether the protoplasm of those sim-
plest forms of life, which people an immense extent of
the bottom of the sea, would not outweigh that of all
the higher living beings which inhabit the land, put to-
gether. And in ancient times, no less than at the pres-
ent day, such living beings as these have been the great-
est of rock builders.

What has been said of the animal world is no less
true of plants. Imbedded in the protoplasm at the
broad, or attached, end of the nettle hair, there lies a
spheroidal nucleus. Careful examination further proves
that the whole substance of the nettle is made up of a
repetition of such masses of nucleated protoplasm, eacli
contained in a wooden case, which is modified in form,
sometimes into a woody fibre, sometimes into a duct
or spiral vessel, sometimes into a pollen grain, or an
ovule. Traced back to its earliest state, the nettle arises

as the man does, in a particle of nucleated protoplasm.
And in the lowest plants, as in the lowest animals, a
single mass of such protoplasm may constitute the whole
plant, or the protoplasm may exist without a nucleus.
Under these circumstances it may well be asked, how
is one mass of non-nucleated protoplasm to be distin-
guished from another ? why call one " plant " and the
other " animal ?" The only reply is that, so far as form
is concerned, plants and animals are not separable, and
that, in many cases, it is a mere matter of convention
whether we call a given organism an animal or a plant.
There is a living body called jEthalium septicum, which
appears upon decaying vegetable substances, and in one
of its forms, is common upon the surface of tan pits.
In this condition it is, to all intents and purposes, a fun-
gus, and formerly was always regarded as such ; but the
remarkable investigations of De Bary have shown that,
in another condition, the ALthalium is an. actively loco-
motive creature, and takes in solid matters, upon which,
apparently, it feeds, thus exhibiting the most character-
istic feature of animality. Is this a plant, or is it an
animal ? Is it both, or is it neither ? Some decide in
favor of the last supposition, and establish an interme-
diate kingdom, a sort of biological No Man's Land for
all these questionable forms. But, as it is admittedly
impossible to draw any distinct boundary line between
this no man's land and the vegetable world on the one
hand, or the animal, on the other, it appears to me that
this proceeding merely doubles the difficulty which, be-
fore, was single. Protoplasm, simple or nucleated, is
the formal basis of all life. It is the clay of the potter ;

which, bake it and paint it as he will, remains clay, sep-
arated by artifice, and not by nature, from the common-
est brick or sun-dried clod. Thus it becomes clear that
all living powers are cognate, and that all living iorms
are fundamentally of one character.

The researches of the chemist have revealed a no less
striking uniformity of material composition in living mat-
ter. In perfect strictness, it is true that chemical inves-
tigation can tell us little or nothing, directly, of the com-
position of living matter, inasmuch as such matter must
needs die in the act of analysis, and upon this very ob-
vious ground, objections, which I confess seem to me to
be somewhat frivolous, have been raised to the drawing
of any conclusions whatever respecting the composition
of actually living matter from that of the dead matter
of life, which alone is accessible to us. But objectors
of this class do not seem to reflect that it is also, in strict-
ness, true that we know nothing about the composition
of any body whatever, as it is. The statement that a
crystal of calc-spar consists of carbonate of lime, is
quite true, it we only mean that, by appropriate processes,
it may be resolved into carbonic acid and quicklime.
If you pass the same carbonic acid over the very quick-
lime thus obtained, you will obtain carbonate of lime
again ; but it will not be calc-spar, nor anything like it.
Can it, therefore, be said that chemical analysis teaches
nothing about the chemical composition of calc-spar ?
Such a statement would be absurd ; but it is hardly more
so than the talk one occasionally hears about the useless-
ness of applying the results of chemical analysis to the
living bodies which have yielded them. One fact, at

any rate, is out of reach of such refinements, and this
is, that all the forms of protoplasm which have yet been
examined contain the four elements, carbon, hydrogen,
oxygen, and nitrogen, in very complex union, and that
they behave similarly towards several re-agents. To this
complex combination, the nature of which has never
been determined with exactness, the name of Protein
has been applied. And if we use this term with such
caution as may properly arise out of our comparative
ignorance of the things for which it stands, it may be
truly said, that all protoplasm is proteinaceous j or, as
the white, or albumen, of an egg is one of the common-
est examples of a nearly pure proteine matter, we may
say that all living matter is more or less albuminoid.
Perhaps it would not yet be safe to say that all forms of
protoplasm are affected by the direct action of electric
shocks ; and yet the number of cases in which the con-
traction of protoplasm is shown to be affected by this
agency increases, every day. Nor can it be affirmed with
perfect confidence that all forms of protoplasm are liable
to undergo that peculiar coagulation at the temperature
of 40 degrees — 50 degrees centigrade, which has been
called "heat-stiffening," though Kiihne's beautiful re-
searches have proved this occurrence to take place in so
many and such diverse living beings, that it is hardly rash
to expect that the law holds good for all. Enough has,
perhaps, been said to prove the existence of a general
uniformity in the character of the protoplasm, or physi-
cal basis of life, in whatever group of living beings il
may be studied. But it will be understood that this gen-
eral uniformity by no means excludes any amount of

special modifications of the fundamental substance. The
mineral, carbonate of lime, assumes an immense diver-
sity of characters, though no one doubts that under all
these Protean changes it is one and the same thing.

And now, what is the ultimate fate, and what the ori-
gin of the matter of life ? Is it, as some of the older
naturalists supposed, diffused throughout the universe in
molecules, which are indestructible and unchangeable in
themselves ; but, in endless transmigration, unite in in-
numerable permutations, into the diversified forms of life
we know ? Or, is the matter of life composed of ordinary
matter, differing from it only in the manner in which its
atoms are aggregated ? Is it built up of ordinary matter,
and again resolved into ordinary matter when its work is
done? Modern science does not hesitate a moment be-
tween these alternatives. Physiology writes over the
portals of life,

" Debemur morti nos nostraque,"

with a profounder meaning than the Roman poet attached
to that melancholy line. Under whatever disguise it
takes refuge, whether fungus or oak, worm or man, the
living protoplasm not only ultimately dies and is resolved
into its mineral and lifeless constituents, but is always
dying, and, strange as the paradox may sound, could not
live unless it died. In the wonderful story of the " Peau
de Chagrin," the hero becomes possessed of a magical
wild ass's skin, which yields him the means of gratifying
all his wishes. But i'ts surface represents the duration
of the proprietor's life; and for every satisfied de-
sire the skin shrinks in proportion to the intensity of frui-
tion, until at length life and the last handbreadth of the

" Peau de Chagrin," disappear with the gratification of
a last wish. Balzac's studies had led him over a wide
range of thought and speculation, and his shadowing
forth of physiological truth in this strange story may
have been intentional. At any rate, the matter of life is
a veritable " Peau de Chagrin," and for every vital act it
is somewhat the smaller. All work implies waste, and
the work of life results, directly or indirectly, in the
waste of protoplasm. Every word uttered by a speaker
costs him some physical loss j and, in the strictest sense,
he burns that others may have light — so much elo-
quence, so much of his body resolved into caibonic acid,
water and urea. It is clear that this process of expendi-
ture cannot go on forever. But, happily, the protoplasmic
peau de chagrin differs from Balzac's in its capacity of
being repaired, and brought back to its full size, after
every exertion. For example, this present lecture, what-
ever its intellectual worth to you, has a certain physical
value to me, which is, conceivably, expressible by the
number of grains of protoplasm and other bodily sub-
stance wasted in maintaining my vital processes during
its delivery. My peau de chagrin will be distinctly
smaller at the end of the discourse than it was at the
beginning. By-and-by, I shall probably have recourse
to the substance commonly called mutton, for the pur-
pose of stretching it back to its original size. Now this
mutton was once the living protoplasm, more or less mod-
ified, of another animal — a sheep. As I shall eat it, it
is the same matter altered, not only by death, but by ex-
posure to sundry artificial operations in the process of
cooking. But these changes, whatever be their extent,

have not rendered it incompetent to resume its old func-
tions as matter of life. A singular inward laboratory,
which I possess, will dissolve a certain portion of the
modified protoplasm, the solution so formed will pass
into my veins ; and the subtle influences to which it will
then be subjected will convert the dead protoplasm into
living protoplasm, and transubstantiate sheep into man.
Nor is this all. If digestion were a thing to be trifled
with, I might sup upon lobster, and the matter of life of
the crustacean would undergo the same wonderful meta-
morphosis into humanity. And were I to return to my
own place by sea, and undergo shipwreck, the Crustacea
might, and probably would, return the compliment, and
demonstrate our common nature by turning my proto-
plasm into living lobster. Or, if nothing better were to
be had, I might supply my wants with mere bread, and I
should find the protoplasm of the wheat-plant to be con-
vertible into man, with no more trouble than that of the
sheep, and with far less, I fancy, than that of the lobster.
Hence it appears to be a matter of no great moment what
animal, or what plant, I lay under contribution for proto-
plasm, and the fact speaks volumes for the general iden-
tity of that substance in all living beings. I share this
catholicity of assimilation with other animals, all of
which, so far as we know, could thrive equally well on the
protoplasm of any of their fellows, or of any plant; but
here the assimilative powers of the animal world cease.
A solution of smelling-salts in water with an infinites-
imal proportion of some other saline matters, contains
all the elementary bodies which enter into the composi-
tion of protoplasm ; but, as I need hardly say, a hogs-

head of that fluid would not keep a hungry man from
starving, nor would it save any animal whatever from a
like fate. An animal cannot make protoplasm, but must
take it ready-made from some other animal, or some plant
— the animal's highest feat of constructive chemistry be-
ing to convert dead protoplasm into that living matter
of life which is appropriate to itself. Therefore, in seek-
ing for the origin of protoplasm, we must eventually turn
to the vegetable world. The fluid containing carbonic
acid, water, and ammonia, which offers such a barmecide
feast to the animal, is a table richly spread to multitudes
of plants ; and with a due supply of only such materials,
many a plant will not only maintain itself in vigor, but
grow and multiply until it has increased a million-fold,
or a million million-fold, the. quantity of protoplasm
which it originally possessed ; in this way building up
the matter of life, to an indefinite extent, from the com-
mon matter of the universe. Thus the animal can only
raise the complex substance of dead protoplasm to the
higher power, as one may say, of living protoplasm ;
while the plant can raise the less complex substances-
carbonic acid, water, and ammonia — to the same stage
of living protoplasm, if not to the same level. But the
plant also has its limitations^ Some of the fungi, for ex-
ample, appear to need higher compounds to start with,
and no known plant can live upon the uncompounded
elements of protoplasm. A plant supplied with pure car-
bon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, phosphorus, sul-
phur, and the like, would as infallibly die as the animal
in his bath of smelling-salts, though it would be sur-
rounded by all the constituents of protoplasm. Nor,

indeed, need the process of simplification of vegetable
food be carried so far as this, in order to arrive at the
limit of the plant's thaumaturgy.

Let water, carbonic acid, and all the other needful
constituents, be supplied without ammonia, and an ordi-
nary plant, will still be unable to manufacture proto-
plasm. Thus the matter of life, so far as we know it
(and we have no right to speculate on any other) breaks
up in consequence of that continual death which is the
condition of its manifesting vitality, into carbonic acid,
water, and ammonia, which certainly possess no prop-
erties but those of ordinary matter ; and out of these
same forms of ordinary matter and from none which
are simpler, the vegetable world builds up all the proto-
plasm which keeps the animal world agoing. Plants are
the accumulators of the power which animals distribute
and disperse.

But it will be observed, that the existence of the mat-
ter of life depends on the preexistence of certain com-
pounds, namely, carbonic acid, water, and ammonia.
Withdraw any one of these three from the world and all
vital phenomena come to an end. They are related to
the protoplasm of the plant, as the protoplasm of the
plant is to that of the animal. Carbon, hydrogen, oxy-
gen, and nitrogen are all lifeless bodies. Of these, car-
bon and oxygen, unite in certain proportions and under
certain conditions, to give rise to carbonic acid ; hydro-
gen and oxygen produce water j nitrogen and hydrogen
give rise to ammonia. These new compounds, like the
elementary bodies of which they are composed, are life-
less. But when they are brought together, under certain

conditions they give rise to the still more complex body,
protoplasm, and this protoplasm exhibits the phenomena
of life. I see no break in this series of steps in molecu-
lar complication, and I am unable to understand why the
language which is applicable to any one term of the se-
ries may not be used to any of the others. We think fit
to call different kinds of matter carbon, oxygen, hydro-
gen, and nitrogen, and to speak of the various powers
and activities of these substances as the properties of
the matter of which they are composed. When hydro-
gen and oxygen are mixed in a certain proportion, and
the electric spark is passed through them, they disappear
and a quantity of water, equal in weight to the sum of
their weights, appears in their place. There is not the
slightest parity between the passive and active powers
of the water and those of the oxygen and hydrogen
which have given rise to it. At 32 degrees Fahrenheit,
and far below that temperature, oxygen and hydrogen
are elastic gaseous bodies, whose particles tend to rush
away from one another with great force. Water, at the
same temperature, is a strong though brittle solid, whose
particles tend to cohere into definite geometrical shapes,
and sometimes build up frosty imitations of the most
complex forms of vegetable foliage. Nevertheless we
call these, and many other strange phenomena, the
properties of the water, and we do not hesitate to be-
lieve that, in some way or another, they result from the
properties of the component elements of the water. We
do not assume that a something called "aquosity" en-
tered into and took possession of the oxide of hydrogen
as soon as it was formed, and then guided the aqueous

particles to their places in the facets of the crystal, or
amongst the leaflets of the hoar-frost. On the contrary,
we live in the hope and in the faith that, by the advance
of molecular physics, we shall by-and-by be able to see
our way as clearly from the constituents of water to the
properties of water, as we are now able to deduce the
operations of a watch from the form of its parts and the
manner in which they are put together. Is the case in
any way changed when carbonic acid, water and ammo-
nia disappear, and in their place, under the influence of
preexisting living protoplasm, an equivalent weight of the
matter of life makes its appearance ? It is true that there
is no sort of parity between the properties of the compo-
nents and the properties of the resultant, but neither was
there in the case of the water. It is also true that what
I have spoken of as the influence of preexisting living
matter is something quite unintelligible ; but does any
body quite comprehend the modus operandi of an elec-
tric spark, which traverses a mixture of oxygen and hydro-
gen ? What justification is there, then, for the assump-
tion of the existence in the living matter of a something
which has no representative or correlative in the not
living matter which gave rise to it ? What better philo-
sophical status has " vitality " than " aquosity ?" And
why should "vitality" hope for a better fate than the other
"itys" which have disappeared since Martinus Scriblerus
accounted for the operation of the meat-jack by its inhe-
rent " meat roasting quality," and scorned the "material-
ism " of those who explained the turning of the spit by
a certain mechanism worked by the draught of the chim-
ney ? If scientific language is to possess a definite and

constant signification whenever it is employed, it seems
to me that we are logically bound to apply to the proto-
plasm, or physical basis of life, the same conceptions as
those which are held to be legitimate elsewhere. If the
phenomena exhibited by water are its properties, so are
those presented by protoplasm, living or dead, its prop-
erties. If the properties of water may be properly said
to result from the nature and disposition of its compo-
nent molecules, I can find no intelligible ground for re-
fusing to say that the properties of protoplasm result
from the nature and disposition of its molecules. But I
bid you beware that, in accepting these conclusions, you
are placing your feet on the first rung of a ladder which,
inmost people's estimation, is the reverse of Jacob's,
and leads to the antipodes of heaven. It may seem a
small thing to admit that the dull vital actions of a fun-
gus, or a foraminifer, are the properties of their proto-
plasm, and are the direct results of the nature of the
matter of which they are composed.
. But if, as I have endeavored to prove to you, their
protoplasm is essentially identical with, and most read-
ily converted into, that of any animal, I can discover no
logical halting place between the admission that such is
the case, and the further concession that all vital action
may, with equal propriety, be said to be the result of
the molecular forces of the protoplasm which displays
it. And if so, it must be true, in the same sense and
to the same extent, that the thoughts to which I am now
giving utterance, and your thoughts regarding them, are
the expression of molecular changes in that matter of life
which is the source of our other vital phenomena. Past

experience leads me to be tolerably certain that, when
the propositions I have just placed before you are acces-
sible to public comment and criticism, they will be con-
demned by many zealous persons, and perhaps by some
few of the wise and thoughtful. I should not wonder if
"gross and brutal materialism" were the mildest phrase
applied to them in certain quarters. And most un-
doubtedly the terms of the propositions are distinctly
materialistic. Nevertheless, two things are certain : the
one, that I hold the statements to be substantially true ;
the other, that I, individually, am no materialist, but, on
the contrary, believe materialism to involve grave philo-
sophical error.

This union of materialistic terminology with the repu-
diation of materialistic philosophy I share with some of
the most thoughtful men with whom I am acquainted.
And, when I first undertook to deliver the present dis-
course, it appeared to me to be a fitting opportunity to
explain how such an union is not only consistent with,
but necessitated by sound logic. I purposed to lead you
through the territory of vital phenomena to the mate-
rialistic slough in which you find yourselves now plunged,
and then to point out to you the sole path by which, in
my judgment, extrication is possible. An occurrence,
of which I was unaware until my arrival here last night,
renders this line of argument singularly opportune. I
found in your papers the eloquent address " On the
Limits of Philosophical Inquiry," which a distinguished
prelate of the English Church delivered before the mem-
bers of the Philosophical Institution on the previous
day. My argKment, also, turns upon this very point of

limits of philosophical inquiry ; and I cannot bring out
my own views better than by contrasting them with
those so plainly, and, in the main, fairly stated by the
Archbishop of York. But I may be permitted to make
a preliminary comment upon an occurrence that greatly
astonished me. Applying the name of " the New Phil-
osophy" to that estimate of the limits of philosophical
inquiry which I, in common with many other men of sci-
ence, hold to be just, the Archbishop opens his address
by identifying this " new philosophy" with the positive
philosophy of M. Comte (of whom he speaks as its "found-
er") ; and then proceeds to attack that philosopher and
his doctrine vigorously. Now, so far as I am concerned,
the most Reverend prelate might dialectically hew M.
Comte in pieces, as a modern Agag, and I should not
attempt to stay his hand. In so far as my study of what
specially characterizes the Positive Philosophy has led
me, I find therein little or nothing of any scientific value,
and a great deal which is as thoroughly antagonistic to
the very essence of science as anything in ultramon-
tane Catholicism. In fact, M. Comte's philosophy in
practice might be compendiously described as Catholi-
cism minus Christianity. But what has Comptism to do
with the " New Philosophy," as the Archbishop defines
it in the following passage ?

" Let me briefly remind you of the leading principles
of this new philosophy.

" All knowledge is experience of facts acquired by the
senses. The traditions of older philosophies have ob-
scured our experience by mixing with it much that the
senses cannot observe, and until these additions are dis-

carded our knowledge is impure. Thus, metaphysics
tells us that one fact which we observe is a cause, and
another is the effect of that cause ; but upon a rigid
analysis we find that our senses observe nothing of cause
or effect j they observe, first, that one fact succeeds an-
other, and, after some opportunity, that this fact has
never failed to follow — that for cause and effect we
should substitute invariable succession. An older phi-
losophy teaches us to define an object by distinguishing
its essential from its accidental qualities ; but experience
knows nothing of essential and accidental ; she sees
only that certain marks attach to an object, and, after
many observations, that some of them attach invariably,
whilst others may at times be absent. *****
As all knowledge is relative, the notion of anything
being necessary must be banished with other traditions."
There is much here that expresses the spirit of the
" New Philosophy," if by that term be meant the spirit
of modern science ; but I cannot but marvel that the
assembled wisdom and learning of Edinburg should have
uttered no sign of dissent, when Comte was declared to
be the founder of these doctrines. No one will accuse
Scotchmen of habitually forgetting their great country-
men ; but it was enough to make David Hume turn in
his grave, that here, almost within ear-shot of his house,
an instructed audience should have listened, without a
murmur, while his most characteristic doctrines were at-
tributed to a French writer of fifty years later date, in
whose dreary and verbose pages we miss alike the vigor
of thought and the exquisite clearness of the style of the
man whom I make bold to term the most acute thinker

3°

of the eighteenth century — even though that century pro-
duced Kant. But I did not come to Scotland to vindi-
cate the honor of one of the greatest men she has ever
produced. My business is to point out to you that the
only way of escape out of the crass materialism in which
we just now landed is the adoption and strict working
out of the very principles which the Archbishop holds
up to reprobation.

Let us suppose that knowledge is absolute, and not
relative, and therefore; that our conception of matter rep-
resents that which it really is. Let us suppose, further,
that we do know more of cause and effect than a certain
definite order of succession among facts, and that we
have a knowledge of the necessity of that succession —
and hence, of necessary laws — and I, for my part, do not
see what escape there is from utter materialism and nec-
essitarianism. For it is obvious that our knowledge of
what we call the material world is, to begin with, at least
as certain and definite as that of the spiritual world, and
that our acquaintance with the law is of as old a date as
our knowledge of spontaneity.

Further, I take it to be demonstrable that it is ut-
terly impossible to prove that anything whatever may not
be the effect of a material and necessary cause, and that
human logic is equally incompetent to prove that any
act is really spontaneous. A really spontaneous act is
one which, by the assumption, has no cause ; and the
attempt to prove such a negative as this is, on the face
of the matter, absurd. And while it is thus a philo-
sophical impossibility to demonstrate that any given
phenomenon is not the effect of a material cause, any

one who is acquainted with the history of science will
admit, that its progress has, in all ages, meant, and now
more than ever means, the extension of the province of
what we call matter and causation, and the concomitant
gradual banishment from all regions of human thought
of what we call spirit and spontaneity.

I have endeavored, in the first part of this discourse, to
give you a conception of the direction towards which mod-
ern physiology is tending ; and I ask you, what is the dif-
ference between the conception of life as the product of a
certain disposition of material molecules, and the old no-
tion of an Archaeus governing and directing blind mat-
ter within each living body, except this — that here, as
elsewhere, matter and law have devoured spirit and
spontaneity ? And as surely as every future grows out
of past and present, so will the physiology of the future
gradually extend the realm of matter and law until it is
coextensive with knowledge, with feeling, and with ac-
tion. The consciousnes of this great truth weighs like a
nightmare, I believe, upon many of the best minds of
these days. They watch what they conceive to be the
progress of materialism, in such fear and powerless
anger as a savage feels, when, during an eclipse, the
great shadow creeps over the face of the sun. The ad-
vancing tide of matter threatens to drown their souls ;
the tightening grasp of law impedes their freedom ; they
are alarmed lest man's moral nature be debased by the
increase of his wisdom.

If the " New Philosophy" be worthy of the reproba-
tion with which it is visited, I confess their fears seem to
me to be well founded. While, on the contrary, could

David Hume be consulted, I think he would smile at their
perplexities, and chide them for doing even as the heath-
en, and falling down in terror before the hideous idols their
own hands have raised. For, after all, what do we know
of this terrible " matter," except as a name for the un-
known and hypothetical cause of states of our own con-
sciousness ? And what do we know of that "spirit"
over whose threatened extinction by matter a great la-
mentation is arising, like that which was heard at the death
of Pan, except that it is also a name for an unknown
and hypothetical cause, or condition, of states of con-
sciousness ? In other words, matter and spirit are but
names for the imaginary substrata of groups of natural
phenomena. And what is the dire necessity and " iron"
law under which men groan ? Truly, most gratuitously
invented bugbears. I suppose if there be an " iron" law,
it is that of gravitation ; and if there be a physical ne-
cessity, it is that a stone, unsupported, must fall to the
ground. But what is all we really know and can know
about the latter phenomenon ? Simply, that, in all human
experience, stones have fallen to the ground under these
conditions ; that we have not the smallest reason for be-
lieving that any stone so circumstanced will not fall to
the ground, and that we have, on the contrary, every
reason to believe that it will so fall. It is very conven-
ient to indicate that all the conditions of belief have
been fulfilled in this case, by calling the statement that
unsupported stones will fall to the ground, " a law of na-
ture." But when, as commonly happens, we change will
into must, we introduce an idea of necessity which most
assuredly does not lie in the observed facts, and has no

warranty that I can discover elsewhere. For my part, I
utterly repudiate and anathematize the intruder. Fact,
I know ; and Law I know ; but what is this Necessity,
save an empty shadow of my own mind's throwing?
But, if it is certain that we can have no knowledge of
the nature of either matter or spirit, and that the notion
of necessity is something illegitimately thrust into the
perfectly legitimate conception of law, the materialistic
position that there is nothing in the world but matter,
force, and necessity, is as utterly devoid of justification
as the most baseless of theological dogmas.

The fundamental doctrines of materialism, like those
of spiritualism, and most other " isms," lie outside " the
limits of philosophical inquiry," and David Hume's great
service to humanity is his irrefragable demonstration of
what these limits are. Hume called himself a sceptic,
and therefore others cannot be blamed if they apply the
the same title to him ; but that does not alter the fact
that the name, with its existing implications, does him
gross injustice. If a man asks me what the politics of
the inhabitants of the moon are, and I reply that I do
not know ; that ^neither I, nor any one else have any
means of knowing; and that, under these circumstances
I decline to trouble myself about the subject at all, I do
not think he has any right to call me a sceptic. On
the contrary, in replying thus, I conceive that I am sim-
ply honest and truthful, and show a* proper regard for
the economy of time. So Hume's strong and subtle in-
tellect takes up a great many problems about which we
are naturally curious, and shows us that they are essen-
tially questions of lunar politics, in their essence inca.-

pable of being answered, and therefore not worth the
attention of men who have work to do in the world.
And thus ends one of his essays :

" If we take in hand any volume of Divinity, or school
•metaphysics, for instance, let us ask, Does it contain any
abstract reasoning concerning quantity or number ? No.
Does it contain any experimental reasoning concerning mat-
ter of fact and existence ? No. Commit it then to the
flames ; for it can contain nothing but sophistry and illu-

sion."

Permit me to enforce this most wise advice. Why
trouble ourselves about matters of which, however im-
portant they may be, we do know nothing, and can know
nothing ? We live in a world which is full of misery and
ignorance, and the plain duty of each and all of us is to
try to make the little corner he can influence somewhat
less miserable and somewhat less ignorant than it was
before he entered it. To do this effectually it is necessary
to be fully possessed of only two beliefs : the first, that
the order of nature is ascertainable by our faculties to
an extent which is practically unlimited ; the second,
that our volition counts for something as a condition of
the course of events. Each of these beliefs can be ver-
ified experimentally, as often as we like to try. Each,
therefore, stands upon the strongest foundation upon
which any belief can rest ; and forms one of our highest
truths.

If we find that the ascertainment of the order of nature
is facilitated by using one terminology, or one set of sym-
bols, rather than another, it is our clear duty to use the
former, and no harm can accrue so long as we bear in
mind that we are dealing merely with terms and symbols.

In itself it is of little momant whether we express the
phenomena of matter in terms of spirit, or the phenomena
of spirit in terms of matter ; matter may be regarded as
a form of thought, thought may be regarded as a property
of matter — each statement has a certain relative truth.
But with a view to the progress of science, the material-
istic terminology is in every way to be preferred. For it
connects thought with the other phenomena of the uni-
verse, and suggests inquiry into the nature of those physi-
ical conditions or concomitants of thought, which are
more or less accessible to us, and a knowledge of which
may, in future, help us to exercise the same kind of con-
trol over the world of thought as we already possess in
respect of the material world ; whereas, the alternative,
or spiritualistic, terminology is utterly barren, and leads
to nothing but obscurity and confusion of ideas. Thus
there can be little doubt that the further science ad-
vances, the more extensively and consistently will all the
phenomena of nature be represented by materialistic
formulae and symbols. But the man of science, who,
forgetting the limits of philosophical inquiry, slides from
these formulae and symbols into what is commonly un-
derstood by materialism, seems to me to place himself
on a level with the mathematician, who should mistake
the x's and fs, with which he works his problems, for
real entities — and with this further disadvantage as com-
pared with the mathematician, that the blunders of the
latter are of no practical consequence, while the errors
of systematic materialism may paralyze the energies ancj
destroy the beauty of a life,

THE CORRELATION OF VITAL AND
PHYSICAL FORCES.

THE CORRELATION

VITAL AND PHYSICAL FORCES.

In the Syracusan Poecile, says Alexander von Hum-
boldt in his beautiful little allegory of the Rhodian
Genius, hung a painting, which, for full a century, had
continued to attract the attention of every visitor. In
the foreground of this picture a numerous company of
youths and maidens of earthly and sensuous appearance
gazed fixedly upon a haloed Genius who hovered in
their midst. A butterfly rested upon his shoulder, and
he held in his hand a flaming torch. His every lineament
bespoke a celestial origin. The attempts to solve the
enigma of this painting — whose origin even was unknown
— though numerous, were all in vain, when one day a
ship arriving from Rhodes, laden with works of art,
brought another picture, at once recognized as its com-
panion. As before, the Genius stood in the center, but
the butterfly had disappeared, and the torch was reversed
and extinguished. The youths and maidens were no
longer sad and submissive, their mutual embraces an-
nouncing their entire emancipation from restraint. Still

4° (4)

unable to solve the riddle, Dionysius sent the pictures to
the Pythagorean sage, Epicharmus. After gazing upon
them long and earnestly, he said : Sixty years long have
I pondered on the internal springs of nature, and on
the differences inherent in matter \ but it is only this
day that the Rhodian Genius has taught me to see
clearly that which before I had only conjectured. In
inanimate nature, everything seeks its like. Everything,
as soon as formed, hastens to enter into new combina-
tions, and nought save the disjoining art of man can
present in a separate state ingredients which ye would
vainly seek in the interior of the earth or in the moving
oceans of air and water. Different, however, is the
blending of the same substances in animal and vegetable
bodies. Here vital force imperatively asserts its rights,
and heedless of the affinity and antagonism of the atoms,
unites substances which in inanimate nature ever flee
from each other, and separates that which is incessantly
striving to unite. Recognize, therefore, in the Rhodian
Genius, in the expression of his youthful vigor, in the
butterfly on his shoulder, in the commanding glance of
his eye, the symbol of vital force as it animates every
germ of organic creation. The earthly elements at his
feet are striving to gratify their own desires and to
mingle with one another. Imperiously the Genius
threatens them with upraised and high-flaming torch,
and compels them regardless of their ancient rights, to
obey his laws. Look now on the new work of art ;
turn from life to death. The butterfly has soared up-
ward, the extinguished torch is reversed, and the head
of the youth is drooping ; the spirit has fled to other
spheres, and the vital force is extinct. Now the youths

(5) 4i

and maidens join their hands in joyous accord. Earthly
matter again resumes its rights. Released from all
bonds, they impetuously follow their natural instincts,
and the day of his death is to them a day of nuptials.1

The view here put by Humboldt into the mouth of
Epicharmus may be taken as a fair representation of the
current opinion of all ages concerning vital force. To-
day, as truly as seventy-five years ago when Humboldt
wrote, the mysterious and awful phenomena of life are
commonly attributed to some controlling agent residing
in the organism — to some independent presiding deity,
holding it in absolute subjection. Such a notion it was
which prompted Heraclitus to talk of a universal fire,
Van Helmont to propose his Archaeus, Hofmann his
vital fluid, Hunter his materia vitcz diffusa> and Hum-
boldt his vital force.2 All these names assume the exist-
ence of a material or immaterial something, more or
less separable from the material body, and more or less
identical with the mind or soul, which is the cause of
the phenomena of living beings. But as science moved
irresistibly onward, and it became evident that the forces
of inorganic nature were neither deities nor imponder-
able fluids, separable from matter, but were simple af-
fections of it, analogy demanded a like concession in
behalf of vital force. 3 From the notion that the effects
of heat were due to an imponderable fluid called caloric,
discovery passed to the conviction that heat was but a
motion of material particles, and hence inseparable
from matter. To a like assumption concerning vitality
it was now but a step. The more advanced thinkers in
science of to-day, therefore, look upon the life of the
living form as inseparable from its substance, and be-

42 (6)

lieve that the former is purely phenomenal, and only a
manifestation of the latter. Denying the existence of a
special vital force as such, they retain the term only to
express the sum of the phenomena of living beings.

In calling your attention this evening to the Correla-
tion of the Physical and the Vital Forces, I have a two-
fold object in view. On the one hand, I would seek to
interest you in a comparatively recent discovery of Sci-
ence, and one which is destined to play a most import-
ant part in promoting man's welfare ; and on the other
I would inquire what part our own country has had in
these discoveries.

In the first place, then, let us consider what the evi-
dences are that vital and physical forces are correlated.
Let us inquire how far inorganic and organic forces may
be considered mutually convertible, and hence, in so
far, mutually identical. This may best be done by con-
sidering, first, what is to be understood by correlation •:
and second, how far are the physical forces themselves
correlated to each other.

At the outset of our discussion, we are met by an un-
fortunate ambiguity of language. The word Force, as
commonly used, has three distinct meanings ; in the
first place, it is used to express the cause of motion, as
when we speak of the force of gunpowder ; it is also
used to indicate motion itself, as when we refer to the
force of a moving cannon-ball ; and lastly it is employed
to express the effect of motion, as when we speak of the
blow which the moving body gives.4 Because of this con-
fusion, it has been found convenient to adopt Rankine's
suggestion,* and to substitute the word ' energy' therefor
And precisely as all force upon the earth's surface—-

(7)

using the term force in its widest sense — may be divided
into attraction and motion, so all energy is divided into
potential and actual energy, synonymous with those
terms. It is the chemical attraction of the atoms, or
their potential energy, which makes gunpowder so pow-
erful ; it is the attraction or potential energy of gravita-
tion which gives the power to a raised weight. If now,
the impediments be removed, the power just now latent
becomes active, attraction is converted into motion,
potential into actual energy, and the desired effect is
accomplished. The energy of gunpowder or of a raised
weight is potential, is capable of acting ; that of explod-
ing gunpowder or of a falling weight is actual energy
or motion. By applying a match to the gunpowder, by
cutting the string which sustains the weight, we convert
potential into actual energy. By potential energy, there-
fore, is meant attraction ; and by actual energy, motion.
It is in the latter sense that we shall use the word force
in this lecture ; and we shall speak of the forces of
heat, light, electricity and mechanical motion, and of
the attractions of gravitation, cohesion, chemism.

From what has now been said, it is obvious that when
we speak of the forces of heat, light, electricity or mo-
tion, we mean simply the different modes of motion
called by these names. And when we say that they
are correlated to each other, we mean simply that the
mode of motion called heat, light, electricity, is convert-
ible into any of the others, at pleasure. Correlation
therefore implies convertibility, and mutual dependence
and relationship.

Having now defined the use of the term force, and
shown that forces are correlated which are convertible

44 (8)

and mutually dependent, we go on to study the evidences
of such correlation among the motions of inorganic na-
ture usually called physical forces ; and to ask what
proof science can furnish us that mechanical motion,
heat, light, and electricity are thus mutually convertible.
As we have already hinted, the time was when these
forces were believed to be various kinds of imponder-
able matter, and chemists and physicists talked of the
union of iron with caloric as they talked of its union
with sulphur, regarding the caloric as much a distinct
and inconvertible entity as the iron and sulphur them-
selves. Gradually, however, the idea of 4he indestruct-
ibility of matter extended itself to force. And as it
was believed that no material particle could ever be
lost, so, it was argued, no portion of the force existing
in nature can disappear. Hence arose the idea of the
indestructibility of force. But, of course, it was quite
impossible to stop here. If force cannot be lost, the
question at once arises, what becomes of it when it
passes beyond our recognition ? This question led to
experiment, and out of experiment came the great fact
of force-correlation ; a fact which distinguished authority
has pronounced the most important discovery of the
present century.6 These experiments distinctly proved
that when any one of these forces disappeared, another
took its place ; that when motion was arrested, for ex-
ample, heat, light or electricity was developed. In short,
that these forces were so intimately related or correlated
— to use the word then proposed by Mr. Grove 7 — that
when one of them vanished, it did so only to reappear
in terms of another. But one step more was necessary
to complete this magnificent theory. What can produce

(9) 45

motion but motion itself? Into what can motion be con-
verted, but motion ? May not these forces, thus mutu-
ally convertible, be simply different modes of motion of
the molecules of matter, precisely as mechanical motion
is a motion of its mass ? Thus was born the dynamic
theory of force, first brought out in any completeness by
Mr. Grove, in 1842, in a lecture on the " Progress of
Physical Science," delivered at the London Institution.
In that lecture he said : " Light, heat, electricity, mag-
netism, motion, are all convertible material affections.
Assuming either as the cause, one of the others will be
the effect. Thus heat may be said to produce electricity,
electricity to produce heat ; magnetism to produce elec-
tricity, electricity magnetism ; and so of the rest." 8

A few simple experiments will help us to fix in our
minds the great fact of the convertibility of force.
Starting with actual visible motion, correlation requires
that when it disappears as motion, it should reappear as
heat, light, or electricity. If the moving body be elastic
like this rubber ball, then its motion is not destroyed
when it strikes, but is only changed in direction. But
if it be non-elastic, like this ball of lead, then it does
not rebound ; its motion is converted into heat. The
motion of this sledge-hammer, for example, which if re-
ceived upon this anvil would be simply changed in
direction, if allowed to fall upon this bar of lead, is
converted into heat ; the evidence of which is that a
piece of phosphorus placed upon the lead is at once in-
flamed. So too, if motion be arrested by the cushion
of air in this cylinder, the heat evolved fires the tinder
carried in the plunger. But it is not necessary that the
arrest of motion should be sudden ; it may be gradual,

46 (io)

as in the case of friction. If this cylinder containing
water or alcohol be caused to revolve rapidly between
the two sides of this wooden rubber, the heat due to the
arrested motion will raise the temperature of the liquid
to the boiling point, and the cork will be expelled. But
motion may also be converted into electricity. Indeed
electricity is always the result of friction between hete-
rogeneous particles. 9 When this piece of hard rubber,
for example, is rubbed with the fur of a cat, it is at once
electrified ; and now if it be caused to communicate a
portion of its charge to this glass plate, to which at the
same time we add the mechanical motion of rotation,
the strong sparks produced give evidence of the con-
version.

So, too, taking heat as the initial force, motion, light,
electricity may be produced. In every steam-engine
the steam which leaves the cylinder is cooler than that
which entered it, and cooler by exactly the amount of
work done. The motion of the piston's mass is pre-
cisely that lost by the steam molecules which batter
against it. The conversion of heat into electricity, too,
is also easily effected. When the junction of two met-
als is heated, electricity is developed. If the two metals
be bismuth and antimony, as represented in this dia-
gram, the currents flow as indicated by the arrows ; and
by multiplying the number of pairs, the effect may be
proportionately increased. Such an arrangement, called
a thermo-electric battery, we have here ; and by it, the
heat of a single gas-burner may be made to move, when
converted, this little electric bell-engine. Moreover,
heat and light have the very closest analogy ; exalt the
rapidity with which the molecules move and light ap-
pears, the difference being only one of intensity.

(") 47

Again, if electricity be our starting point, we may ac-
complish its conversion into the other forces. Heat
results whenever its passage is interrupted or resisted ;
a wire of the poorly conducting metal platinum becom-
ing even red hot by the converted electricity. To pro-
duce light, of course, we need only to intensify this
action ; the brightest artificial light known, results from
a direct conversion of electricity.

Enough has now been said to establish our point.
What is to be particularly observed of these pieces
of apparatus is that they are machines especially de-
signed for th6 conversion of some one force into an-
other. And we expect of them only that conversion.
We pass on to consider for a moment the quantita-
tive relations of this mutual convertibility. We no-
tice, in the first place, that in all cases save one, the
conversion is not perfect, a part of the force used not
being utilized, on the one hand, and on the other,
other forces making their appearance simultaneously.
While, for example, the conversion of motion into heat
is quite complete, the inverse conversion is not at all so.
And on the other hand, when motion is converted into
electricity, a part of it appears as heat. This simulta-
neous production of many forces is well illustrated by
our little bell-engine, which converts the electricity of
the thermo-battery into magnetism, and this into motion,
a part of which expends itself as sound. For these
reasons the question " How much ?" is one not easily
answered in all cases. The best known of these rela-
tions is that between motion and heat, which was first
established by Mr. Joule in 1849, after seven years of
patient investigation.10 The apparatus which he used is

shown in the diagram. It consists of a cylindrical bo*
of metal, through the cover of which passes a shaft,
carrying upon its lower end a set of paddles, immersed
in water within the box, and upon its upper portion a
drum, on which arc wound two cords, which, passing in
opposite directions, run over pulleys, and are attached
to known weights. The temperature of the water with-
in the box being carefully noted, the weights are then
allowed to fall a certain number of times, of course in
their fall turning the paddles against the friction of the
liquid. At the close of the experiment the water is
found to be warmer than before. And by measuring
the amount of this rise in temperature, knowing the dis-
tance through which the weights have fallen, it is easy
to calculate the quantity of heat which corresponds to a
given amount of motion. In this way, and as a mean
of a large number of experiments, Mr. Joule found that
the amount of mass motion in a body weighing one
pound, which had fallen from a hight of 772 feet, was
exactly equal to the molecular motion which must be
added to a pound of water, in order to heat it one de-
gree Fahrenheit. If we call the actual energy of a
body weighing one pound which has fallen one foot, a
foot-pound, then we may speak of the mechanical equiv-
alent of heat as being 772 foot-pounds.

The significance and value of this numerical constant
will appear more clearly if we apply it to the solution of
one or two simple problems. During the recent war two
immense iron guns were cast in Pittsburgh, whose weight
was nearly 112,000 pounds each, and which had a caliber
of 20 inches." Upon this diagram is a calculation of the
effective blow which the solid shot of such a gun, assum-

( '3 ) 49

ing its weight to be 1,000 pounds and its velocity 1,100
feet per second, would give ; it is 902,797 tons !12 Now,
if it were possible to convert the whole of this enormous
mechanical power into heat, to how much would it cor-
respond ? This question may be answered by the aid
of the mechanical equivalent of heat ; here is the cal-
culation, from which we see that when 17 gallons of
ice-cold water are heated to the boiling point, as much
energy is communicated as is contained in the death-
dealing missile at its highest velocity.13 Again, if we take
the impact of a larger cannon-ball, our earth, which is
whirling through space with a velocity of 19 miles a
second, we find it to be 98,416,136,000,000,000,000,000,-
000,000,000 tons I1* Were this energy all converted into
heat, it would equal that produced by the combustion
of 14 earths of solid coal.1*

The conversion of heat into motion, however, as al-
ready stated, is not as perfect. The best steam-engines
economize only one-twentieth of the heat of the fuel.16
Hence if a steamship require 600 tons of coal to carry
her across the Atlantic, 570 tons will be expended in
heating the waters of the ocean, the heat of the remain-
ing 30 tons only being converted into work.

One other quantitative determination of force has
also been made. Prof. Julius Thomsen, of Copenhagen,
has fixed experimentally the mechanical equivalent of
light.1? He finds that the energy of the light of a sper-
maceti candle burning 126)4 grains per hour, is equal
in mechanical value to 13*1 foot-pounds per minute.
The same conclusion has been reached by Mr. Farmer,
of Boston, from different data.18

If we pass from the^ actual physical energies or mo-

go (M)

tions to consider for a moment the potential energies or
attractions, we find, also, an intimate correlation. Since
all energy not active in motion is potential in attraction,
it follows that in the attractions we have energy stored
up for subsequent use. The sun is thus storing up
energy : every minute it raises 2,000,000,000 tons of
water to the mean hight of the clouds, 3^2 miles ; and
the actual energy set free when this water falls is equal
to 2,757,000,000,000 horse powers. Z9 So when the oxy-
gen and the zinc of the ore are separated in the furnace,
the actual energy of heat becomes the potential energy of
chemical attraction, which again becomes actual in the
form of electricity when the zinc is dissolved in an acid.
We see, then, that not only may any form of force or
actual energy be stored up as any form of attraction or
potential energy, but that the latter, from whatsoever
source derived, may appear as heat, light, electricity, or
mechanical motion.

Having now established the fact of correlation for
the physical forces, we have next to inquire what are
the evidences of the correlation of the vital forces with
them. But in the first place it must be remarked that
life is not a simple term like heat or electricity ; it is
a complex term, and includes all those phenomena
which a living body exhibits. In this discussion, there-
fore, we shall use the term vital force to express only
the actual energy of the body, however manifested. As
to the attractions or the potential energy of the organ-
ism, nothing is more fully settled in science than the
fact that these are precisely the same within the body
as without it. Every particle of matter within the body
obeys implicitly the laws of the chemical and physical

OS) St

attractions. No overpowering or supernatural agency
comes in to complicate their action, which is modified
only by the action of the others. Vitality, therefore, is
the sum of the energies of a living body, both potential
and actual.

Moreover, the important fact must be fully recognized
that in living beings we have to do with no new elemen-
tary forms of matter. Precisely the same atoms which
build up the inorganic fabric, compose the organic. In
the early days of chemistry, indeed, it was supposed
that the complicated molecules which life produced
were beyond the reach of simple chemical law. But as
more and more complex molecules have been, one after
another, produced, chemistry has become re-assured, and
now doubts not her ability to produce them all. A few
years hence, and she will doubtless give us quinine and
protagon, as she now gives us coumarin and neurine,
substances the synthesis of which was but yesterday an
impossibility.20

In studying the phenomena of living beings, it is im-
portant also to bear in mind the different and at the
same time the coordinate purposes subserved by the
two great kingdoms of nature. The food of the plant
is matter whose energy is all expended ; it is a fallen
weight. But the plant-organism receives it, exposes it
to the sun's ray, and, in a way yet mysterious to us, con-
verts the actual energy of the sunlight into potential en-
ergy within it. The fallen weight is thus raised, and
energy is stored up in substances which now are alone
competent to become the food of the animal. This food
is not such because any new atoms have been added to
it ; it is food because it contains within it potential en-

S2 (16)

ergy, which at any time may become actual as force.
This food the animal now appropriates ; he brings it in
contact with oxygen, and the potential energy becomes
actual ; he cuts the string, the weight falls, and what was
just now only attraction, has become actual force ; this
force he uses for his own purposes, and hands back the
oxidized matter, the fallen weight, to the plant to be
again de-oxidized, to be again raised. The plant then
is to regarded as a machine for converting sunlight into
potential energy ; the animal, a machine for setting the
potential energy free as actual, and economizing it. The
force which the plant stores up is undeniably physical ;
must not the force which the animal sets free by its con-
version, be intimately correlated to it ?

But approaching our question still more closely, let
us, in illustration of the vital forces of the animal econ-
omy, choose three forms of its manifestation in which
to seek for the evidences of correlation ; these shall be
heat, evolved within the body ; muscular energy or mo-
tion ; and lastly, nervous energy, or that form of force
which, on the one hand, stimulates a muscle to contract,
and on the other, appears in forms called mental.

The heat which is produced by the living body is ob-
viously of the same nature as heat from any other source ;
it is recognized by the same tests, and may be applied for
the same purposes. As to its origin, it is evident that
since potential energy exists in the food which enters
the body, and is there converted into force, a portion of
it may become the actual energy of heat. And since,
too, the heat produced in the body is precisely such as
would be set free by the combustion of this food out-
side of it, it is fair to assume that it thus originates. To

(i7) 53

this may be added the chemical argument that while
food capable of yielding heat by combustion is taken
into the body, its constituents are completely or almost
completely, oxidized before leaving it ; and since oxida-
tion always evolves heat, the heat of the body must
have its origin in the oxidation of the food. Moreover,
careful measurements have demonstrated that the amount
of heat given off by the body of a man weighing 180
pounds is about 2,500,000 units. Accurate calculations
have shown, on the other hand, that 288*4 grams of car-
bon and 1 2 '56 grams of hydrogen are available in the
daily food for the production of heat. If burned out of
the body, these quantities of carbon and hydrogen would
yield 2,765,134 heat units. Burned within it, as we have
just seen, 2,500,000 units appear as heat ; the rest in
other forms of energy.21 We conceive, however, that no
long argument is necessary to prove that animal heat
results from a conversion of energy within the body j or
that the vital force heat, is as truly correlated to the
other forces as when it it has a purely physical origin.

The belief that the muscular force exerted by an ani-
mal is created by him is by no means confined to the
very earliest ages of history. Traces of it appear to
the careful observer even now, although, as Dr. Frank-
land says, science has proved that "an animal can no
more generate an amount of force capable of moving a
grain of sand than a stone can fall upward or a loco-
motive drive a train without fuel."22 In studying the
characters of muscular action we notice, first, that, as
in the case of heat, the force which it develops is in no
wise different from motion in inorganic nature. In the
early part of the lecture, motion produced by the con-

54 (t8)

traction of muscle, was used to show the conversion of
mass-force into molecular force. No one in this room
believes, I presume, that the result would have been at
all different, had the motion been supplied by a steam-
engine or a water-wheel. Again, food, as we have seen,
is of value for the potential energy it contains, which
may become actual in the body. Liebig, in 1842, as-
serted that for the production of muscular force, the
food must first be converted into muscular tissue,23 a
view until recently accepted by physiologists.^ It has
been conclusively shown, however, within a few yeare,
that muscular force cannot come from the oxidation of
its own substance, since the products of this metamor
phosis are not increased in amount by muscular exer-
tion.^ Indeed, reasoning from the whole amount of such
products excreted, the oxidation of the amount of mus-
cle which they represent would furnish scarcely one-
fifth of the mechanical force of the body. But while
the products of tissue- oxidation do not increase with
the increase of muscular exertion, the amount of car-
bonic gas exhaled by the lungs is increased in the exact
ratio of the work done.26 No doubt can be entertained,
therefore, that the actual energy of the muscle is simply
the converted potential energy of the carbon of the food.
A muscle, therefore, like a steam-engine, is a machine
for converting the potential energy of carbon into motion.
But unlike a steam-engine, the muscle accomplishes this
conversion directly, the energy not passing through the
intermediate stage of heat. For this reason, the mus-
cle is the most economical producer of mechanical force
known. While no machine whatever can transform all
of the energy into motion — the most economical steam

(i9) 55

engine^ utilizing only one-twentieth of the heat — the
muscle is able to convert one-fifth of the energy of the
food into work.2? The other four-fifths must, therefore,
appear as heat. Whenever a muscle contracts, then,
four times as much energy appears as heat as is con-
verted into motion. Direct experiments by Heidenhain
have confirmed this, by showing that an important rise
of temperature attends muscular contraction ; 28 a fact,
however, apparent to any one who has ever taken active
exercise. The work done by the animal body is of two
sorts, internal and external. The former includes the
action of the heart, of the respiratory muscles, and of
those assisting the digestive process. The latter refers
to the useful work the body may perform. Careful esti-
mates place the entire work of the body at about 800
foot-tons daily ; of which 450 foot-tons is internal, 350
foot-tons external work. And since the internal work
ultimately appears as heat within the body, the actual
loss of heat by the production of motion is the equiv-
alent of the 350 foot-tons which represents external
work. This by a simple calculation will be found to be
250,000 heat units, almost the precise amount by which
the heat yielded by the food when burned without the
body, exceeds that actually evolved by the organism.
Moreover, while the total heat given off by the body is
2,500,000 units, the amount of energy evolved as work
is equal to about 600,000 heat units ; hence the amount
of work done by a muscle is as above stated, one-fifth
of the actual energy derivable from the food. One point
further. The law of correlation requires that the heat set
free when a muscle in contracting does work, shall be
less than when it effects nothing j this fact, too, has been

56 ( 20 ;

experimentally established by Heidenhain.2? So, again,
when muscular contraction does not result in motion,
as when one tries to raise a weight too heavy for him,
the energy which would have appeared as work, takes
the form of heat : a result deducible by the law of cor-
relation from the steam-engine.

The last of the so-called vital forces which we are to
examine, is that produced by the nerves and nervous
centers. In the nerve which stimulates a muscle to
contract, this force is undeniably motion, since it is
propagated along this nerve from one extremity to the
other. In common language, too, this idea finds cur-
rency in the comparison of this force to electricity ; the
gray or cellular matter being the battery, the white or
fibrous matter the conductors. That this force is not
electricity, however, Du Bois-Reymond has demonstrated
by showing that its velocity is only 97 feet in a second,
a speed equaled by the greyhound and the race-horse. 3°
In his opinion, the propagation of a nervous impulse is
a sort of successive molecular polarization, like mag-
netism. But that this agent is a force, as analogous to
electricity as is magnetism, is shown not only by the
fact that the transmission of electricity along a nerve
will cause the contraction of the muscle to which it
leads, but also by the more important fact that the con-
traction of a muscle is excited by diminishing its nor-
mal electrical current ;3* a result which could take place
only with a stimulus closely allied to electricity. Nerve-
force, therefore, must be a transmuted potential energy.

What, now, shall we say of that highest manifestation
of animal life, thought-power ? Has the upper region
called intelligence and reason, any relations to physical

2I 57

force ? This realm has not escaped the searching in-
vestigation of modern science ; and although in it in-
vestigations are vastly more difficult than in any of the
regions thus far considered, yet some results of great
value have been obtained, which .may help us to a solu-
tion of our problem. It is to be observed at the outset
that every external manifestation of thought-force is a
muscular one, as a word spoken or written, a gesture, or
an expression of the face ; and hence this force must
be intimately correlated with nerve-force. These mani-
festations, reaching the mind through the avenues of
sense, awaken accordant trains of thought only when
this muscular evidence is understood. A blank sheet
of paper excites no emotion ; even covered with Assyr-
ian cuneiform characters, its alternations of black and
white awaken no response in the ordinary brain. It is
only when, by a frequent repetition of these impressions,
the brain-cell has been educated, that these before
meaningless characters awaken thought. Is thought,
then, simply a cell action which may or may not result
in muscular expression — an action which originates new
combinations of truth only, precisely as a calculating
machine evolves new combinations of figures ? What-
ever we define thought to be, this fact appears certain,
that it is capable of external manifestation by conver-
sion into the actual energy of motion, and only by this
conversion. But here tr^e question arises, Can it be
manifested inwardly without such a transformation of
energy ? Or is the evolution of thought entirely inde-
pendent of the matter of the brain ? Experiments, in-
genious and reliable, have answered this question. The
importance of the results will, I trust, warrant me in

58 (22)

examining the methods employed in these experiments
somewhat in detail. Inasmuch as our methods for
measuring minute amounts of electricity are very perfect,
and the methods for the conversion of heat into elec-
tricity are equally delicate, it has been found that smaller
differences of temperature may be recognized by con-
verting the heat into electricity, than can be detected
thermometrically. The apparatus, first used by Melloni
in i832,32 is very simple, consisting first, of a pair of
metallic bars like those described in the early part of
the lecture, for effecting the conversion of the heat ; and
second, of a delicate galvanometer, for measuring the
electricity produced. In the experiments in question
one of the bars used was made of bismuth, the other
of an alloy of antimony and zinc.33 Preliminary trials
having shown that any change of temperature within
the skull was soonest manifested externally in that de-
pression which exists just above the occipital protuber-
ance, a pair of these little bars was fastened to the head
at this point ; and to neutralize the results of a general
rise of temperature over the whole body, a second pair,
reversed in direction, was attached to the leg or arm, so
that if a like increase of heat came to both, the elec-
tricity developed by one would be neutralized by the
other, and no effect be produced upon the needle unless
only one was affected. By long practice it was ascer-
tained that a state of mental torpor could be induced,
lasting for hours, in which the needle remained sta-
tionary. But let a person knock on the door outside
the room, or speak a single word, even thc-ugh the ex-
perimenter remained absolutely passive, and the recep-
tion of the intelligence caused the needle to swing

*3 59

through 20 degrees.34 In explanation of this production
of heat, the analogy of the muscle at once suggests
itself. No conversion of energy is complete ; and as
the heat of muscular action represents force which has
escaped conversion into motion, so the heat evolved
during the reception of an idea, is energy which has es-
caped conversion into thought, from precisely the same
cause. Moreover, these experiments have shown that
ideas which affect the emotions, produce most heat in
their reception • " a few minutes' recitation to one's self
of emotional poetry, producing more effect than several
hours of deep thought." Hence it is evident that the
mechanism for the production of deep thought, accom-
plishes this conversion of energy far more perfectly
than that which produces simply emotion. But we may
take a step further in this same direction. A muscle,
precisely as the law of correlation requires, develops
less heat when doing work than when it contracts with-
out doing it. Suppose, now, that beside the simple re-
ception of an idea by the brain, the thought is expressed
outwardly by some muscular sign. The conversion now
takes two directions, and in addition to the production
of thought, a portion of the energy appears as nerve and
muscle-power ; less, therefore, should appear as heat,
according to our,law of correlation. Dr. Lombard's ex-
periments have shown that the amount of heat devel-
oped by the recitation to one's self of emotional poetry,
was in every case less when that recitation was oral ;
/. e., had a muscular expression. These results are in
accordance with the well-known fact that emotion often
finds relief in physical demonstrations ; thus diminishing
the emotional energy by converting it into muscular.

60 ( 24 )

Nor do these facts rest upon physical evidence alone.
Chemistry teaches that thought-force, like muscle-force,
comes from the food ; and demonstrates that the force
evolved by the brain, like that produced by the muscle,
comes not from the disintegration of its own tissue, but
is the converted energy of burning carbon. 3s Can we
longer doubt, then, that the brain, too, is a machine for
the conversion of energy ? Can we longer refuse to be-
lieve that even thought is, in some mysterious way, cor-
related to the other natural forces ? and this, even in
face of the fact that it has never yet been measured ? 36

I cannot close without saying a word concerning the
part which our own country has had in the development
of these great truths. Beginning with heat, we find that
the material theory of caloric is indebted for its over-
throw more to the distinguished Count Rumford than to
any other one man. While superintending the boring
of cannon at the Munich Arsenal towards the close of
the last century, he was struck by the large amount of
heat developed, and instituted a careful series of exper-
iments to ascertain its origin. These experiments led
him to the conclusion that " anything which any in-
sulated body or system of bodies can continue to furnish
without limitation, cannot possibly be a material sub-
stance." But this man, to whom must be ascribed the
discovery of the first great law of the correlation of
energy, was an American. Born in Woburn, Mass., in
1753, he, under the name of Benjamin Thompson,
taught school afterward at Concord, N. H., then called
Rumford. Unjustly suspected of toryism during our
Revolutionary war, he went abroad and distinguished
himself in the service of several of the Governments of

Europe. He did not forget his native land, though she
had treated him so unfairly ; when the honor of knight-
hood was tendered him, he chose as his title the name
of the Yankee village where he had taught school, and
was thenceforward known as Count Rumford. And at
his death, by founding a professorship in Harvard Col-
lege, and donating a prize-fund to the American Acad-
emy of Arts and Sciences at Boston, he showed his in-
terest in her prosperity and advancement.^ Nor has
the field of vital forces been without earnest workers
belonging to our own country. Professors John W.
Drapers8 and Joseph Henry 39 were among its earliest
explorers. And in 1851, Dr. J. H. Watters, now of St.
Louis, published a theory of the origin of vital force,
almost identical with that for which Dr. Carpenter, of
London, has of late received so much credit. Indeed,
there is Some reason to believe that Dr. Watters's essay
may have suggested to the distinguished English physi-
ologist the germs of his own theory.^0 A paper on this
subject by Prof. Joseph Leconte, of Columbia, S. C., pub-
lished in 1859, attracted much attention abroad.^1 The
remarkable results already given on the relation of heat
to mental work, which thus far are unique in science, we
owe to Professor J. S. Lombard, of Harvard College : <2
th6 very combination of metals used in his apparatus
being devised by our distinguished electrical engineer,
Mr. Moses G. Farmer. Finally, researches conducted
by Dr. T. R. Noyes in the Physiological Laboratory of
Yale College, have confirmed the theory that muscular
tissue does not wear during action, up to the point of
fatigue ;« and other researches by Dr. L. H. Wood have
first established the same great truth for brain-tissue.^

62 (26)

We need not be ashamed, then, of our part in this ad-
vance in science. Our workers are, indeed, but few ;
but both they and their results will live in the records
of the world's progress. More would there be now of
them were such studies more fostered and encouraged.
Self-denying, earnest men are ready to give themselves
up to the solution of these problems, if only the means
of a bare subsistence be allowed them. When wealth
shall foster science, science will increase wealth — wealth
pecuniary, it is true : but also wealth of knowledge,
which is far better.

In looking back over the whole of this discussion, I
trust that it is possible to see that the objects which we
had in view at its commencement have been more or
less fully attained. I would fain believe that we now
see more clearly the beautiful harmonies of bounteous
nature ; that on her many-stringed instrument force an-
swers to force, like the notes of a great symphony j dis-
appearing now in potential energy, and anon reappear-
ing as actual energy, in a multitude of forms. I would
hope that this wonderful unity and mutual interaction
of force in the dead forms of inorganic nature, appears
to you identical in the living forms of animal and vege-
table life, which make of our earth an Eden. That
even that mysterious, and in many aspects awful, power
of thought, by which man influences the present and
future ages, is a part of this great ocean of energy. But
here the great question rolls upon us, Is it only this ?
Is there not behind this material substance, a higher
than molecular power in the thoughts which are immor-
talized in the poetry of a Milton or a Shakespeare, the
art creations of a Michael Angelo or a Titian, the har-

(27) 63

monies of a Mozart or a Beethoven ? Is there really
no immortal portion separable from this brain-tissue,
though yet mysteriously united to it ? In a word, does
this curiously-fashioned body inclose a soul, God-given
and to God returning ? Here Science veils her face
and bows in reverence before the Almighty. We have
passed the boundaries by which physical science is in-
closed. No crucible, no subtle magnetic needle can
answer now our questions. No word but His who
formed us, can break the awful silence. In presence of
such a revelation Science is dumb, and faith comes in
joyfully to accept that higher truth which can never be
the object of physical demonstration.

NOTES AND REFERENCES.

1 HUMBOLDT, Views of Nature, Bohn's ed., London, 1850, p. 380.
This allegory did not appear in the first edition of the Views of
Nature. In the preface to the second edition the author gives the
following account of its origin : " Schiller," he says, " in remem-
brance of his youthful medical studies, loved to converse with me,
during my long stay at Jena, on physiological subjects." * * *
" It was at this period that I wrote the little allegory on Vital Force,
called The Rhodian Genius. The predilection which Schiller en-
tertained for this piece, which he admitted into his periodical, Die
Horen, gave me courage to introduce it here." It was published in
Die Horen in 1 795.

2 HUMBOLDT, op. cit., p. 386. In his Aphorism* ex doctrina Phys-
iologies chemica Plantarum, appended to his Flora Fribergensis sub-
terranea, published in 1793., Humboldt had said "Vim internam,
quae chymicae affinitatis vincula resolvit, atque obstat, quominus
elementa corporum libere conjungantur, vitalem vocamus." " That
internal force, which dissolves the bonds of chemical affinity, and
prevents the elements of bodies from freely uniting, we call vital."
But in a note to the allegory above mentioned, added to the third edi-
tion of the Views of Nature in 1849, he says : "Reflection and pro-
longed study in the departments of physiology and chemistry have
deeply shaken my earlier belief in peculiar so-called vital forces. In
the year 1 797, * * * I already declared that I by no means re -
garded the existence of these peculiar vital forces as established."
And again: "The difficulty of satisfactorily referring the vital phe-

66 (3o)

nomena of the organism to physical and chemical laws depends chiefly
(and almost in the same manner as the prediction of meteorological
processes in the atmosphere) on the complication of the phenomena,
and on the great number of the simultaneously acting forces as well
as the conditions of their activity."

3 Compare HENRY BENCE JONES, Croonian Lectures on Matter
and Force. London, 1868, John Churchill & Sons.

4 Ib., Preface, p. vi.

5 RANKINE, W. J. M., Philosophical Magazine, Feb., 1853.
Also Edinburgh Philosophical Journal, July, 1855.

6 ARMSTRONG, Sir WM. In his address as President of the
British Association for the Advancement of Science. Rep. Brit.
Assoc., 1863, li.

7 GROVE, W. R., in 1842. Compare "Nature" i, 335, Jan. 27,
1870. Also Appleton's Journal, iii, 324, Mch. 19, 1870.

8 Id., in Preface to The Correlation of Physical Forces, 4th ed.
Reprinted in The Correlation and Conservation of Forces, edited
by E. L. Youmans, p. 7. New York, 1865, D. Appleton & Co.

9 Id., ib., Am. ed., p. 33 et seq.

10 JOULE, J. P., Philosophical Transactions, 1850, p. 61.

11 See American Journal of Science, II, xxxvii, 296, 1864.

12 The work (W) done by a moving body is commonly expressed
"by the formula W=MV2, in which M, or the mass of the body, is

equal to — j /. e., to the weight divided by twice the intensity

of gravity. The work done by our cannon-ball then, would be

- — - y- =9,404* 1 4 foot-tons. If, further, we assume the re-
2X041-3 ,

sisting body to be of such a character as to bring the ball to
rest in moving ^ of an inch, then the final pressure would be
9,4O4'i4X 12X4=45 1, 3987 tons- But since, "in the case of a pre-
fectly elastic body, or of a resistance proportional to the advance of
the center of gravity of the impinging body from the point at which
contact first takes place, the final pressure (provided the body

Struck is perfectly rigid) is double what would occur were the stop-
page to occur at the end of a corresponding advance against a uni-
form resistance," this result must be multiplied by two ; and we gel
(45I>398'7X2) 902,797 tons as the crushing pressure of the ball un-
der these conditions. [The author's thanks are due to his friends
Pres. F. A. P. Barnard and Mr. J. J. Skinner for suggestions on
the relation of impact to statical pressure.]

13 The unit of impact being that given by a body weighing one
pound and moving one foot a second, the impact of such a body
falling from a hight of 772 feet — the velocity acquired being 222)4
feet per second (=*/~^) — would be IX (2223^)2=49,408 units, the
equivalent in impact of one heat-unit. A cannon-ball weighing
1000 Ibs. and moving noo feet a second would have an impact of
( i ioo)2X 1000= i, 2 10,000,000 units. Dividing this by 49,408, the
quotient is 24489 heat-units, the equivalent of the impact. The
•specific heat of iron being '1138, this amount of heat would raise
the temperature of one pound of iron 215,191° F. (24,489 X '1138) or
of 1000 pounds of iron 215° F. 24489 pounds of water heated one
degree, is equal to 1363-0 pounds, or 17 gallons U. S., heated 180
degrees ; ;'. *?., from 32° to 212° F.

14 Assuming the density of the earth to be 5-5, its weight would
be 6,500,000,000,000,000,000,000 tons, and its impact — by the for-
mula given above — would be 1,025,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,-
ooo foot-tons. Making the same supposition as in the case of our
cannon-ball, the final pressure would be that here stated.

15 TYNDALL, J., Heat considered as a mode of Motion; Air), ed.,
p. 57, New York, 1863.

1 6 RANKINE (The Steam-engine and other prime Movers, Lon-
don, 1866,) gives the efficiency of Steam-engines as from i-i5th to
I -20th of the heat of the fuel.

ARMSTRONG, Sir WM., places this efficiency at i-ioth as the
maximum. In practice, the average result is only i-3Oth. Rep.
Brit. Assoc., 1863, p. liv.

HELMHOLTZ, H. L. F., says : "The best expansive engines give
back as mechanical work only eighteen per cent, of the heat gen-
erated by the fuel." Interaction of Natural Forces, in Correlation
and Conservation of Forces, p. 227.

17 THOMSEN, JULIUS, Poggendorff's Annalen, cxx;?/t 3
in abstract in Am. J. Sci., II, xli, 396, May, 1866.

18 American Journal of Science, II, xli, 214, March,

19 In this calculation the annual evaporation from the ocean is
assumed to be about 9 feet. (See Dr. BUIST, quoted in Maury's
Phys. Geography of the Sea, New York, 1861, p. n.) Calling the
water-area of our globe 150,000,000 square miles, the total evap-
oration in tons per minute, would be that here given. Inasmuch
as 30,000 pounds raised one-foot high is a horse-power, the number
of horse-powers necessary to raise this quantity of water 3 M miles
in one minute is 2,757,000,000,000. This amount of energy is pre-
cisely that set free again when this water falls as rain.

20 Compare ODLING, WM., Lectures on Animal Chemistry, Lon-
don, 1866. "In broad antagonism to the doctrines which only a
few years back were regarded as indisputable, we now find that the
chemist, like the plant, is capable of producing from carbonic acid
and water a whole host of organic bodies, and we see no reason to
question his ultimate ability to reproduce all animal and vegetable
principles whatsoever." (p.. 52.)

" Already hundreds of organic principles have been built up from
their constituent elements, and there is now no reason to doubt our
capability of producing all organic principles whatsoever in a sim-
ilar manner." (p. 58.)

Dr. Odling is the successor of Faraday as Fullerian Professor
of Chemistry in the Royal Institution of Great Britain.

21 MARSHALL, JOHN, Outlines of Physiology, American edition,
1868, p. 916.

22 FRANKLAND, EDWARD, On the Source of Muscular Power,
Proc. Roy. Inst, June 8, 1866; Am. J. Sci., II, xlii, 393, Nov. 1866.

23 LIEBIG, JUSTUS VON, Die organische Chemie in ihrer Anwen-
dung auf Physiologie und Pathologic, Braunschweig, 1842. Also
in his Animal Chemistry, edition of 1852 (Am. ed., p. 26), where he
says " Every motion increases the amount of organized tissue which
undergoes metamorphosis."

24 Compare DRAPER, JOHN WM. Human Physiology.

(33) 69

PLAYFAIR, LYON, On the Food of Man in relation to his useful
ttv,,-*, Edinburgh, 1865. Proc. Roy. Inst., Apr. 28, 1865.
RANKE, Tetanus eine Physiologische Studie, Leipzig, 1865.
ODLING, op. tit.

2$ VOIT, E., Untersuchungen iiber den Einfluss des Kochsalzes,
des Kaffees, und der Muskelbewegungen auf den Stoffwechsel,
Munich, 1860.

SMITH, E., Philosophical Transactions, 1861, 747.

FICK, A., and WISLICENUS, J., Phil. Mag., IV, xxxi, 485.

FRANKLAND, E., loc. tit.

NOYES, T. R., American Journal Medical Sciences, Oct. 1867.

PARKES, E. A., Proceedings Royal Society, xv, 339 ; xvi, 44.

26 SMITH, EDWARD, Philosophical Transactions, 1859, 709.

27 Authorities differ as to the amount of energy converted
by the steam-engine. (See Note 16.) Compare MARSHALL,
op. tit., p. 918. "Whilst, therefore, in an engine one-twentieth
part only of the fuel consumed is utilized as mechanical power, one-
fifth of the food absorbed by man is so appropriated."

28 HEIDENHAIN, Mechanische Leistung Warmeentwickelung
und Stoffumsatz bei der Muskelthatigkeit, Breslau, 1864.

See also HAUGHTON, SAMUEL, On the Relation of Food to
work, published in "Medicine in Modern Times," London, 1869,
Masmillan & Co.

29 HEIDENHAIN, op. tit. Also by FICK, Untersuchungen fiber
Muskel-arbeit, Basel, 1867. Compare also "Nature," i, 159, Dec.
9, 1869.

30 Du BOIS-REYMOND, EMIL, On the time required for the trans-
mission of volition and sensation through the nerves, Proc. Roy.
Inst. Also in Appendix to Bence Jones's Croonian lectures.

31 MARSHALL, op. tit., p. 227.

32 MELLONI, Ann. Ch. Phys., xlviii, 198.

See also NOBILI, Bibl. Univ., xliv, 225, 1830; Ivii, I, 1834.

33 The apparatus employed is illustrated and fully described in
Brown-Sequard's Archives de Physiologic, i, 498, June, 1868. By
it the i-4ocoth of a degree Centigrade may be indicated.

7° (34)

34 LOMBARD, J. S., New York Medical Journal, v, 198, June, 1867.
[A part of these facts were communicated to me directly by th_>
discoverer.]

35 WOOD, L. H., On the influence of Mental activity on the Ex-
cretion of Phosphoric acid by the Kidneys. Proceedings Connec-
ticut Medical Society for 1869, p. 197.

36 On this question of vital force, see LIEBIG, Animal Chemistry.
"The increase of mass in a plant is determined by the occurrence
of a decomposition which takes place in certain parts of the plant
under the influence of light and heat."

" The modern science of Physiology has left the track of Aristotle.
To the eternal advantage of science, and to the benefit of mankind
it no longer invents a horror vacui^ a quinta essentia^ in order to fur-
nish credulous hearers with solutions and explanations of phenom-
ena, whose true connection with others, whose ultimate cause is still
unknown."

" All the parts of the animal body are produced from a peculiar
fluid circulating in its organism, by virtue of an influence residing
in every cell, in every organ, or part of an organ."

" Physiology has sufficiently decisive grounds for the opinion that
every motion, every manifestation of force, is the result of a trans-
formation of the structure or of its substance ; that every concep-
tion, every mental affection, is followed by changes in the chemical
nature of the secreted fluids ; that every thought, every sensation
is accompanied by a change in the composition of the substance of
the brain."

"All vital activity arises from the mutual action of the oxygen of
the atmosphere and the elements of the food."

" As, in the closed galvanic circuit, in consequence of certain
changes which an inorganic body, a metal, undergoes when placed
in contact with an acid, a certain something becomes cognizable by
our senses, which we call a current of electricity ; so in the animal
body, in consequence of transformations and changes undergone by
matter previously constituting a part of the organism, certain phe-
nomena of motion and activity are perceived, and these we call life,
or vitality."

" In the animal body we recognize as the ultimate cause of all

(35) r«

force only one cause, the chemical action which the elements of the
food and the oxygen of the air mutually exercise on each other.
The only known ultimate cause of vital force, either in animals or
in plants, is a chemical process."

"If we consider the force which determines the vital phenomena
as a property of certain substances, this view leads of itself to a new
and more rigorous consideration of certain singular phenomena,
which these very substances exhibit, in circumstances in which they
no longer make a part of living organisms."

Also OWEN, RICHARD, (Derivative Hypothesis of Life and
Species, forming the 4Oth chapter of his Anatomy of Vertebrates,
republished in Am. J. Sci., II, xlvii, 33, Jan. 1869.) "In the en-
deavor to clearly comprehend and explain the functions of the com-
bination of forces called ' brain,' the physiologist is hindered and
troubled by the views of the nature of those cerebral forces which
the needs of dogmatic theology have imposed on mankind." * *
" Religion pure and undefined, can best answer how far it is right-
eous or just to charge a neighbor with being unsound in his princi-
ples who holds the term ' life ' to be a sound expressing the sum
of living phenomena ; and who maintains these phenomena to be
modes of force into which other forms of force have passed, from
potential to active states, and reciprocally, through the agency of
these sums or combinations offerees impressing the mind with the
ideas signified by the terms 'monad,' 'moss,' 'plant,' or 'animal.'"

And HUXLEY, THOS. H., " On the Physical Basis of Life," Uni-
versity Series, No. i. College Courant, 1870.

Per contra, see the Address of Dr. F. A. P. Barnard, as retir-
ing President, before the Am. Assoc. for the Advancement of Sci-
ence, Chicago meeting, August, 1868. "Thought cannot be a
physical force, because thought admits of no measure."

GOULD, BENJ. APTHORP, Address as retiring President, before
the American Association at its Salem meeting, Aug., 1869.

BEALE, LIONEL S., " Protoplasm, or Life, Matter, and Mind."
London, 1870. John Churchill £ Sons.

37 For an excellent account of this distinguished man, see You-
mans's Introduction to the Correlation and Conservation of Forces,
p. xvii

7* (36)

38 DRAPER, J. W., he. cit.

39 HENRY, JOSEPH, Agric. Rep. Patent Office, 1857, 440.

40 WAITERS, J. H., An Essay on Organic, or Life-force. Written
for the degree of Doctor of Medicine in the University of Pennsyl-
vania, Philadelphia, 1851. See also St. Louis Medical and Surgi-
cal Journal, II, v, Nos. 3 and 4, 1868; Dec. 1868, and Nov. 10,
1869.

41 LECONTE, JOSEPH, The Correlation of Physical, Chemical and
Vital Force, and the Conservation of Force in Vital Phenomena.
American Journal of Science, II, xxviii, 305, Nov. 1859.

42 LOMBARD, J. S., loc. cit.

43 NOYES, T. R., loc. cit.

44 WOOD, L. H., loc. cit.

AS REGARDS PROTOPLASM, ETC.

PREFA7 ORY NOTE

The substance of the greater part of this paper, which has
been in the present form for some time, was delivered, as a
lecture, at a Conversazione of the Royal College of Physicians
of Edinburgh, in the Hall of the College, on the evening of
Friday, the 3Oth of April last.

It will be found to support itself, so far as the facts are
concerned, on the most recent German physiological literature,
as represented by Rindfleisch, Kiihne, and especially Strieker,
with which last, for the production of his " Handbuch," there
is associated every great histological name in Germany.

EDINBURGH, October, 1869.

As REGARDS PROTOPLASM, ETC.

It is a pleasure to perceive Mr. Huxley open his clear
little essay with what we may hold, perhaps, to be the
manly and orthodox view of the character and products
of the French writer, Auguste Comte. " In applying
the name of ' the new philosophy' to that estimate of
the limits of philosophical inquiry which he" (Professor
Huxley), " in common with many other men of science,
holds to be just," the Archbishop of York confounds, it
seems, this new philosophy with the Positive philosophy
of M. Comte ; and thereat Mr. Huxley expresses him-
self as greatly astonished. Some of us, for our parts,
may be inclined at first to feel astonished at Mr. Hux-
ley's astonishment ; for the school to which, at least on
the philosophical side, Mr. Huxley seems to belong, is
even notorious for its postration before Auguste Comte,
whom, especially, so far as method and systematization
are concerned, it regards as the greatest intellect since
Bacon. For such, as it was the opinion of Mr. Buckle,
is understood to be the opinion also of Messrs. Grote,
Bain, and Mill. In fact, we may say that such is com-
monly and currently considered the characteristic and
distinctive opinion of that whole perverted or inverted
reaction which has been called the Revulsion. That is
to say, to give this word a moment's explanation, that
the Voltaires and Humes and Gibbons having long
enjoyed an immunity of sneer at man's blind pride and

78 (6)

wretched superstition — at his silly non-natural honor
and her silly non-natural virtue — a reaction had set in,
exulting in poetry, in the splendor of nature, the noble-
ness of man, and the purity of woman, from which re-
action again we have, almost within the last decennium,
been revulsively, as it were, called back, — shall we say
by some " bolder" spirits— the Buckles, the Mills, &c. ?
— to the old illumination or enlightenment of a hundred
years ago, in regard to the weakness and stupidity of
man's pretensions over the animality and materiality
that limit him. Of this revulsion, then, as said, a main
feature, especially in England, has been prostration
before the vast bulk of Comte ; and so it was that Mr.
Huxley's protest in this reference, considering the phi-
losophy he professed, had that in it to surprise at first.
But if there was surprise, there was also pleasure ; for
Mr. Huxley's estimate of Comte is undoubtedly the
right one. " So far as I am concerned," he says, " the
most reverend prelate" (the Archbishop of York)
" might dialectically hew M. Comte in pieces as a mod-
ern Agag, and I should not attempt to stay his hand ;
for, so far as my study of what specially characterizes
the Positive philosophy has led me, I find therein little
or nothing of any scientific value, and a great deal
which is as thoroughly antagonistic to the very essence
of science as anything in ultramontane Catholicism."
"It was enough," he says again, "to make David Hume
turn in his grave, that here, almost within earshot of
his house, an instructed audience should have listened
without a murmur while his most characteristic doc-
trines were attributed to a French writer of fifty years'
later date, in whose dreary and verbose pages we miss
alike the vigor of thought and the exquisite clearness

(7) 79

of style of the man whom I make bold to term the
most acute thinker of the eighteenth "century — even
though that century produced Kant."

Of the doctrines themselves which are alluded to
here, I shall say nothing now ; but of much else that is
said, there is only to be expressed a hearty and even
gratified approval. I demur, to be sure, to the exalta-
tion of Hume over Kant — high as I place the former.
Hume, with infinite fertility, surprised us, it may be
said, perhaps, into attention on a great variety of points
\vhich had hitherto passed unquestioned ; but, even on
these points, his success was of an interrupted, scattered
and inconclusive nature. He set the world adrift, but
he set man too, reeling and miserable, adrift with it.
Kant, again, with gravity and reverence, desired to refix,
but in purity and truth, all those relations and institu-
tions which alone give value to existence — which alone
are humanity, in fact — but which Hume, with levity and
mockery, had approached to shake. Kant built up
again an entire new world for us of knowledge and
duty, and, in a certain way, even belief; whereas Hume
had sought to dispossess us of every support that man
as man could hope to cling to. In a word, with at least
equal fertility, Kant was, as compared with Hume, a
graver, deeper, and, so to speak, a more consecutive,
more comprehensive spirit. Graces there were indeed,
or even, it may be said, subtleties, in which Hume had
the advantage perhaps. He ' is still in England an
unsurpassed master of expression — this, certainly, in
his History, if in his Essays he somewhat baffles his
own self by a certain labored breadth of conscious fine
writing, often singularly inexact and infelicitous. Still
Kant, with reference to his products, must be allowed

8o (8)

much the greater importance. In the history of philos-
ophy he will probably always command as influential
a place in the modern world as Socrates in the ancient ;
while, as probably, Hume will occupy at best some such
position as that of Heraclitus or Protagoras. Hume,
nevertheless, if equal to Kant, must, in view at once of
his own subjective ability and his enormous influence,
be pronounced one of the most important of writers.
It would be difficult to rate too high the value of his
French predecessors and cotemporaries as regards puri-
fication of their oppressed and corrupt country ; and
Hume must be allowed, though with less call, to have
subserved some such function in the land we live in.
In preferring Kant, indeed, I must be acquitted of an
undue partiality ; for all that appertains to personal
bias was naturally, and by reason of early and numer-
ous associations, on the side of my countryman.

Demurring, then, to Mr. Huxley's opinion on this
matter, and postponing remark on the doctrines to
which he alludes, I must express a hearty concurrence
with every word he utters on Comte. In him I too
" find little or nothing of any scientific value." I too
have been lost in the mere mirage and sands of " those
dreary and verbose pages ;" and I acknowledge in Mr.
Huxley's every word the ring of a genuine experience.
M. Comte was certainly a man of some mathematical
and scientific proficiency, as well as of quick but biased
intelligence. A member of the Aiifklarung, he had
seen the immense advance of physical science since
Newton, under, as is usually said, the method of Bacon :
and, like Hume, like Reid, like Kant, who had all antici-
pated him in this, he sought to transfer that method to
the domain of mind. In this he failed ; and though in

(9> 8I

a sociological aspect he is not without true glances into
the present disintegration of society and the conditions
of it, anything of importance cannot be claimed for
him. There is not a sentence in his book that, in the
hollow elaboration and windy pretentiousness of its
build, is not an exact type of its own constructor. On
the whole, indeed, when we consider the little to which
he attained, the empty inflation of his claims, the mon-
strous and maniacal self-conceit into which he was
exalted, it may appear, perhaps, that charity to M.
Comte himself, to say nothing of the world, should
induce us to wish that both his name and his works
were buried in oblivion. Now, truly, that Mr. Huxley
(the " call" being for the moment his) has so pronounced
himself, especially as the facts of the case are exactly
and absolutely what he indicates, perhaps we may
expect this consummation not to be so very long
delayed. More than those members of the revulsion
already mentioned, one is apt to suspect, will be anxious
now to beat a retreat. Not that this, however, is so
certain to be allowed them ; for their estimate of M.
Comte is a valuable element in the estimate of them-
selves.

•Frankness on the part of Mr. Huxley is not limited
to his opinion of M. Comte ; it accompanies us through-
out his whole essay. He seems even to take pride,
indeed, in naming always and everywhere his object at
the plainest. That object, in a general point of view,
relates, he tells us, solely to materialism, but with a
double issue. While it is his declared purpose, in the
first place, namely, to lead us into materialism, it is
equally his declared purpose, in the second place, to
lead us out of materialism. On the first issue, for

82 (lo)

example, he directly warns his audience that to accept
the conclusions which he conceives himself to have
established on Protoplasm, is to accept these also :
That " all vital action" is but " the result of the molec-
ular forces" of the physical basis ; and that, by conse-
quence, to use his own words to his audience, " the
thoughts to which I am now giving utterance, and your
thoughts regarding them, are but the expression of
molecular changes in that matter of life which is the
source of our other vital phenomena." And, so far,
I think, we shall not disagree with Mr. Huxley when
he says that " most undoubtedly the terms of his propo-
sitions are distinctly materialistic." Still, on the second
issue, Mr. Huxley asserts that he is " individually no
materialist." " On the contrary, he believes material-
ism to involve grave philosophical error ;" and the
" union of materialistic terminology with the repudia-
tion of materialistic philosophy" he conceives himself
to share " with some of the most thoughtful men with
whom he is acquainted." In short, to unite both issues,
we have it in Mr. Huxley's own words, that it is the
single object of his essay " to explain how such a union
is not only consistent with, but necessitated by, sound
logic ;" and that, accordingly, Jie will, in the first place,
" lead us through the territory of vital phenomena to
the materialistic slough," while pointing out, in the sec-
ond, "the sole path by which, in his judgment, extrica-
tion is possible." Mr. Huxley's essay, then, falls evi-
dently into two parts ; and of these two parts we may
say, further, that while the one — that in which he leads
us into materialism — will be predominatingly physiolog-
ical, the other — or that in which he leads us out
of materialism — will be predominatingly philosophical.

( ii ) 83

Two corresponding parts would thus seem to be pre-
scribed to any full discussion of the essay ; and of
these, in the present needs of the world, it is evidently
the latter that has the more promising theme. The
truth is, however, that Mr. Huxley, after having exerted
all his strength in his first part to throw us into " the
materialistic slough," by dear necessity of knowledge,
only calls to us, in his second part, to come out of this
slough again, on the somewhat obscure necessity of igno-
rance. This, then, is but a lop-sided balance, where a
scale in the air only seems to struggle vainly to raise
its well-weighted fellow on the ground. Mr. Huxley,
in fact, possesses no remedy for materialism but what
lies in the expression that, while he knows not what
matter is in itself, he certainly knows that casualty is
but contingent succession ; and thus, like the so-called
" philosophy" of the Revulsion, Mr. Huxley would only
mock us into the intensest dogmatism on the one side
by a fallacious reference to the intensest scepticism on
the other.

The present paper, then, will regard mainly Mr. Hux-
ley's argument /#/- materialism, but say what is required,
at the same time, on his alleged argument — which is
merely the imaginary, or imaginative, impregnation of
ignorance — against it.

Following Mr. Huxley's own steps in his essay, the
course of his positions will be found to run, in sum-
mary, thus : —

What is meant by the physical basis of life is, that
there is one kind of matter common to all living beings,
and it is named protoplasm. No doubt it may appear
at first sight that, in the various kinds of living beings,
we have only difference before us, as in the lichen on the

84 ( 12 )

rock and the painter that paints it, — the microscopic
animalcule or fungus and the Finner whale or Indian
fig, — the flower in the hair of a girl and the blood in her
veins, etc. Nevertheless, throughout these and all other
diversities, there really exists a threefold unity — a unity
of faculty, a unity of form, and a unity of substance.

On the first head, for example, or as regards faculty,
power, the action exhibited, there «are but three catego-
ries of human activity — contractility, alimentation, and
reproduction ; and there are no fewer for the lower forms
of life, whether animal or vegetable. In the nettle, for
instance, we find the woody case of its sting lined by a
granulated, semi-fluid layer, that is possessed of con-
tractility. But in this respect — that is, in the posses-
sion of contractile substance — other plants are as the
nettle, and all animals are as plants. Protoplasm — for
the nettle-layer alluded to is protoplasm — is common
to the whole of them. The difference, in short between
the powers of the lowest plant or animal and those of
the highest is one only of degree and not of kind.

But, on the second head, it is not otherwise in form,
or manifested external appearance and structure. Not
the sting only, but the whole nettle, is made up of pro-
toplasm ; and of all the other vegetables the nettle is
but a type. Nor are animals different. The colorless
blood-corpuscles in man and the rest are identical with
the protoplasm of the nettle ; and both he and they
consisted at first only of an aggregation of such. Pro-
toplasm is the common constituent — the common origin.
At last, as at first, all that lives, and every part of all
that lives, are but nucleated or unnucleated, modified
or unmodified, protoplasm.

But, on the third head, or with reference to unity of

( '3 ) 85

substance, to internal composition, chemistry establishes
this also. All forms of protoplasm, that is, consist
alike of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, and
behave similarly under similar reagents.

So, now, a uniform character having in this threefold
manner been proved for protoplasm, what is its origin,
and what its fate ? Of these the latter is not far to
seek. The fate of protoplasm is death — death into its
chemical constituents ; and this determines its origin
also. Protoplasm can originate only in that into which
it dies, — the elements — the carbon, hydrogen, oxygen,
and nitrogen — of which it was found to consist. Hydro-
gen, with oxygen, forms water; carbon, with oxygen,
carbonic acid ; and hydrogen, with nitrogen, ammonia.
Similarly, water, carbonic acid and ammonia form, in
union, protoplasm. The influence of pre-existing pro-
toplasm only determines combination in its case, as that
of the electric spark determines combination in the
case of water. Protoplasm, then, is but an aggregate
of physical materials, exhibiting in combination — only
as was to be expected — new properties. The proper-
ties of water are not more different from those of
hydrogen and oxygen than the properties of protoplasm
are different from those of water, carbonic acid, and
ammonia. We have the same warrant to attribute the
consequences to the premises in the one case as in the
other. If, on the first stage of combination, repre-
sented by that of water, simples could unite into some-
thing so different from themselves, why, on the second
stage of combination, represented by that of proto-
plasm, should not compounds similarly unite into some-
thing equally different from themselves ? If the con-
stituents are credited with the properties there, why

86 ( i4 )

refuse to credit the constituents with the properties
here ? To the constituents of protoplasm, in truth, any
new element, named vitality, has no more been added,
than to the constituents of water any new element,
named aquosity. Nor is there any logical halting-place
between this conclusion and the further and final one :
That all vital action whatever, intellectual included, is
but the result of the molecular forces of the protoplasm
which displays it.

These sentences will be acknowledged, I think, fairly
to represent Mr. Huxley's relative deliverances, and,
consequently, as I may be allowed to explain again, the
only important — while much the larger — part of the
whole essay. Mr. Huxley, that is, while devoting fifty
paragraphs to our physiological immersion in the " mate-
rialistic slough," grants but one-and twenty towards our
philosophical escape from it ; the fifty besides being, so
to speak, in reality the wind, and the one-and-twenty
only the whistle for it. What these latter say, in effect,
is no more than this, that, — matter being known not in
itself but only in its qualities, and cause and effect not
in their nexus but only in their sequence, — matter may
be spirit or spirit matter, cause effect or effect cause — in
short, for aught that Mr. Huxley more than phenome-
nally knows, this may be that or that this, first second,
or second first, but the conclusion shall be this, that he
will lay out all our knowledge materially, and we may
lay out all our ignorance immaterially — if we will.
Which reasoning and conclusion, I may merely remark,
come precisely to this : That Mr. Huxley — who, hoping
yet to see each object (a pin, say) not in its qualities
but in itself, still, consistently antithetic, cannot believe
in the extinction of fire by water or of life by the rope,

(iS) 8?

for any reason or for any necessity that lies in the nature
of the case, but simply for the habit of the thing — has
not yet put himself at home with the metaphysical cate-
gories of substance and casualty ; thanks, perhaps, to
those guides of .his whom we, the amusing Britons that
we are, bravely proclaim " the foremost thinkers of the
day" J

The matter and manner of the whole essay are now
fairly before us, and I think that, with the approbation
of the reader, its procedure, generally, may be described
as an attempt to establish, not by any complete and
systematic induction, but by a variety of partial and
illustrative assertions, two propositions. Of these
propositions the first is, That all animal and vegetable
organisms are essentially alike in power, in form, and
in substance ; and the second, That all vital and intel-
lectual functions are the properties of the molecular
disposition and changes of the material basis (proto-
plasm) of which the various animals and vegetables
consist. In both propositions, the agent of proof is
this same alleged material basis of life, or protoplasm.
For the first of them, all animal and vegetable organ-
isms shall be identified in protoplasm ; and for the sec-
ond, a simple chemical analogy shall assign intellect
and vitality to the molecular constituents of the proto-
plasm, in connection with which they are at least ex-
hibited.

In order, then, to obtain a footing on the ground
offered us, the first question we naturally put is, What
is Protoplasm ? And an answer to this question can be
obtained only by a reference to the historical progress
of the physiological cell theory.

That theory may be said to have wholly grown up

88 ( 16 )

since John Hunter wrote his celebrated work ' On the
Nature of the Blood,' etc. New growths, to Hunter,
depended on an exudation of the plasma of the blood,
in which, by virtue of its own plasticity, vessels formed,
and conditioned the further progress. The influence of
these ideas seems to have still acted, even after a con-
ception of the cell was arrived at. For starting element,
Schleiden required an intracellular plasma, and Schwann
a structureless exudation, in which minute granules, if
not indeed already pre- existent, formed, and by aggre-
gation grew into nuclei, round which singly the produc-
tion of a membrane at length enclosed a cell. It was
then that, in this connection, we heard of the terms
blastema and cyto-blastema. The theory of the vege-
table cell was completed earlier than that of the animal
one. Completion of this latter, again, seems to have
been first effected by Schwann, after Miiller had insisted
on the analogy between animal and vegetable tissue,
and Valentin had demonstrated a nucleus in the animal
cell, as previously Brown in the vegetable one. But
assuming Schwann's labor, and what surrounded it, to
have been a first stage, the wonderful ability of Virchow
may be said to have raised the theory of the cell fully
to a second stage. Now, of this second stage, it is the
dissolution or resolution that has led to the emergence
of the word Protoplasm.

The body, to Virchow, constituted a free state of in-
dividual subjects, with equal rights but unequal capaci-
ties. These were the cells, which consisted each of
an enclosing membrane, and an enclosed nucleus with
surrounding intracellular matrix or matter. These
cells, further, propagated themselves, chiefly by partition
or division ; and the fundamental principle of the whole

theory was expressed in the dictum, " Omnis cellula e
cellula" That is, the nucleus, becoming gradually elon-
gated, at last parted in the midst ; and each half, acting
as center of attraction to the surrounding intracellular
matrix or contained matter, stood forth as a new
nucleus to a new cell, formed by division at length of
the original cell.

The first step taken in resolution of this theory was
completed by Max Schultze, preceded by Leydig. This
was the elimination of an investing membrane. Such
membrane may, and does, ultimately form ; but in the
first instance, it appears, the cell is naked. The second
step in the resolution belongs perhaps to Briicke, though
preceded by Bergmann, and though Max Schultze,
Kiihne, Haeckel, and others ought to be mentioned in
the same connection. This step was the elimination,
or at least subordination, of the nucleus. The nucleus,
we are to understand now, is necessary neither to the
division nor to the existence of the cell.

Thus, then, stripped of its membrane, relieved of its
nucleus, what now remains for the cell ? Why, nothing
but what was the contained matter, the intracellular
matrix, and is — Protoplasm.

In the application of this word itself, however, to the
element in question, there are also a step or two to be
noticed. The first step was Dujardin's discovery of sar-
code ; and the second the introduction of the term pro-
toplasm as the name for the layer of the vegetable cell
that lined the cellulose, and enclosed the nucleus. Sar-
code, found in certain of the lower forms of life, was a
simple substance that exhibited powers of spontaneous
contraction and movement. Thus, processes of such
simple, soft, contractile matter are protruded by the

90 ( i8 )

rhizopods, and locomotion by their means effected.
Remak first extended the use of the term protoplasm
from the layer which bore that name in the vegetable
cell to the analogous element in the animal cell ; but it
was Max Schultze, in particular, who, by applying the
name to the intracellular matrix, or contained matter,
when divested of membrane, and by identifying this
substance itself with sarcode, first fairly established pro-
toplasm, name and thing, in its present prominence.

In this account I have necessarily omitted many sub-
ordinate and intervening steps in the successive estab-
lishment of the contractility, superior importance, and
complete isolation of this thing to which, under the
name of protoplasm, Mr. Huxley of late has called
such vast attention. Besides the names mentioned,
there are others of great eminence in this connection,
such as Meyen, Siebold, Reichert, Ecker, Henle, and
Kolliker among the Germans ; and among ourselves,
Beale and Huxley himself. John Goodsir will be men-
tioned again.

We have now, perhaps, obtained a general idea of
protoplasm. Briicke, when he talks of it as "living
cell-body or elementary organism," comes very near the
leading idea of Mr. Huxley as expressed in his phrase,
"the physiological basis, or matter, of life." Living
cell-body, elementary organism, primitive living matter
— that, evidently, is the quest of Mr. Huxley. There is
aqueous matter, he would say, perhaps, composed of
hydrogen and oxygen, and it is the same thing whether
in the rain-drop or the ocean ; so, similarly, there is
vital matter, which, composed of carbon, hydrogen, oxy-
gen, and nitrogen, is the same thing whether in crypto-
gams or in elephants, in animalcules or in men. What,

in fact, Mr. Huxley seeks, probably, is living protein-
protein, so to speak, struck into life. Just such appears
to him to be the nature of protoplasm, and in it he be-
lieves himself to possess at last a living clay wherewith
to build the whole organic world.

The question, What is Protoplasm ? is answered,
then ; but, for the understanding of what is to follow,
there is still one general consideration to be premised.

Mr. Huxley's conception of protoplasm, as we have
seen, is that of living matter, living protein ; what we
may call, perhaps, elementary life-stuff. Now, is it
quite certain that Mr. Huxley is correct in this concep-
tion ? Are we to understand, for example, that cells
have now definitively vanished, and left in their place
only a uniform and universal matter of quite indefinite
proportions ? No ; such an understanding would be
quite wrong. Whatever may be the opinion of the ad-
herents of the molecular theory of generation, it is cer-
tain that all the great German histologists still hold by
the cell, and can hardly open their mouths without men-
tion of it. I do not allude here to any special adhe-
rents of either nucleus or membrane, but to the most
advanced innovators in both respects ; to such men as
Schultze and Briicke and Kiihne. These, as we have
seen, pretty well confine their attention, like Mr. Hux-
ley, to the protoplasm. But they do not the less on
that account talk of the cell. For them, it is only in
cells that protoplasm exists. To their view, we cannot
fancy protoplasm as so much matter in a pot, in an oint-
ment-box, any portion of which scooped out in an ear-
picker would be so much life-stuff, and, though a part,
quite as good as the whole. This seems to be Mr.
Huxley's conception, but it is not theirs. A certain

93 ( 20 )

meastire goes with protoplasm to constitute it an organ-
ism to them, and worthy of their attention. They re-
fuse to give consideration to any mere protoplasm-j/zra/
that may not have yet ceased, perhaps, to exhibit all
sign of contractility under the microscope, and demand
a protoplasm-^//. In short, protoplasm is to them still
distributed into cells, and only that measure of proto-
plasm is cell that is adequate to the whole group of
vital manifestations. Briicke, for example, of all inno-
vators probably the most innovating, and denying, or
inclined to deny, both nucleus and membrane, does not
hesitate, according to Strieker, to speak still of cells as
self-complete organisms, that move and grow, that nour-
ish and reproduce themselves, and that perform specific
function. " Omnis cellula e cellula," is the rubric they
work under as much now as ever. The heart of a turtle,
they say, is not a turtle ; so neither is a protoplasm-
shred a protoplasm-cell.

This, then, is the general consideration which I think
it necessary to premise ; and it seems, almost of itself,
to negate Mr. Huxley's reasonings in advance, for it
warrants us in denying that physiological clay of which
all living things are but bricks baked, Mr. Huxley inti-
mates, and in establishing in its place cells as before —
living cells that differ infinitely the one from the other,
and so differ from the very first moment of their exist-
ence. This consideration shall not be allowed to pre-
termit, however, an examination of Mr. Huxley's own
proofs, which will only the more and more avail to indi-
cate the difference suggested.

These proofs, as has been said, would, by means of
the single fulcrum of protoplasm, establish, first, the
identity, and, second, the materiality, of all vegetable

(21) 93

and animal life. These are, shortly, the two proposi-
tions which we have already seen, and to which, in their
order, we now pass.

All organisms, then, whether animal or vegetable,
have been understood for some time back to originate
in and consist of cells ; but the progress of physiology
has seemed now to substitute for cells a single matter of
life, protoplasm ; and it is here that Mr. Huxley sees his
cue. Mr. Huxley's very first word is the " physical basis
or matter of life ;" and he supposes " that to many the
idea that there is such a thing may be novel." This, then,
so far, is what is new in Mr. Huxley's contribution. He
seems to have said to himself, if formerly the whole
world was thought kin in an "ideal" or formal element,
organization, I shall now finally complete this identifi-
cation in a " physical " or material element, protoplasm.
In short, what at this stage we are asked to witness in
the essay is, the identification of all living beings what-
ever in the identity of protoplasm. As there is a
single matter, clay, which is the matter of all bricks, so
there is a single matter, protoplasm, which is the matter
of all organisms. " Protoplasm is the clay of the pot-
ter, which, bake it and paint it as he will, remains clay,
separated by artifice, and not by nature, from the com-
monest brick or sun-dried clod." Now here I cannot
help stopping a moment to remark that Mr. Huxley
puts emphatically his whole soul into this sentence, and
evidently believes it to be, if we may use the word, a
clincher. But, after all, does it say much? or rather,
does it say anything ? To the question, " Of what are
you made ?" the answer, for a long time now, and by
the great mass of human beings who are supposed civi-
lized, has been "Dust." Dust, and the same dust, has

94 ( 22 )

been allowed to constitute us all. But materialism ^has
not on that account been the irresistible result. Atten-
tion hitherto — and surely excusably, or even laudably in
such a case — has been given not so much to the dust as
to the "potter," and the "artifice" by which he could
so transform, or, as Mr. Huxley will have it, modify it.
To ask us to say, instead of dust, clay, or even proto-
plasm, is not to ask us for much, then, seeing that even
to Mr. Huxley there still remain both the "potter" and
his "artifice."

But to return : To Mr. Huxley, when he says all
bricks, being made of clay, are the same thing, we an-
swer, Yes, undoubtedly, if they are made of the same
clay. That is, the bricks are identical if the clay is
identical ; but, on the other hand, by as much as the
clay differs will the bricks differ. And, similarly, all
organisms can be identified only if their composing pro-
toplasm can be identified. To this stake is the argu-
ment of Mr. Huxley bound.

This argument itself takes, as we have seen, a three-
fold course : Mr. Huxley will prove his position in this
place by reference, firstly, to unity of faculty ; secondly,
to unity of form ; and thirdly, to unity of substance. It
is this course of proof, then, which we have now to fol-
low, but taking the question of substance, as simplest,
first, and the others later.

By substance, Mr. Huxley understands the internal
or chemical composition ; and, with a mere reference to
the action of reagents, he asserts the protoplasm of all
living beings to be an identical combination of carbon,
hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen. It is for us to ask,
then, Are all samples of protoplasm identical, first, in
their chemical composition, and, second, under the ac-
tion of the various reagents ?

( 23 ) 9$

On the first clause, we may say, in the first place, to-
wards a proof of difference which will only cumulate, I
hope, that, even should we grant in all protoplasm an
identity of chemical ingredients, what is called Allotropy
may still have introduced no inconsiderable variety.
Ozone is not antozone, nor is oxygen either, though in
chemical constitution all are alike. In the second
place, again, we may say that, with varying proportions,
the same component parts produce very various results.
By way of illustration, it will suffice to refer to such dif-
ferent things as the proteids, gluten, albumen, fibrin,
gelatine, etc., compared with the urinary products, urea
and uric acid; or with the biliary products, glycocol,
glycocolic acid, bili-rubin, bili-verdin, etc. ; and yet all
these substances, varying so much the one from the
other, are, as protoplasm is, compounds of carbon, hy-
drogen, oxygen, and nitrogen. But, in the third place,
we are not limited to a may say ; we can assert the fact
that all protoplasm is not chemically identical. All the
tissues of the organism are called protoplasm by Mr.
Huxley ; but can we predicate chemical identity of
muscle and bone, for example ? In such cases Mr.
Huxley, it is true, may bring the word " modified " into
use ; but the objection of modification we shall examine
later. In the mean time, we are justified, by Mr. Hux-
ley's very argument, in regarding all organized tissues
whatever as protoplasm ; for if these tissues are not to
be identified in protoplasm, we must suppose denied
what it was his one business to affirm. And it is
against that affirmation that we point to the fact of
much chemical difference obtaining among the tissues,
not only in the proportions of their fundamental ele-
ments, but also in the addition (and proportions as well)

96 ( 24 )

of such others as chlorine, sulphur, phosphorus, potass,
soda, lime, magnesia, iron, etc. Vast differences vitally
must be legitimately assumed for tissues that are so dif-
ferent chemically. But, in the fourth place, we have the
authority of the Germans for asserting that the cells
themselves — and they now, to the most advanced, are
only protoplasm — do differ chemically, some being
found to contain glycogen, some cholesterine, some pro-
togon, and some inyosin. Now such substances, let the
chemical analogy be what it may, must still be allowed
to introduce chemical difference. In the last place, Mr.
Huxley's analysis is an analysis of dead protoplasm, and
indecisive, consequently, for that which lives. Mr. Hux-
ley betrays sensitiveness in advance to this objection ;
for he seeks to rise above the sensitiveness and the ob-
jection at once by styling the latter " frivolous." Never-
theless the Germans say pointedly that it is unknown
whether the same elements are to be referred to the
cells after as before death. Kiihne does not consider
it proved that living muscle contains syntonin ; yet Mr.
Huxley tells us, in his Physiology, that " syntonin is the
chief constituent of muscle and flesh." In general, we
may say, according to Strieker, that all weight is put
now on the examination of living tissue, and that the
difference is fully allowed between that and dead tissue.
On the second clause now, or with regard to the ac-
tion of reagents, these must be denied to produce the
like result on the various forms of protoplasm. With
reference to temperature, for example, Kiihne reports
the movements of the amoeba to be arrested in iced
water ; while, in the same medium, the ova of the trout
furrow famously, but perish even in a warmed room.
Others, again, we are told, may be actually dried, and

( *5 ) 97

yet live. Of ova in general, in this connection, it i$
said that they live or die according as the temperature
to which they are exposed differs little or much from
that which is natural to the organisms producing them.
In some, according to Max Schultze, even distilled
water is enough to arrest movement. Now, not to
dwell longer here, both amoeba and ova are to Mr.
Huxley pure protoplasm ; and such difference of result,
according to difference of temperature, etc., must as-
suredly be allowed to point to a difference of original
nature. Any conclusion so far, then, in regard to unity
of substance, whether the chemical composition or the
action of reagents be considered, cannot be said to bear
out the views of Mr. Huxley.

What now of the unities of form and power in proto-
plasm ? By form, Mr. Huxley will be found to mean
the general appearance and structure ; and by faculty
or power, the action exhibited. Now it will be very
easy to prove that, in neither respect, do all specimens
of protoplasm agree. Mr. Huxley's representative pro-
toplasm, it appears, is that of the nettle-sting ; and he
describes it as a granulated, semi-fluid body, contractile
in mass, and contractile also in detail to the develop-
ment of a species of circulation. Strieker, again,
speaks of it as a homogeneous substance, in which any
granules that may appear must be considered of foreign
importation, and in which there are no evidences of cir-
culation. In this last respect, then, that Mr. Huxley
should talk of " tiny Maelstroms," such as even in the
silence of a tropical noon might stun us, if heard, as
" with the roar of a great city," may be viewed, per-
haps, as a rise into poetry beyond the occasion.

Further, according to Strieker, protoplasm varies ak

98 ( 26 )

most infinitely in consistence, in shape, in structure, and
in function. In consistence, it is sometimes so fluid as
to be capable of forming in drops ; sometimes semi-
fluid and gelatinous ; sometimes of considerable resist-
ance. In shape — for to Strieker the cells are now pro-
toplasm— we have club-shaped protoplasm, globe-shaped
protoplasm, cup-shaped protoplasm, bottle-shaped proto-
plasm, spindle-shaped protoplasm — branched, threaded,
ciliated protoplasm, — circle-headed protoplasm — flat,
conical, cylindrical, longitudinal, prismatic, polyhedral,
and palisade-like protoplasm. In structure, again, it is
sometimes uniform and sometimes reticulated into inter-
spaces that contain fluid. In function, lastly — and here
we have entered on the consideration of faculty or power
— some protoplasm is vagrant (so to translate wan-
dernd), and of unknown use, like the colorless blood-
corpuscles.

In reference to these, as strengthening the argument,
and throwing much light generally, I break off a mo-
ment to say that, very interesting as they are in them-
selves, and as Recklinghausen, in especial, has made
them, Mr. Huxley's theory of them disagrees consider-
ably with the prevalent German one. He speaks of
them as the source of the body in general, yet, in his
Physiology, he talks of the spleen, the lymphatics, and
even the liver— -parts of the body — as their source.
They are so few in number that, while Mr. Huxley is
thankful to be able to point to the inside of the lips as
a seat for them, they bear to the red corpuscles only
the proportion of i to 450. This disproportion, how-
ever, is no bar to Mr. Huxley's derivation of the latter
from the former. But the fact is questioned. The
Germans, generally, for their, part, describe the color-

(27) 99

less, or vagrant, blood-corpuscles as probably media of
conjugation or reparation, but acknowledge their func-
tion to be as yet quite unknown ; while Rindfleisch,
characterizing the spleen as the grave of the red, and
the womb of the white, corpuscles, evidently refers the
latter to the former. This, indeed, is a matter of direct
assertion with Preyer, who has " shown that pieces of
red blood-corpuscles may be eaten by the amoeboid cells
of the frog," and holds that the latter (the white cor-
puscles) proceed directly from the former (the red cor-
puscles) ; so that it seems to be determined in the
mean time that there is no proof of the reverse being
the fact.

In function, then, to resume, some protoplasm is va-
grant, and of unknown use. Some again produces pep-
sine, and some fat. Some at least contains pigment.
Then there is nerve-protoplasm, brain-protoplasm, bone-
protoplasm, muscle-protoplasm, and protoplasm of all
the other tissues, no one of which but produces only
its own kind, and is uninterchangeable with the rest.
Lastly, on this head, we have to point to the over-
whelming fact that there is the infinitely different pro-
toplasm of the various infinitely different plants and
animals, in each of which its own protoplasm, as in the
case of that of the various tissues, but produces its
own kind, and is uninterchangeable with that of the
rest.

It may be objected, indeed, that these latter are ex-
amples of modified protoplasm. The objection of
modification, as said, we have to see by itself later ;
but, in the mean time, it may be asked, Where are we
to begin, not to have modified protoplasm ? We have
the example of Mr. Huxley himself, who, in the nettle-

100 ( 28 )

sting, begins already with modified protoplasm ; and
we have the authority of Rindfleisch for asserting that
" in every different tissue we must look for a different
initial term of the productive series." This, evidently,
is a very strong light on the original multiplicity of
protoplasm, which the consideration, as we have seen,
of the various plants and animals, has made, further,
infinite. This is enough ; but there is no wish to evade
beginning with the very beginning — with absolutely
pure initial protoplasm, if it can but be given us in any
reference. The simple egg — that, probably is the be-
ginning— that, probably, is the original identity ; yet
even there we find already distribution of the identity
into infinite difference. This, certainly, with reference
to the various organisms, but with reference also to the
various tissues. That we regard the egg as the begin-
ning, and that we do not start, like the smaller excep-
tional physiological school, with molecules themselves,
depends on this, that the great Germans so often allu-
ded to, Kiihne among them, still trust in the experi-
ments of Pasteur ; and while they do not deny the pos-
sibility, or even the fact, of molecular generation, still
feel justified in denying the existence of any observa-
tion that yet unassailably attests a generatio cequivoca.
By such authority as this the simple philosophical spec-
tator has. no choice but to take his stand ; and therefore
it is that I assume the egg as the established beginning,
so far, of all vegetable and animal organisms. To the
egg, too, as the beginning, Mr. Huxley, though the
lining of the nettle-sting is his representative proto-
plasm, at least refers. " In the earliest condition of
the human organism," he says, in allusion to the white
(vagrant) corpuscles of the blood, " in that state in

which it has but just become distinguished from the
egg in which it arises, it is nothing but an aggregation
of such corpuscles, and every organ of the body was
once no more than such an aggregation." Now, in be-
ginning with the egg — an absolute beginning being de-
nied us in consequence of the pre-existent infinite
difference of the egg or eggs themselves — we may
gather from the German physiologists some such ac-
count of the actual facts as this.

The first change signalized in the impregnated egg
seems that of Furchung, or furrowing — what the Ger-
mans call the Furchungskugeln, the Dotterkugeln, form.
Then these Kugeln — clumps, eminences, monticles, we
may translate the word — break into cells ; and these
are the cells 9f the embryo. Mr. Huxley, as quoted,
refers to the whole body, and every organ of the body,
as at first but an aggregation of colorless blood-cor-
puscles ; but in the very statement which would render
the identity alone explicit, the difference is quite as
plainly implicit. As much as this lies in the word " or-
gans," to say nothing qf "human." The cells of the
" organs," to which he refers, are even then uninter-
changeable, and produce but themselves. The Ger-
mans tell us of the Keimblatl, the germ-leaf, in which
all these organs originate. This Blatt, or leaf, is three-
fold, it seems ; but even these folds are not indifferent.
The various cells have their distinct places in them from
the first. While what in this connection are called the
epithelial and endorthelial tissues spring respectively
from the upper and under leaf, connective tissues, with
muscle and blood, spring from the middle one. Surely
in such facts we have a perfect warrant to assert the
initial non-identity of protoplasm, and to insist on this,

102 ( 3o )

that, from the very earliest moment — even literally ab
02)o— brain-cells only generate brain-cells, bone-cells
bone-cells, and so on.

These considerations on function all concern faculty
or power ; but we have to notice now that the charac-
teristic and fundamental form of power is to Mr. Huxley
contractility. He even quotes Goethe in proof of con-
tractility being the main power or faculty of Man !
Nevertheless it is to be said at once that, while there
are differences in what protoplasm is contractile, all
protoplasm is not contractile, nor dependent on contrac-
tility for its functions. In the former respect, for exam-
ple, muscle, while it is the contractile tissue special, is
also to Mr. Huxley protoplasm ; yet Strieker asserts
the inner construction of the contractile substance, of
which muscle-fibre virtually consists, to be essentially
different from contractile protoplasm. Here, then, we
have the contractile substance proper " essentially differ-
ent" from the contractile source proper. In the latter
respect, again, we shall not call in the z/«contractible
substances which Mr. Huxley, himself denominates
protoplasm — bread, namely, roast mutton, and boiled
lobster ; but we may ask where — even in the case of a
living body — is the contractility of white of egg ? In
this reference, too, we may remark that Kiihne, who di-
vides the protoplasm of the epidermis into three clas-
ses, has been unable to distinguish contractility in his
own third class. Lastly, where, in relation to the pro-
toplasm of the nervous system, is there evidence of its
contractility ? Has any one pretended that thought is
but the contraction of the brain ; or is it by contraction
that the very nerves operate contraction — the nerves
that supply muscles, namely ? Mr. Huxley himself, in

(3O I03

his Physiology, describes nervous action very differently.
There conduction is spoken of without a hint of contrac-
tion. Of the higher faculties of man I have to speak
again ; but let us just ask where, in the case of any
pure sensation — smell, taste, touch, sound, color — is
there proof of any contraction ? Are we to suppose
that between the physical cause of heat without and the
mental sensation of heat within, contraction is anywhere
interpolated ? Generally, in conclusion here, while re-
minding of Virchow's testimony to the inherent ine-
qualities of cell-capacity, let us but, on the question of
faculty, contrast the kidney and the brain, even as these
organs are viewed by Mr. Huxley. To him the one is
but a sieve for the extrusion of refuse : the other thinks
^^Newton's ' Principia' and Iliads of Homer.

Probably, then, in regard to any continuity in proto-
plasm of power, of form, or of substance, we have seen
lacuna enow. Nay, Mr. Huxley himself can be ad-
duced in evidence on the same side. Not rarely do we
find in his essay admissions of probability where it is
certainty that is alone in place. He says, for example,
" It is more than probable that when the vegetable world
is thoroughly explored we shall find all plants in pos-
session of the same powers." When a conclusion is
decidedly announced, it is rather disappointing to be
told, as here, that the premises are still to collect^ " So
far" he says again, " as the conditions of the manifes-
tations of the phenomena of contractility have yet been
studied." Now, such a so far need not be very far ;
and we may confess in passing, that from Mr. Huxley
the phrase, " the conditions of the manifestations of the
phenomena" grates. We hear again that it is " the rule
rather than the, exception," or that " weighty authorities

104 ( 32 )

have suggested " that such and such things " probably
occur," or, while contemplating the nettle-sting, that
such "possible complexity" in other cases "dawns
upon one." On other occasions he expresses himself
to the effect that " perhaps it would not yet be safe to
say that all forms," etc. Nay, not only does he directly
say that " it is by no means his intention to suggest
that there is no difference between the lowest plant and
the highest, or between plants and animals," but he di-
rectly proves what he says, for he demonstrates in plants
and animals an essential difference of power. Plants can
assimilate inorganic matters, animals can not, etc.
Again, here is a passage in which he is seen to cut his
own " basis" from beneath his own feet. After telling
us that all forms of protoplasm consist of carbon, hy-
drogen, oxygen, and nitrogen " in very complex union,"
he continues, " To this complex combination, the nature
of which has never been determined with exactness, the
name of protein has been applied." This, plainly, is
an identification, on Mr. Huxley's own part, of proto-
plasm and protein ; and what is said of the one being
necessarily true of the other, it follows that Mr. Huxley
admits the nature of protoplasm never to have been
determined with exactness, and that, even in his eyes,
the Its is still sub judice. This admission is strength-
ened by the words, too, " If we use this term" (protein)
" with such caution as may properly arise out of our ->
comparative ignorance of the things for which it stands ;" \
which entitle us to recommend, in consequence " of our
comparative ignorance of the things for which it
stands," " caution" in the use of the term protoplasm.
In such a state of the case we cannot wonder that Mr.
Huxley's own conclusion here is : Therefore " all living

33 ) !°5

matter is more or less albuminoid." All living matter
is more or less albuminoid ! That, indeed, is the single
conclusion of Mr. Huxley's whole industry ; but it is a
conclusion that, far from requiring the intervention of
protoplasm, had been reached long before the word
itself had been, in this connection, used.

It is in this way, then, that Mr. Huxley can be ad-
duced in refutation of himself; and I think his resort
to an epigram of Goethe's for reduction of the powers
of man to those of contraction, digestion, and repro-
duction, can be regarded as an admission to the same
effect. The epigram runs thus : —

" Warum treibtsich das Volk so, undschreit ? Es will sich ernahren,
Kinder zeugen, und die nahren so gut es vermag.
Weiter bringt es kein Mensch, stell' er sich wie er auch will."

That means, quite literally translated, " Why do the *
folks bustle and bawl ? They want to feed themselves,
get children, and then feed them as best they can ; no
man does more, let him do as he may." This, really,
is Mr. Huxley's sole proof for his classification of the
powers of man. Is it sufficient ? Does it not apply
rather to the birds of the air, the fish of the sea, and
the beasts of the field, than to man ? Did Newton only
feed himself, beget children, and then feed them ? Was
it impossible for him to do any more, let him do as
he might ? And what we ask of Newton we may ask
of all the rest. To elevate, therefore, the passing whim
of mere literary Laune into a cosmical axiom and a
proof in place — this we cannot help adding to the other
productions here in which Mr. Huxley appears against
himself.

But were it impossible either for him or us to point
to these lacuna, it would still be our right and our duty

106 ( 34 )

to refer to the present conditions of microscopic sci-
ence in general as well as in particular, and to demur
to the erection of its dicta, constituted as they yet are,
into established columns and buttresses in support of
any theory of life, material or other.

The most delicate and dubious of all the sciences, it
is also the youngest. In its manipulations the slightest
change may operate as a destructive drought, or an
equally destructive deluge. Its very tools may posi-
tively create the structure it actually examines. The
present state of the science, and what warrant it gives
Mr. Huxley to dogmatize on protoplasm, we may under-
stand from this avowal of Kiihne's : " To-day we be-
lieve that we see" such or such fact, " but know not
that further improvements in the means of observation
will not reveal what is assumed for certainty to be only
illusion." With such authority to lean on — and it is the
highest we can have — we may be allowed to entertain
the conjecture, that it is just possible that some certain-
ties, even of Mr. Huxley, may yet reveal themselves as
illusions.

But, in resistance to any sweeping conclusions built
on it, we are not confined to a reference to the imper-
fections involved in the very nature and epoch of the
science itself in general. With yet greater assurance
of carrying conviction with us, we may point in partic-
ular to the actual opinions of its present professors.
We have seen already, in the consideration premised,
that Mr. Huxley's hypothesis of a protoplasm matter is
unsupported, even by the most innovating Germans,
who as yet will not advance, the most advanced of them,
beyond a protoplasm-cell ; and that his whole argument
is thus sapped in advance. But what threatens more

35 I0

absolute extinction of this argument still, all the Ger-
man physiologists do not accept even the protoplasm-
cell. Rindfleisch, for example, in his recently-published
* Lehrbuch der pathologischen Gewebelehre,' speaks of
the cell very much as we understand Virchow to have
spoken of it. To him there is in the cell not only pro-
toplasm but nucleus, and perhaps membrane as well.
To him, too, the cell propagates itself quite as we have
been hitherto fancying it to do, by division of the nu-
cleus, increase of the protoplasm, and ultimate parti-
tion of the cell itself. Yet he knows withal of the
opinions of others, and accepts them in a manner. He
mentions Kiihne's account of the membrane as at first
but a mere physical limit of two fluids — a mere pe-
ripheral film or curdling ; still he assumes a formal and
decided membrane at last. Even Leydig and Schultze,
who shall be the express eliminators of the membrane
— the one by initiation and the other by consummation-
confess that, as regards the cells of certain tissues, they
have never been able to detect in them the absence tof
a membrane.

As regards the nucleus again, the case is very much
stronger. When we have admitted with Briicke that
certain cryptogam cells, with Haeckel that certain pro-
tists, with Cienkowsky that two monads, and with
Schultze that one amoeba, are without nucleus — when
we have admitted that division of the cell may take
place without implicating that of the nucleus — that the
movements of the nucleus may be passive and due to
those of the protoplasm — that Baer and Strieker dem-
onstrate the disappearance of the original nucleus in
the impregnated egg, — when we have admitted this, we
have admitted also all that can be said in degradation

io8 ( 36 )

of the nucleus. Even those who say all this still at-
tribute to the nucleus an important and unknown role,
and describe the formation in the impregnated egg of a
new nucleus ; while there are others again who resist
every attempt to degrade it. Bottcher asserts move-
ment for the nucleus, even when wholly removed from
the cell ; Neumann points to such movement in dead
or dying cells ; and there is other testimony to a like
effect, as well as to peculiarities of the nucleus other-
wise that indicate spontaneity. In this reference we
may allude to the weighty opinion of the late Professor
Goodsir, who anticipated in so remarkable a manner
certain of the determinations of Virchow. Goodsir, in
that anticipation, wonderfully rich and ingenious as he
is everywhere, is perhaps nowhere more interesting and
successful than in what concerns the nucleus. Of the
whole cell, the nucleus is to him, as it was to Schleiden,
Schwann, and others, the most important element.
And this is the view to which I, who have little busi-
ness to speak, wish success. This universe is not an
accidental cavity, in which an accidental dust has been
accidentally swept into heaps for the accidental evolu-
tion of the majestic spectacle of organic and inorganic
life. That majestic spectacle is a spectacle as plainly
for the eye of reason as any diagram of the mathema-
tician. That majestic spectacle could have been con-
structed, was constructed, only in reason, for reason,
and by reason. From beyond Orion and the Pleiades,
across the green hem of earth, up to the imperial per-
sonality of man, all, the furthest, the deadest, the dus-
tiest, is for fusion in the invisible point of the single
Ego — which alone glorifies it. For the subject, and on
the model of the subject, all is made. Therefore it is

( 37 ) 109

that — though, precisely as there are acephalous mon-
sters by way of exception and deformity, there may be
also at the very extremity of animated existence cells
without a nucleus — I cannot help believing that this
nucleus itself, as analogue of the subject will yet be
proved the most important and indispensable of all the
normal cell-elements. Even the phenomena of the im-
pregnated egg seem to me to support this view. In the
egg, on impregnation, it seems to me natural (I say it
with a smile) that the old sun that ruled it should go
down, and that a new sun, stronger in the combination
of the new and the old, should ascend into its place !

Be these things as they may, we have now overwhelm-
ing evidence before us for concluding, with reference to
Mr. Huxley's first proposition, that — in view of the na-
ture of microscopic science — in view of the state of
belief that obtains at present as regards nucleus, mem-
brane, and entire cell — even in view of the supporters
of protoplasm itself — Mr. Huxley is not authorized to
speak of a physical matter of life ; which, for the rest,
if granted, would, for innumerable and, as it appears to
me, irrefragable reasons, be obliged to acknowledge for
itself, not identity, but an infinite diversity .in power, in
form and in substance.

So much for the first proposition in Mr. Huxley's es-
say, or that which concerns protoplasm, as a supposed
matter of life, identical itself, and involving the identity
of all the various organs and organisms which it is as-
sumed to compose. What now of the second proposi-
tion, or that which concerns the materiality at once of
protoplasm, and of all that is conceived to derive from
protoplasm ? In other words, though, so to speak, for
organic bricks anything like an organic clay still awaits

(38)

the proof, I ask, if the bricks are not the same because
the clay is not the same, what if the materiality of the
former is equally unsupported by the materiality of the
latter ? Or what if the functions of protoplasm are not
properties of its mere molecular constitution ?

For this is Mr. Huxley,s second proposition, namely,
That, all vital and intellectual functions are but the
properties of the molecular disposition and changes of
the material basis (protoplasm) of which the various
animals and vegetables consist. With the conclusions
now before us, it is evident that to enter at all on this
part of Mr. Huxley's argumentation is, so far as we
are concerned, only a matter of grace. In order that
it should have any weight, we must grant the fact, at
once of the existence of a matter of life, and of all or-
gans and organisms being but aggregates of it. This,
obviously, we cannot now do. By way of hypothesis,
however, we may assume it. Let it be granted, then,
that/rtf hac vice there is a physical basis of life with all
the consequences named ; and now let us see how Mr.
Huxley proceeds to establish its materiality.

The whole former part of Mr. Huxley's essay consists
(as said) of fifty paragraphs, and the argument imme-
diately concerned is confined to the latter ten of them.
This argument is the simple chemical analogy that, un-
der stimulus of an electric spark, hydrogen and oxygen
uniting into an equivalent weight of water, and, under
stimulus of preexisting protoplasm, carbon, hydrogen,
oxygen, and nitrogen uniting into an equivalent weight
of protoplasm, there is the same warrant for atttribu-
ting the properties of the consequent to the properties
of the antecedents in the latter case as in the former.
The properties of protoplasm are, in origin and charac-

(39) in

ter, precisely on the same level as the properties of wa-
ter. The cases are perfectly parallel. It is as absurd
to attribute a new entity vitality to protoplasm, as a new
entity aquosity to water. Or, if it is by its mere chem-
ical and physical structure that water exhibits certain
.properties called aqueous, it is also by its mere chemi-
cal and physical structure that protoplasm exhibits cer-
tain properties called vital. All that is necessary in
either case is, " under certain conditions," to bring the
chemical constituents together. If water is a molecu-
lar complication, protoplasm is equally a molecular com-
plication, and for the description of the one or the
other there is no change of language required. A new
substance with new qualities results in precisely the
same way here, as a new substance with new qualities
there ; and the derivative qualities are not more differ-
ent from the primitive qualities in the one instance,
than the derivative qualities are different from the prim-
itive qualities in the other. Lastly, the modus operandi
of preexistent protoplasm is not more unintelligible than
that of the electric spark. The conclusion is irresisti-
ble, then, that all protoplasm being reciprocally con-
vertible, and consequently identical, the properties it
displays, vitality and intellect included, are as much
the result of molecular constitution as those of water
itself.

It is evident, then, that the fulcrum on which Mr.
Huxley's second proposition rests, is a single inference
from a chemical analogy. Analogy, however, being
never identity, is apt to betray. The difference it hides
may be essential, that is, while the likeness it shows
may be inessential — so far as the conclusion is con-
cerned. That this mischance has overtaken Mr. Hux-

112 (40)

ley here, it will, I fancy, not be difficult to demonstrate.

The analogy to which Mr. Huxley trusts has two ref-
erences : one, to chemical composition, and one to a
certain stimulus that determines it. As regards chemi-
cal composition, we are asked, by virtue of the analogy
obtaining, to identify, as equally simple instances of it,
protoplasm here and water there ; and, as regards the
stimulus in question, we are asked to admit the action
of the electric spark in the one case to be quite analo-
gous to the action of preexisting protoplasm in the
other. In both references I shall endeavor to point
out that the analogy fails ; or, as we may say it also,
that, even to Mr. Huxley, it can only seem to succeed
by discounting the elements of difference that still
subsist.

To begin with chemical combination, it is not unjust
to demand that the analogy which must be admitted to
exist in that, and a general physical respect, should not
be strained beyond its legitimate limits. Protoplasm
cannot be denied to be a chemical substance ; proto-
plasm cannot be denied to be a physical substance. As
a compound of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and nitrogen,
it comports itself chemically — at least in ultimate in-
stance— in a manner not essentially different from that
in which water, as a compound of hydrogen and oxy-
gen, comports itself chemically. In mere physical as-
pect, again, it may count quality for quality with water
in the same aspect. In short, so far as it is on chemi-
cal and physical structure that the possession of dis-
tinctive properties in any case depends, both bodies
may be allowed to be pretty well on a par. The anal-
ogy must be allowed to hold so far : so far but no
farther. One step farther and we see not only that

( 4i ) "3

protoplasm has, like water, a chemical and physical
structure ; but that, unlike water, it has also an organ-
ized or organic structure. Now this, on the part of
protoplasm, is a possession in excess ; and with re-
lation to that excess there can be no grounds for anal-
ogy. This, perhaps, is what Mr. Huxley has omitted
to consider. When insisting on attributing to proto-
plasm the qualities it possessed, because of its chemical
and physical structure, if it was for chemical and phys-
ical structure that we attributed to water its qualities,
he has simply forgotten the addition to protoplasm of a
third structure that can only be named organic. " If
the phenomena exhibited by water are its properties, so
are those presented by protoplasm, living or dead, its
properties." When Mr. Huxley speaks thus, Exactly
so, we may answer : " living or dead !" That alterna-
tive is simply slipped in and passed ; but it is in that
alternative that the whole matter lies. Chemically,
dead protoplasm is to Mr. Huxley quite as good as
living -protoplasm. As a sample of the article, he is
quite content with dead protoplasm, and even swallows
it, he says, in the shape of bread, lobster, mutton, etc.,
with all the satisfactory results to be desired. - Still, as
concerns the argument, it must be pointed out that it is
only these that can be placed on the same level as wa-
ter ; and that living protoplasm is not only unlike wa-
ter, but it is unlike dead protoplasm. Living protoplasm,
namely, is identical with dead protoplasm only so far as
its chemistry is concerned (if even so much as that) ;
and it is quite evident, consequently, that difference be-
tween the two cannot depend on that in which they are
identical— cannot depend on the chemistry. Life, then,
is no affair of chemical and physical structure, and must

H4 ( 42 )

find its explanation in something else. It is thus that,
lifted high enough, the light of the analogy between
water and protoplasm is seen to go out Water, in fact,
when formed from hydrogen and oxygen, is, in a cer-
tain way and in relation to them, no new product ; it
has still, like them, only chemical and physical quali-
ties ; it is still, as they are, inorganic. So far as kind
of power is concerned, they are still on the same level.
But not so protoplasm, where, with preservation of the
chemical and physical likeness there is the addition of
the unlikeness of life, of organization, and of ideas.
But the addition is a new world — a new and higher
world, the world of a self-realizing thought, the world
of an entelechy. The change of language objected to-
by Mr. Huxley is thus a matter of necessity, for it is
not mere molecular complication that we have any
longer before us, and the qualities of the derivative are
essentially and absolutely different from the qualities
of the primitive. If we did invent the term aquosity,
then, as an abstract sign for all the qualities of water,
we should really do very little harm ; but aquosity and
vitality would still remain essentially unlike. While for
the invention of aquosity there is little or no call, how-
ever, the fact in the other case is that we are not only
compelled to invent, but to perceive vitality. We are
quite willing to do as Mr. Huxley would have us to do :
look on, watch the phenomena, and name the results.
But just in proportion to our faithfulness in these re-
spects is the necessity for the recognition of a new
world and a new nomenclature. There are certainly
different states of water, as ice and steam ; but the re-
lation of the solid to the liquid, or of either to the va-
por, surely offers no analogy to the relation of proto-

(43) us

plasm dead to protoplasm alive. That relation is not
an analogy but an antithesis, the antithesis of antithe-
ses. In it, in fact, we are in presence of the one in-
communicable gulf — the gulf of all gulfs — that gulf
which Mr. Huxley's protoplasm is as powerless to
efface as any other material expedient that has ever
been suggested since the eyes of men first looked into
it — the mighty gulf between death and life.

The differences alluded to (they are, in order, organi-
zation and life, the objective idea — design, and the sub-
jective idea — thought), it may be remarked, are admit-
ted by those very Germans to whom protoplasm, name
and thing, is due. They, the most advanced and inno-
vating of them, directly avow that there is present in
the cell " an architectonic principle that has not yet
been detected." In pronouncing protoplasm capable
of active or vital movements, they do by that refer, they
admit also, to an immaterial force, and they ascribe the
processes exhibited by protoplasm — in so many words —
not to the molecules, but to organization and life. It is
remarked by Kant that " the reason of the specific
mode of existence of every part of a living body lies in
the whole, whilst with dead masses each part bears this
reason within itself;" and this indeed is how the two
worlds are differentiated. A drop of water, once
formed, is there passive for ever, susceptible to influ-
ence, but indifferent to influence, and what influence
reaches it is wholly from without. It may be added to,
it may be subtracted from ; but infinitely apathetic
quantitatively, it is qualitatively independent. It is in-
different to its own physical parts. It is without con-
tractility, without alimentation, without reproduction,
without specific function. Not so the cell, in which the

116 (44)

parts are dependent on the whole, and the whole on
the parts ; which has its activity and raison d'ttre within •
which manifests all the powers which we have described
water to want ; and which requires for its continuance
conditions of which water is independent. It is only
so far as organization and life are concerned, how-
ever, that the cell is thus different from water. Chemi-
cally and physically, as said, it can show with it quality
for quality. How strangely Mr. Huxley's deliverances
show beside these facts ! He can " see no break in the
series of steps in molecular complication ;" but, glar-
ingly obvious, there is a step added that is not molecu-
lar at all, and that has its supporting conditions com-
pletely elsewhere. The molecules are as fully accounted
for in protoplasm as in water ; but the sum of qualities,
thus exhausted in the latter, is not so exhausted in the
former, in which there are qualities due, plainly, not to
the molecules as molecules, but to the form into which
they are thrown, and the force that makes that form
one. When the chemical elements are brought together,
Mr. Huxley says, protoplasm is formed, " and this pro-
toplasm exhibits the phenomena of life j" but he ought
to have added that these phenomena are themselves
added to the phenomena for which all that relates to
chemistry stands, and are there, consequently, only by
reason of some other determinant. New consequents
necessarily demand new antecedents. "We think fit
to call different kinds of matter carbon, oxygen, hydro-
gen, and nitrogen, and to speak of the various powers
and activities of these substances as the properties of
the matter of which they are composed." That, doubt-
less, is true, we say ; but such statements do not ex-
haust the facts. We call water hydrogen and oxygen,

(45) ^7

and attribute its properties to the properties of them.
In a chemical point of view, we ought to do the same
thing for ice and steam ; yet, for all the chemical iden-
tity, water is not ice, nor is either steam. Do we, then,
in these cases, make nothing of the difference, and in
its despite enjoy the satisfaction of viewing the three
as one ? Not so ; we ask a reason for the difference ;
we demand an antecedent that shall render the conse-
quent intelligible. The chemistry of oxygen and hy-
drogen is not enough in explanation of the threefold
form ; and by the very necessity of the facts we are
driven to the addition of heat. It is precisely so with
protoplasm in its twofold form. The chemistry remain-
ing the same in each (if it really does so), we are com-
pelled to seek elsewhere a reason for the difference of
living from dead protoplasm. As the differences of ice
and steam from water lay not in the hydrogen and oxy-
gen, but in the heat, so the difference of living from
dead protoplasm lies not in the carbon, the hydrogen,
the oxygen, and the nitrogen, but in the vital organiza-
tion. In all cases, for the new quality, plainly, we must
have a new explanation. The qualities of a steam-
engine are not the results of its simple chemistry. We
do apply to protoplasm the same conceptions, then, that
are legitimate elsewhere, and in allocating properties
and explaining phenomena we simply insist on Mr.
Huxley's own distinction of " living or dead." That,
in fact, is to us the distinction of distinctions, and we
admit no vital action whatever, not even the dullest, to
be the result of the molecular action of the protoplasm
that displays it. The very protoplasm of the nettie-
sting, with which Mr. Huxley begins, is already vitaily
organized, and in that organization as mucn superior to

its own molecules as the steam-engine, in its mech-
anism, to its own wood and iron. It were indeed as ra-
tional to say that there is no principle concerned in a
steam-engine or a watch but that of its molecular
forces, as to make this assertion of organized matter.
Still there are degrees in organization, and the highest
forms of life are widely different from the lowest. De-
grees similar we see even in the inorganic world. The
persistent flow of a river is, to the mighty reason of. the
solar system, in some such proportion, perhaps, as the
rhizopod to man. In protoplasm, even the lowest, then,
but much more conspicuously in the highest, there is,
in addition to the molecular force, another force unsig-
nalized by Mr. Huxley — the force of vital organization.
But this force is a rational unity, and that is an idea ;
and this I would point to as a second form of the addi-
tion to the chemistry and physics of protoplasm. We
have just seen, it is true, that an idea may be found in
inorganic matter, as in the solar and sidereal systems
generally. But the idea in organized matter is not one
operative, so to speak, from without : it is one operative
from within, and in an infinitely more intimate and per-
vading manner. The units that form the complement
of an inorganic system are but independently and ex-
ternally in place, like units in a procession : but in what
is organized there is no individual that is not sublated
into the unity of the single life. This is so even, in pro-
toplasm. Mr. Huxley, it is true, desiderates, as result
of mere ordinary chemical process, a life-stuff in mass,
as it were in the web, to which he has only to resort for
cuttings and cuttings in order to produce, by aggrega-
tion, what organized individual he pleases. But the
facts are not so : we cannot have protoplasm in the

(47) IX9

web, but the piece. There is as yet no matter of life ;
there are still cells of life. It is no shred of protoplasm
— no spoonful or toothpickful — that can be recognized
as adequate to the function and the name. Such shred
may wriggle a moment, but it produces nought, and it
dies. In the smallest, lowest protoplasm cell, then, we
have this rational unity of a complement of individuals
that only are for the whole and exist in the whole.
This is an idea, therefore; this is design : the organized
concert of many to a single common purpose. The
rudest savage that should, as in Paley's illustration,
find a watch, and should observe the various contrivan-
ces all controlled by the single end in view, would be
obliged to acknowledge — though in his own way — that
what he had before him was no mere physical, no mere
molecular product. So in protoplasm : even from the
first, but, quite undeniably, in the completed organiza-
tion at last, which alone it was there to produce ; for a
single idea has been its one manifestation throughout.
And in what machinery does it not at length issue ?
Was it molecular powers that invented a respiration —
that perforated the posterior ear to give a balance of
air — that compensated the fenesfra ovalis by a fenestra
rotunda — that placed in the auricular sacs those otolithes,
those express stones for hearing ? Such machinery !
The chorda tendinece are to the valves of the heart ex-
actly adjusted check-strings ; and the contractile
columna carnecz are set in, under contraction and ex-
pansion, to equalize their length to their office. Mem-
branes, rods, and liquids — it required the express ex-
periment of man to make good the fact that the
inventor of the ear had availed himself of the most
perfect apparatus possible for his purpose. And are we

120 (43)

to conceive such machinery, such apparatus, such con-
trivances merely molecular ? Are molecules adequate
to such things — molecules in their blind passivity, and
dead, dull insensibility ? Is it to molecular agency Mr.
Huxley himself owes that " singular inward laboratory"
of which he speaks, and without which all the proto-
plasm in the world would be useless to him ? Surely,
in the presence of these manifest ideas, it is impossible
to attribute the single peculiar feature of protoplasm —
its vitality, namely — to mere molecular chemistry. Pro-
toplasm, it is true, breaks up into carbon, hydrogen,
oxygen, and nitrogen, as water does into hydrogen and
oxygen ; but the watch breaks similarly up into mere
brass, and steel, and glass. The loose materials of
the watch — even its chemical material if you will — re-
place its weight, quite as accurately as the constituents
carbon, etc., replace the weight of the protoplasm.
But neither these nor those replace the vanished idea,
which was alone the important element. Mr. Huxley
saw no break in the series of steps in molecular com-
plication ; but, though not molecular, it is difficult to
understand what more striding, what more absolute
break could be desired than the break into an idea. It
is of that break alone that we think in the watch ; and
it is of that break alone that we should think in the
protoplasm which, far more cunningly, far more ration-
ally, constructs a heart, an eye or an ear. That is the
break of breaks, and explain it as we may, we shall
never explain it by molecules.

But, if inorganic elements as such are inadequate to
account either for vital organization or the objective
idea of design, much more are they inadequate, in the
third place, to account for the subjective idea, for the

( 49 ) 121

phenomena of thought as thought. Yet Mr. Huxley
tells us that thought is but the expression of the mo-
lecular changes of protoplasm. This he only tells us ;
this he does not prove. He merely says that, if we ad-
mit the functions of the lowest forms of life to be but
" direct results of the nature of the matter of which
they are composed," we must admit as much for the
functions of the highest. We have not admitted Mr.
Huxley's presupposition \ but, even with its admission,
we should not feel bound to admit his conclusion. In
such a mighty system of differences, there are ample
room and verge enough for the introduction of new mo-
tives. We can say here at once, in fact, that as thought,
let its connection be what it may with, has never been
proved to result from, organization, no improvement of
the proof required will be found in protoplasm. No one
power that Mr. Huxley signalizes in protoplasm can ac-
count for thought : not alimentation, and not reproduc-
tion, certainly ; but not even contractility. We have
seen already that there is no proof of contraction being
necessary even for the simplest sensation ; but much
less is there any proof of a necessity of contraction for
the inner and independent operations of the mind. Mr.
Huxley himself admits this. He says : " Speech, ges-
ture, and every other form of human action are, in the
long-run, resolvable into muscular contraction ;" and so,
" even those manifestations of intellect, of feeling, and
of will, which we rightly name the higher faculties, are
not excluded from this classification, inasmuch as to
every one but the subject of them, they are known only as
transitory changes in the relative positions of pa~ts of
the body." The concession is made here, we see, that
these manifestations are differently known to the sub

122 (S0>

ject of them. But we may first object that, if even that
privileged " every one but the subject" were limited to
a knowledge of contractions, he would not know much.
It is only because he knows, first of all, a thinker and
wilier of contractions that these themselves cease to be
but passing externalities, and transitory contingencies.
Neither is it reasonable to assert an identity of nature
for contractions, and for that which they only represent.
It would hardly be fair to confound either the receiver
or the sender of a telegraphic message, with the move-
ments which alone bore it, and without which it would
have been impossible. The sign is not the thing signi-
fied, it is but the servant of the signifier — his own arbi-
trary mark — and intelligible, in the first place, only to
him. It is the meaning, in all cases, that is alone vital ;
the sign is but an accident. To convert the internality
into the arbitrary externality that simply expresses it, is
for Mr, Huxley only an oversight. Your ideas are
made known to your neighbors by contractions, there-
fore your ideas are of the same nature as contractions !
Or, even to take it from the other side, your neighbor
perceives in you contractions only, and therefore your
ideas are contractions ! Are not the vital elements
here present the two correspondent internalities, be-
tween which the contractions constitute but an arbitrary
chain of external communication, that is so now, but
may be otherwise again ? The ringing of the bell at
the window is not precisely the dwarf within. Nor are
Engineer Chappe's "wooden arms and elbow-joints
jerking and fugling in the air," to be identified with
Engineer Chappe himself. For the higher faculties,
even for speech, etc., assuredly Mr. Huxley might have
well spared himself this superfluous and inapplicable
reference to contraction.

(5O .123

But, in the middle of it, as we have seen, Mr. Huxley
concedes that these manifestations are differently known
to the subject of them. If so, what becomes of his
assertion of but a certain number of powers for proto-
plasm ? The manifestations of the higher faculties are
not known to the subject of them by contraction, etc.
By what, then, are they known ? According to Mr.
Huxley, they can only be known by the powers of pro-
toplasm ; and therefore, by his own showing, protoplasm
must possess powers other than those of his own asser-
tion. Mr. Huxley's one great power of contractility,
Mr. Huxley himself confesses to be inapplicable here.
Indeed, in his Physiology (p. 193), he makes such an
avowal as this : " We class sensations, along with emo-
tions^ and volitions, and thoughts, under the common
head of states of consciousness ; but what consciousness
is we know not, and how it is that anything so remark-
able as a state of consciousness comes about as the re-
sult of irritating nervous tissue, is just as unaccounta-
ble as the appearance of the Djin when Aladdin rubbed
his lamp in the story." Consciousness plainly was not
muscular contraction to Mr. Huxley when he wrote his
Physiology ; it is only since then that he has gone over
to the assertion of no power in protoplasm but the triple
power, contractility, etc. But the truth is only as his
Physiology has it — the cleft is simply, as Mr. Huxley
acknowledges it there, absolute. On one side, there is
the world of externality, where all is body by body,
and away from one another — the boundless reciprocal
exclusion of the infinite object. On the other side,
there is the world of internality, where all is soul to
soul, and away into one another — the boundless recip-
rocal inclusion of the infinite subject. This — even

i*4 (52)

while it is true that, for subject to be subject, and ob-
ject, object, the boundless intussuscepted multiplicity
of the single invisible point of the one is but the dimen-
sionless casket into which the illimitable Genius of the
other must retract and withdraw itself — is the differ-
ence of differences ; and certainly it is not internality
that can be abolished before externality. The proof
for the absoluteness of thought, the subject, the mind,
is, on its side, pretty well perfect. It is not necessary
here, however, to enter into that proof at length. Be-
fore passing on, I may simply point to the fact that, if
thought is to be called a function of matter, it must be
acknowledged to be a function wholly peculiar and un-
like any other. In all other functions, we are present
to processes which are in the same sense physical as
the organs themselves. So it is with lung, stomach,
liver, kidney, where every step can be followed, so to
speak, with eye and hand ; but all is changed when we
have to do with mind as the function of brain. Then,
indeed, as Mr. Huxley thought in his Physiology, we are
admitted, as if by touch of Aladdin's lamp, to a world
absolutely different and essentially new — to a world, on
its side of the incommunicable cleft, as complete, en-
tire, independent, self-contained, and absolutely sui
generis, as the world of matter on the other side. It
will be sufficient here to allude to as much as this, with
special reference to the fact that, so far as this argu-
ment is concerned, protoplasm has not introduced any
the very slightest difference. All the ancient reasons
for the independence of thought as against organiza-
tion, can be used with even more striking effect as
against protoplasm ; but it will be sufficient to indicate
this, so much are the arguments in question a common

(53) J25

property now. Thought, in fact, brings with it its own
warrant ; or it brings with it, to use the phrase of Burns,
" its patent of nobility direct from Almighty God."
And that is the strongest argument on this whole side.
Throughout the entire universe, organic and inorganic,
thought is the controlling sovereign ; nor does matter
anywhere refuse its allegiance. So it is in thought, too,
that man has his patent of nobility, believes that he is
created in the image of God, and knows himself a free-
man of infinitude.

But the analogy, in the hands of Mr. Huxley, has, we
have seen, a second reference — that, namely, to the ex-
citants, if we may call them so, which determine combi-
nation. The modus operandi, Mr. Huxley tells us, of
preexisting protoplasm in determining the formation of
new protoplasm, is not more unintelligible than the
modus operandi of the electric spark in determining the
formation of water ; and so both, we are left to infer,
are perfectly analogous. The inferential turn here is
rather a favorite with Mr. Huxley. " But objectors of
this class," he says on an earlier occasion, in allusion
to those who hesitate to conclude from dead to living
matter, " do not seem to reflect that it is also, in strict-
ness, true that we know nothing about the composition
of any body whatever as it is." In the same neighbor-
hood, too, he argues that, though impotent to restore
to decomposed calc-spar its original form, we do not
hesitate to accept the chemical analysis assigned to it,
and should not, consequently, any more hesitate be-
cause of any mere difference of form to accept the anal-
ysis of dead for that of living protoplasm. It is cer-
tainly fair to point out that, if we bear ignorance and
impotence with equanimity in one case, we may equally

126 (54)

so bear them in another ; but it is not fair to convert
ignorance into knowledge, nor impotence into power.
Yet it is usual to take such statements loosely, and let
them pass. It is not considered that, if we know noth-
ing about the composition of any body whatever as it
is, then we do know nothing, and that it is strangely
idle to offer absolute ignorance as a support for the
most dogmatic knowledge. If such statements are, as
is really expected for them, to be. accepted, yet not ac-
cepted, they are the stultification of all logic. Is the
chemistry of living to be seen to be the same as the
chemistry of dead protoplasm, because we know noth-
ing about the composition of any body whatever as it
is ? We know perfectly well that black is white, for we
are absolutely ignorant of either as it is ! The form of
the calc-spar, which (the spar) we can analyze, we can-
not restore ; therefore the form of the protoplasm, which
we cannot analyze, has nothing to do with the matter in
hand ; and the chemistry of what is dead may be ac-
cepted as the chemistry of what is living ! In the case
of reasoning so irrelevant it is hardly worth while refer-
ing to what concerns the forms themselves ; that they
are totally incommensurable, that in all forms of calc-
spar there is no question but of what is physical, while
in protoplasm the change of form is introduction into
an entire new world. As in these illustrations, so in
the case immediately before us. No appeal to igno-
rance in regard to something else, the electric spark,
should be allowed to transform another ignorance, that
of the action of preexisting protoplasm, into knowledge,
here into the knowledge that the two unknown things,
because of non-knowledge, are — perfectly analogous !
That this analogy does not exist — that the electric spark

( 55 ) 127

and preexisting protoplasm are, in their relative places,
not on the same chemical level — this is the main point
for us to see ; and Mr. Huxley's allusion to our igno-
rance must not be allowed to blind us to it. Here we
have in a glass vessel so much hydrogen and oxygen,
into which we discharge an electric spark, and water is
the result. Now what analogy is it possible to perceive
between this production of water by external experi-
ment and the production of protoplasm by protoplasm ?
The discrepancy is so palpable that it were impertinent
to enlarge on it. The truth is just this, that the meas-
ured and mixed gases, the vessel, and the spark, in the
one case, are as unlike the fortuitous food, the living
organs, and the long process of assimilation in the
other case, as the product water is unlike the product
protoplasm. No ; that the action of the electric spark
should be unknown, is no reason why we should not in-
sist on protoplasm for protoplasm, on life for life. Pro-
toplasm can only be produced by protoplasm, and each
of all the innumerable varieties of protoplasm, only by
its own kind. For the protoplasm of the worm we
must go to the worm, and for that of the toad-stool to
the toad-stool. In fact, if all living beings come from
protoplasm, it is quite as certain that, but for living be-
ings, protoplasm would disappear. Without an egg you
cannot have a hen — that is true ; but it is equally true
that, without a hen, you cannot have an egg. So in
protoplasm ; which, consequently, in the production of
itself, offers no analogy to the production, or precipita-
tion by the electric spark, not of itself, but of water.
Besides, if for protoplasm, preexisting protoplasm, is
always necessary, how was there ever a first proto-
plasm ?

128 • . (56)

Generally, then, Mr. Huxley's analogy does not hold,
whether in the one reference or the other, and Mr.
Huxley has no warrant for the reduction of protoplasm
to the mere chemical level which he assigns it in either.
That level is brought very prominently forward in such
expressions as these : That it is only necessary to
bring the chemical elements " together," " under cer-
tain conditions," to give rise to the more complex body,
protoplasm, just as there is a similar expedient to give
rise to water ; and that, under the influence of pre-
existing living protoplasm, carbonic acid, water, and
ammonia disappear, and an equivalent weight of proto-
plasm makes its appearance, just as, under the influence
of the electric spark, hydrogen and oxygen disappear,
and an equivalent weight of water makes its appear-
ance. All this, plainly, is to assume for protoplasm
such mere chemical place and nature as consist not
with the facts. The cases are, in truth, not parallel,
and the " certain conditions" are wholly diverse. All
that is said we can do at will for water, but nothing of
what is said can we do at will for protoplasm. To say
we can feed protoplasm, and so make protoplasm at will
produce protoplasm, is very much, in the circumstances,
only to say, and is not to say, that, in this way, we make
a chemical experiment. To insist on a chemical anal-
ogy, in fact, between water and protoplasm, is to omit
the differences not covered by the analogy at all —
thought, design, life, and all the processes of organiza-
tion ; and it is but simple procedure to omit these dif-
ferences only by an appeal to ignorance elsewhere.

It is hardly worth while, perhaps, to refer now again
to the difference — here, however, once more incident-
ally suggested — between protoplasm and protoplasm.

( 57 ) 129

Mr. Huxley, that is, almost in his very last word on this
part of the argument, seems to become aware of the
bearing of this on what relates to materiality, and he
would again stamp protoplasm (and with it life and in-
tellect), into an indifferent identity. In order that there
should be no break between the lowest functions and
the highest (the functions of the fungus and the func-
tions of man), he has " endeavored to prove," he says,
that the protoplasm of the lowest organisms is " essen-
tially identical with, and most readily converted into
that of any animal." On this alleged reciprocal con-
vertibility of protoplasm, then, Mr. Huxley would again
found as well an inference of identity, as the further
conclusion that the functions of the highest, not less
than those of the lowest animals, are but the molecular
manifestations of their common protoplasm.

Plainly here it is only the consideration, not of func-
tion, but of the alleged reciprocal convertibility that is
left us now. Is this true, then ? Is it true that every
organism can digest every other organism, and that
thus a relation of identity is established between that
which digests and whatever is digested ? These ques-
tions place Mr. Huxley's general enterprise, perhaps,
in the most glaring light yet ; for it is very evident that
there is an end of the argument if all foods and all
feeders are essentially identical both with themselves
and with each other. The facts of the case, however,
I believe to be too well known to require a single word
here on my part. It is not long since Mr. Huxley him-
self pointed out the great difference between the foods
of plants and the foods of animals ; and the reader
may be safely left to think for himself of ruminantia
and carnivora, of soft bills and hard bills, of molluscs

13° ( 58 )

and men. Mr. Huxley talks feelingly of the possibility
of himself feeding the lobster quite as much as of the
lobster feeding him ; but such pathos is not always ap-
plicable ; it is not likely that a sponge would be to the
stomach of Mr. Huxley any more than Mr. Huxley to
the stomach of a sponge.

But a more important point is this, that the functions
themselves remain quite apart from the alleged convert-
ibility. We can neither acquire the functions of what
we eat, nor impart our functions to what eats us. We
shall not come to fly by feeding on vultures, nor they to
speak by feeding on us. No possible manure of hu-
man brains will enable a corn-field to reason. But if
functions are inconvertible, the convertibility of the pro-
toplasm is idle. In this inconvertibility, indeed, functions
will be seen to be independent of mere chemical compo-
sition. And that is the truth : for functions there is more
required than either chemistry or physics.

It is to be acknowledged — to notice one other inci-
dental suggestion, for the sake of completeness, and by
way of transition to the final consideration of possible
objections — that Mr. Huxley would be very much as-
sisted in his identification of differences, were but the
theories of the molecularists, on the one hand, and of
Mr. Darwin, on the other, once for all established. The
three modes of theorizing indicated, indeed, are not
without a tendency to approach one another ; and it is
precisely their union that would secure a definitive tri-
umph for the doctrine of materialism. Mr. Huxley, as
we have seen — though what he desiderates is an auto-
plastic living matter that, produced by ordinary chem-
ical processes, is yet capable of continuing and develop-
ing itself into new and higher forms — still begins with

(59) J3'

the egg. Now the theory of the molecularists would,
for its part, remove all the difficulties that, for material-
ism, are involved in this beginning ; it would place pro-
toplasm undeniably at length on a merely chemical
level ; and would fairly enable Mr. Darwin, supple-
mented by such a life-stuff, to account by natural means
for everything like an idea or thought that appears in
creation. The misfortune is, however, that we must
believe the theory of the molecularists still to await the
proof ; while the theory of Mr. Darwin has many diffi-
culties peculiar to itself. This theory, philosophically,
or in ultimate analysis, is an attempt to prove that de-
sign, or the objective idea, especially in the organic
world, is developed in time by natural means. The time
which Mr. Darwin demands, it is true, is an infinite
time j and he thus gains the advantage of his processes
being allowed greater clearness for the understanding, in
consequence of the obscurity of the infinite past in
which they are placed, and of which it is difficult in the
first instance to deny any possibility whatever. Still it
remains to be asked, Are such processes credible in any
time ? What Mr. Darwin has done in aid of his view
is, first, to lay before us a knowledge of facts in natural
history of surprising richness ; and, second, to support
this knowledge by an inexhaustible ingenuity of hypoth-
esis in arrangement of appearances. Now, in both re-
spects, whether for information or even interest, the
value of Mr. Darwin's contribution will probably always
remain independent of the argument or arguments that
might destroy his leading proposition ; and it is with
this proposition that we have here alone to do. As
said, we ask only, Is it true that the objective idea, the
design which we see in the organized world, is the re-

i32 ( 60 )

suit in infinite time of the necessary adaption of living
structures to the peculiarities of the conditions by which
they are surrounded ?

Against this theory, then, its own absolute generali-
zation may be viewed as our first objection. In ulti-
mate abstraction, that is, the only agency postulated by
Mr. Darwin is time — infinite time ; and as regards ac-
tually existent beings and actually existent conditions,
it is hardly possible to deny any possibility whatever to
infinitude. If told, for example, that the elephant, if
only obliged infinitely to run, might be converted into
the stag, how should we be able to deny ? So also, if
the lengthening of the giraffe's neck were hypothetically
attributed to a succession of dearths in infinite time
that only left the leaves of trees for long-necked ani-
mals to live on, we should be similarly situated as re-
gards denial. Still it can be pointed out that ingenuity
of natural conjecture has, in such cases, no less wide a
field for the negation than for the affirmation ; and
that, on the question of fact, nothing is capable of be-
ing determined. But we can also say more than that —
we can say that any fruitful application even of infinite
time to the general problem of difference in the world is
inconceivable. To explain all from an absolute begin-
ning requires us to commence with nothing ; but to this
nothing time itself is an addition. Time is an entity, a
something, a difference added to the original identity :
whence or how came time ? Time cannot account for
its own self; how is it that there is such a thing as time ?
Then no conceivable brooding even of infinite time
could hatch the infinitude of space. How is it there is
such a thing as space ? No possible clasps of time and
space, further, could ever conceivably thicken into mat-

( 61 ) 133

ter. How is it there is such a thing as matter ? Lastly,
so far, no conceivable brooding, or even gyrating, of a
single matter in time and space could account for the
specification of matter — carbon, gold, iodine, etc. — as
we see and know it. Time, space, matter, and the
whole inorganic world, thus remain impassive to the ac-
tion even of infinite time ; all these differences remain
incapable of being accounted for so.

But suppose no curiosity had ever been felt in this
reference, which, though scientifically indefensible, is
quite possible, how about the transition of the inorganic
into the organic ? Mr. Huxley tells us that, for food,
the plant needs nothing but its bath of smelling-salts.
Suppose this bath now — a pool of a solution of carbon-
ate of ammonia ; can any action- of sun, or air, or elec-
tricity, be conceived to develop a cell — or even so much
lump-protoplasm — in this solution ? The production of
an initial cell in any such manner will not allow itself to
be realized to thought. Then we have just to think for
a moment of the vast differences into which, for the
production of the present organized world, this cell
must be distributed, to shake our heads and say we can-
not well refuse anything to an infinite time, but still we
must pronounce a problem of this reach hopeless.

It is precisely in conditions, however, that Mr. Dar-
win claims a solution of this problem. Conditions con-
cern all that relates to air, heat, light, land, water, and
whatever they imply. Our second objection, conse-
quently, is, that conditions are quite inadequate to ac-
count for present organized differences, from a single
cell. Geological time, for example, falls short, after all,
of infinite time ; or, in known geological eras, let us
calculate them as liberally as we may, there is not time

J34 ( 62 )

enough to account for the presently-existing varieties,
from one, or even several, primordial forms. So to
speak, it is not in geological time to account for the
transformation of the elephant into the stag from ac-
celeration, or for that of the stag into the elephant from
retardation, of movement. And we may speak sim-
ilarly of the growth of the neck of the giraffe, or even
of the elevation of the monkey into man. Moreover,
time apart, conditions have no such power in themselves.
It is impossible to conceive of animal or vegetable
effluvia ever creating the nerve by which they are felt,
and so gradually the Schneiderian membrane, nose, and
whole olfactory apparatus. Yet these effluvia are the
conditions of smell, and, ex hypothesi, ought to have
created it. Did light, or did the pulsations of the air,
ever by any length of time, indent into the sensitive
cell, eyes, and a pair of eyes — ears, and a pair of ears ?
Light conceivably might shine for ever without such a
wonderfully complicated result as an eye. Similarly,
for delicacy and marvellous ingenuity of structure, the
ear is scarcely inferior to the eye ; and surely it is pos-
sible to think of a whole infinitude of those fitful and
fortuitous air-tremblings, which we call sound, without
indentation into anything whatever of such an organ.

A third objection to Mr. Darwin's theory is, that the
play of natural contingency in regard to the vicissi-
tudes of conditions, has no title to be named selection.
Naturalists have long known and spoken of the " influ-
ence of accidental causes ; but Mr. Darwin was the
first to apply the term selection to the action of these,
and thus convert accident into design. The agency to
which Mr. Darwin attributes all the changes which he
would signalize in animals is really the fortuitous con.-

«3 135

tingency of brute nstvare ; and it is altogether fallacious
to call such process, or such non-process, by a term in-
volving foresight and a purpose. We have here, indeed,
only a metaphor wholly misapplied. The German wri-
ter who, many years ago, said " even the genera are
wholly a prey to the changes of the external universal
life," saw precisely what Mr. Darwin sees, but it never
struck him to style contingency selection. Yet, how
dangerous, how infectious, has not this ungrounded
metaphor proved ! It has become a principle, a law, and
been transferred by very genuine men into their own
sciences of philology and what not. People will won-
der at all this by-and-by. But to point out the inappli-
cability of such a word to the processes of nature re-
ferred to by Mr. Darwin, is to point out also the impos-
sibility of any such contingencies proceeding, by
graduated rise, from stage to stage, into the great sym-
metrical organic system — the vast plan — the grand har-
monious whole — by which we are surrounded. This
rise, this system, is really the objective idea ; but it is
utterly incapable of being accounted for by any such
agency as natural contingency in geological, or infinite,
or any time. But it is this which the word selection
tends to conceal.

We may say, lastly, in objection, here, that, in the fact
of " reversion" or " atavism," Mr. Darwin acknowledges
his own failure. We thus see that the species as spe-
cies is something independent, and holds its own insita
vis natures within itself.

Probably it is not his theory, then, that gives value
to Mr. Darwin's book ; nor even his ready ingenuity,
whatever interest it may lend : it is the material infor-
mation it contains. The ingenuity, namely, verges

136 ( 64 )

somewhat on that Humian expedient of natural con-
jecture so copiously exemplified, on occasion of a few
trite texts, in Mr. Buckle. But that natural conjecture
is always insecure, equivocal, and many-sided. It may
be said that ancient warfare, for example, giving victory
always to the personally ablest and bravest, must have
resulted in the improvement of the race ; or that, the
weakest being always necessarily left at home, the im-
provement was balanced by deterioration ; or that the
ablest were necessarily the most exposed to danger, and
so, etc., etc., according, to ingenuity usque ad infinitum.
Trustworthy conclusion is not possible to this method,
but only to the induction of facts, or to scientific de-
monstration.

Neither molecularists nor Darwinians, then, are able
to level out the difference between organic and inorganic,
or between genera and genera or species and species.
The differences persist despite of both ; the distributed
identity remains unaccounted for. Nor, consequently,
is Mr. Darwin's theory competent to explain the objec-
tive idea by any reference to time and conditions. Liv-
ing beings do exist in a mighty chain from the moss to
the man ; but that chain, far from founding, is founded
in the idea, and is not the result of any mere natural
growth of this into that. That chain is itself the most
brilliant stamp, the sign-manual, of design. On every
ledge of nature, from the lowest to the highest, there is
a life that is its, — a creature to represent it, reflect it —
so to speak, pasture on it. The last, highest, brightest
link of this chain is man ; the incarnation of thought it-
self, which is the summation of this universe ; man, that
includes in himself all other links and their single secret
— the personified universe, the subject of the world.

( 65 ) '37

Mr. Huxley makes but small reference to thought ; he
only tucks it in, as it were, as a mere appendicle of
course.

It may be objected, indeed — to reach the last stage in
this discussion — that, if Mr. Huxley has not disproved
the conception of thought and life " as a something
which works through matter, but is independent of it,"
neither have we proved it. But it is easy for us to re-
ply that, if "independent of" means here "unconnected
with" we have had no such ojpject. We have had no
object whatever, in fact, but to resist, now the extrava-
gant assertion that all organized tissue, from the lichen
to Leibnitz, is alike in facult^'and again the equally ex-
travagant assertion that life ^nd thought are but ordi-
nary products of molecular chemistry. As regards the
latter assertion, we have endeavored to show that the
processes of vital organization (as self-production, etc.)
belong to another sphere, higher than, and very differ-
ent from, those of mechanical juxtaposition or chemical
neutralization ; that life, then, is no mere product of
matter as matter ; that if no life can be pointed to in-
dependent of matter, neither is there any life-stuff inde-
pendent of life ; and that life, consequently, adds a new
and higher force to chemistry, as chemistry a new and
higher force to mechanics, etc. As for thought, the en-
deavor was to show tha?it was as independent on the
one side as matter on the other, that it controlled, used,
summed, and was the reason of matter. Thought, then,
is not to be reached by any bridge from matter, that is
a hybrid of both, and explains the connection. The re-
lation of matter to mind is not to be explained as a
transition, but as a contreconp. In this relation, how-
ever, it is not the material, but the mental side, which
the whole universe declares to be the dominant one.

138 ( 66 >

As regards any objection to the arguments whicn we
have brought against the identity of protoplasm, again,
these will lie in the phrase, probably, " difference not of
kind, but degree," or in the word "modification." The
" phrase" may be now passed, for generic or specific
difference must be allowed in protoplasm, if not for the
overwhelming reason that an infinitude of various kinds
exist in it, each of which is self-productive and uninter-
changeable with the rest, then for Mr. Huxley's own
reason, that plants assimilate inorganic matter and ani-
mals only organic. As for the objection " modification,"
again, the same consideration of generic difference
must prove fatal to it. This were otherwise, indeed,
could but the molecularists and Mr. Darwin succeed in
destroying generic difference ; but in this, as we have
seen, they have failed. And this will be always so :
who dogs identity, difference dogs him. It is quite a
justifiable endeavor, for example, to point out the iden-
tity that obtains between veins and arteries on the one
hand, as between these and capillaries on the other ;
but all the time the difference is behind us ; and when
we turn to. look, we see, for circulation, the valves of the
veins and the elastic coats of the arteries as opposed to
one another, and, for irrigation, the permeable walls of
the capillaries as opposed to both.

Generic differences exist then, and we cannot allow
the word " modification" to efface them in the interest
of the identity claimed for protoplasm. Brain-proto-
plasm is not bone-protoplasm, nor the protoplasm of
the fungus the protoplasm of man. Similarly, it is very
questionable how far the word " modification" will war-
rant us in regarding with Mr. Huxley the " ducts, fibres,
pollen, and ovules" of the nettle as identical with the

v °7 ; 139

protoplasm of its sting. Things that originate alike
may surely eventuate in others which, chemically and
vitally, far from being mere modifications, must be pro-
nounced totally different. Such eventuation must be
held competent to what can only be named generic or
specific difference. The " child " is only "father of the
man " — it is not the man • who, moreover^ in the course
of an ordinary life, we are told, has totally changed him-
self, not once, but many times, retaining at the last not
one single particle of matter with which he set out.
Such eventuations, whether called modifications or not,
certainly involve essential difference. And so situated
are the " ducts, fibres, pollen, and ovules " of the nettle,
which, whether compared with the protoplasm of the
nettle-sting, or with that in which they originated, must
be held to here assumed, by their own actions, indisputa-
ble differences, physical, chemical, and vital, or in form,
substance, and faculty.

Much, in fact, depends on definition here ; and, in
reference to modification, it may be regarded as arbi-
trary when identity shall be admitted to cease and dif-
ference to begin. There are the old Greek puzzles of
the Bald Head and the Heap, for example. How many
grains, or how many hairs, may we remove before a heap
of wheat is no heap, or a head of hair bald ? These
concern quantity alone ; but, in other cases, bone, mus-
cle, brain, fungus, tree, man, there is not only a quantita-
tive, but a qualitative difference ; and in regard to such
differences, the word modification can be regarded as
but a cloak, under which identity is to be shuffled into
difference, but remain identity all the same. The brick
is but modified clay, Mr. Huxley intimates, bake it and
paint it as you may j but is the difference introduced by

140 ( 68 )

the baking and painting to be ignored ? Is what Mr.
Huxley calls the " artifice " not to be taken into account,
leave alone the "potter?" The strong firm rope is
about as exact an example of modification proper —
modification of the weak loose hemp — as can well be
found ; but are we to exclude from our consideration
the whole element of difference due to the hand and
brain of man ? Not far from Burn's Monument, on the
Calton Hill of Edinburgh, there lies a mass of stones
which is potentially a church, the former Trinity Col-
lege Church. Were this church again realized, would
it be fair to call it a mere modification of the previous
stones? Look now to the egg and the full-feathered
fowl. Chaucer describes to us the cock, " hight chaun-
teclere," that was to his " faire Pertelotte " so dear : —

"His comb was redder than the fine corall,
Embattled, as it were a castle -wall ;
His bill was black, and as the jet it shone ;
Like azure were his legges and his tone (toes) ;
His nailes whiter than the lilie flour,
And like the burned gold was his color."

Would it be even as fair to call this fine fellow —
comb, wattles, spurs, and all — a modified yolk, as to
call the church but modified stones ? If, in the latter
case, an element of difference, altogether undeniable,
seems to have intervened, is not such intervention at
least quite as well marked in the former ? It requires
but a slight analysis to detect that all the stones in
question are marked and numbered ; but will any analy-
sis point out within the shell the various parts that only
need arrangement to become the fowl ? Are the men
that may take the stones, and, in a re-erected Trinity
College Church, realize anew the idea of Us architect,

( 69 ) 141

in any respect more wonderful than the unknown dis-
posers of the materials of the fowl ? That what rea-
lizes the idea should, in the one case, be from without,
and, in the other, from within, is no reason for seeing
more modification and less wonder in the latter than the
former. There is certainly no more reason for seeing
the fowl in the egg, and as identical with the egg, than
for seeing a re-built Trinity College Church as identical
with its unarranged materials. A part cannot be taken
for the whole, whether in space or in time. Mr. Huxley
misses this. He is so absorbed in the identity out of
which, that he will not see the difference into which,
progress is made. As the idea of the church has the
stones, so the idea of the fowl has the egg, for its com-
mencement. But to this idea, and in both cases, the
terminal additions belong, quite as much as the initial
materials. If the idea, then, add sulphur, phosphorus,
iron, and what not, it must be credited with these not
less than with the carbon, hydrogen, etc., with which it
began. It is not fair to mutter modification, as if it
were a charm to destroy all the industry of time. The
protoplasm of the egg of the fowl is no more the fowl
than the stones the church ; and to identify, by juggle
of a mere word, parts in time and wholes in time so dif-
ferent, is but self-deception. Nay, in protoplasm, as we
have so often seen, difference is as much present at first
as at last. Even in its germ, even in its initial identity,
to call it so, protoplasm is already different, for it issues
in differences infinite.

Omission of the consideration of difference, it is to be
acknowledged, is not now-a-days restricted to Mr. Hux-
ley. In the wonder that is usually expressed, for exam-
ple, at Oken's identification of the skull with so many

vertebrae, it is forgot that there is still implicated the
wonder which we ought to feel at the unknown power
that could, in the end, so differentiate them. If the
cornea of the eye and the enamel of the teeth are alike
but modified protoplasm, we must be pardoned for
thinking more of the adjective than of the substantive.
Our wonder is how, for one idea, protoplasm could be-
come one thing here, and, for another idea, another so
different thing there. We are more curious about the
modification than the protoplasm. In the difference,
rather than in the identity, it is, indeed, that the wonder
lies. Here are several thousand pieces of protoplasm ;
analysis can detect no difference in them. They are to
us, let us say, as they are to Mr. Huxley, identical in
power, in form, and in substance ; and yet on all these
several thousand little bits of apparently indistinguish-
able matter an element of difference so pervading and
so persistent has been impressed, that, of them all, not
one is interchangeable with another ! Each seed feeds
its own kind. The protoplasm of the gnat will no more
grow into the fly than it will grow into an elephant.
Protoplasm is protoplasm : yes, but man's protoplasm
is man's protoplasm, and the mushroom's the mush-
room's. In short, it is quite evident that the word
modification, if it would conceal, is powerless to with-
draw, the difference ; which difference, moreover, is one
of kind and not of degree.

This consideration of possible objections, then, is the
last we have to attend to ; and it only remains to draw
'the general conclusion. All animal and vegetable or-
ganisms are alike in power, in form, and in substance,
only if the protoplasm of which they are composed is
similarly alike; and the functions of all animal and

7i 143

vegetable organisms are but properties of the molecular
affections of their chemical constituents, only if the func-
tions of the protoplasm, of which they are composed,
are but properties of the molecular affections of its
chemical constituents. In disproof of the affirmative
in both clauses, there has been no object but to demon-
strate, on the one hand, the infinite non-identity of pro-
toplasm, and, on the other, the dependence of its func-
tions upon other factors than its molecular constituents.
In short, the whole position of Mr. Huxley, that all
organisms consist alike of the same life-matter, which
life-matter is, for its part, due only to chemistry, must
be pronounced untenable — nor less untenable the mate-
rialism he would found on it.

ON THE HYPOTHESIS ^OF EVOLUTION,

PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL.

ON THE

HYPOTHESIS OF EVOLUTION:

PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL.

" Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that pro-
ceedeth out of the mouth of God shall man live."

There is apparently considerable repugnance in the
minds of many excellent people to the acceptance, or
even consideration, of the hypothesis of development,
or that of the gradual creation by descent, with modifi-
cation from the simplest beginnings, of the different
forms of the organic world. This objection probably
results from two considerations : first, that the human
species is certainly involved, and man's descent from
"an ape asserted ; and, secondly, that the scheme in
general seems to conflict with that presented by the
Mosaic account of the Creation, which is regarded as
communicated to its author by an infallible inspiration.

As the truth of the hypothesis is held to be infinitely
probable by a majority of the exponents of the natural
sciences at the present day, and is held as absolutely
demonstrated by another portion, it behooves those in-
terested to restrain their condemnation, and on the
other hand to examine its evidences, and look any con-
sequent necessary modification of our metaphysical or
theological views squarely in the face.

14* (4)

The following pages state a few of the former ; if
they suggest some of the latter, it is hoped that they
may be such as any logical mind would deduce from
the premises. That they will coincide with the spirit
of thr most advanced Christianity, I have no doubt ;
and that they will add an appeal through the reason y.o
that direct influence of the Divine Spirit which should
control the motives of human action, seems an unavoid-
able conclusion.

I. PHYSICAL EVOLUTION.

It is well known that a species is usually represented
by a great number of individuals, distinguished from
all other similar associations by more or less numerous
points of structure, color, size, etc., and by habits and
instincts also, to a certain extent ; that the individuals
of such associations reproduce their like, and cannot be
produced by individuals of associations or species
which present differences of structure, color, etc., as
defined by naturalists '; that the individuals of any such
series or species are incapable of reproducing with
those of any other species, with some exceptions ; and
that in the latter cases the offspring are usually entirely
infertile.

The hypothesis of Cuvier assumes that each species
was created by Divine power as we now find it at some
definite point of geologic time. The paleontologist
holding this view sees, in accordance therewith, a suc-
cession of creations and destructions marking the his-
tory of life on our planet from its commencement.

The development hypothesis states that all existing
species have been derived from species of preexistent

( 5 ) 149

geological periods, as offspring or by direct descent ;
that there have been no total destructions of life in past
time, but only a transfer of it from place to place, owing
to changes of circumstance ; that the types of structure
become simpler and more similar to each other as we
trace them from later to earlier periods; and that
finally we reach the simplest forms consistent with one
or several original parent types of the great divisions
into which living beings naturally fall.

It is evident, therefore, that the hypothesis does not
include change of species by hybridization, nor allow
the descent of living species from any other living
species : both these propositions are errors of misap-
prehension or misrepresentation.

In order to understand the history of creation of a
complex being, it is necessary to analyze it and ascer-
tain of what it consists. In analyzing the construction
of an animal or plant we readily arrange its characters
into those which it possesses in common with other ani-
mals or plants, and those in which it resembles none
other : the latter are its individual characters, constitu-
ting its individuality. Next we find a large body of
characters, generally of a very obvious kind, which it
possesses in common with a generally large number of
individuals, which, taken collectively, all men are ac-
customed to call a species ; these characters we conse-
quently name specific. Thirdly, we find characters,
generally in parts of the body which are of importance
in the activities of the animal, or which lie in near rela-
tion to its mechanical construction in details, which are
shared by a still larger number of individuals than those
which were similar in specific characters. In other
words, it is common to a large number of species. This

'5° ( 6 )

kind of character we call generic, and the grouping it
indicates is a genus.

Farther analysis brings to light characters of organ-
ism which are common to a still greater number of indi-
viduals ; this we call a family character. Those which
are common to still more numerous individuals are the
ordinal: they are usually found in parts of the structure
which have the closest connection with the whole life-
history of the being. Finally, the individuals compos-
ing many orders will be found identical in some impor-
tant character of the systems by which ordinary life is
maintained, as in the nervous and circulatory : the
divisions thus outlined are called classes.

By this process of analysis we reach in our animal or
plant those peculiarities which are common to the whole
animal or vegetable kingdom, and then we have ex-
hausted the structure so completely that we have noth-
ing remaining to take into account beyond the cell-
structure or homogeneous protoplasm by which we
know that it is organic, and not a mineral.

The history of the origin of a type, as species, genus,
order, etc., is simply the history of the origin of the
structure or structures which define those groups re-
spectively. It is nothing more nor less than this,
whether a man or an insect be the object of investi-
gation.

EVIDENCES OF DERIVATION.

a. Of Specific Characters.

The evidences of derivation of species from species,
within the limits of the genus, are abundant and con-
clusive, In the first place, the rule which naturalists.

(7) IS'

observe in defining species is a clear consequence of
such a state of things. It is not amount and degree of
difference that determine the definition of species from
species, but it is the permanency of the characters in all
cases and under all circumstances. Many species of
the systems include varieties and extremes of form, etc.,
which, were they at all times distinct, and not connected
by intermediate forms, would be estimated as species by
the same and other writers, as can be easily seen by
reference to their works.

Thus, species are either "restricted" or "protean,"
the latter embracing many, the former few variations ;
and the varieties included by the protean species are
often as different from each other in their typical forms
as are the " restricted " species. As an example, the
species Homo sapiens (man) will suffice. His primary
varieties are as distinct as the species of many well
known genera, but cannot be defined, owing to the ex-
istence of innumerable intermediate forms between
them.

As to the common origin of such "varieties" of the
protean species, naturalists never had any doubt, yet
when it comes to the restricted " species," the anti-de-
velopmentalist denies it in 1oto. Thus the varieties of
most of the domesticated animals are some of them
known — others held with great probability to have had a
common origin. Varieties of plumage in fowls and
canaries are of every-day occurrence, and are produced
under our eyes. The cart-horse and racer, the Shet-
land pony and the Norman, are without doubt derived
from the same parentage. The varieties of pigeons and
ducks are of the same kind, but not every one is aware
of the extent and amount of such variations. The

'(8)

varieties in many characters seen in hogs and cattle,
especially when examples from distant countries are
compared, are very striking, and are confessedly equal
in degree to those found to define species in a state of
nature : here, however, they are not definitive.

It is easy to see that all that is necessary to produce
in the mind of the anti-developmentalist the illusion of
distinct origin by creation of many of these forms,
would be to destroy a number of the intermediate con-
ditions of specific form and structure, and thus to leave
remaining definable groups of individuals, and there-
fore "species."

That such destructions and extinctions have been
going on ever since the existence of life on the globe is
well known. That it should affect intermediate forms,
such as bind together the types of a protean species as
well as restricted species, is equally certain. That its
result has been to produce definable species cannot be
denied, especially in consideration of the following
facts : Protean species nearly always have a wide geo-
graphical distribution. They exist under more varied
circumstances than do individuals of a more restricted
species. The subordinate variations of the protean
species are generally, like the restricted species, con-
fined to distinct subdivisions of the geographical area
which the whole occupies. As in geological time
changes of level have separated areas once continuous
by bodies of water or high mountain ranges, so have
vast numbers of individuals occupying such areas been
destroyed. Important alterations of temperature, or
great changes in abundance or character of vegetable
life over given areas, would produce the same result.

This part of the subject might be prolonged, were it

( 9 ) 153

necessary, but it has been ably discussed by Darwin.
The rationale of the " origin of species " as stated by
him may be examined a few pages farther on.

4
ft. Of the Characters of Higher Groups.

a. Relations of Structures. The evidences of deriva-
tive origin of the structures defining the groups called
genera, and all those of higher grade, are of a very dif-
ferent character from those discussed in relation to spe-
cific characters ; they are more difficult of observation
and explanation.

Firstly: It would appear to be supposed by many
that the creation of organic types was an irregular and
capricious process, variously pursued by its Author as
regards time and place, and without definite final aim ;
and this notwithstanding the wonderful evidences we
possess, in the facts of astronomy, chemistry, sound,
etc., of His adhesion to harmonious and symmetrical
sequences in His modes and plans.

Such regularity of plan is found to exist in the rela-
tions of the great divisions of the animal and vegetable
kingdoms as at present existing on the earth. Thus,
with animals we have a great class of species which
consists of nothing more than masses or cells of proto-
plasmic matter, without distinct organs ; or the Pro-
tozoa. We have then the Gcelenterata (example, corals,)
where the organism is composed of many cells arranged
in distinct parts, but where a single very simple system
of organs, forming the only internal cavity of the body,
does the work of the many systems of the more com-
plex animals. Next, the Echinodermata (such as star-
fish) present us with a body containing distinct systems
i*

154 ( io )

of organs enclosed in a visceral cavity, including a ru-
dimental nervous system in the form of a ring. In the
Molluscs to this condition is added additional complica-
tion, including extensions of the nervous system from
the ring as a starting-point, and a special organ for a
heart. In the Articulates (crabs, insects,) we have like
complications, and a long distinct nervous axis on the
lower surface of the body. The last branch or division
of animals is considered to be higher, because all the
systems of life organs are most complex or specialized.
The nervous ring is almost obliterated by a great en-
largement of its usual ganglia, thus become a brain,
which is succeeded by a long axis on the upper side
of the body. This and other points define the Ver-
tebrata.

Plans of structure, independent of the simplicity or
perfection of the special arrangement or structure of
organs, also define these great groups. Thus the Pro-
tozoa present a spiral, the Ccelenterata a radiate, the
Echinodermata a bilateral radiate plan. The Articu-
lates are a series of external rings, each in one or more
respects repeating the others. The Molluscs are a sac,
while a ring above a ring, joined together by a solid
center-piece, represents the plan of each of the many
segments of the Vertebrates which give the members of
that branch their form.

These bulwarks of distinction of animal types are
entered into here simply because they are the most in-
violable and radical of those with which we have to
deal, and to give the anti-developmentalist the best foot-
hold for his position. I will only allude to the relations
of their points of approach, as these are affected by
considerations afterward introduced.

The Vertebrates approach the Molluscs at the low-
est extreme of the former and higher of the latter.
The lamprey eels of the one possess several characters
in common with the cuttle-fish or squids of the latter.
The amphioxus is called the lowest Vertebrate, and
though it is nothing else, the definition of the division
must be altered to receive it ; it has no brain !

The lowest forms of the Molluscs and Articulates are
scarcely distinguishable from each other, so far as adhe-
sion to the " plan " is concerned, and some of the lat-
ter division are very near certain Echinodermata. As
we approach the boundary-lines of the two lowest divis-
ions, the approaches become equally close, and the boun-
daries very obscure.

More instructive is the evidence of the relation of
"the subordinate classes of any one of these divisions.
The conditions of those organs or parts which define
classes exhibit a regular relation, commencing with
simplicity and ending with complication; first asso-
ciated with weak exhibitions of the highest functions of
the nervous system — at the last displaying the most ex-
alted traits found in the series.

For example : In the classes of Vertebrates we find
the lowest nervous system presents great simplicity —
the brain cannot be recognized ; next (in lampreys), the
end of the nervous axis is subdivided, but scarcely ac-
cording to the complex type that follows. In fishes the
cerebellum and cerebral hemispheres are minute, and
the intermediate or optic lobes very large : in the rep-
tiles the cerebral hemispheres exceed the optic lobes,
while the cerebellum is smaller. In birds the cerebel-
lum becomes complex and the cerebrum greatly in-
creases. In mammals the cerebellum increases in com-
plexity or number of parts, the optic lobes diminish,

'5 12

while the cerebral hemispheres become wonderfully
complex and enlarged, bringing us to the highest devel-
opment, in man.

The history of the circulatory system in the Verte-
brates is the same.* First, a heart with one chamber,
then one with two divisions : three divisions belong to
a large series, and the highest possess four. The origins
of the great artery of the body, the aorta, are first five
on each side : they lose one in the succeeding class in
the ascending scale, and one in each succeeding class
or order, till the Mammalia, including man, present us
with but one on one side.

From an infinitude of such considerations as the
above, we derive the certainty that, the general arrange-
ment of the various groups of the organic world is in
scales, the subordinate within the more comprehensive
divisions. The identification of all the parts in such a
complexity of organism as the highest animals present,
is a matter requiring much care and attention, and con-
stitutes the study of homologies. Its pursuit has re-
sulted in the demonstration that every individual of
every species of a given branch of the animal kingdom
is composed of elements .common to all, and that the
differences which are so radical in the higher groups
are but the modifications of the same elemental parts,
representing completeness or incompleteness, oblitera-
tion or subdivision. Of the former character are rudi-
mental organs, of which almost every species possesses
an example in some part of its structure.

But we have other and still more satisfactory evidence
of the meaning of these relations. By the study of em-
bryology we can prove most indubitably that the simple
and less complex are inferior to the more complex.

* See a homological system of the circulatory system in th« author's Origin
of Genera, p. 32.

( 13 ) 157

Selecting the Vertebrates again as an example, the high-
est form of mammal — e.g., man — presents in his earliest
stages of embryonic growth a skeleton of cartilage, like
that of the lamprey : he also possesses five origins of
the aorta and five slits on the neck, both which charac-
ters belong to the lamprey and the shark. If the whole
number of these parts does not coexist in the embry-
onic man, we find in embryos of lower forms more
nearly related to the lamprey that they do. Later in
the life of the mammal but four aortic origins are found,
which arrangement, with the heart now divided into two
chambers, from a beginning as a simple tube, is charac-
teristic of the class of Vertebrates next in order — the
bony fishes. The optic lobes of the human brain have
also at this time a great predominance in size — a char-
acter above stated to be that of the same class. With
advancing development the infant mammal follows the
scale already pointed out. Three chambers of the
heart and three aortic origins follow, presenting the
condition permanent in the batrachia ; and two origins,
with enlarged cerebral hemispheres of the brain, resem-
ble the reptilian condition. Four heart-chambers, and
one aortic root on each side, with slight development of
the cerebellum, follow all characters defining the croco-
diles, and immediately precede the special conditions
defining the mammals. These are, the single aorta
root from one side, and the full development of the
cerebellum : later comes that of the cerebrum also in
its higher mammalian and human traits.

Thus we see the order already pointed out to be true,
and to be an ascending one. This is the more evident
as each type or class passes through the conditions of
those below it, as did the mammal ; each scale being

shorter as its highest terminus is lower. Thus the croc-
odile passes through the stage of the lamprey, the fish,
the batrachian and the reptile proper.

b. In Time, We have thus a scale of relations of
existing forms of animals and plants of a remarkable
kind, and such as to stimulate greatly our inquiries as
to its significance. When we turn to the remains of the
past creation preserved to us in the deposits continued
throughout geologic time, we are not disappointed, for
great light is at once thrown upon the subject.

We find, in brief, that the lowest division of the ani-
mal kingdom appeared first, and long before any type
of a higher character was created. The Protozoon,
Eozoon, is the earliest of animals in geologic time, and
represents the lowest type of animal life now existing.
We learn also that the highest branch appeared last.
No remains of Vertebrates have been found below the
lower Devonian period, or not until the Echinoderms
and Molluscs had reached a great preeminence. It is
difficult to be sure whether the Protozoa had a greater
numerical extent in the earliest periods than now, but
there can be no doubt that the Ccelenterata (corals) and
Echinoderms (crinoids) greatly exceeded their present
bounds, in Paleozoic time, so that those at present ex-
isting are but a feeble remnant. If we examine the
subdivisions known as classes, evidence of the nature
of the succession of creation is still more conclusive.
The most polyp-like of the Molluscs (brachiopoda) con-
stituted the great mass of its representatives during
Paleozic time. Among Vertebrates the fishes appear
first, and had their greatest development in size and
numbers during the earliest periods of the existence of
the division. Batrachia were much the largest and

f IS )

most important of land animals during the Carbonif-
erous period, while the higher Vertebrates were un-
known. The later Mesozoic periods saw the reign of
reptiles, whose position in structural development has
been already stated. Finally, the most perfect, the
mammal, came upon the scene, and in his humblest
representatives. In Tertiary times mammalia sup-
planted the reptiles entirely, and the unspiritual mam-
mals now yield to man, the only one of his class in
whom the Divine image appears.

Thus the structural relations, the embryonic charac-
ters, and the successive appearance in time of animals
coincide. The same is very probably true of plants.

That the existing state of the geological record of
organic types should be regarded as anything but a
fragment is, from our stand-point, quite preposterous.
And more, it may be assumed with safety that when
completed it will furnish us with a series of regular suc-
cessions, with but slight and regular interruptions, if
any, from the species which represented the simplest
beginnings of life at the dawn of creation, to those
which have displayed complication and power in later
or in the present period.

For the labors of the paleontologist are daily bring-
ing to light structures intermediate between those never
before so connected, and thus creating lines of succes-
sion where before were only interruptions. Many such
instances might be adduced : two may be selected as
examples from American paleontology ;* /. e., the near

* Professor Huxley, in the last anniversary lecture before the
Geological Society of London, recalls his opinion, enunciated in
1862, that "the positively-ascertained truths of Paleontology"
negative " the'doctrines of progressive modification, which suppose

i6o (16)

approach to birds made by the reptiles Laelaps and
Megadactylus ; and the combination of characters of
the sub-orders of Cryptodire and Pleurodire Tortoises
in the Adocus of New Jersey.

that modification to have taken place by a necessary progress from
more to less embryonic forms, from more to less generalized types,
within the limits of the period represented by the fossiliferous
rocks ; that it shows no evidence of such modification ; and as to
the nature of that modification, it yields no evidence whatsoever
that the earlier members of any long-continued group were more
generalized in structure than the later ones."

Respecting this position, he says : " Thus far I have endeavored
to expand and enforce by fresh arguments, but not to modify in any
important respect, the ideas submitted to you on a former occasion.
But when I come to the propositions respecting progressive modi-
fication, it appears to me, with the help of the new light which has
broken from various quarters, that there is much ground for soften-
ing the somewhat Brutus-like severity with which I have dealt with
a doctrine for the truth of which I should have been glad enough
to be able to find a good foundation in 1862. So far indeed as the
Invei tebrata and the lower Vertebrata are concerned, the facts, and
the conclusions which are to be drawn from them, appear to me to
remain what they were. For anything that as yet appears to the con-
trary, the earliest known marsupials may have been as highly organ-
ized as their living congeners ; the Permian lizards show no signs
of inferiority to those of the present day ; the labyrinthodonts can-
not be placed below the living salamander and triton ; the Devonian
ganoids are closely related to polypterus and lepidosiren."

To this it may be replied : I. The scale of progression of the
Vertebrata is measured by the conditions ef the circulatory system,
and in some measure by the nervous, and not by the osseous :
tested by this scale, there has been successional complication of
structure among Vertebrata in time. 2. The question with the
evolutionist is, not what types have persisted to the present day,
but the order in which types appeared in time. 3. The Marsupials,
Permian saurians, labyrinthodonts and Devonian ganoids are re-
markably generalized groups, and predecessors of types widely
separated in the present period. 4. Professor Huxley adduces

We had no more reason to look for intermediate or
connecting forms between such types as these, than be-
tween any others of similar degree of remove from each
other with which we are acquainted. And inasmuch as
almost all groups, as genera, orders, etc., which are held
to be distinct/tut adjacent, present certain points of
approximation to each other, the almost daily discovery
of intermediate forms gives' us confidence" to believe
that the pointings in other cases will also be realized.

y. Of Transitions.

The preceding statements were necessary to the com-
prehension of the supposed mode of metamorphosis or
development of the various types of living beings, or,
in other words, of the single structural features which
define them. . . . As it is evident that the more
comprehensive groups, or those of highest rank, have

many such examples among the mammalian subdivisions in the
remaining portion of his lecturt. 5. Two alternatives are yet open
in the explanation of the process of evolution : since generalized
types, which combine the characters of higher and lower groups of
later periods, must thus be superior to the lower, the lower must
(first) be descended from such a generalized form by degradation ; or
(second) not descended from it at all, but from some lower contem-
poraneous type by advance ; the higher only of the two being de-
rived from the first-mentioned. The last I suspect to be a true ex-
planation, as it is in accordance with the homologous groups. This
law will shorten the demands of paleontologists for time, since,
instead of deriving all reptilia, batrachia, etc., from common or-
igins, it points to the derivation of higher reptilia of a higher order
from higher reptilia of a lower order, lower reptilia of the first from
lower reptilia of the second ; finally, the several groups of the low-
est or most generalized order of reptilia from a parallel series of
the class below, or batrachia,

16* ( i8 )

had their origin in remote ages, cases of transition from
one to the other by change of character cannot be wit-
nessed at the present day. We therefore look to the
most nearly related divisions, or those of the lowest
rank, for evidence of such change.

It is necessary to premise that embryology teaches
that all the species of a given branch of the animal king-
dom (e. g.y Vertebrate, Mollusc, etc.) are quite identical
in structural character at their first appearance on the
germinal layer of the yolk of the parent egg. It shows
that the character of the respective groups of high rank
appear first, then those of less grade, and last of all
those structures which distinguish them as genera. But
among the earliest characters which appear are those of
the species, and some of those of the individual.

We find the characters of different genera to bear the
same relation to each other that we have already seen
in the case of those definitive of orders, etc. In a natu-
ral assemblage of related genera we discover that some
are defined by characters found only in the embryonic
stages of others ; while a second will present a perma-
nent condition of its definitive part, which marks a more
advanced stage of that highest. In this manner many
stages of the highest genus appear to be represented by
permanent genera in all natural groups. Generally,
however, this resemblance does not involve, an entire
identity, there being some other immaturities found in
the highest genus at the time it presents the character
preserved in permanency by the lower, which the lower
loses. Thus (to use a very coarse example) a frog at
one stage of growth has four legs and a tail : the sala-
mander always preserves four legs and a tail, thus re-
sembling the young frog. The latter is, however, not a

( '9 ) '63

salamander at that time, because, among other things,
the skeleton is represented by cartilage only, and the
salamander's is ossified. This relation is therefore an
imitation only, and is called inexact parallelism.

As we compare nearer and nearer relations — /. <?., the
genera which present fewest points of difference — we
find the differences between undeveloped stages of the
higher and permanent conditions of the lower to grow
fewer and fewer, until we find numerous instances where
the lower genus is exactly the same as the undeveloped
stage of the higher. This relation is called that of
exact parallelism.

It must now be remembered that the permanence of
a character is what ,gives it its value in defining genus,
order, etc., in the eyes of the systematist. So long as
the condition is permanent no transition can be seen :
there is therefore no development. If the condition is
transitional, it defines nothing, and nothing is devel-
oped ; at least, so says the anti-developmentalist. It is
the old story of the settler and the Indian : " Will you
take owl and I take turkey, or I take turkey and you
owl r

If we find a relation of exact parallelism to exist be-
tween two sets of species in the condition of a certain
organ, and the difference so expressed the only one
which distinguishes them as sets from each other — if
that condition is always the same in each set — we call
them two genera : if in any species the condition is va-
riable at maturity, or sometimes the undeveloped con-
dition of the part is persistent and sometimes transitory,
the sets characterized by this difference must be united
by the systematist, and the whole is called a single
genus.

164 ( *o )

We know numerous cases where different individuals
of the same species present this relation of exact paral-
lelism to each other ; and as we ascribe common origin
to the individuals of a species, we are assured that the
condition of the inferior individual is, in this case,
simply one of repressed growth, or a failure to fulfill
the course accomplished by the highest. Thus, certain
species of the salamandrine genus amblystoma undergo
a metamorphosis involving several parts of the osseous
and circulatory systems, etc., while half grown ; others
delay it till fully grown ; one or two species remain in-
differently unchanged or changed, and breed in either
condition, while another species breeds unchanged, and
has never been known to complete a metamorphosis.

The nature of the relation of exact parallelism is thus
explained to be that of checked or advanced growth of
individuals having a common origin. The relation of
inexact parallelism is readily explained as follows : With
a case of exact parallelism in the mind, let the repres-
sion producing the character of the lower, parallelize
the latter with a stage of the former in which a second
part is not quite mature : we will have a slight want of
correspondence between the two. The lower will be
immature in but one point, the incompleteness of the
higher being seen in two points. If we suppose the im-
maturity to consist in a repression at a still earlier point
in the history of the higher, the latter will be undevel-
oped in other points also : thus, the spike-horned deer
of South America have the horn of the second year of
the North American genus. They would be generically
identical with that stage of the latter, were it not that
these still possess their milk dentition at two years of age.
In the same way the nature of the parallelisms seen

in higher groups, as orders, etc., may be accounted for.

The theory of homologous groups furnishes impor-
tant evidence in favor of derivation. Many orders of
animals (probably all, when we come to know them) are
divisible into two or more sections, which I have called
homologous. These are series of genera or families,
which differ from each other by some marked character,
but whose contained genera or families differ from each
other in the same points of detail, and in fact corres-
pond exactly. So striking is this correspondence that
were it not for the" general and common character sepa-
rating the homologous series, they would be regarded as
the same, each to each. Now it is remarkable that
where studied the difference common to all the terms of
two homologous groups is found to be one of inexact
parallelism, which has been shown above to be evidence
of descent. Homologous groups always occupy differ-
ent geographical areas on the earth's surface, and their
relation is precisely that which holds between succes-
sive groups of life in the periods of geologic time.

In a word, we learn from this source that distinct ge-
ologic epochs coexist at the same time on the earth. I
have been forced to this conclusion* by a study of the
structure of terrestrial life, and it has been remarkably
confirmed by the results of recent deep-sea dredgings
made by the United ; States Coast Survey in the Gulf
Stream, and by the British naturalists in the North At-
lantic. These have brought to light types of Tertiary
life, and of even the still m6re ancient Cretaceous pe-
riods, living at the present day. That this discovery
invalidates in any wise the conclusions of geology re-

* Origin of Genera, pages 70, 77, 79.

166 ( ts )

specting lapse of time is an unwarranted assumption
that some are forward to make. If it changes the views
of some respecting the parallelism or coexistence of
faunae in different regions of the earth, it is only the
nnti-developmentalists whose position must be changed.
For, if We find distinct geologic faunae, or epochs de-
fined by faunae, coexisting during the present period, and
fading or emerging into one another as they do at their
geographical boundaries, it is proof positive that the
geologic epochs and periods of past ages had in like
manner no trenchant boundaries, but also passed the
one into the other. The assumption that the apparent
interruptions are the result of transfer of life rather than
destruction, or of want of opportunities of preservation,
is no doubt the true one.

& Rationale of Development.

a. In Characters of Higher Groups. It is evident in
the case of the species in which there is an irregularity
in the time of completion of metamorphosis that some
individuals traverse a longer developmental line than
those who remain more or less incomplete. As both
accomplish growth in the same length of time, it is ob-
vious that it proceeds with greater rapidity in one sense
in that which accomplishes most : its growth is said to
be accelerated. This phenomenon is especially com-
mon among insects, where the females of perfect males
are sometimes larvae or nearly so, or pupae, or lack
wings or some character of final development. Quite
as frequently, some males assume characters in advance
of others, sometimes in connection with a peculiar geo-
graphical range.

*3 167

In cases of exact parallelism we reasonably suppose
the cause to be the same, since the conditions are iden-
tical, as has been shown ; that is, the higher conditions
have been produced by a crowding back of the earlier
characters and an acceleration of growth, so that a given
succession in order of advance has extended over a
longer range of growth than its predecessor in the same
allotted time. That allotted time is the period before
maturity and reproduction, and it is evident that as fast
as modifications or characters should be assumed suffi-
ciently in advance of that period, so certainly would
they be conferred upon the offspring by reproduction.
The acceleration in the assumption of a character, pro-
gressing more rapidly than the same in another charac-
ter, must soon produce, in a type whose stages were
once the exact parallel of a permanent lower form, the
condition of inexact parallelism. As all the more com-
prehensive groups present this relation to each other,
we are compelled to believe that acceleration has been
the principle of their successive evolution during the
long ages of geologic time.

Each type has, however, its day of supremacy and
perfection of organism, and a retrogression in these re-
spects has succeeded. This has no doubt followed a law
the reverse of acceleration, which has been called re*
tardation. By the increasing slowness of the growth of
the individuals of a genus, and later and later assump-
tion of the characters of the latter, they would be suc-
cessively lost.

To what power shall we ascribe this acceleration, by
which the first beginnings of structure have accumu-
lated to themselves through the long geologic ages
complication and power, till from the germ that was

168 ( ,4 )

scarcely born into a sand-lance, a human being climbed
the complete scale, and stood easily the chief of the
whole ?

In the cases of species, where some individuals de-
velop farther than others, we say the former possess
more growth-force, or "vigor," than the latter. We
may therefore say that higher types of structure possess
more "vigor" than the lower. This, -however, we do
not know to be true, nor can we readily find means to
demonstrate it.

The food which is taken by an adult animal is either
assimilated, to be consumed .in immediate activity of
some kind, or stored for future use, and the excess is
rejected from the body.;.' We have no reason to suppose
that the same kind .of material could be made to sub-
serve the production of life-force by any other jneans than
that furnished by a Hying animal organism. •> -/The mate-
rial from which this organism is constructed is derived
first from the parent, and afterward from the food, etc.,
assimilated by the individual itself so long as growth
continues. As it is the activity of assimilation directed
to a special end during this latter period which we sup-
pose to be increased in accelerated development, the
acceleration is evidently not brought about by increased
facilities for obtaining the means of life which the same
individual possesses as an adult. That it is not in con-
sequence of such increased facilities possessed by its
parents over those of the type preceding it, seems
equally improbable when we consider that the charac-
ters in which the parent's advance has appeared are
rarely of a nature to increase those facilities.

The nearest approach to an explanation that can be
offered appears to be somewhat in the following direction :

( 2$ )

There is every reason to believe that the character of
the atmosphere has gradually changed during geologic
time, and that various constituents of the mixture have
been successively removed from it, and been stored in
the solid material of the earth's crust in a state of com-
bination. Geological chemistry has shown that the
cooling of the earth has been accompanied by the pre-
cipitation of many substances only gaseous at high tem-
peratures. Hydrochloric and sulphuric acids have been
transferred to mineral deposits or aqueous solutions.
The removal of carbonic acid gas and the vapor of
water has been a process of much slower progress, and
after the expiration of all the ages a proportion of both
yet remains. Evidence of the abundance of the former
in the earliest periods is seen in the vast deposits of
limestone rock ; later, in the prodigious quantities of
shells which have been elaborated from the same in so-
lution. Proof of its abundance in the atmosphere in
later periods is seen in the extensive deposits of coal of
the Carboniferous, Triassic and Jurassic periods. If the
most luxuriant vegetation of the present day takes but
fifty tons of carbon from the atmosphere in a century,
per acre, thus producing a layer over that extent of less
than a third of an inch in thickness, what amount of
carbon must be abstracted in order to produce strata of
thirty-five feet in depth ? No doubt it occupied a long
period, but the atmosphere, thus deprived of a large
proportion of carbonic acid, would in subsequent periods
undoubtedly possess an improved capacity for the sup-
port of animal life.

The successively higher degree of oxidization of the
blood in the organs designed for that function, whether
performing it in water or air, would certainly accelerate

170 ( 26 )

the performances of all the vital functions, and among
others that of growth. Thus it may be that acceleration
can be accounted for, and the process of the develop-
ment of the orders and sundry lesser groups of the Ver-
tebrate kingdom indicated ; for, as already pointed out,
the definitions of such are radically placed in the differ-
ent structures of the organs which aerate the blood and
distribute it to its various destinations.

But the great question, What determined the direc-
tion of this acceleration? remains unanswered. One
cannot understand why more highly-oxidized blood
should hasten the growth of partition of the ventricle
of the heart in the serpent, the more perfectly to sepa-
rate the aerated from the impure fluid ; nor can we see
why a more perfectly-constructed circulatory system,
sending purer blood to the brain, should direct acceler-
ated growth to the cerebellum or cerebral hemispheres
in the crocodile.

b. In Characters of the Specific Kind. Some of the
characters usually placed in the specific category have
been shown to be the same in kind as those of higher
categories. The majority are, however, of a different
kind, and have been discussed several pages back.

The cause of the origin of these characters is shrouded
in as much mystery as that of those which have occu-
pied the pages immediately preceding. As in that case,
we have to assume, as Darwin has done, a tendency in
Nature to their production. This is what he terms " the
principle of variation/' Against an unlimited variation
the great law of heredity or atavism has ever been op-
posed, as a conservator and multiplier of type. This
principle is exemplified in the fact that like produces
like — that children are like their parents, frequently even

I >7 ) 171

in minutiae. It may be compared to habit in metaphys-
ical matters, or to that singular love of time or rhythm
seen in man and lower animals, in both of which the
tendency is to repeat in continual cycles a motion or
state of the mind or sense.

Further, but a proportion of the lines of variation is
supposed to have been perpetuated, and the extinction
of intermediate forms, as already stated, has left isolated
groups or species.

The effective cause of these extinctions is stated by
Darwin to have been a "natural selection"— a proposi-
tion which distinguishes his theory from other develop-
ment hypotheses, and which is stated in brief by the
expression, "the preservation of the fittest." Its mean-
ing is this : that those characters appearing as results
of this spontaneous variation which are little adapted to
the conflict for subsistence, with the nature of the sup-
ply, or with rivals in its pursuit, dwindle and are sooner
or later extirpated ; while those which are adapted to
their surroundings, and favored in the struggle for means
of life and increase, predominate, and ultimately be-
come the centers of new variation. " I am convinced,"
says Darwin, " that natural selection has been the main,
but not exclusive, means of modification."

That it has been to a large extent the means of pres-
ervation of those structures known as specific, must, I
think, be admitted. They are related to their peculiar
surroundings very closely, and are therefore more likely
to exist under their influence, Thus, if a given genus
extends its range over a continent, it is usually found to
be represented by peculiar species — one in a maritime
division, another in the desert, others in the forest, in
the swamp or the elevated areas of the region. The

ifa (28)

wonderful interdependence shown by Darwin to exist
between insects and plants in the fertilization of the lat-
ter, or between animals and their food-plants, would al-
most induce one to believe that it were the true expres-
sion of the whole law of development.

But the following are serious objections to its univer-
sal application :

First : The characters of the higher groups, from gen-
era up, are rarely of a character to fit their possessors
especially for surrounding circumstances ; that is, the
differences which separate genus from genus, order from
order, etc., in the ascending scale of each, do not seem
to present a superior adaptation to surrounding circum-
stances in the higher genus to that seen in the lower
genus, etc. Hence, superior adaptation could scarcely
have caused their selection above other forms not exist-
ing. Or, in other words, the different structures which
indicate successional relation, or which measure the
steps of progress, seem to be equally well fitted for the
same surroundings.

Second : The higher groups, as orders, classes, etc.,
have been in each geologic period alike distributed over
the whole earth, under all the varied circumstances of-
fered by climate and food. Their characters do not
seem to have been modified in reference to these. Spe-
cies, and often genera, are, on the other hand, eminently
restricted according to climate, and consequently vege-
table and animal food.

The law of development which we seek is indeed not
that which preserves the higher forms and rejects the
lower after their creation, but that which explains why
higher forms were created at all. Why in the results
of a creation we see any relation of higher and lower,

( 29 ) 173

and not rather a world of distinct types, each perfectly
adapted to its situation, but none properly higher than
another in an ascending scale, is the primary question.
Given the principle of advance, then natural selection
has no doubt modified the details ; but in the succes-
sive advances we can scarcely believe such a principle
to be influential. We look rather upon a progress as
the result of the expenditure of some force fore-arranged
for that end.

It may become, then, a question whether in charac-
ters of high grade the habit or use is not rather the re-
sult of the acquisition of the structure than the struc-
ture the result of the encouragement offered to its
assumed beginnings by use, or by liberal nutrition de-
rived from the increasingly superior advantages it offers.

«. The Physical Origin of Man.

If the hypothesis here maintained be true, man is the.
descendant of some preexistent generic type, the which,
if it were now living, we would probably call an ape.

Man and the chimpanzee were in Linnaeus' system
only two species of the same genus, but a truer anatomy
places them in separate genera and distinct families.
There is no doubt, however, that Cuvier went much too
far when he proposed to consider Homo as the repre-
sentative of an order distinct from the quadrumana, un-
der the name of bimana. The structural differences
will not bear any such interpretation, and have not the
same value as those distinguishing the orders of mam-
malia ; as, for instance, between carnivora and bats, or
the cloven-footed animals and the rodents, or rodents
and edentates, The differences between man and th§

chimpanzee are, as Huxley well puts it, much less than
those between the chimpanzee and lower quadrumana,
as lemurs, etc. In fact, man is the type of a family,
Hominidae, of the order Quadrumana, as indicated by
the characters of the dentition, extremities, brain, etc.
The reader who may have any doubts on this score may
read the dissections of Geoffrey St. Hilaire, made in
1856, before the issue of Darwin's Origin of Species.
He informs us that the brain of man is nearer in struc-
ture to that of the orang than the orang's is to that of
the South American howler, and that the orang and
howler are more nearly related in this regard than are
the howler and the marmoset

The modifications presented by man have, then, re-
sulted from an acceleration in development in some
respects, and retardation perhaps in others. But until
the combination now characteristic of the genus Homo
was attained the being could not properly be called man.

And here it must be observed that as an organic type
is characterized by the coexistence of a number of pe-
culiarities which have been developed independently of
e-ach other, its distinctive features and striking functions
are not exhibited until that coexistence is attained which
is necessary for these ends.

Hence, the characters of the human genus were prob-
ably developed successively ; but few of the indications
of human superiority appeared until the combination
was accomplished. Let the opposable thumb be first
perfected, but of what use would it be in human affairs
without a mind to direct ? And of what use a mind
without speech to unlock it ? And speech could not be
possible though all the muscles of the larynx but one
were developed, or but a slight abnormal convexity in
pne pair of cartilages remained,

(3O '75

It would be an objection of little weight could it be
truly urged that there have as yet no remains of ape-
like men been discovered, for we have frequently been
called upon in the course of paleontological discovery
to bridge greater gaps than this, and greater remain,
which we expect to fill. But we have apelike charac-
ters exhibited by more than one race of men yet existing.

But the remains of that being which is supposed to
have been the progenitor of man may have been dis-
covered a short time since in the cave of Naulette, Bel-
gium, with the bones of the extinct rhinoceros and
elephant.

We all admit the existence of higher and lower races,
the latter being those which we now find to present
greater or less approximations to the apes. The pecu-
liar structural characters that belong to the negro in his
most typical form are of that kind, however great may
be the distance of his remove therefrom. The flatten-
ing of the nose and prolongation of the jaws constitute
such a resemblance ; so are the deficiency of the calf of
the leg, and the obliquity of the pelvis, which approaches
more the horizontal position than it does in the Cau-
casian. The investigations made at Washington during
the war with reference to the physical characteristics of
the soldiers show that the arms of the negro are from
one to two inches longer than those of the whites :
another approximation to the ape. In fact, this race is
a species of the genus Homo, as distinct in character
from the Caucasian as those we are accustomed to rec-
ognize in other departments of the animal kingdom ;
but he is not distinct by isolation, since intermediate
forms between him and the other species can be abun-
clantly found,

i7« (3*)

And here let it be particularly observed that two of
the most prominent characters of the negro are those of
immature stages of the Indo-European race in its char-
acteristic types. The deficient calf is the character of
infants at a very early stage j but, what is more impor-
tant, the flattened bridge of the nose and shortened na-
sal cartilages are universally immature conditions of the
same parts in the Indo-European. Any one may con-
vince himself of that by examining the physiognomies
of infants. In some races-— e. £•., the Slavic — this un-
developed character persists later than in some others.
The Greek nose, with its elevated bridge, coincides not
only with aesthetic beauty, but with developmental per-
fection.

This is, however, only "inexact parallelism," as the
characters of the hair, etc., cannot be explained on this
principle among existing races. The embryonic charac-
ters mentioned are probably a remnant of those charac-
teristic of the primordial race or species.

But the man of Naulette, if he be not a monstrosity,
in a still more distinct and apelike species. The chin,
that marked character of other species of men, is totally
wanting, and the dentition is quite approximate to the
man-like apes, and different from that of modern men.
The form is very massive, as in apes. That he was not
abnormal is rendered probable by approximate charac-
ters seen in a jaw from the cave of Puy-sur-Aube, and
less marked in the lowest races of Australia and New
Caledonia.

As to the single or multiple origin of man, science as
yet furnishes no answer. It is very probable that, in
many cases, the species of one genus have descended
from corresponding species of another by change of

'33) '77

generic characters only. It is a remarkable fact that the
orang possesses the peculiarly developed malar bones
and the copper color characteristic of the Mongolian in-
habitants of the regions in which this animal is found,
while the gorilla exhibits the prognathic jaws and black
hue of the African races near whom he dwells. This
kind of geographical imitation is very common in the
animal kingdom.

f. The Mosaic Account,

As some persons imagine that this hypothesis con-
flicts with the account of the creation of man given in
Genesis, a comparison of some of the points involved
is made below.

First : In Genesis i. 26, 27, we read, " And God said,
Let us make man in our image, after our likeness," etc.
" So God created man in his own image, in the image
of God created he him ; male and female created he
them." Those who believe that this " image " is a
physical, material form, are not disposed to admit the
entrance of anything ape-like into its constitution, for the
ascription of any such appearance to the Creator would
be impious and revolting. But we are told that " God
is a Spirit," and Christ said to his disciples after his
resurrection, " A spirit hath not flesh and bones, a£ yc
see me have." Luke xxiv. 39. It will require little
further argument to show that a mental and spiritual
image is what is meant, as it is what truly exists. Man's
conscience, intelligence and creative ingenuity show that
he possesses an " image of God " within him, the posses-
sion of which is really necessary to his limited compre-
hension of God and of God's ways to man.

'78 (34)

Second : In Genesis ii. 7, the text reads, " And the
Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and
breathed into his nostrils the breath of life ; and man
became a living soul." The fact that man js the result
of the modification of an ape-like predecessor nowise
conflicts with the above statement as to the materials of
which his body is composed. Independently of origin,
if the body of man be composed of dust, so must that
of the ape be, since the composition of the two is iden-
tical. But the statement simply asserts that man was
created of the same materials which compose the earth :
their condition as "dust " depending merely on tempera-
ture and subdivision. The declaration, " Dust thou art,
and unto dust thou shalt return," must be taken in a
similar sense, for we know that the decaying body is re-
solved not only into its earthly constituents, but also into
carbonic acid gas and water.

When God breathed into man's nostrils the breath of
life, we are informed that he became, not a living body,
but "a living soul." His descent from a preexistent
being involved the possession of a living body ; but
when the Creator breathed into him we may suppose
for the present that He infused into this body the im-
mortal part, and at that moment man became a consci-
entious and responsible being.

II. METAPHYSICAL EVOLUTION.

It is infinitely improbable that a being endowed with
such capacities for gradual progress as man has exhib-
ited, should have been full fledged in accomplishments
at the moment when he could first claim his high title,
and abandon that of his simious ancestors. We are

( 35 ) *79

therefore required to admit the growth of human intelli-
gence from a primitive state of inactivity and absolute
ignorance ; including the development of one important
mode of its expression — speech ; as well as that of the
moral qualities, and of man's social system — the form in
which his ideas of morality were first displayed.

The expression "evolution of morality" need not
offend, for the question in regard to the laws of this
evolution is the really important part of the discussion,
and it is to the opposing views on this point that the
most serious interest attaches.

The two views of evolution already treated of, held
separately, are quite opposed to each other. The first
(and generally received) lays stress on the influence of
external surroundings, as the stimulus to and guidance
of development : it is the counterpart of Darwin's prin-
ciple called Natural Selection in material progress.
This might be called the Conflict theory. The second
view recognizes the workings of a force whose nature
we do not know, whose exhibitions accord perfectly with
their external surroundings (or other exhibitions of it-
self), without being under their influence or more re-
lated to them, as effect to cause, than the notes of the
musical octave or the colors of the spectrum are to each
other. This is the Harmonic theory. In other words,
the first principle deduces perfection from struggle and
discord ; the second, from the coincident progress of
many parts, forming together a divine harmony com-

i8o ( 36 )

parable to music. That these principles are both true
is rendered extremely probable by the actual phenomena
of development, material and immaterial. In other
words, struggle and discord ever await that which is
not in the advance, and which fails to keep pace with
the harmonious development of the whole.

AH who have studied the phenomena of the creation
believe that there exists in it a grand and noble har-
mony, such as was described to Job when he was told
that " the morning stars sang together, and all the sons
of God shouted for joy."

«. Development of Intelligence.

If the brain is the organ of mind, we may be sur-
prised to find that the brain of the intelligent man
scarcely differs in structure from that of the ape.
Whence, then, the difference of power ? Though no
one will now deny that many of the Mammalia are
capable of reasoning upon observed facts, yet how
greatly the results of this capacity differ in number
and importance from those achieved by human intelli-
gence ! Like water at the temperatures of 50° and 53°,
where we perceive no difference in essential character,
so between the brains of the lower and higher monkeys
no difference of function or of intelligence is perceptible.
But what a difference do the two degrees of tempera-
ture from 33° to 31° produce in water! In like manner
the difference between the brain of the higher ape and
that of man is accompanied by a difference in function
and power, on which, man's earthly destiny depends.
In development, as with the water so with the higher
ape : some Rubicon has been crossed, some floodgate

(37) igi

has been opened, which marks one of Nature's great
transitions, such as have been called " Expression
points " of progress.

What point of progress in such a history would ac-
count for this accession of the powers of the human in-
telligence ? It has been answered, with considerable
confidence, The power of speech. Let us picture man
without speech. Each generation would learn nothing
from its predecessors. Whatever originality or observa-
tion might yield to a man would die with him. Each in-
tellectual life would begin where every other life began,
and would end at a point only differing with its original
capacity. Concert of action, by which man's power
over the material world is maintained, would not exceed,
if it equaled, that which is seen among the bees ; and
the material results of his labors would not extend be-
yond securing the means of life and the employment of
the simplest modes of defence and attack.

The first men, therefore, are looked upon by the de-
velopmentalists as extremely embryonic in all that char-
acterizes humanity, and they appeal to the facts of his-
tory in support of this view. If they do not derive
much assistance from written history, evidence is found
in the more enduring relics of human handiwork.

The opposing view is, that the races which present
or have presented this condition of inferiority or sav-
agery have reached it by a process of degradation from
a higher state — as some believe, through moral delin-
quency. This position may be true in certain cases,
which represent perhaps a condition of senility, but in
general we believe that - savagery was the condition of
the first man, which has in some races continued to the
present day.

i82 ( 38 )

£>. Evidence from Arch&ology,

As the object of the present essay is not to examine
fully into the evidences for the theories of evolution here
stated, but rather to give a sketch of such theories and
their connection, a few facts only will be noticed.

Improvement in the use of Materials. As is well
known, the remains of human handiwork of the earliest
periods consist of nothing but rude implements of stone
and bone, useful only in procuring food and preparing
it for use. Even when enterprise extended beyond the
ordinary routine, it was restrained by the want of proper
instruments. Knives and other cutting implements of
flint still attest the skill of the early races of men from
Java to the Cape of Good Hope, from Egypt to Ireland,
and through North and South America. Hatchets,
spear-heads and ornaments of serpentine, granite, silex,
clay slates, and all other suitable rock materials, are
found to have been used by the first men, to the exclu-
sion of metals, in most of the regions of the earth.

Later, the probably accidental discovery of the superi-
ority of some of the metals resulted in the substitution
of them for stone as a material for cutting implements.
Copper — the only metal which, while malleable, is hard
enough to bear an imperfect edge — was used by succeed-
ing races in the Old World and the New. Implements
of this material are found scattered over extensive
regions. So desirable, however, did the hardening of
the material appear for the improvement of the cutting
edge that combinations with other metals were sought
for and discovered. The alloy with tin, forming bronze
and brass, was discovered and used in Europe, while
that with silver appears to have been most readily pro-

39 I3

duced in America, and was consequently used by the
Peruvians and other nations.

The discovery of the modes of reducing iron ores
placed in the hands of man the best material for bring-
ing to a shape convenient for his needs the raw ma-
terial of the world. All improvements in this direction
made since that time have been in the quality of iron
itself, and not through the introduction of any new
metal.

The prevalent phenomena of any given period are
those which give it its character, and by which we dis-
tinguish it. But this fact does not exclude the coexist-
ence of other phenomena belonging to prior or subse-
quent stages. Thus, during the many stages of human
progress there have been men more or less in advance
of the general body, and their characteristics have given
a peculiar stamp to the later and higher condition of the
whole. It furnishes no objection to this view that we
find, as might have been anticipated, the stone, bronze
and iron periods overlaping one another, or men of an
inferior culture supplanting in some cases a superior
people. A case of this kind is seen in North America,
where the existing " Indians," stone-men, have succeeded
the mound-builders, copper-men. The successional re-
lation of discoveries is all that it is necessary to prove,
and this seems to be established.

The period at which the use of metallic implements
was introduced is unknown, but Whitney says that the
language of the Aryans, the ancestors of all the modern
Indo-Europeans, indicates an acquaintance with such
implements, though it is not certain whether those of
iron are to be included. The dispersion of the daughter
races, the Hindoos, the Pelasgi, Teutons, Celts, etc.,

184 ( 40 )

could not, it is thought, have taken place later than
3000 B. c. — a date seven hundred years prior to that as-
signed by the old chronology to the Deluge. Those
races coexisted with the Egyptian and Chinese nations,
already civilized, and as distinct from each other in
feature as they are now.

Improvement in Architecture. The earliest periods,
then, were characterized by the utmost simplicity of in-
vention and construction. Later, the efforts for defence
from enemies and for architectural display, which have
always employed so much time and power, began to be
made. The megalithic period has left traces over much
of the earth. The great masses of stone piled on each
other in the simplest form in Southern India, and the
circles of stones planted on end in England at Stone-
henge and Abury, and in Peru at Sillustani, are relics
of that period. More complex are the great Himyaritic
walls of Arabia, the works of the ancestors of the
Phoenicians in Asia Minor, and the titanic workman-
ship of the Pelasgi in Greece and Italy. In the iron
age we find granitic hills shaped or excavated into tem-
ples; as, for example, everywhere in Southern India.
Near Madura the circumference of an acropolis-like hill
is cut into a series of statues in high relief, of sixty feet
in elevation. Easter Island, composed of two volcanic
cones, one thousand miles from the west coast of South
America, in the bosom of the Pacific, possesses several
colossi cut from the intrusive basalt, some in high relief
on the face of the rock, others in detached blocks re-
moved by human art from their original positions and
brought nearer the sea-shore.

Finally, at a more advanced stage, the more ornate
and complex structures of Central America, of Cam-

bodia, Nineveh and Egypt, represent the period of
greatest display of architectural expenditure. The
same amount of human force has perhaps never been
expended in this direction since, though higher concep-
tions of beauty have been developed in architecture
with increasing intellectuality.

Man has passed through the block-and-brick building
period of his boyhood, and should rise to higher con-
ceptions of what is the true disposition of power for
" him who builds for aye," and learn that " spectacle "
is often the unwilling friend of progress.

No traces of metallic implements have ever been
found in the salt-mines of Armenia, the turquoise-quar-
ries in Arabia, the cities of Central America or the ex-
cavations for mica in North Carolina, while the direct
evidence points to the conclusion that in those places
flint was exclusively used.

The simplest occupations, as requiring the least exer-
cise of mind, are the pursuit of the chase and the tend-
ing of flocks and herds. Accordingly, we find our first
parents engaged in these occupations. Cain, we are
told, was, in addition, a tiller of the ground. Agricul-
ture in its simplest forms requires but little more intelli-
gence than the pursuits just mentioned, though no em-
ployment is capable of higher development. If we
look at the savage nations at present occupying nearly
half the land surface of the earth, we shall find many
examples of the former industrial condition of our race
preserved to the present day. Many of them had no
knowledge of the use of metals until they obtained it
from civilized men who visited them, while their pur-
suits were and are those of the chase, tending domestic
animals, and rudimental agriculture.,

i86 ( 42 )

y. The Development of Language,

In this department the fact of development from the
simple to the complex has been so satisfactorily demon-
strated by philologists as scarcely to require notice here.
The course of that development has been from mono-
syllabic to polysyllabic forms, and also in a process of
differentiation, as derivative races were broken off from
the original stock and scattered widely apart. The
evidence is clear that simple words for distinct objects
formed the bases of the primal languages, just as the
ground, tree, sun and moon represent the character of
the first words the infant lisps. In this department also
the facts point to an infancy of the human race.

d. Development of the Fine Arts.

If we look at representation by drawing or sculpture,
we find that the efforts of the earliest races of which we
have any knowledge were quite similar to those which
the untaught hand of infancy traces on its slate or the
savage depicts on the rocky faces of hills. The circle
or triangle for the head and body, and straight lines for
the limbs, have been preserved as the first attempts of
the men of the stone period, as they are to this day the
sole representations of the human form which the North
American Indian places on his buffalo robe or mountain
precipice. The stiff, barely-outlined form of the deer,
the turtle, etc., are literally those of the infancy of civ-
ilized man.

The first attempts at sculpture were marred by the
influence of modism. Thus the idols of Coban and
Palenque, with human faces of some merit? are over-

( 43 ) iS;

loaded with absurd ornament, and deformed into fright-
ful asymmetry, in compliance with the demand of some
imperious mode. In later days we have the stiff, con-
ventionalized figures of the palaces of Nineveh and
the temples of Egypt, where the representation of form
has somewhat improved, but is too often distorted by
false fashion or imitation of some unnatural standard,
real or artistic. This is distinguished as the day of
archaic sculpture, which disappeared with the Etruscan
nation. So the drawings of the child, when he aban-
dons the simple lines, are stiff and awkward, and but a
stage nearer true representation; and how often does
he repeat some peculiarity or absurdity of his own ! So
much easier is it to copy than to conceive.

The introduction of the action and pose of life into
sculpture was not known before the early days of
Greece, and it was there that the art was brought to
perfection. When art rose from its mediaeval slumber,
much the same succession of development may be dis-
covered. First, the stiff figures, with straightened limbs
and cylindric drapery, found in the old Northern
churches — then the forms of life that now adorn the
porticoes and palaces of the cities of Germany.

s. Rationale of the Development of Intelligence.

The history of material development shows that the
transition from stage to stage of development, experi-
enced by the most perfect forms of animals and plants
in their growth from the primordial cell, is similar to the
succession of created beings which the geological
epochs produced. It also shows that the slow assump-
tion of main characters in the line of succession in

i88 ( 44 )

early geological periods produced the condition of infe-
riority, while an increased rapidity of growth in later
days has resulted in an attainment of superiority. It is
not to be supposed that in " acceleration " the period
of growth is shortened : on the contrary, it continues
the same. Of two beings whose characters are assumed
at the same rate of succession, that with the quickest or
shortest growth is necessarily inferior. " Acceleration "
means a gradual increase of the rate of assumption of
successive characters in the same period of time. A
fixed rate of assumption of characters, with gradual in-
crease in the length of the period of growth, would
produce the same result — viz., a longer developmental
scale and the attainment of an advanced position. The
first is in part the relation of sexes of a species ; the
last of genera, and of other types of creation. If from
an observed relation of many facts we derive a law, we
are permitted, when we see in another class of facts
similar relations, to suspect that a similar law has ope-
rated, differing only in its objects. We find a marked
resemblance between the facts of structural progress
in matter and the phenomena of intellectual and spir-
itual progress.

If the facts entering into the categories enumerated
in the preceding section bear us out, we conclude that
in the beginning of human history the progress of the
individual man was very slow, and that but little was
attained to ; that through the profitable direction of hu-
man energy, means were discovered from time to time
by which the process of individual development in all
metaphysical qualities has been accelerated ; and that
up to the present time the consequent advance of the
whole race has been at an increasing rate of progress,

45 i89

This is in accordance with the general principle, that
high development in intellectual things is accomplished
by rapidity in traversing the preliminary stages of infe-
riority common to all, while low development signifies
sluggishness in that progress, and a corresponding re-
tention of inferiority.

How much meaning may we not see, from this stand-
point, in the history of the intelligence of our little
ones ! First they crawl, they walk on all fours : when
they first assume the erect position they are generally
speechless, and utter only inarticulate sounds. When
they run about, stones and dirt, the objects that first
meet the eye, are the delight of their awakening powers,
but these are all cast aside when the boy obtains his
first jackknife. Soon, however, reading and writing
open a new world to him ; and finally as a mature man
he seizes the forces of nature, and steam and electricity
do his bidding in the active pursuit of power for still
better and higher ends.

So with the history of the species : first the quadru-
mane — then the speaking man, whose humble industry
was, however, confined to the objects that came first to
hand, this being the " stone age " of pre-historic time.
When the use of metals was discovered, the range of
industries expanded wonderfully, and the " iron age "
saw many striking efforts of human power. With the
introduction of letters it became possible to record
events and experiences, and the spread of knowledge
was thereby greatly increased, and the delays and mis-
takes of ignorance correspondingly diminished in the
fields of the world's activity.

From the first we see in history a slow advance as
knowledge gained by the accumulation of tradition and

190 4

by improvements in habit based on experience ; but
how slow was this advance while the use of the metals

was still unknown ! The iron age brought with it not
only new conveniences, but increased means of future
progress ; and here we have an acceleration in the rate
of advance. With the introduction of letters this rate
was increased many fold, and in the application of steam
we have a change equal in utility to any that has pre-
ceded it, and adding more than any to the possibilities
of future advance in many directions. By it power,
knowledge and means of happiness were to be dis-
tributed among the many.

The uses to which human intelligence has successively
applied the materials furnished by nature have been —
First, subsistence and defence : second, the accumula-
tion of power in the shape of a representative of that
labor which the use of matter involves ; in other words,
the accumulation of wealth. The possession of this
power involves new possibilities, for opportunity is
offered for the special pursuits of knowledge and the
assistance of the weak or undeveloped part of mankind
in its struggles.

Thus, while the first men possessed the power of
speech, and could advance a little in knowledge through
the accumulation of the experiences of their predeces-
sors, they possessed no means of accumulating the
power of labor, no control over the activity of number*
—in other words, no wealth.

But the accumulation of knowledge finally brought
this advance about The extraction and utilization of
the metals, especially iron, formed the most important
step, since labor was thus facilitated and its productive-
ness increased in an incalculable degree. We have

( 47 ) *9*

little evidence of the existence of a medium of ex-
change during the first or stone period, and no doubt
barter was the only form of trade. Before the use of
metals, shells and other objects were used : remains of
money of baked clay have been found in Mexico. Fi-
nally, though in still ancient times, the possession of
wealth in money gradually became possible and more
common, and from that day to this avenues for reaching
this stage in social progress has ever been opening.

But wealth merely indicates a stage of progress, since
it is but a comparative term. All men could not become
rich, for in that case all would be equally poor. But
labor has a still higher goal ; for, thirdly, as capital, it
constructs and employs machinery, which does the work
of many hands, and thus cheapens products, which is
equivalent in effect to an accumulation of wealth to the
consumer. And this increase of power may be used
for the intellectual and spiritual advance of men, or
otherwise, at the will of the men thus favored. Ma-
chinery places man in the position of a creator, operat-
ing on Nature through an increased number of " second-
ary causes."

Development of intelligence is seen, then, in the
following directions : First, in the knowledge of facts,
including science; second, in language; third, in the
apprehension of* beauty ; and, as consequences of the
first of these, the accumulation of power by develop-
ment— First, of means of subsistence ; and second, of
mechanical invention,

Thus we have two terms to start with in estimating
the beginning of human development in knowledge and
power : First, the primary capacities of the human mind
itself; second, a material world, whose infinitely varied

19* ( 4* )

components are so arranged as to yield results to the
energies of that mind. For example, the transition
points of vaporization and liquefaction are so placed as
to be within the reach of man's agents ; their weights
are so fixed as to accord with the muscular or other
forces which he is able to exert; and other living or-
ganizations are subject to his convenience and rule, and
not, as in previous geological periods, entirely beyond
his control. These two terms being given, it is main-
tained that the present situation of the most civilized
men has been attained through the operation of a law
of mutual action and reaction — a law whose results,
seen at the present time, have depended on the accel-
eration or retardation of its rate of action ; which rate
has been regulated, according to the degree in which a
third great term, viz., the law of moral or (what is the
same thing) true religious development has been com-
bined in the plan. What it is necessary to establish in
order to prove the above hypothesis is —

I. That in each of the particulars above enumerated
the development of the human species is similar to that
of the individual from infancy to maturity.

II. That from a condition of subserviency to the laws
of matter, man's intelligence enables him, by an accu-
mulation of power, to become in a sense independent
of those laws, and to increase greatly the rate of intel-
lectual and spiritual progress.

III. That failure to accomplish a moral or spiritual
development will again reduce him to a subserviency to
the laws of matter*

This brings us to the subject of moral development
And here I may be allowed to suggest that the weight
of the evidence is opposed to the philosophy, " falsely

( 49 ) *93

so called," of necessitarianism, which asserts that the
first two terms alone were sufficient to work out man's
salvation in this world and the next ; and, on the other
hand, to that anti-philosophy which asserts that all
things in the progress of the human race, social and
civil, are regulated by immediate Divine interposition
instead of through instrumentalities. Hence the sub-
ject divides itself at once into two great departments —
viz., that of the development of mind or intelligence,
and that of the development of morality.

That these laws are distinct there can be no doubt,
since in the individual man one of them may produce
results without the aid of the other. Yet it can be
shown that each is the most invaluable aid and stimu-
lant to the other, and most favorable to the rapid
advance of the mind in either direction.

III. SPIRITUAL OR MORAL DEVELOPMENT.

In examining this subject, we first inquire (Sect, a)
whether there is any connection between physical and
moral or religious development j then (/3), what indica-
tions of moral development may be derived from history.
Finally (7), a correlation of the results of these inqui-
ries, with the nature of the religious development in the
individual, is attempted, Of course in so stupendous
an inquiry but a few leading points can be presented
here.

If it be true that the period of human existence on
the earth has seen a gradually increasing predominance
of higher motives over lower ones among the mass of
mankind, and if any parts of our metaphysical being
have been derived by inheritance from preexistent
3

*94 ( 5o )

beings, we are incited to the inquiry whether any of the
moral qualities are included among the latter ; and
whether there be any resemblance between moral and
intellectual development.

Thus, if there have been a physical derivation from a
preexistent genus, and an embryonic condition of those
physical characters which distinguish Homo — if there
has been also an embryonic or infantile stage in intel-
lectual qualities — we are led to inquire whether the
development of the individual in moral nature will fur-
nish us with a standard of estimation of the successive
conditions or present relations of the human species in
this aspect also.

a. Relations of Physical and Moral Nature.

Although men are much alike in the deeper qualities
of their nature, there is a range of variation which is
best understood by a consideration of the extremes of
such variation, as seen in men of different latitudes, and
women and children.

(a.) In Children. Youth is distinguished by a pecu-
liarity, which no doubt depends upon an immature con-
dition of the nervous center concerned, which might be
called nervous impressibility. It is exhibited in a greater
tendency to tearfulness, in timidity, less mental endur-
ance, a greater facility in acquiring knowledge, and more
ready susceptibility to the influence of sights, sounds
and sensations. In both sexes the emotional nature
predominates over the intelligence and judgment. In
those years the character is said to be in embryo, and
theologians in using the phrase, "reaching years of
religious understanding," mean that in early years the

(SO »9i

religious capacities undergo development coincidentally
with those of the body.

(b.) In Women. If we examine the metaphysical
characteristics of women, we observe two classes of
traits — namely, those which are also found in men, and
those which are absent or but weakly developed in men.
Those of the first class are very similar in essential
nature to those which men exhibit at an early stage of
development. This may be in some way related to the
fact that physical maturity occurs earlier in women.

The gentler sex is characterized by a greater impres-
sibility, often seen in the influence exercised by a
stronger character, as well as by music, color or spec-
tacle generally; warmth of emotion, submission to its
influence rather than that of logic ; timidity and irregu-
larity of action in the outer world. All these qualities
belong to the male sex, as a general rule, at some period
of life, though different individuals lose them at very
various periods. Ruggedness and sternness may rarely
be developed in infancy, yet at some still prior time
they certainly do not exist in any.

Probably most men can recollect some early period of
their lives when the emotional nature predominated — a
time when emotion at the sight of suffering was more
easily stirred than in maturer years. I do not now
allude to the benevolence inspired, kept alive or devel-
oped by the influence of the Christian religion on the
heart, but rather to that which belongs to the natural
man. Perhaps all men can recall a period of youth
when they were hero-worshipers — when they felt the
need of a stronger arm, and loved to look up to the
powerful friend who could sympathize with and aid them.
This is the " woman stage " of character : in a large

196 ( 52 )

number of cases it is early passed; in some it lasts
longer ; while in a very few men it persists through life.
Severe discipline and labor are unfavorable to its per-
sistence. Luxury preserves its bad qualities without its
good, while Christianity preserves its good elements
without its bad.

It is not designed to say that woman in her emotional
nature does not differ from the undeveloped man. On
the contrary, though she does not differ in kind, she
differs greatly in degree, for her qualities grow with her
growth, and exceed in power many fold those exhibited
by her companion at the original point of departure.
Hence, since it might be said that man is the undevel-
oped woman, a word of explanation will be useful.
Embryonic types abound in the fields of nature, but
they are not therefore immature in the usual sense.
Maintaining the lower essential quality, they yet exhibit
the usual results of growth in individual characters ;
that is, increase of strength, powers of support and pro-
tection, size and beauty. In order to maintain that the
masculine character coincides with that of the undevel-
oped woman, it would be necessary to show that the
latter during her infancy possesses the male characters
predominating — that is, unimpressibility, judgment,
physical courage, and the like.

If we look at the second class of female characters
—namely, those which are imperfectly developed or
absent in men, and in respect to which man may be
called undeveloped woman— we note three prominent
points : facility in language, tact or finesse, and the love
of children. The first two appear to me to be alto-
gether developed results of "impressibility," already
considered as an indication of immaturity. Imagina-

( 53 ) 197

tion is also a quality of impressibility, and, associated
with finesse, is apt to degenerate into duplicity and un-
truthfulness.

The third quality is different. It generally appears
at a very early period of life. Who does not know how
soon the little girl selects the doll, and the boy the toy-
horse or machine ? Here man truly never gets beyond
undeveloped woman. Nevertheless, "impressibility"
seems to have* a great deal to do with this quality also.

Thus the metaphysical relation of the sexes would
appear to be one of inexact parallelism, as defined in
Sect. I. That the physical relation is a remote one of
the same kind, several characters seem to point out.
The case of the vocal organs will suffice. Their struc-
ture is identical in both sexes in early youth, and both
produce nearly similar sounds. They remain in this
condition in the woman, while they undergo a meta-
morphosis and change both in structure and vocal
power in the man. In the same way, in many of the
lower creation, the females possess a majority of embry-
onic features, though not invariably. A common
example is to be found in the plumage of birds, where
the females and young males are often undistinguish-
able.* But there are few points in the physical struc-
ture of man also in which the male condition is the

* Meehan states that the upper limbs and strong laterals in coni-
feraa and other trees produce female flowers and cones, and the
lower and more interior branches the male flowers. What he points
out is in harmony with the position here maintained — namely,
that the female characters include more of those which are embry-
onic in the males, than the male characters include of those which
are embryonic in the female : the female flowers are the product of
the younger and more growing portions of the tree — that is, those
last produced (the upper limbs and new branches) — while the male

193 ( 54 )

immature one. In regard to structure, the point at
which the relation between the sexes is that of exact
parallelism, or where the mature condition of the one
sex accords with the undeveloped condition of the
other, is when reproduction is no longer accomplished
by budding or gemmation, but requires distinct organs.
Metaphysically, this relation is to be found where dis-
tinct individuality of the sexes first appears ; that is,
where we pass from the hermaphrodite to the bisexual
condition.

But let us put the whole interpretation on this partial
undevelopment of woman.

The types or conditions of organic life which have
been the most prominent in the world's history — the
Ganoids of the first, the Dinosaurs of the second, and
the Mammoths of the third period — have generally died
with their day. The line of succession has not been
from them. The law of anatomy and paleontology is,
that we must seek the point of departure of the type
which is to predominate in the future, at lower stages on
the line, in less decided forms, or in what, in scientific
parlance, are called generalized types. In the same
way, though the adults of the tailless apes are in a
physical sense more highly developed than their young,
yet the latter far more closely resemble the human
species in their large facial angle and shortened jaws.

How much significance, then, is added to the law
uttered by Christ ! — " Except ye become as little chil-

flowers are produced by the older or more mature portions — that
is, lower limbs or more axial regions.

Meehan's observations coincide with those of Thury and others
on the origin of sexes in animals and plants, which it appears tq
me admit of a similar explanation,

( 55 ) 199

dren, ye cannot enter the kingdom of heaven." Sub-
mission of will, loving trust, confiding faith — these
belong to the child: how strange they appear to the
executing, commanding, reasoning man ! Are they so
strange to the woman? We all know the answer.
Woman is nearer to the point of departure of that de-
velopment which outlives time and peoples heaven ; and
if man would find it, he must retrace his steps, regain
something he lost in youth, and join to the powers and
energies of his character the submission, love and faith
which the new birth alone can give.

Thus the summing up of the metaphysical qualities of
woman would be thus expressed : In the emotional
world, man's superior ; in the moral world, his equal ;
in the laboring world, his inferior.

There are, however, vast differences in women in re-
spect to the number of masculine traits they may have
assumed before being determined into their own special
development. Woman also, under the influence of ne-
cessity, in later years of life, may add more or less to
those qualities in her which are fully developed in the
man.

The relation of these facts to the principles stated as
the two opposing laws of development is, it appears to
me, to be explained thus : First, that woman's most in-
herent peculiarities are not the result of the external
circumstances with which she has been placed in con-
tact, as the conflict theory would indicate. Such circum-
stances are said to be her involuntary subserviency to
the physically more powerful man, and the effect of a
compulsory mode of life in preventing her from attain-
ing a position of equality in the activities of the world.
Second, that they are the result of the different distri-

200 ( 56 )

butions of qualities as already indicated by the harmonic
theory of development j that is, of the unequal posses-
sion of features which belong to different periods in the
developmental succession of the highest. And here it
might be further shown that this relation involves no
disadvantage to either sex, but that the principle of
compensation holds in moral organization and in social
order, as elsewhere. There is then another beautiful
harmony which will ever remain, let the development of
each sex be extended as far as it may.

(c.) In Men. If we look at the male sex, we shall
find various exceptional approximations to the female in
mental constitution. Further, there can be little doubt
that in the Indo-European race maturity in some re-
spects appears earlier- in tropical than in northern
regions ; and though subject to many exceptions, this is
sufficiently general to be looked upon as a rule. Ac-
cordingly, we find in that race — at least in the warmer
regions of Europe and America — a larger proportion of
certain qualities which are more universal in women ;
as greater activity of the emotional nature when com-
pared with the judgment ; an impressibility of the ner-
vous center, which, cczteris paribus, appreciates quickly
the harmonies of sound, form and color ; answers most
quickly to the friendly greeting or the hostile menace ;
is more careless of consequences in the material expres-
sion of generosity or hatred, and more indifferent to
truth under the influence of personal relations. The
movements of the body and expressions of the counte-
nance answer to the temperament. More of grace and
elegance in the bearing mark the Greek, the Italian
and the Creole, than the German, the Englishman or the
Green Mountain man. More of vivacity and fire, for

( 57 ) aoi

better or for worse, are displayed in the countenance.

Perhaps the more northern type left all that behind
in its youth. The rugged, angular character which ap-
preciates force better than harmony, the strong intellect
which delights in forethought and calculation, the less
impressibility, reaching stolidity in the uneducated, are
its well-known traits. If in such a character generosity
is less prompt, and there is but little chivalry, there is
persistency and unwavering fidelity, not readily inter-
rupted by the lightning of passion or the dark surmises
of an active imagination.

All these peculiarities appear to result, first, from
different degrees of quickness and depth in appreciating
impressions from without ; and, second, from differing
degrees of attention to the intelligent judgment in con-
sequent action. (I leave conscience out, as not belong-
ing to the category of inherited qualities.)

The first is the basis of an emotional nature, and the
predominance of the second is the usual indication of
maturity. That the first is largely dependent on an
impressible condition of the nervous system can be as-
serted by those who reduce their nervous centers to a
sensitive condition by a rapid consumption of the nu-
tritive materials necessary to the production of thought-
force, and perhaps of brain tissue itself, induced by close
and prolonged mental labor. The condition of over-
work, thpugh but an imitation of immaturity, without its
joy-giving nutrition, is nevertheless very instructive.
The sensitiveness, both physically, emotionally and mor-
ally, is often remarkable, and a weakening of the un-
derstanding is often coincident with it.

It is necessary here to introduce a caution, that the
meaning of the words high and low be not misunderstood.

202 ( 58 )

Great impressibility is an essential constituent of many
of the highest forms of genius, and the combination of
this quality with strong reflective intelligence, constitutes
the most complete and efficient type of mind — -there-
fore the highest in the common sense. It is not, how-
ever, the highest — or extremest — in an evolutional
sense, it is not masculine, but hermaphrodite ; in other
words, its kinetic force exceeds its bathmic* It is there-
fore certain that a partial diminution of bathmic vigor
is an advantage to some kinds of intellect.

The above observations have been confined to the
Indo-European race. It may be objected to the theory
that savagery means immaturity in the senses above
described, as dependent largely on "impressibility,"
while savages in general display the least "impressi-
bility," as that word is generally understood. This
cannot be asserted of the Africans, who, so far as we
know them, possess this peculiarity in a high degree.
Moreover, it must be remembered that the state of in-
difference which precedes that of impressibility in the
individual may characterize many savages ; while their
varied peculiarities may be largely accounted for by
recollecting that many combinations of different species
of emotions and kinds of intelligence go to make up
the complete result in each case.

(it.) Conclusions. Three types of religion may be
selected from the developmental conditions of man :
first, an absence of sensibility (early infancy) ; second,
an emotional stage more productive of faith than of

* Bathmic force is analogous to the potential force of chemists,
but is no doubt entirely different in its nature. It is converted
into active energy or kinetic force only during the years of growth :
it is in large amount in acceleration, in small amount in retardation.

( 59 ) 203

works ; thirdly, an intellectual type, more favorable to
works than to faith. Though in regard to responsibility
these states may be equal, there is absolutely no gain to
laboring humanity from the first type, and a serious loss
in actual results from the second, taken alone, as com-
pared with the third.

These, then, are the physical vehicles of religion — the
" earthen vessels " of Paul — which give character and
tone to the deeper spiritual life, as the color of the
transparent vessel is communicated to the light which
radiates from within.

But if evolution has taken place, there is evidently a
provision for the progress from the lower to the higher
states, either in the education of circumstances (" con-
flict,") or in the power of an interior spiritual influence
("harmony,") or both.

/3. Evidence Derived from History,

We trace the development of Morality in — First, the
family or social order; second, the civil order, or gov-
ernment.

Whatever may have been the extent of moral igno-
rance before the Deluge, it does not appear that the
earth was yet prepared for the permanent habitation of
the human race. All nations preserve traditions of the
drowning of the early peoples by floods, such as have
occurred frequently during geologic time. At the close
of each period of dry land, a period of submergence
has set in, and the depression of the level of the earth,
and consequent overflow by the sea, has caused the
death and subsequent preservation of the remains of
the fauna and flora living upon it, while the elevation of

*°4 ( 60 )

the same has produced that interruption in the process
of deposit in the same region which marks the intervals
between geologic periods. Change in these respects do
not occur to any very material extent at the present
time in the regions inhabited by the most highly devel-
oped portions of the human race ; and as the last which
occurred seems to have been expressly designed for the
preparation of the earth's surface for the occupation of
organized human society, it may be doubted whether
many such changes are to be looked for in the future.
The last great flooding was that which stratified the
drift materials of the north, and carried the finer por-
tions far over the south, determining the minor topogra-
phy of the surface and supplying it with soils.

The existence of floods which drowned many races
of men may be considered as established. The men
destroyed by the one recorded by Moses are described
by him as exceedingly wicked, so that " the earth was
filled with violence." In his eyes the Flood was de-
signed for their extermination.

That their condition was evil must be fully believed
if they were condemned by the executive of the Jewish
law. This law, it will be remembered, permitted polyg-
amy, slavery, revenge, aggressive war. The Jews were
expected to rob their neighbors the Egyptians of jewels,
and they were allowed " an eye for an eye and a tooth
for a tooth." They were expected to butcher other na-
tions, with their women and children, their flocks and
their herds. If we look at the lives of men recorded
in the Old Testament as examples of distinguished ex-
cellence, we find that their standard, however superior
to that of the people around them, would ill accord
with the morality of the present day. They were all

1 205

polygamists, slaveholders and warriors. Abraham
treated Hagar and Ishmael with inhumanity. Jacob,
with his mother's aid, deceived Isaac, and received
thereby a blessing which extended to the whole Jewish
nation. David, a man whom Paul tells us the Lord
found to be after his own heart, slew the messenger who
brought tidings of the death of Saul, and committed
other acts which would stain the reputation of a Chris-
tian beyond redemption. It is scarcely necessary to
turn to- other nations if this be true of the chosen men
of a chosen people. History indeed presents us with
no people prior to, or contemporary with, the Jews who
were not morally their inferiors.

If we turn to more modern periods, an examination
of the morality of Greece and Rome reveals a curious
intermixture of lower and higher moral conditions.
While each of these nations produced excellent moral-
ists, the influence of their teachings was not sufficient
to elevate the masses above what would now be regarded
as a very low standard. The popularity of those scenes
of cruelty, the gladiatorial shows and the combats with
wild beasts, sufficiently attests this. The Roman virtue
of patriotism, while productive of many noble deeds, is
in itself far from being a disinterested one, but partakes
rather of the nature of partisanship and selfishness. If
the Greeks were superior to the Romans in humanity,
they were apparently their inferiors in the social virtues,
and were much below the standard of Christian nations
in both respects.

Ancient history points to a state of chronic war, in
which the social relations were in confusion, and the
development of the useful arts was almost impossible.
Savage races, which continue to this day in a similar

( 62 )

moral condition, are, we may easily believe, most un-
happy. They are generally divided into tribes, which
are mutually hostile, or friendly only with the view of
injuring sorne other tribe. Might is their law, and rob-
bery, rapine and murder express their mutual relations.
This is the history of the lowest grade of barbarism,
and the history of primeval man so far as it has come
down to us in sacred and profane records. Man as a
species first appears in history as a sinful being. Then
a race maintaining a contest with the prevailing corrup-
tion and exhibiting a higher moral ideal is presented to
us in Jewish history. Finally, early Christian society
exhibits a greatly superior condition of things. In it
polygamy scarcely existed, and slavery and war were
condemned. But progress did not end here, for our
Lord said, " I have yet many things to say unto you,
but ye cannot bear them now. Howbeit, when He, the
spirit of truth, is come, He will guide you into all truth."
The progress revealed to us by history is truly great,
and if a similar difference existed between the first of
the human species and the first of whose condition we
have information, we can conceive how low the origin
must have been. History begins with a considerable
progress in civilization, and from this we must infer a
long preceding period of human existence, such as a
gradual evolution would require.

y. Rationale of Moral Development.

I. Of the Species. Let us now look at the moral con-
dition of the infant man of the present time. We know
his small accountability, his trust, his .innocence. We
know that he is free from the law that when he " would

( $3 ) 207

do good, evil is present with him," for good and evil
are alike unknown. We know that until growth has
progressed to a certain degree he fully deserves the
praise pronounced by Our Saviour, that " of such is the
kingdom of heaven." Growth, however, generally sees
a change. We know that the buddings of evil appear
but too soon : the lapse of a few months sees exhibi-
tions of anger, disobedience, malice, falsehood, and
their attendants — the fruit of a corruption within not
manifested before.

In early youth it may be said that moral suscepti-
bility is often in inverse ratio to physical vigor. But
with growth the more physically vigorous are often
sooner taught the lessons of life, for their energy brings
them into earlier conflict with the antagonisms and con-
tradictions of the world. Here is a beautiful example
of the benevolent principle of compensation.

i. Innocence and the Fall. If physical evolution be a
reality, we have reason to believe that the infantile
stage of human morals, as well as of human intellect,
was much prolonged in the history of our first parents.
This constitutes the period of human purity, when we
are told by Moses that the first pair dwelt in Eden.
But the growth to maturity saw the development of all
the qualities inherited from the irresponsible denizen of
the forest. Man inherits from his predecessors in the
creation the buddings of reason : he inherits passions,
propensities and appetites. His corruption is that of
his animal progenitors, and his sin is the low and bestial
instinct of the brute creation. Thus only is the origin
of sin made clear — a problem which the pride of man
would have explained in any other way had it b^en
possible.

( 64 )

But how startling the exhibition of evil by this new
being as compared with the scenes of the countless ages
already past ! Then the right of the strongest was
God's law, and rapine and destruction were the history
of life. But into man had been "breathed the breath
of life," and he had "become a living soul." The law
of right, the Divine Spirit, was planted within him, and
the laws of the beast were in antagonism to that law.
The natural development of his inherited qualities
necessarily brought him into collision with that higher
standard planted within him, and that war was com-
menced which shall never cease " till He hath put all
things under His feet." The first act of man's disobe-
dience constituted the Fall, and with it would come the
first intellectual "knowledge of good and of evil" —
an apprehension up to that time derived exclusively
from the divinity within, or conscience.*

2. Free Agency. Heretofore development had been
that of physical types, but the Lord had rested on the
seventh day, for man closed the line of the physical
creation. Now a new development was to begin — the
development of mind, of morality and of grace.

* In our present translation of Genesis, the Fall is ascribed to
the influence of Satan assuming the form of the serpent, and this
animal was cursed in consequence, and compelled to assume a
prone position. This rendering may well be revised, since serpents,
prone like others, existed in both America and Europe during the
Eocene epoch, five times as great a period before Adam as has
elapsed since his day. Clark states, with great probability, that
" serpent " should be translated monkey or ape — a conclusion, it
will be observed, exactly coinciding with our inductions on the basis
of evolution. The instigation to evil by an ape merely states in-
heritance in another form. His curse, then, refers to the retention
of the horizontal position by all other quadrumana, as we find it
at the present day.

( 65 ) 209;

On the previous days of Creation all had progressed
in accordance with inevitable law apart from its objects.
Now two lines of development were at the disposal of
this being, between which his free will was to choose.
Did he choose the courses dictated by the spirit of the
brute, he was to be subject to the old law of the brute
creation — the right of the strongest and spiritual death.
Did he choose the guidance of the Divine Guest in his
heart, he became subject to the laws which are to guide
— I. the human species to an ultimate perfection, so far
as consistent with this world ; and II. the individual
man to a higher life, where a new existence awaits him
as a spiritual being, freed from the laws of terrestrial
matter.

The charge brought against the theory of develop-
ment, that it implies a necessary progress of man to all
perfection without his cooperation — or necessitarianism,
as it is called — is unfounded.

The free will of man remains the source alike of his
progress and his relapse. But the choice once made,
the laws of spiritual development are apparently as in-
evitable as those of matter. Thus men whose religious
capacities are increased by attention to the Divine Mon-
itor within are in the advance of progress — progress
coinciding with that which in material things is called
the harmonic. On the other hand, those whose motives
are of the lower origin fall under the working of the
law of conflict.

The lesson derivable from the preceding considera-
tions would seem to be u necessitarian " as respects the
whole human race, considered by itself; and I believe
it is to be truly so interpreted. That is, the Creator of
all things has set agencies at work which will slowly

( 66 )

develop a perfect humanity out of His lower creation,
and nothing can thwart the process or alter the result.
" My word shall not return unto Me void, but it shall
accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in
the thing whereto I sent it." This is our great encour-
agement, our noblest hope — second only to that which
looks to a blessed inheritance in another world. It is
this thought that should inspire the farmer, who as he
toils wonders, " Why all this labor ? The Good Father
could have made me like the lilies, who, though they
toil not, neither spin, are yet clothed in glory ; and why
should I, a nobler being, be subject to the dust and the
sweat of labor ?" This thought should enlighten every
artisan of the thousands that people the factories and
guide their whirling machinery in our modern cities.
Every revolution of a wheel is moving the car of pro-
gress, and the timed stroke of the crank and the
rhythmic throw of the shuttle are but the music the
spheres have sung since time began. A new significance
then appears in the prayer of David : " Let the beauty
of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish Thou the
work of our hands upon us : the work of our hands,
O Lord, establish Thou it." But beware of the catas-
trophe, for " He will sit as a refiner :" " the wheat shall
be gathered into barns, but the chaff shall be burned
with unquenchable fire." If this be true, let us look
for—

3. The Extinction of Evil. How is necessitarianism
to be reconciled with free will ? It appears to me, thus :
When a being whose safety depends on the perfection
of a system of laws abandons the system by which he
lives, he becomes subject to that lower grade of laws
which govern lower intelligences. Man? falling from

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211

the laws of right, comes under the dominion of the
laws of brute force ; as said our Saviour : " Salt is good,
but if the salt have lost his savor, it is thenceforth good
for nothing but to be cast forth and trodden under foot
of men."

Evil, being unsatisfying to the human heart, is in its
nature ever progressive, whether in the individual or the
nation ; and in estimating the practical results to man
of the actions prompted by the lower portion of our
nature, it is only necessary to carry out to its full devel-
opment each of those animal qualities which may in cer-
tain states of society be restrained by the social system.
In human history those qualities have repeatedly had
this development, and the battle of progress is fought
to decide whether they shall overthrow the system that
restrains them, or be overthrown by it.

Entire obedience to the lower instincts of our nature
ensures destruction to the weaker, and generally to the
stronger also. A most marked case of this kind is seen
where the developed vices of civilization are introduced
among a savage people — as, for example, the North
American Indians. These seem in consequence to be
hastening to extinction.

But a system or a circuit of existence has been
allotted to the civil associations of the animal species
man, independently of his moral development. It may
be briefly stated thus : Races begin as poor offshoots or
emigrants from a parent stock. The law of labor de-
velops their powers, and increases their wealth and
numbers. These will be diminished by their various
vices ; but on the whole, in proportion as the intel-
lectual and economical elements prevail, wealth will in-
crease ; that is, they accumulate power, When this has

212 (68)

been accomplished, and before activity has slackened
its speed, the nation has reached the culminating point,
and then it enters upon the period of decline. The re-
straints imposed by economy and active occupation be-
ing removed, the beastly traits find in accumulated
power only increased means of gratification, and indus-
try and prosperity sink together. Power is squandered,
little is accumulated, and the nation goes down to its
extinction amid scenes of internal strife and vice. Its
cycle is soon fulfilled, and other nations, fresh from
scenes of labor, assault it, absorb its fragments, and it
dies. This has been the world's history, and it remains
to be seen whether the virtues of the nations now exist-
ing will be sufficient to save them from a like fate.

Thus the history of the animal man in nations is
wonderfully like that of the type or families of the ani-
mal and vegetable kingdoms during geologic ages.
They rise, they increase and reach a period of mul-
tiplication and power. The force allotted to them be-
coming exhausted, they diminish and sink and die.

II. Of the Individual. In discussing physical devel-
opment, we are as yet compelled to restrict ourselves to
the evidence of its existence and some laws observed in
the operation of its causative force. What that force
is, or what are its primary laws, we know not.

So in the progress of moral development we endeavor
to prove its existence and the mode of its operation,
but why that mode should exist, rather than some other
mode, we cannot explain.

The moral progress of the species depends, of course,
on the moral progress of the individuals embraced in it.
Religion is the sum of those influences which determine
the motives of men's actions into harmony with the Pi-

{ «9 ) "3

vine perfection and the Divine will. Obedience to these
influences constitutes the practice of religion, while the
statement of the growth and operation of these influ-
ences constitutes the theory of religion, or doctrine.

The Divine Spirit planted in man shows him that
which is in harmony with the Divine Mind, and it re-
mains for his free will to conform to it or reject it. This
harmony is man's highest ideal of happiness, and in
seeking it, as well as in desiring to flee from dissonance
or pain, he but obeys the disposition common to all
conscious beings. If, however, he attempts to conform
to it, he will find the law of evil present, and frequently
obtaining the mastery. If now he be in any degree ob-
serving, he will find that the laws of morality and right
are the only ones by which human society exists in a
condition superior to that of the lower animals, and in
which the capacities of man for happiness can approach
a state of satisfaction. He may be then said to be
" awakened " to the importance of religion. If he carry
on the struggle to attain to the high goal presented to
his spiritual vision, he will be deeply grieved and hum-
bled at his failures : then he is said to be " convicted."
Under these circumstances the necessity of a deliver-
ance becomes clear, and is willingly accepted in the
only way in which it has pleased the Author of all to
present it, which has been epitomized by Paul as " the
washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit
through Jesus Christ." Thus a life of advanced and
ever-advancing moral excellence becomes possible, and
the man makes nearer approaches to the "image of
God."

Thus is opened a new era in spiritual development,
which we are led to believe leads to an ultimate condi-

( yes )

tion in which the nature inherited from our origin is en-
tirely overcome, and an existence of moral perfection
entered on. Thus in the book of Mark the simile oc-
curs : " First the blade, then the ear, after that the full
corn in the ear ;" and Solomon says that the develop-
ment of righteousness " shines more and more unto the
perfect day."

8. Summary.

If it be true that general development in morality
proceeds in spite of the original predominance of evil
in the world, through the self-destructive nature of the
latter, it is only necessary to examine the reasons why
the excellence of the good may have been subject also
to progress, and how the remainder of the race may
have been influenced thereby.

The development of morality is then probably to be
understood in the following sense : Since the Divine
Spirit, as the prime force in moral progress, cannot in
itself be supposed to have been in any way under
the influence of natural laws, its capacities were no
doubt as eternal and unerring in the first man as in the
last. But the facts and probabilities discussed above
point to development Of religious sensibility^ or capacity
to appreciate moral good, or to receive impressions from
the source of good.

The evidence of this is supposed to be seen in —
First, improvement in man's views of his duty to his
neighbor ; and Second^ the substitution of spiritual for
symbolic religions : in other words, improvement in the
capacity for receiving spiritual impressions.

What the primary cause of this supposed develop-

(7O 215

ment of religious sensibility may have been, is a ques-
tion we reverently leave untouched. That it is inti-
mately connected in some way with, and in part
dependent on, the evolution of the intelligence, ap-
pears very probable : for this evolution is seen — First,
in a better understanding of the consequences of action,
and of good and of evil in many things ; and Second, in
the production of means for the spread of the special
instrumentalities of good. The following may be enu-
merated as such instrumentalities :

1. Furnishing literary means of record and distribu-
tion of the truths of religion, morality and science.

2. Creating and increasing modes of transportation
of teachers and literary means of disseminating truth.

3. Facilitating the migration and the spread of na-
tions holding the highest position in the scale of
morality.

4. The increase of wealth, which multiplies the ex-
tent of the preceding means.

And now, let no man attempt to set bounds to this
development. Let no man say even that morality ac-
complished is all that is required of mankind, since
that is not necessarily the evidence of a spiritual devel-
opment. If a man possess the capacity for progress
beyond the condition in which he finds himself, in re-
fusing to enter upon it he declines to conform to the
Divine law. And "from those to whom little is given,
little is required, but from those to whom much is given,
much shall be required.'*

SCIENTIFIC ADDRESSES.

TYNDALL'S ADDRESSES.

On the Methods and Tendencies of Phys-
ical Investigation.

The celebrated Fichte, in his lectures on the " Voca-
tion of the Scholar," insisted on a culture for the scholar
which should not be one-sided, but all-sided. His intel-
lectual nature was to expand spherically, and not in a
single direction. In one direction, however, Fichte re-
quired that the scholar should apply himself directly to
nature, become a creator of knowledge, and thus repay,
by original labors of his own, the immense debt he owed
to the labors of others. It was these which enabled him
to supplement the knowledge derived from his own re-
searches, so as to render his culture rounded, and not
one-sided.

Fichte's idea is to some extent illustrated by the con^
stitution and the'fabors of the British Association. We
have here a body of men engaged in the pursuit of nat-
ural knowledge, but variously engaged. While sympa-
thizing with each of its departments, and supplement-
ing his culture by knowledge drawn from all of them,

(6)

each student amongst us selects one subject for the ex-
ercise of his own original faculty — one line along which
he may carry the light of his private intelligence a little
way into the darkness by which all knowledge is sur-
rounded. Thus, the geologist faces the rocks ; the biol-
ogist fronts the conditions and phenomena of life ; the
astronomer, stellar masses and motions ; the mathema-
tician the properties of space and number ; the chemist
pursues his atoms, while the physical investigator has
his own large field in optical, thermal, electrical, acous-
tical, and other phenomena. The British Association,
then, faces nature on all sides, and pushes knowledge
centrifugally outwards, while, through circumstance or
natural bent, each of its working members takes up a
certain line of research in which he aspires to be an
original producer, being content in all other directions
to accept instruction from his fellow-men. The sum of
our labors constitutes what Fichte might call the sphere
of natural knowledge. In the meetings of the Associa-
tion it is found necessary to resolve this sphere into its
component parts, which take concrete form under the
respective letters of our sections.

This section (A) is called the Mathematical and Phys-
ical section. Mathematics and Physics have been long
accustomed to coalesce, and hence this grouping. For
while mathematics, as a product of the human mind, is
self-sustaining and nobly self-rewarding, — while the pure
mathematician may never trouble his mind with consid-
erations regarding the phenomena of the material uni-
verse, still the form of reasoning which he employs, the
power which the organization of that reasoning confers,
the applicability of his abstract conceptions to actual
phenomena, render his science one of the most potent

(7) »«

instruments in the solution of natural problems. In-
deed, without mathematics, expressed or implied, our
knowledge of physical science would be friable in the
extreme.

Side by side with the mathematical method, we have
the method of experiment. Here, from a starting-point
furnished by his own researches or those of others, the
investigator proceeds by combining intuition and verifi-
cation. He ponders the knowledge he possesses and
tries to push it further, he guesses and checks his guess,
he conjectures and confirms or explodes his conjecture.
These guesses and conjectures are by no means leaps in
the dark ; for knowledge once gained casts a faint light
beyond its own immediate boundaries. There is no dis-
covery so limited as not to illuminate something beyond
itself. The force of intellectual penetration into this
penumbral region which surrounds actual knowledge is
not dependent upon method, but is proportional to the
genius of the investigator. There is, however, no genius
so gifted as not to need control and verification. The
profoundest minds know best that nature's ways are not
at all times their ways, and that the brightest flashes in
the world of thought are incomplete until they have
been proved to have their counterparts in the world of
fact. The vocation of the true experimentalist is the
incessant correction and realization of his insight ; his
experiments finally constituting a body, of which his
purified intuitions are, as it were, the soul.

Partly through mathematical, and partly through ex-
perimental research, physical science has of late years
assumed a momentous position in the world. Both in
a material and in an intellectual point of view it has pro-
duced, and it is destined to produce, immense, changes,

222

(8)

vast social ameliorations, and vast alterations in the
popular conception of the origin, rule, and governance
of things. Miracles are wrought by science in the phys-
ical world, while philosophy is forsaking its ancient met-
aphysical channels, and pursuing those opened or indi-
cated by scientific research. This must become more and
more the case as philosophic writers become more deeply
imbued with the methods of science, better acquainted
with the facts which scientific men have won, and with
the great theories which they have elaborated.

If you look at the face of a watch, you see the hour
and mirtute-hands, and possibly also a second-hand,
moving over the graduated dial. Why do these hands
move, and why are their relative motions such as they
are observed to be ? These questions cannot be an-
swered without opening the watch, mastering its various
parts, and ascertaining their relationship to each other.
When this is done, we find that the observed motion of
the hands follows of necessity from the inner mechanism
of the watch when acted upon by the force invested in
the spring.

This motion of the hands may be called a phenome-
non of art, but the case is similar with the phenomena
of Nature. These also have their inner mechanism, and
their store of force to set that mechanism going. The
ultimate problem of physical science is to reveal this
mechanism, to discern this store, and to show that from
the combined action of both, the phenomena of which
they constitute the basis must of necessity flow.

I thought that an attempt to give you even a brief and
sketchy illustration of the manner in which scientific
thinkers regard this problem would not be uninteresting
to you on the present occasion ; more especially as it

(9) *23

will give me occasion to say a word or two on the ten-
dencies and limits of modern science, to point out the
region which men of science claim as their own, and
where it is mere waste of time to oppose their advance,
and also to define, if possible, the bourne between this
and that other region to which the questionings and
yearnings of the scientific intellect are directed in vain.

But here your tolerance will be needed. It was the
American Emerson, I think, who said that it is hardly
possible to state any truth strongly without apparent in-
jury to some other truth. Under the circumstances, the
proper course appears to be to state both truths strongly,
and allow each its fair share, in the formation of the re-
sultant conviction. For truth is often of a dual charac-
ter, taking the form of a magnet with two poles ; and
many of the differences which agitate the thinking part
of mankind are to be traced to the exclusiveness with
which different parties affirm one half of the duality in
forgetfulness of the other half. But this waiting for the
statement of the two sides of a question implies pa-
tience. It implies a resolution to suppress indignation if
the statement of the one half should clash with our con-
victions, and not to surfer ourselves to be cunduly elated
if the half-statement should chime in with our views.
It implies a determination to wait calmly for the state-
ment of the whole before we pronounce judgment either
in the form of acquiescence or dissent.

This premised, let us enter upon our task. There
have been writers who affirmed that the pyramids of
Egypt were the productions of nature ; and in his early
youth Alexander Von Humboldt wrote an essay with
the express object of refuting this notion. We now re-
gard the pyramids as the work of men's hands, aided

224 (I0>

probably by machinery of which no record remains.
We picture to ourselves the swarming workers toiling at
those vast erections, lifting the inert stones, and, guided
by the volition, the skill, and possibly at times by the
whip of the architect, placing the stones in their proper
positions. The blocks in this case were moved by a
power external to themselves, and the final form of the
pyramid expressed the thought of its human builder.

Let us pass from this illustration of building power to
another of a different kind. When a solution of com-
mon salt is slowly evaporated, the water which holds the
salt in solution disappears, but the salt itself remains
behind. At a certain stage of concentration, the salt
can no longer retain the liquid form ; its particles, or
molecules, as they are called, begin to deposit them-
selves as minute solids, so minute, indeed, as to defy all
microscopic power. As evaporation continues solidifi-
cation goes on, and we finally obtain, through the clus-
tering together of innumerable molecules, a finite mass
of salt of a definite form. What is this form ? It some-
times seems a mimicry of the architecture of Egypt.
We have little pyramids built by the salt, terrace above
terrace from ba^se to apex, forming thus a series of steps
resembling those up which the Egyptian traveler is
dragged by his guides. The human mind is as little dis-
posed to look at these pyramidal salt-crystals without
further question as to look at the pyramids of Egypt
without inquiring whence they came. How, then, are
those salt pyramids built up ?

Guided by analogy, you may suppose that, swarming
among the constituent molecules of the salt, there is an
invisible population, guided and coerced by some invis-
ible master, and placing the ajtomic_blqcks in their posi-

(n) 225

tions. This, however, is not the scientific idea, nor do
I think your good sense will accept it as a likely one.
The scientific idea is that the molecules act upon each
other without the intervention of slave labor j that they
attract each other and repel each other at certain
definite points, and in certain definite directions j and
that the pyramidal form is the result of this play of at-
traction and repulsion. While, then, the blocks of
Egypt were laid down by a power external to them-
selves, these molecular blocks of salt are self-posited,
being fixed in their places by the forces with which they
act upon each other.

I take common salt as an illustration, because it is so
familiar to us all ; but almost any other substance would
answer my purpose equally well. In fact, throughout
inorganic nature, we have this formative power, as
Fichte would call it — this structural energy ready to
come into play, and build the ultimate particles of mat-
ter into definite shapes. It is present everywhere. The
ice of our winters and of our polar regions is its hand-
work, and so equally are the quartz, feldspar, and mica
of our rocks. Our chalk-beds are for the most part
composed- of minute shells, which are also the product
of structural energy ; but behind the shell, as a whole,
lies the result of another and more subtle formative act.
These shells are built up of little crystals of calc-spar,
and to form these the structural force had to deal with
the intangible molecules of carbonate of lime. This ten-
dency on the part of matter to organize itself, to grow
into shape, to assume definite forms in obedience to the
definite action of force, is, as I have said, all-pervading.
It is in the ground on which you tread, in the water you
drink, in the air you breathe. Incipient life, in fact,

226 ( I2 )

manifests itself throughout the whole of what we call
inorganic nature.

The forms of minerals resulting from this play of
forces are various, and exhibit different degrees of com-
plexity. Men of science avail themselves of all possible
means of exploring this moleculer architecture. For
this purpose they employ in turn as agents of explora-
tion, light, heat, magnetism, electricity, and sound.
Polarized light is especially useful and powerful here.
A beam of such light, when sent in among the mole-
cules of a crystal, is acted on by them, and from this ac-
tion we infer with more or less of clearness the manner
in which the molecules are arranged. The difference,
for example, between the inner structure of a plate of
rock-salt and a plate of crystalized sugar or sugar-candy
is thus strikingly revealed. These differences may be
made to display themselves in phenomena of color of
great splendor, the play of molecular force being so reg-
ulated as to remove certain of the colored constituents
of white light, and to leave others with increased inten-
sity behind.

And now let us pass from what we are accustomed to
regard as a dead mineral to a living grain of corn.
When it is examined by polarized light, chromatic phe-
nomena similar to those noticed in crystals are observed.
And why ? Because the architecture of the grain re-
sembles in some degree the architecture of the crystal.
In the corn the molecules are also set in definite posi-
tions, from which they act upon the light. But what
has built together the molecules of the corn ? I have
already said, regarding crystalline architecture, that you
may, if you please, consider the atoms and molecules to
be placed in position by a power external to themselves.

*3 227

The same hypothesis is open to you now. But, if in the
case of crystals you have rejected this notion of an ex-
ternal architect, I think you are bound to reject it now,
and to conclude that the molecules of the corn are self-
posited by the forces with which they act upon each
other. It would be poor philosophy to invoke an exter-
nal agent in the one case and to reject it in the other.

Instead of cutting our grain into thin slices and sub-
jecting it to the action of polarized light, let us place it
in the earth and subject it to a certain degree of warmth.
In other words, let the molecules, both of the corn and
of the surrounding earth, be kept in a state of agitation ;
for warmth, as most of you know, is, in the eye of
science, tremulous molecular motion. Under these cir-
cumstances, the grain and the substances which surround
it interact, and a molecular architecture is the result of
this interaction. A bud is formed ; this bud reaches
the surface, where it is exposed to the sun's rays, which
are also to be regarded as a kind of vibratory motion.
And as the common motion of heat with which the grain
and the substances surrounding it were first endowed,
enable the grain and these substances to coalesce, so the
specific motion of the sun's rays now enables the green
bud to feed upon the carbonic acid and the aqueous
vapor of the air, appropriating those constituents of
both for which the blade has an elective attraction, and
permitting the other constituent to resume its place in
the air. Thus forces are active at the root, forces are
active in the blade, the matter of the earth and the
matter of the atmosphere are drawn towards the plant,
and the plant augments in size. We have in succession,
the bud, the stalk, the ear, the full corn in the ear. For
the forces here at play act in a cycle, which is completed

228 ( I4 )

by the production of grains similar to that with which
the process began.

Now there is nothing in this process which necessarily
eludes the power of mind as we know it. An intellect
the same kind as our own, would, if only sufficiently ex-
panded, be able to follow the whole process from begin-
ning to end. No entirely new intellectual faculty would
be needed for this purpose. The duly expanded mind
would see in the process and its consummation an in-
stance of the play of molecular force. It would see
every molecule placed in its position by the specific at-
tractions and repulsions exerted between it and other
molecules. Nay, given the grain and its environment,
an intellect the same in kind as our own, but sufficiently
expanded, might trace out d priori every step of the pro-
cess, and by the application of mechanical principles
would be able to demonstrate that the cycle of actions
must end, as it is seen to end, in the reproduction of
forms like that with which the operation began. A sim-
ilar necessity rules here to that which rules the planets
in their circuits round the sun.

You will notice that I am stating my truth strongly,
as at the beginning we agreed it should be stated. But
I must go still further, and affirm that in the eye of
science the animal body is just as much the product of
molecular force as the stalk and ear of corn, or as the
crystal of salt or sugar. Many of its parts are obviously
mechanical. Take the human heart, for example, with
its exquisite system of valves, or take the eye or the
hand. Animal heat, moreover, is the same in kind as
the heat of a fire, being produced by the same chemical
process. Animal motion, too, is as directly derived
from the food of the animal, as the motion of Treve-

T 229

thyck's walking-engine from the fuel in its furnace. As
regards matter, the animal body creates nothing ; as re-
gards force, it creates nothing. Which of you by tak-
ing thought can add one cubit to his stature ? All that
has been said regarding the plant may be re-stated with
regard to the animal. Every particle that enters into
the composition of the muscle, a nerve, or a bone, has
been placed in its position by molecular force. And
unless the existence of law in these matters be denied,
and the element of caprice be introduced, we must con-
clude that, given the relation of any molecule of the
body to its environment, its position in the body might
be predicted. Our difficulty is not with the quality of
the problem, but with its complexity ; and this difficulty
might be met by the simple expansion of the faculties
which man now possesses. Given this expansion, and
given the necessary molecular data, and the chick might
be deduced as rigorously and as logically from the egg
as the existence of Neptune was deduced from the dis-
turbances of Uranus, or as conical refraction was de-
duced from the undulatory theory of light.

You see I am not mincing matters, but avowing
nakedly what many scientific thinkers more or less dis-
tinctly believe. The formation of a crystal, a plant, or
an animal, is in their eyes a purely mechanical problem,
which differs from the problems of ordinary mechanics in
the smallness of the masses and the complexity of the
processes involved. Here you have one half of our
dual truth ; let us now glance at the other half. Asso-
ciated with this wonderful mechanism of the animal
body we have phenomena no less certain than those of
physics, but between which and the mechanism we dis-
cern no necessary connection. A man, for example,

230

can say I feel, I think, I love ; but how does conscious-
ness infuse itself into the problem ? The human brain
is said to be the organ of thought and feeling ; when
we are hurt the brain feels it, when we ponder it is the
brain that thinks, when our passions or affections are
excited it is through the instrumentality of the brain.
Let us endeavor to be a little more precise here. I
hardly imagine that any profound scientific thinker who
has reflected upon the subject exists, who would not ad-
mit the extreme probability of the hypothesis, that for
every fact of consciousness, whether in the domain of
sense, of thought, or of emotion, a certain definite
molecular condition is set up in the brain ; that this re-
lation of physics to consciousness is invariable, so that,
given the state of the brain, the corresponding thought
or feeling might be inferred ; or, given the thought or
feeling, the corresponding state of the brain might be
inferred. But how inferred ? It is at bottom not a case
of logical inference at all, but of empirical association.
You may reply that many of the inferences of science
are of this character ; the inference, for example, that
an electric current of a given direction will deflect a
magnetic needle in a definite way ; but the cases differ
in this, that the passage from the current to the needle,
if not demonstrable, is thinkable, and that we entertain
no doubt as to the final mechanical solution of the prob-
lem ; but the passage from the physics of the brain to
the corresponding facts of consciousness is unthinka-
ble. Granted that a definite thought and a definite
molecular action in the brain occur simultaneously, we
do not possess the intellectual organ, nor, apparently,
any rudiment of the organ, which would enable us to
pass by a process of reasoning from the one phenome-

non to the other. They appear together, but we do not
know why. Were our minds and senses so expanded,
strengthened, and illuminated as to enable us to see and
feel the very molecules of the brain ; were we capable
of following all their motions, all their groupings, all
their electric discharges, if such there be ; and were we
intimately acquainted with the corresponding states of
thought and feeling, we should be as far as ever from
the solution of the problem. " How are these physical
processes connected with the facts of consciousness ?"
The chasm between the two classes of phenomena
would still remain intellectually impassable. Let the
consciousness of love, for example, be associated with
a right-handed spiral motion of the molecules of the
brain, and the consciousness of hate with a left-handed
spiral motion. We should then know when we love
that the motion is in one direction, and when we hate
that the motion is in the other ; but the " WHY ?" would
still remain unanswered.

In affirming that the growth of the body is mechan-
ical, and that thought, as exercised by us, has its cor-
relative in the physics of the brain, I think the position
of the " Materialist" is stated as far as that position is
a tenable one. I think the materialist will be able
finally to maintain this position against all attacks ; but
I do not think, as the human mind is at present consti-
tuted, that he can pass beyond it. I do not think he is
entitled to say that his molecular groupings and his
molecular motions explain everything. In reality they
explain nothing. The utmost he can affirm is the asso-
ciation of two classes of phenomena of whose real bond
of union he is in absolute ignorance. The problem of
the connection of the body and soul is as insoluble in

232 v IQ )

its modern form as it was in the pre-scientific ages.
Phosphorus is known to enter into the composition of
the human brain, and a courageous writer has exclaimed,
in his trenchant German, " Ohne phosphor kein ge-
danke." That may or may not be the case ; but even if
we knew it to be the case, the knowledge would not
lighten our darkness. On both sides of. the zone here
assigned to the materialist he is equally helpless. If
you ask him whence is this " matter " of which we have
been discoursing, who or what divided it into molecules,
who or what impressed upon them this necessity of run-
ning into organic forms, he has no answer. Science
also is mute in reply to these questions. But if the
materialist is confounded, and science rendered dumb,
who else is entitled to answer? To whom has the
secret been revealed ? Let us lower our heads and ac-
knowledge our ignorance, one and all. Perhaps the
mystery may resolve itself into knowledge at some
future day. The process of things upon this earth has
been one of amelioration. It is a long way from the
Iguanodon and his contemporaries to the president and
members of the British Association. And whether we
regard the improvement from the scientific or from the
theological point of view as the result of progressive
development, or as the result of successive exhibitions
of creative energy, neither view entitles us to assume
that man's present faculties end the series — that the
process of amelioration stops at him. A time may
therefore come when this ultra-scientific region by which
we are now enfolded may offer itself to terrestrial, if
not to human investigation. Two-thirds of the rays
emitted by the sun fail to arouse in the eye the sense of
vision. The rays exist, but the visual organ requisite

for their translation into light does not exist. And so
from this region of darkness and mystery which sur-
rounds us, rays may now be darting which require but
the development of the proper intellectual organs to
translate them into knowledge as far surpassing ours as
ours does that of the wallowing reptiles which once
held possession of this planet. Meanwhile the mystery
is not without its uses. It certainly may be made a
power in the human soul ; but it is a power which has
feeling, not knowledge, for its base. It may be, and
will be, and we hope is turned to account, both in steady-
ing and strengthening the intellect, and in rescuing man
from that littleness to which, in the struggle for exist-
ence or for precedence in the world, he is continually
prone.

II.

On Haze and Dust.

Solar light in passing through a dark room reveals its
track by illuminating the dust floating in the air. " The
sun," says Daniel Culverwell, " discovers atomes, though
they be invisible by candle-light, and makes them dance
naked in his beams."

In my researches on the decomposition of vapors by
light, I was compelled to remove these " atomes " and
this dust. It was essential that the space containing
the vapors should embrace no visible thing ; that no
substance capable of scattering the light in the slightest
sensible degree should, at the outset of an experiment,
be found in the " experimental tube " traversed by the
luminous beam.

For a long time I was troubled by the appearance
there of floating dust, which, though invisible in diffuse
daylight, was at once revealed by a powerfully condensed
beam. Two tubes were placed in succession in the
path of the dust : the one containing fragments of glass
wetted with concentrated sulphuric acid ; the other,
fragments of marble wetted with a strong solution of
caustic potash. To my astonishment it passed through
both. The air of the Royal Institution, sent through
these tubes at a rate sufficiently slow to dry it and to re-
move its carbonic acid, carried into the experimental
tube a considerable amount of mechanically-suspended
matter, which was illuminated when the beam passed

(*O 235

through the tube. The effect was substantially the
same when the air was permitted to bubble through the
liquid acid and through the solution of potash.

Thus, on the 5th of October, 1868, successive charges
of air were admitted through the potash and sulphuric
acid into the exhausted experimental tube. Prior to the
admission of the air the tube was optically empty ; it con-
tained nothing competent to scatter the light. After
the air had entered the tube, the conical track of the
electric beam was in all cases clearly revealed. This,
indeed, was a daily observation at the time to which I
now refer.

I tried to intercept this floating matter in various
ways ; and on the day just mentioned, prior to sending
the air through the drying apparatus, I carefully per-
mitted it to pass over the tip of a spirit-lamp flame.
The floating matter no longer appeared, having been
burnt up by the flame. It was, therefore, organic matter.
When the air was sent too rapidly through the flame, a
fine blue cloud was found in the experimental tube.
This was the smoke of the organic particles. I was by
no means prepared for this result ; for I had thought,
with the rest of the world, that the dust of our air was,
in great part, inorganic and non-combustible.

Mr. Valentin had the kindness to procure for me a
small gas-furnace, containing a platinum tube, which
could be heated to vivid redness. The tube also con-
tained a roll of platinum gauze, which, while it per-
mitted the air to pass through it, insured the practical
contact of the dust with the incandescent metal. The
air of the laboratory was permitted to enter the experi-
mental tube, sometimes through the cold, and some-
times through the heated tube of platinum. * The rapid-

236 22

ity of admission was also varied. In the first column
of the following table the quantity of air operated on is
expressed by the number of inches which the mercury
gauge of the air-pump sank when the air entered. In
the second column the condition of the platinum tube is
mentioned, and in the third the state of the air which
entered the experimental tube.

Quantity of Air. State of Platinum Tube. State of Experimental Tube.

15 inches . . Cold . • . Full of particles.

15 " . . Red-hot . . Optically empty.

15 " . . Cold . . . Full of particles.

15 " . . Red-hot . . Optically empty.

15 " . . Cold . . . Full of particles.

15 " . . Red-hot . . Optically empty.

The phrase " optically empty " shows that when the
conditions *f perfect combustion were present, the float-
ing matter totally disappeared. It was wholly burnt up,
leaving not 9 trace of residue. From spectrum analysis,
however, we know that soda floats in the air ; these or-
ganic dust particles are, I believe, the rafts that support
it, and when they are removed it sinks and vanishes.

When the passage of the air was so rapid as to ren-
der imperfect the combustion of the floating matter, in-
stead of optical emptiness a fine blue cloud made its ap-
pearance in the experimental tube. The following
series of results illustrate this point :

Quantity.

15 inches, slow .

15 " . "

15 " quick .
15 « " .

Platinum Tube.

Cold . . .

Red-hot . .
u

Intensely hot

Experimental Tube.

Full of particles.
Optically empty.
A blue cloud.
A fine blue cloud.

The optical character of these clouds was totally dif-
ferent from that of the dust which produced them. At
right angles to the illuminating beam they discharged

perfectly polarized light. The cloud could be utterly
quenched by a transparent Nicol's prism, and the tube
containing it reduced to optical emptiness.

The particles floating in the air of London being thus
proved to be organic, I sought to burn them up at the
focus of a concave reflector. One of the powerfully
convergent mirrors employed in my experiments on
combustion by dark rays was here made use of, but I
failed in the attempt. Doubtless the floating particles
are in part transparent to radiant heat, and are so far
incombustible by such heat. Their rapid motion through
the focus also aids their escape. They do not linger
there sufficiently long to be consumed. A flame it was
evident would burn them up, but I thought the presence
of the flame would mask its own action among the par-
ticles.

In a cylindrical beam, which powerfully illuminated
the dust of the laboratory, was placed an ignited spirit-
lamp. Mingling with the flame, and round its rim, were
seen wreaths of darkness resembling an intensely black
smoke. On lowering the flame below the beam the
same dark masses stormed upwards. They were at times
blacker than the blackest smoke that I have ever seen
issuing from the funnel of a steamer, and their resem-
blance to smoke was so perfect as to lead the most prac-
ticed observer to conclude that the apparently pure
flame of the alcohol lamp required but a beam of suffi-
cient intensity to reveal its clouds of liberated carbon.

But is the blackness smoke ? The question presented
itself in a moment. A red-hot poker was placed under-
neath the beam, and from it the black wreaths also
ascended. A large hydrogen flame was next employed,
and it produced those whirling masses of darkness far

23$ ( 24 )

more copiously than either the spirit-flame or poker.
Smoke was, therefore, out of the question.

What, then, was the blackness ? It was simply that
of stellar space ; that is to say, blackness resulting from
the absence from the track of the beam of all matter
competent to scatter its light. When the flame was
placed below the beam the floating matter was destroyed
in situ ; and the air, freed from this matter, rose into the
beam, jostled aside the illuminated particles and substi-
tuted for their light the darkness due to its own perfect
transparency. Nothing could more forcibly illustrate
the invisibility of the agent which renders all things vis-
ible. The beam crossed, unseen, the black chasm formed
by the transparent air, while at both sides of the gap
the thick-strewn particles shone out like a luminous solid
under the powerful illumination.

But here a difficulty meets us. It is not necessary to
burn the particles to produce a stream of darkness.
Without actual combustion, currents may be generated
which shall exclude the floating matter, and therefore
appear dark amid the surrounding brightness. I noticed
this effect first on placing a red-hot copper ball below
the beam, and permitting it to remain there until its
temperature had fallen below that of boiling water.
The dark currents, though much enfeebled, were still
produced. They may also be produced by a flask filled
with hot water.

To study this effect a platinum wire was stretched
across the beam, the two ends of the wire being con-
nected with the two poles of a voltaic battery. To reg-
ulate the strength of the current a rheostat was placed
in the circuit. Beginning with a feeble current the
temperature of the wire was gradually augmented, but

(25) 239

before it reached the heat of ignition, a flat stream of
air rose from it, which when looked at edgeways ap-
peared darker and sharper than one of the blackest
lines of Fraunhofer in the solar spectrum. Right and
left of this dark vertical band the floating matter rose
upwards, bounding definitely the non-luminous stream
of air. What is the explanation ? Simply this. The
hot wire rarefied the air in contact with it, but it did not
equally lighten the .floating matter. The convection
current of pure air therefore passed upwards among ihe
particles, dragging them after it right and left, but form-
ing between them an impassable black partition. In
this way we render an account of the dark currents pro-
duced by bodies at a temperature below that of combus-
tion.

Oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, carbonic acid, so pre-
pared as to exclude all floating particles, produce the
darkness when poured or blown into the beam. Coal-
gas does the same. An ordinary glass shade placed in
the air with its mouth downwards permits the track of
the beam to be seen crossing it. Let coal-gas or hydro-
gen enter the shade by a tube reaching to its top, the
gas gradually fills the shade from the top downwards.
As soon as it occupies the space crossed by the beam,
the luminous track is instantly abolished. Lifting the
shade so as to bring the common boundary of gas and
air above the beam, the track flashes forth. After the
shade is full, if it be inverted, the gas passes upwards
like a black smoke among the illuminated particles.

The air of our London rooms is loaded with this or-
ganic dust, nor is the country air free from its pollution.
However ordinary daylight may permit it to disguise
itself, a sufficiently powerful beam causes the air in

240 2<>

which the dust is suspended to appear as a semi-solid
rather than as a gas. Nobody could, in the first in-
stance, without repugnance place the mouth at the
illuminated focus of the electric beam and inhale the
dirt revealed there. Nor is the disgust abolished by the
reflection that, although we do not see the nastiness, we
are churning it in our lungs every hour and minute of
our lives. There is no respite to this contact with dirt ;
and the wonder is, not that we should from time to time
suffer from its presence, but that so small a portion of
it would appear to be deadly to man.

And what is this portion ? It was some time ago the
current belief that epidemic diseases generally were pro-
pagated by a kind of malaria, which consisted of or-
ganic matter in a state of motor-decay ; that when such
matter was taken into the body through the lungs or
skin, it had the power of spreading there the destroying
process which had attacked itself. Such a spreading
power was visibly exerted in the case of yeast A little
leaven was seen to leaven the whole lump, a mere speck
of matter in this supposed state of decomposition being
apparently competent to propagate indefinitely its own
decay. Why should not a bit of rotten malaria work in
a similar manner within the human frame? In 1836 a
very wonderful reply was given to this question. In
that year Cagniard de la Tour discovered the yeast plant,
a living organism, which, when placed in a proper
medium, feeds, grows, and reproduces itself, and in this
way carries on the process which we name fermentation.
Fermentation was thus proved to be a product of life
instead of a process of decay.

Schwann, of Berlin, discovered the yeast plant inde-
pendently, and in February, 1837, he also announced the

( 2*1 ) 241

important result, that when a decoction of meat is effect-
ually screened from ordinary air, and supplied solely
with air which has been raised to a high temperature,
putrefaction never sets in. Putrefaction, therefore, he
affirmed to be caused by something derived from the air,
which something could be destroyed by a sufficiently
high temperature. The experiments of Schwann were
repeated and confirmed by Helmholtz and Ure. But
as regards fermentation, the minds of chemists, influ-
enced probably by the great authority of Gay-Lussac,
who ascribed putrefaction to the action of oxygen, fell
back upon the old notion of matter in a state of decay.
It was not the living yeast plant, but the dead or dying
parts of it, which, assailed by oxygen, produced the fer-
mentation. This notion was finally exploded by Pasteur.
He proved that the so-called " ferments" are not such ;
that the true ferments are organized beings which find
in the reputed ferments their necessary food.

Side by side with these researches and discoveries, and
fortified by them and others, has run the germ theory of
epidemic disease. The notion was expressed by Kircher,
and favored by Linnaeus, that epidemic diseases are due
to germs which float in the atmosphere, enter the body,
and produce disturbance by the development within the
body of parasitic life. While it was still struggling
against great odds, this theory found an expounder and
a defender in the President of this Institution. At a
time when most of his medical brethren considered
it a wild dream, Sir Henry Holland contended that
some form of the germ theory was probably true. The
strength of this theory consists in the perfect parallelism
of the phenomena of contagious disease with those of
life. As a planted acorn gives birth to an oak compe-

242 ( 2g )

tent to produce a whole crop of acorns, each gifted with
the power of reproducing its parent tree, and as thus
from a single seedling a whole forest may spring, so
these epidemic diseases literally plant their seeds, grow,
and shake abroad new germs, which, meeting in the
human body their proper food and temperature, finally
take possession of whole populations. Thus Asiatic
cholera, beginning in a small way in the Delta of the
Ganges, contrived in seventeen years to spread itself
over nearly the whole habitable world. The develop-
ment from an infinitesimal speck of the virus of small-
pox of a crop of pustules, each charged with the orig-
inal poison, is another illustration. The reappearance
of the scourge, as in the case of the Dreadnought at
Greenwich, reported on so ably by Dr. Budd and Mr.
Busk, receives a satisfactory explanation from the theory
which ascribes it to the lingering of germs about the in-
fected place.

Surgeons have long known the danger of permitting
air to enter an open abscess. To prevent its entrance
they employ a tube called a cannula, to which is at-
tached a sharp steel point called a trocar. They punc-
ture with the steel point, and by gentle pressure they
force the pus through the cannula. It is necessary to
be very careful in cleansing the instrument ; and it is
difficult to see how it can be cleansed by ordinary
methods in air loaded with organic impurities, as we
have proved our air to be. The instrument ought, in
fact, to be made as hot as its temper will bear. But
this is not done, and hence, notwithstanding all the sur-
geon's care, inflammation often sets in after the first op-
eration, rendering necessary a second and a third.
Rapid putrefaction is found to accompany this new in-

1 *9) 243

flammation. The pus, moreover, which was sweet at
first, and showed no trace of animal life, is now fetid,
and swarming with active little organisms called vibrios.
Prof. Lister, from whose recent lecture this fact is de-
rived, contends, with every show of reason, that this
rapid putrefaction and this astounding development of
animal life are due to the entry of germs into the abscess
during the first operation, and their subsequent nurture
and development under favorable conditions of food and
temperature. The celebrated physiologist and physicist,
Helmholtz, is attacked annually by hay-fever. From
the 20th of May to the end of June he suffers from a
catarrh of the upper air-passages ; and he has found
during this period, and at no other, that his nasal secre-
tions are peopled by these vibrios. They appear to
nestle by preference in the cavities and recesses of the
nose, for a strong sneeze is necessary to dislodge them.
These statements sound uncomfortable ; but by dis-
closing our enemy they enable us to fight him. When
he clearly eyes his quarry the eagle's strength is doubled,
and his swoop is rendered sure. If the germ theory be
proved true, it will give a definiteness to our efforts to
stamp out disease which they could not previously pos-
sess. And it is only by definite effort under its guid-
ance that its truth or falsehood can be established. It
is difficult for an outsider like myself to read without
sympathetic emotion such papers as those of Dr. Budd,
of Bristol, on cholera, scarlet-fever, and small-pox. He
is a man of strong imagination, and may occasionally
take a flight beyond his facts ; but without this dynamic
heat of heart, the stolid inertia of the free-born Briton
cannot be overcome. And as long as the heat is em-
ployed to warm up the truth without singeing it over-

*4 30

much ; as long as this enthusiasm can overmatch its
mistakes by unequivocal examples of success, so long
am I disposed to give it a fair field to work in, and to
wish it God speed.

But let us return to our dust. It is needless to re-
mark that it cannot be blown away by an ordinary bel-
lows ; or, more correctly, the place of the particles
blown away is in this case supplied by others ejected
from the bellows, so that the track of the beam remains
unimpaired. But if the nozzle of a good bellows be
filled with cotton wool not too tightly packed, the air
urged through the wool is filtered of its floating matter,
and it then forms a clean band of darkness in the illu-
minated dust. This was the filter used by Schroeder in
his experiments on spontaneous generation, and turned
subsequently to account in the excellent researches of
Pasteur. Since 1868 I have constantly employed it
myself.

But by far the most interesting and important illus-
tration of this filtering process is furnished by the hu-
man breath. I fill my lungs with ordinary air and
breathe through a glass tube across the electric beam.
The condensation of the aqueous vapor of the breath is
shown by the formation of a luminous white cloud of
delicate texture. It is necessary to abolish this cloud,
and this may be done by drying the breath previous to
its entering into the beam ; or still more simply, by
warming the glass tube. When this is done the lumi-
nous track of the beam is for a time uninterrupted. The
breath impresses upon the floating matter a transverse mo-
tion, but the dust from the lungs makes good the particles
displaced. But after some time an obscure disc appears
upon the beam, the darkness of which increases, until

3i) 245

> *

finally, towards the end of the expiration, the beam is,
as it were, pierced by an intensely black hole, in which
no particles whatever can be discerned. The air, in
fact, has so lodged its dirt within the lungs as to render
the last portions of the expired breath absolutely free
from suspended matter. This experiment may be re-
peated any number of times with the same result. It
renders the distribution of the dirt within the lungs as
manifest as if the chest were transparent.

I now empty my lungs as perfectly as possible, and
placing a handful of cotton wool against my mouth and
nostrils, inhale through it. There is no difficulty in
thus filling the lungs with air. On expiring this air
through the glass tube, its freedom from floating matter
is at once manifest. From the very beginning of the
act of expiration the beam is pierced by a black aper-
ture. The first puff from the lungs abolishes the illumi-
nated dust and puts a patch of darkness in its place,
and the darkness continues throughout the entire course
of the expiration. When the tube is placed below the
beam and moved to and fro, the same smoke-like ap-
pearance as that obtained with a flame is observed. In
short, the cotton wool, when used in sufficient quantity,
completely intercepts the floating matter on its way to
the lungs.

And here we have revealed to us the true philosophy
of a practice followed by medical men, more from in-
stinct than from actual knowledge. In a contagious at-
mosphere the physician places a handkerchief to his
mouth and inhales through it. In doing so he uncon-
ciously holds back the dirt and germs of the air. If the
poison were a gas it would not be thus intercepted.
On showing this experiment with the cotton wool to Dr,

24.6 ( 32 )

Bence Jones, he immediately repeated it with a silk
handkerchief. The result was substantially the same,
though, as might be expected, the wool is by far the
surest filter. The application of these experiments is
obvious. If a physician wishes to hold back from the
lungs of his patient, or from his own, the germs by
which contagious disease is said to be propagated, he
will employ a cotton wool respirator. After the revela-
tions of this evening, such respirators must, I think,
come into general use as a defence against contagion.
In the crowded dwellings of the London poor, where
the isolation of the sick is difficult, if not impossible,
the noxious air around the patient may, by this simple
means, be restored to practical purity. Thus filtered,
attendants may breathe the air unharmed. In all prob-
ability the protection of the lungs will be protec-
tion of the entire system. For it is exceedingly
probable that the germs which lodge in the air-
passages, and which, at their leisure, can work their
way across the mucous membrane, are those which sow
in the body epidemic disease. If this be so, then
disease can certainly be warded off by filters of cotton
wool. I should be most willing to test their efficacy in
my own person. And time will decide whether in lung
diseases also the woolen respirator cannot abate irrita-
tion, if not arrest decay. By its means, so far as the
germs are concerned, the air of the highest Alps may
be brought into the chamber of the invalid.

III.

Scientific Use of the Imagination.

I carried with me to the Alps this year the heavy bur-
den of this evening's work. In the way of new investi-
gation I had nothing complete enough to be brought
before you ; so all that remained to me was to fall back
upon such residues as I could find in the depths of con-
sciousness, and out of them to spin the fiber and weave
the web of this discourse. Save from memory I had no
direct aid upon the mountains ; but to spur up the emo-
tions, on which so much depends, as well as to nourish
indirectly the intellect and will, I took with me two
volumes of poetry, Goethe's " Farbenlehre," and the work
on " Logic " recently published by Mr. Alexander Bain.
The spur, I am sorry to say, was no match for the integu-
ment of dullness it had to pierce.

In Goethe, so glorious otherwise, I chiefly noticed the
self-inflicted hurts of genius, as it broke itself in vain
against the philosophy of Newton. For a time Mr.
Bain became my principal companion. I found him
learned and practical, shining generally with a dry light,
but exhibiting at times a flush of emotional strength,
which proved that even logicians share the common fire
of humanity. He interested me most when he became
the mirror of my own condition. Neither intellectually
nor socially is it good for man to be alone, and the
griefs of thought are more patiently borne when we find
that they have been experienced by another, From cer-

248 ( 34 )

tain passages in his book I could infer that Mr. Bain
was no stranger to such sorrows. Take this passage as
an illustration. Speaking of the ebb of intellectual
force which we all from time to time experience, Mr
Bain says: "The uncertainty where to look for the next
opening of discovery brings the pain of conflict and the
debility of indecision." These words have in them the
true ring of personal experience.

The action of the investigator is periodic. He grap-
ples with a subject of inquiry, wrestles with it, over-
comes it, exhausts, it may be, both himself and it for
the time being. He breathes a space, and then renews
the struggle in another field. Now this period of halt-
ing between two investigations is not always one of pure
repose. It is often a period of doubt and discomfort,
of gloom and ennui. " The uncertainty where to look
for the next opening of discovery brings the pain of con-
flict and the debility of indecision." Such was my pre-
cise condition in the Alps this year ; in a score of words
Mr. Bain has here sketched my mental diagnosis ; and
it was under these evil circumstances that I had to
equip myself for the hour and the ordeal that are now
come.

Gladly, however, as I should have seen this duty in
other hands, I could by no means shrink from it. Dis-
loyalty would have been worse than failure. In some
fashion or other — feebly or strongly, meanly or manfully,
on the higher levels of thought, or on the flats of com-
monplace— the task had to be accomplished. I looked
in various directions for help and furtherance ; but with-
out me for a time I saw only " antres vast," and within
me " deserts idle." My case resembled that of a sick
doctor who had forgotten his art, and sorely needed the

( 35 ) 249

prescription of a friend. Mr. Bain wrote one for me.
He said : " Your present knowledge must forge the links
of connection between what has been already achieved
and what is now required."

In these words he admonished me to review the past
and recover from it the broken ends of former investi-
gations. I tried to do so. Previous to going to Switz-
erland I had been thinking much of light and heat, of
magnetism and electricity, of organic germs, atoms,
molecules, spontaneous generation, comets and skies.
With one or another of these I now sought to re-form
an alliance, and finally succeeded in establishing a kind
of cohesion between thought and light. The wish grew
within me to trace, and to enable you to trace, some of
the more occult operations of this agent. I wished, if
possible, to take you behind the drop-scene of the senses,
and to show you the hidden mechanism of optical
action. For I take it to be well worth the while of the
scientific teacher to take some pains, and even great
pains, to make those whom he addresses co-partners of
his thoughts. To clear his own mind in the first place
from all haze and vagueness, and then to project into
language which shall leave no mistake as to his mean-
ing— which shall leave even his errors naked — the defi-
nite ideas he has shaped.

A great deal is, I think, possible to scientific exposi-
tion conducted in this way. It is possible, I believe,
even before an audience like the present, to uncover to
some extent the unseen things of nature, and thus to
give, not only to professed students, but to others with
the necessary bias, industry and capacity, an intelligent
interest in the operations of science. Time and labor
are necessary to this result, but science is the gainer
from the public sympathy thus created.

25° (36)

How then are those hidden things to be revealed ?
How, for example, are we to lay hold of the physical
basis of light, since, like that of life itself, it lies entirely
without the domain of the senses ? Now, philosophers
may be right in affirming that we cannot transcend ex-
perience. But we can, at all events, carry it a long way
from its origin. We can also magnify, diminish, qualify,
and combine experiences, so as to render them fit for
purposes entirely new. We are gifted with the power of
imagination, combining what the Germans called An-
schauiingsgabe and Einbildungskraft, and by this power
we can lighten the darkness which surrounds the world
of the senses.

There are tories even in science who regard imagina-
tion as a faculty to be feared and avoided rather than
employed. They had observed its action in weak ves-
sels and were unduly impressed by its disasters. But
they might with equal justice point to exploded boilers
as an argument against the use of steam. Bounded and
conditioned by cooperant reason, imagination becomes
the mightiest instrument of the physical discoverer.
Newton's passage from a falling apple to a falling moon
was a leap of the imagination. When William Thom-
son tries to place the ultimate particles of matter be-
tween his compass points, and to apply to them a scale
of millimeters, it is an exercise of the imagination.
And in much that has been recently said about proto-
plasm and life, we have the outgoings of the imagination
guided and controlled by the known analogies of science.
In fact, without this power our knowledge of nature
would be a mere tabulation of coexistences and sequences.
We should still believe in the succession of day and
night, of summer and winter ; but the soul of force

(37) 251

would be dislodged from our universe j casual relations
would disappear, and with them that science which is
now binding the parts of nature to an organic whole.

I should like to illustrate by a few simple instances
the use that scientific men have already made of this
power of imagination, and to indicate afterwards some
of the further uses that they are likely to make of it.
Let us begin with the rudimentary experiences. Observe
the falling of heavy rain drops into a tranquil pond.
Each drop as it strikes the water becomes a center of
disturbance, from which a series of ring ripples expands
outwards. Gravity and inertia are the agents by which
this wave motion is produced, and a rough experiment
will suffice to show that the rate of propagation does
not amount to a foot a second.

A series of slight mechanical shocks is experienced
by a body plunged in the water as the wavelets reach it
in succession. But a finer motion is at the same time
set up and propagated. If the head and ears be im-
mersed in the water, as in an experiment of Franklin's,
the shock of the drop is communicated to the auditory
nerve — the tick of the drop is heard. Now this
sonorous impulse is propagated, not at the rate of a
foot a second, but at the rate of 4,700 feet a
second. In this case it is not the gravity but the
elasticity of the water that is the urging force. Every
liquid particle pushed against its neighbor delivers up
its motion with extreme rapidity, and the pulse is propa-
gated as a thrill. The incompressibility of water, as
illustrated by the famous Florentine experiment, is a
measure of its elasticity, and to the possession of this
property in so high a degree the rapid transmission of
a sound-pulse through water is to be ascribed.

iV (38)

But water, as you know, is not necessary to the con-
duction of sound ; air is its most common vehicle. And
you know that when the air possesses the particular
density and elasticity corresponding to the temperature
of freezing water, the velocity of sound in it is 1,090 feet
a second. It is almost exactly one-fourth of the veloc-
ity in water ; the reason being that though the greater
weight of the water tends to diminish the velocity, the
enormous molecular elasticity of the liquid far more
than atones for the disadvantage due to weight. By
various contrivances we can compel the vibrations of
the air to declare themselves ; we know the length and
frequency of sonorous waves, and we have also obtained
great mastery over the various methods by which the
air is thrown into vibration. We know the phenomena
and laws of vibrating rods, of organ pipes, strings,
membranes, plates, and bells. We can abolish one
sound by another. We know the physical meaning of
music and noise, of harmony and discord. In short, as
regards sound we have a very clear notion of the exter-
nal physical processes which correspond to our sensa-
tions.

In these phenomena of sound we travel a very little
way from downright sensible experience. Still the im-
agination is to some extent exercised. The bodily eye,
for example, cannot see the condensations and rarefac-
tions of the waves of sound. We construct them in
thought, and we believe as firmly in their existence as
in that of the air itself. But now our experience has to
be carried into a new region, where a new use is to be
made of it.

Having mastered the cause and mechanism of
sound, we desire to know the cause and mechanism

(39) 253

of light. We wish to extend our inquiries from the au-
ditory nerve to the optic nerve. Now there is in the
human intellect a power of expansion — I might almost
call it a power of creation — which is brought into play
by the simple brooding upon facts. The legend of the
Spirit brooding over chaos may have originated in a
knowledge of this power. In the case now before us it
has manifested itself by transplanting into space, for
the purposes of light, an adequately modified form of
the mechanism of sound. We know intimately whereon
the velocity of sound depends. When we lessen the
density of a medium and preserve its elasticity con-
stant, we augment the velocity. When we high ten the
elasticity and keep the density constant, we also aug-
ment the velocity. A small density, therefore, and
a great elasticity are the two things necessary to rapid
propagation.

Now light is known to move with the astounding
velocity of 185,000 miles a second. How is such a
velocity to be obtained ? By boldly diffusing in space
a medium of the requisite tenuity and elasticity. Let
us make such a medium our starting point, endowing it
with one or two other necessary qualities ; let us handle
it in accordance with strict mechanical laws ; give to
every step of your deduction the surety of the syllogism ;
carry it thus forth from the world of imagination to the
world of sense, and see whether the final outcrop of the
deduction be not the very phenomena of light which
ordinary knowledge and skilled experiment reveal. If
in all the multiplied varieties of these phenomena, in-
cluding those of the most remote and entangled descrip-
tion, this fundamental conception always brings us face
to face with the truth ; if no contradiction to our deduc-

254 ( 40 )

tions from it be found in external nature j if, moreover,
it has actually forced upon our attention phenomena
which no eye had previously seen, and which no mind
had previously imagined ; if by it we are gifted with a
power of prescience which has never failed when
brought to an experimental test ; such a conception,
which never disappoints us, but always lands us on the
solid shores of fact, must, we think, be something more
than a mere figment of the scientific fancy. In forming
it that composite and creative unity in which reason and
imagination are together blent, has, we believe, led us
into a world not less real than that of the senses, and
of which the world of sense itself is the suggestion and
justification.

Far be it from me, however, to wish to fix you immov-
ably in this or in any other theoretic conception. With
all our belief of it, it will be well to keep the theory
plastic and capable of change. You may, moreover,
urge that although the phenomena occur as if the me-
dium existed, the absolute demonstration of its exist-
ence is still wanting. Far be it from me to deny to this
reasoning such validity as it may fairly claim. Let us
endeavor by means of analogy to form a fair estimate
of its force.

You believe that in society you are surrounded by
reasonable beings like yourself. You are, perhaps, as
firmly convinced of this as of anything. What is your
warrant for this conviction ? Simply and solely this, your
fellow-creatures behave as if they were reasonable ; the
hypothesis, for it is nothing more, accounts for the facts.
To take an eminent example, you believe that our pres-
ident is a reasonable being. Why ? There is no known
method of superposition by which any one of us can

(4i)' 255

apply himself intellectually to another so as to demon-
strate coincidence as regards the possession of reason.
If, therefore, you hold our president to be reasonable,
it is because he behaves as if he were reasonable. As
in the case of the ether, beyond the "as if" you cannot
go. Nay, I should not wonder if a close comparison of
the data on which both inferences rest caused many re-
spectable persons to conclude that the ether had the
best of it.

This universal medium, this light-ether as it is called,
is a vehicle, not an origin of wave motion. It receives
and transmits, but it does not create. Whence does it
derive the motions it conveys ? For the most part from
luminous bodies. By this motion of a luminous body I
do not mean its sensible motion, such as the flicker of a
candle, or the shooting out of red prominences from the
limb of the sun. I mean an intestine motion of the
atoms or molecules of the luminous body. But here a
certain reserve is necessary. Many chemists of the
present day refuse to speak of atoms and molecules as
real things. Their caution leads them to stop short of
the clear, sharp, mechanically intelligible atomic theory
enunciated by Dalton, or any form of that theory, and
to make the doctrine of multiple proportions their intel-
lectual bourne. I respect the caution, though I think it
is here misplaced. The chemists who recoil from these
notions of atoms and molecules accept without hesita-
tion the undulatory theory of light. Like you and me
they one and all believe in an ether and its light-pro-
ducing waves. Let us consider what this belief in-
volves.

Bring your imaginations once more into play and
figure a series of sound waves passing through air.

256 ( 42 )

Follow them up to their origin, and what do you there
find ? A definite, tangible, vibrating body. It may be
the vocal chords of a human being, it may be an organ
pipe, or it may be a stretched string. Follow in the
same manner a train of ether waves to their source, re-
membering at the same time that your ether is matter,
dense, elastic, and capable of motions subject to and
determined by mechanical laws. What then do you ex-
pect to find as the source of a series of ether waves ?
Ask your imagination if it will accept a vibrating multi-
ple proportion — a numerical ratio in a state of oscilla-
tion ? I do not think it will. You cannot crown the
edifice by this abstraction. The scientific imagination,
which is here authoritative, demands as the origin and
cause of a series of ether waves a particle of vibrating
matter quite as definite, though it may be excessively
minute, as that which gives origin to a musical sound.
Such a particle we name an atom or a molecule. I
think the imagination when focused so as to give defini-
tion without penumbral haze is sure to realize this im-
age at last.

To preserve thought continuous throughout this dis-
course, to prevent either lack of knowledge or failure of
memory from producing any rent in our picture, I here
propose to run rapidly over a bit of ground which is
probably familiar to most of you, but which I am anx-
ious to make familiar to you all.

The waves generated in the ether by the swinging
atoms of luminous bodies are of different lengths and
amplitudes. The amplitude is the width of swing of
the individual particles of the wave. In water waves
it is the hight of the crest above the trough, while the
length of the wave is the distance between two con-

(43)

secutive crests. The aggregate of waves emitted by the
sun may be broadly divided into two classes, the one
class competent, the other incompetent, to excite vision.

But the light-producing waves differ markedly among
themselves in size, form, and force. The length of the
largest of these waves is about twice that of the small-
est, but the amplitude of the largest is probably a hun-
dred times that of the smallest. Now the force or energy
of the wave, which, expressed with reference to sensa-
tion, means the intensity of the light, is proportional to
the square of the amplitude. Hence the amplitude
being one hundred-fold, the energy of the largest light-
giving waves would be ten thousand-fold that of the
smallest. This is not improbable. I use these figures,
not with a view to numerical accuracy, but to give you
definite ideas of the differences that probably exist
among the light-giving waves. And if we take the
whole range of solar radiation into account — its non-
visual as well as its visual waves — I think it probable
that the force or energy of the largest wave is a million
times that of the smallest.

Turned into their equivalents of sensation, the differ-
ent light waves produce different colors. Red, for ex-
ample, is produced by the largest waves, violet by the
smallest, while green is produced by a wave of interme-
diate length and amplitude. On entering from air into
more highly refracting substances, such as glass or water
or the sulphide of carbon, all the waves are retarded,
but the smallest ones most. This furnishes a means of
separating the different classes of waves from each
other — in other words, of analyzing the light. Sent
through a refracting prism, the waves of the sun are
turned aside in different degrees from their direct course,

«5 ( 44 )

the red least, the violet most. They are virtually pulled
asunder, and they paint upon a white screen placed to
receive them "the solar spectrum."

Strictly speaking, the spectrum embraces an infinity
of colors, but the limits of language and of our powers
of distinction cause it to be divided into seven segments :
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. These
are the seven primary or prismatic colors. Separately,
or mixed in various proportions, the solar waves yield
all the colors observed in nature and employed in art.
Collectively they give us the impression of whiteness.
Pure unsifted solar light is white ; and if all the wave
constituents of such light be reduced in the same pro-
portion, the light, though diminished in intensity, will
still be white. The whiteness of Alpine snow with the
sun shining upon it is barely tolerable to the eye. The
same snow under an overcast firmament is still white.
Such a firmament enfeebles the light by reflection, and
when we lift ourselves above a cloud-field — to an Alpine
summit, for instance, or to the top of Snowdon — and
see, in the proper direction, the sun shining on the
clouds, they appear dazzlingly white. Ordinary clouds,
in fact, divide the solar light impinging on them into
two parts — a reflected part and a transmitted part, in
each of which the proportions of wave motion which
produce the impression of whiteness are sensibly pre-
served.

It will be understood that the conditions of whiteness
would fail if all the waves were diminished equally, or
by the same absolute quantity. They must be reduced
proportionately instead of equally. If by the act of re-
flection the waves of red light are split into exact halves,
then, to preserve the light white, the waves of yellow,

(45) *59

orange, green, and blue must also be split into exact
halves. In short, the reduction must take place, not by
absolutely equal quantities, but by equal fractional parts.
In white light the preponderance as regards energy of
the larger over the smaller waves must always be
immense. Were the case otherwise, the physiological
correlative, blue, of the smaller waves would have the
upper hand in our sensations.

My wish to render our mental images complete, causes
me to dwell briefly upon these known points, and the
same wish will cause me to linger a little longer among
others. But here I am disturbed by my reflections. When
I consider the effect of dinner upon the nervous system,
and the relation of that system to the intellectual powers I
am now invoking ; when I remember that the universal
experience of mankind has fixed upon certain definite
elements of perfection in an after-dinner speech, and
when I think how conspicuous by their absence these
elements are on the present occasion, the thought is not
comforting to a man who wishes to stand well with his
fellow-creatures in general, and with the members of the
British Association in particular. My condition might
well resemble that of the ether, which is scientifically
defined as an assemblage of vibrations. And the worst
of it is that, unless you reverse the general verdict re-
garding the effect of dinner, and prove in your own per-
sons that a uniform experience need not continue uni-
form— which will be a great point gained for some
people — these tremors of mine are likely to become
more and more painful. But I call to mind the com-
forting words of an inspired, though uncanonical writer,
who admonishes us in the Apocrypha that fear is a bad

260 ( 46 )

counsellor. Let me then cast him out, and let me trust-
fully assume that you will one and all postpone that
balmy sleep, of which dinner might, under the circum-
stances, be regarded as the indissoluble antecedent, and
that you will manfully and womanfully prolong your in-
vestigations of the ether and its waves into regions
which have been hitherto crossed by the pioneers of
science alone.

Not only are the waves of ether reflected by clouds,
by solids, and by liquids, but when they pass from light
air to dense, or from dense air to light, a portion of the
wave-motion is always reflected. Now our atmosphere
changes continually in density from top to bottom. It
will help our conceptions if we regard it as made up of
a series of thin concentric layers or shells of air, each
shell being of the same density throughout, and a small
and sudden change of density occuring in passing from
shell to shell. Light would be reflected at the limiting
surfaces of all these shells, and their action would be
practically the same as that of the real atmosphere.

And now I would ask your imagination to picture this
act of reflection. What must become of the reflected
light ? The atmospheric layers turn their convex sur-
faces towards the sun ; they are so many convex mir-
rors of feeble power, and you will immediately perceive
that the light regularly reflected from these surfaces
cannot reach the earth at all, but is dispersed in space.

But though the sun's light is not reflected in this
fashion from the aerial layers to the earth, there is indu-
bitable evidence to show that the light of our firmament
is reflected light. Proofs of the most cogent descrip-
tion could be here adduced ; but we need only consider
that we receive light at the same time from all parts of

47 2*

the hemisphere of heaven. The light of the firmament
comes to us across the direction of the solar rays, and
even against the direction of the solar rays ; and this
lateral and opposing rush of wave-motion can only be
due to the rebound of the waves from the air itself, or
from something suspended in the air. It is also evident
that, unlike the action of clouds, the solar light is not
reflected by the sky in the proportions which produce
white. The sky is blue, which indicates a deficiency
on the part of the larger waves. In accounting for the
color of the sky, the first question suggested by analogy
would undoubtedly be, is not the air blue ? The blue-
ness of the air has, in fact, been given as a solution of
the blueness of the sky. But reason basing itself on
observation asks in reply, How, if the air be blue, can
the light of sunrise and sunset, which travels through
vast distances of air, be yellow, orange, or even red ?
The passage of the white solar light through a blue me-
dium could by no possibility redden the light. The
hypothesis of a blue air is therefore untenable. In fact,
the agent, whatever it is, which sends us the light of the
sky, exercises in so doing a dichroitic action. The light
reflected is blue, the light transmitted is orange or red.
A marked distinction is thus exhibited between the mat-
ter of the sky and that of an ordinary cloud, which lat-
ter exercises no such dichroitic action.

By the force of imagination and reason combined we
may penetrate this mystery also. The cloud takes no
note of size on the part of the waves of ether, but reflects
them all alike. It exercises no selective action. Now
the cause of this may be that the cloud particles are so
large in comparison with the size of the waves of ether
as to reflect them all indifferently. A broad cliff re-

262 '

fleets an Atlantic roller as easily as a ripple produced
by a sea bird's wing ; and in the presence of large re-
flecting surfaces the existing differences of magnitude
among the waves of ether may disappear. But suppos-
ing the reflecting particles, instead of being very large,
to be very small, in comparison with the size of the
waves. In this case, instead of the whole wave being
fronted and in great part thrown back, a small portion
only is shivered off. The great mass of the wave passes
over such a particle without reflection. Scatter then, a
handful of such minute foreign particles in our atmos-
phere, and set imagination to watch their action upon
the solar waves. Waves of all sizes impinge upon the
particles, and you see at every collision a portion of the
impinging wave struck off by reflection. All the waves
of the spectrum, from the extreme red to the extreme
violet, are thus acted upon. But in what proportions
will the waves be scattered ? A clear picture will enable
us to anticipate the experimental answer. Remember-
ing that the red waves are to the blue much in the rela-
tion of billows to ripples, let us consider whether those
extremely small particles are competent to scatter all
the waves in the same proportion. If they be not — and
a little reflection will make it clear to you that they are
not— the production of color must be an incident of the
scattering. Largeness is a thing of relation ; and the
smaller the wave the greater is the relative size of any
particle on which the wave impinges, and the greater
also the ratio of the reflected portion to the total wave.
A pebble placed in the way of the ring-ripples pro-
duced by our heavy rain-drops on a tranquil pond will
throw back a large fraction of the ripple incident upon
it, while the fractional part of a larger wave thrown back

(49) *63

by the same pebble might be infinitesimal. Now we
have already made it clear to our minds that to preserve
the solar light white, its constituent proportions must
not be altered ; but in the act of division performed by
these very small particles we see that the proportions
are altered ; an undue fraction of the smaller waves is
scattered by the particles, and, as a consequence, in the
scattered light blue will be the predominant color. The
other colors of the spectrum must, to some extent, be
associated with the blue. They are not absent, but de-
ficient. We ought, in fact, to have them all, but in dimin-
ishing proportions, from the violet to the red.

We have here presented a case to the imagination,
and assuming the undulatory theory to be a reality, we
have, I think, fairly reasoned our way to the conclusion
that, were particles, small in comparison to the size of
the ether waves, sown in our atmosphere, the light scat-
tered by those particles would be exactly such as we ob-
serve in our azure skies. When this light is analyzed
all the colors of the spectrum are found ; but they are
found in the proportions indicated by our conclusion.

Let us now turn our attention to the light which passes
unscattered among the particles. How must it be finally
affected ? By its successive collisions with the particles,
the white light is more and more robbed of its shorter
waves ; it therefore loses more and more of its due pro-
portion of blue. The result may be anticipated. The
transmitted light, where short distances are involved,
will appear yellowish. But as the sun sinks towards the
horizon, the atmospheric distances increase, and con^
sequently the number of the scattering particles, They
abstract, in succession, the violet, the indigo, the blue,
and even disturb the proportions of green. The trans-

264 ( So )

mitted light under such circumstances must pass from
yellow through orange to red. This also is exactly
what we find in nature. Thus, while the reflected light
gives us at noon the deep azure of the Alpine skies, the
transmitted light gives us at sunset the warm crimson of
the Alpine snows. The phenomena certainly occur as
if our atmosphere were a medium rendered slightly tur-
bid by the mechanical suspension of exceedingly small
foreign particles.

Here, as before, we encounter our skeptical "as if."
It is one of the parasites of science, ever at hand, and
ready to plant itself and sprout, if it can, on the weak
points of our philosophy. But a strong constitution
defies the parasite, and in our case, as we question the
phenomena, probability grows like growing health, until
in the end the malady of doubt is completely extirpated.

The first question that naturally arises is, Can small
particles be really proved to act in the manner indicated ?
No doubt of it. Each one of you can submit the ques-
tion to an experimental test. Water will not dissolve
resin, but spirit will, and when spirit which holds
resin in solution is dropped into water the resin imme-
diately separates in solid particles, whicli render the
water milky. The coarseness of this precipitate de-
pends on the quantity of the dissolved resin. You can
cause it to separate in thick clots or in exceedingly fine
particles. Professor Briicke has given us the propor-
tions which produce particles particularly suited to our
present purpose. One gramme of clean mastic is dis-
solved in eighty-seven grammes of absolute alcohol, and
the transparent solution is allowed to drop into^a beaker
containing clear water kept briskly stirred. An exceed-
ingly fine precipitate is thus formed, which declares its

presence by its action upon light. Placing a dark surface
behind the beaker, and permitting the light to fall into it
from the top or front, the medium is seen to be distinctly
blue. It is not, perhaps, so perfect a blue as I have seen on
exceptional days, this year, among the Alps, but it is a
very fair sky blue. A trace of soap in water gives a tint
of blue. London, and I fear Liverpool milk, makes an
approximation to the same color through the operation
of the same cause ; and Helmholtz has irreverently dis-
closed the fact that a blue eye is simply a turbid medium.

Numerous instances of the kind might be cited. The
action of turbid media upon light was fully and beauti-
fully illustrated by Goethe, who, though unacquainted
with the undulatory theory, was led by his experiments
to regard the blue of the firmament as caused by an
illuminated turbid medium with the darkness of space
behind it. He describes glasses showing a bright yellow
by transmitted, and a beautiful blue by reflected light.
Professor Stokes, who was probably the first to discern
the real nature of the action of small particles on the
waves of ether, describes a glass of a similar kind.
What artists call " chill " is no doubt an effect of this
description. Through the action of minute particles,
the browns of a picture often present the appearance of
the bloom of a plum. By rubbing the varnish with a
silk handkerchief optical continuity is established and
the chill disappears.

Some years ago I witnessed Mr. Hirst experimenting
at Zermatt on the turbid water of the Visp, which was
charged with the finely divided matter ground down by
the glaciers. When kept still for a day or so the grosser
matter sank, but the finer matter remained suspended,
and gave a distinctly blue tinge to the water. No doubt

266 (52)

the blueness of certain Alpine lakes is in part due to
this cause. Professor Roscoe has noticed several strik-
ing cases of a similar kind. In a very remarkable paper
the late Principal Forbes showed that steam issuing
from the safety valve of a locomotive, when favorably ob-
served, exhibits at a certain stage of its condensation
the colors of the sky. It is blue by reflected light, and
orange or red by transmitted light. The effect, as
pointed out by Goethe, is to some extent exhibited by
peat smoke.

More than ten years ago I amused myself at Killar-
ney, by observing on a calm day, the straight smoke col-
umns rising from the chimneys of the cabins. It was
easy to project the lower portion of a column against
a bright cloud. The smoke in the former case
was blue, being seen mainly by reflected light ; in
the latter case it was reddish, being seen mainly
by transmitted light. Such smoke was not in ex-
actly the condition to give us the glow of the Alps,
but it was a step in this direction. Briicke's fine pre-
cipitate above referred to looks yellowish by transmitted
light, but by duly strengthening the precipitate you may
render the white light of noon as ruby colored as the
sun when seen through Liverpool smoke or upon Alpine
horizons.

I do not, however, point to the gross smoke arising
from coal as an illustration of the action of small parti-
cles, because such smoke soon absorbs and destroys the
waves of blue instead of sending them to the eyes of the
observer.

These multifarious facts, and numberless others which
cannot now be referred to, are explained by reference to
the single principle that where the scattering particles

( 53 ) 267

are small in comparison to the size of the waves, we
have in the reflected light a greater proportion of the
smaller waves, and in the transmitted light a greater pro-
portion of the larger waves, than existed in the original
white light. The physiological consequence is that in the
one light blue is predominant, and in the other light orange
or red. And now let us push our inquiries forward. Our
best microscopes can readily reveal objects not more
than ^o(7ff °f an mc^ m diameter. This is less than
the length of a wave of red light. Indeed, a first-rate
microscope would enable us to discern objects not ex-
ceeding in diameter the length of the smallest waves of
the visible spectrum. By the microscope, therefore, we
can submit our particles to an experimental test. If
they are as large as the light-waves they will infallibly
be seen ; and if they are not seen it is because they are
smaller.

I placed in the hands of our president a bottle con-
taining Briicke's particles in greater number and coarse-
ness than those examined by Briicke himself. The
liquid was a milky blue, and Mr. Huxley applied to it
his highest microscopic power. He satisfied me at the
time that had particles of even 1T5o\joo of an inch in
diameter existed in the liquid they could not have
escaped detection. But no particles were seen. Under
the microscope the turbid liquid was not to be distin-
guished from distilled water. Briicke, I may say, also
found the particles to be of ultra microscopic magni-
tude.

But we have it in our power to imitate far more closely
than we have hitherto done the natural conditions of
this problem. We can generate in air, as many of you
know, artificial skies, and prove their perfect identity with

(54)

the natural one as regards the exhibition of a number
of wholly unexpected phenomena. By a continuous
process of growth, moreover, we are able to connect
sky matter, if I may use the term, with molecular mat-
ter on the one side, and with molar matter, or matter in
sensible masses, on the other.

In illustration of this, I will take an experiment de-
scribed by M. Morren, of Marseilles, at the last meet-
ing of the British Association. Sulphur and oxygen
combine to form sulphurous acid gas. It is this chok-
ing gas that is smelt when a sulphur match is burnt in
air. Two atoms of oxygen and one of sulphur consti-
tute the molecule of sulphurous acid. Now it has been
recently shown in a great number of instances that
waves of ether issuing from a strong source, such as the
sun or the electric light, are competent to shake asunder
the atoms of gaseous molecules. A chemist would call
this " decomposition" by light ; but it behooves us, who
are examining the power and function of the imagination,
to keep constantly before us the physical images which
we hold to underlie our terms. Therefore I say, sharply
and definitely, that the components of the molecules
of sulphurous acid are shaken asunder by the ether
waves. Inclosing the substance in a suitable vessel,
placing it in a dark room, and sending through it a
powerful beam of light, we at first see nothing j the ves-
sel containing the gas is as empty as a vacuum. Soon,
however, along the track of the beam a beautiful sky-
blue color is observed, which is due to the liberated
particles of sulphur. For a time the blue grows more
intense \ it then becomes whitish ; and from a whitish blue
it passes to a more or less perfect white. If the action
be continued long enough, we end by filling the tube

(55) *to

with a dense cloud of sulphur particles, which by the
application of proper means may be rendered visible.

Here, then, our ether waves untie the bond of chemi-
cal affinity, and liberate a body — sulphur — which at or-
dinary temperatures is a solid, and which therefore soon
becomes an object of the senses. We have first of all
the free atoms of sulphur, which are both invisible and
incompetent to stir the retina sensibly with scattered
light. But these atoms gradually coalesce and form
particles, which grow larger by continual accretion until
after a minute or two they appear as sky matter. In
this condition they are invisible themselves, but compe-
tent to send an amount of wave motion to the retina
sufficient to produce the firmamental blue. The parti-
cles continue, or may be caused to continue, in this con-
dition for a considerable time, during which no micro-
scope can cope with them. But they continually grow
larger, and pass by insensible gradations into the state of
cloud, when they can no longer elude the armed eye.
Thus, without solution of continuity, we start with mat-
ter in the molecule, and end with matter in the mass,
sky matter being the middle term of the series of trans-
formations.

Instead of sulphurous acid we might choose from a
dozen other substances, and produce the same effect
with any of them. In the case of some — probably in
the case of all — it is possible to preserve matter in the
skyey condition for fifteen or twenty minutes under the
continual operation of the light. During these fifteen or
twenty minutes the particles are constantly growing
larger, without ever exceeding the size requisite to the
production of the celestial blue. Now when two ves-
sels are placed before you, each containing sky matter,

270 (S6)

it is possible to state with great distinctness which ves-
sel contains the largest particles.

The eye is very sensitive to differences of light, when,
as here, the eye is in comparative darkness, and when
the quantities of wave motion thrown against the retina
are small. The larger particles declare themselves by
the greater whiteness of their scattered light. Call now
to mind the observation, or effort at observation, made by
our president when he failed to distinguish the particles
of resin in Briicke's medium, and when you have done
so follow me. I permitted a beam of light to act upon
a certain vapor. In two minutes the azure appeared,
but at the end of fifteen minutes it had not ceased to
be azure. After fifteen minutes, for example, its color
and some other phenomena pronounced it to be a blue
of distinctly smaller particles than those sought for in
tain by Mr. Huxley. These particles, as already stated,

must have been less than To<ro<y<y °f an mcn m diame-
ter.

And now I want you to submit to your imagination
the following question : Here are particles which have
been growing continually for fifteen minutes, and at the
end of that time are demonstrably smaller than those
which defied the microscope of Mr. Huxley. What
must have been the size of these particles at the begin-
ning of their growth ? What notion can you form of
the magnitude of such particles ? As the distances of
stellar space give us simply a bewildering sense of vast-
ness without leaving any distinct impression on the mind,
so the magnitudes with which we have here to do im-
press us with a bewildering sense of smallness. We
are dealing with infinitesimals compared with which the
test objects of the microscope are literally immense,

(57) 2?r

From their perviousness to stellar light, and other
considerations, Sir John Herschel drew some startling
conclusions regarding the density and weight of comets.
You know that these extraordinary and mysterious bod-
ies sometimes throw out tails 100,000,000 of miles in
length, and 50,000 miles in diameter. The diameter of
our earth is 8,000 miles. Both it and the sky, and a
good portion of space beyond the sky, would certainly
be included in a sphere 10,000 miles across. Let us fill
this sphere with cometary matter, and make it our unit
of measure. An easy calculation informs us that to
produce a comet's tail of the size just mentioned, about
300,000 such measures would have to be emptied into
space. Now suppose the whole of this stuff to be swept
together, and suitably compressed, what do you suppose
its volume would be ? Sir John Herschel would prob-
ably tell you that the whole mass might be carted away
at a single effort by one of your dray-horses. In fact, I
do not know that he would require more than a small
fraction of a horse-power to remove the cometary dust.
After this you will hardly regard as monstrous a notion
I have sometimes entertained concerning the quantity
of matter in our sky. Suppose a shell, then, to sur-
round the earth at a hight above the surface which
would place it beyond the grosser matter that hangs in
the lower regions of the air — say at the hight of the
Matterhorn or Mont Blanc. Outside this shell we have
the deep blue firmament. Let the atmospheric space
beyond t)ie shell be swept clean, and let the sky matter
be properly gathered up. What is its probable amount ?
I have sometimes thought that a lady's portmanteau
would contain it all. I have thought that even a gentle-
man's portmanteau — possibly his snuff-box — might take it

3?2 (58)

in. And whether the actual sky be capable of this amount
of condensation or not, I entertain no doubt that a sky
quite as vast as ours, and as good in appearance, could
be formed from a quantity of matter which might be
held in the hollow of the hand.

Small in mass, the vastness in point of number of the
particles of our sky may be inferred from the continuity
of its light. It is not in broken patches nor at scattered
points that the heavenly azure is revealed. To the ob-
server on the summit of Mont Blanc the blue is as uni-
form and coherent as if it formed the surface of the most
close-grained solid. A marble dome would not exhibit
a stricter continuity. And Mr. Glaisher will inform you
that if our hypothetical shell were lifted to twice the
hight of Mont Blanc above the earth's surface, we
should still have the azure overhead. Everywhere
through the atmosphere those sky particles are strewn.
They fill the Alpine valleys, spreading like a delicate
gauze in front of the slopes of pine. They sometimes
so swathe the peaks with light as to abolish their defini-
tion. This year I have seen the Weisshorn thus dis-
solved in opalescent air.

By proper instruments the glare thrown from the sky
particles against the retina may be quenched, and then
the mountain which it obliterated starts into sudden
definition. Its extinction in front of a dark mountain
resembles exactly the withdrawal of a veil. It is the
light then taking possession of the eye, and not the
particles acting as opaque bodies, that interfere with the
definition.

By day this light quenches the stars ; even by moon-
light it is able to exclude from vision all stars between
the fifth and the eleventh magnitude. It may be likened

( 59 2?3

to a noise, and the stellar radiance to a whisper drowned
by the noise. What is the nature of the particles which
shed this light ? On points of controversy I will not
here enter, but I may say that De la Rive ascribes the
haze of the Alps in fine weather to floating organic
germs. Now the possible existence of germs in such
profusion has been held up as an absurdity. It has
been affirmed that they would darken the air, and on
the assumed impossibility of their existence in the
requisite numbers, without invasion of the solar light, a
powerful argument has been based by believers in spon-
taneous generation.

Similar arguments have been used by the opponents
of the germ theory of epidemic disease, and both par-
ties have triumphantly challenged an appeal to the
microscope and the chemist's balance to decide the ques-
tion. Without committing myself in the least to De la
Rive's notion, without offering any objection here to
the doctrine of spontaneous generation, without ex-
pressing any adherence to the germ theory of disease, I
would simply draw attention to the fact that in the at-
mosphere we have particles which defy both the micro-
scope and the balance, which do not darken the air, and
which exist, nevertheless, in multitudes sufficient to re-
duce to insignificance the Israelitish hyperbole regard-
ing the sands upon the seashore.

The varying judgments of men on these and other
questions may perhaps be, to some extent, accounted for
by that doctrine of relativity which plays so important
a part in philosophy. This doctrine affirms that the im-
pressions made upon us by any circumstance, or combi-
nation of circumstances, depends upon our previous
state. Two travelers upon the same peak, the one hay-

274 ( 60 )

ing ascended to it from the plain, the other having de-
scended to it from a higher elevation, will be differently
affected by the scene around them. To the one nature
is expanding, to the other it is contracting, and feelings
are sure to differ which have two such different antece-
dent states.

In our scientific judgments the law of relativity may
also play an important part. To two men, one educated
in the school of the senses, who has mainly occupied
himself with observation, and the other educated in the
school of imagination as well, and exercised in the con-
ception of atoms and molecules to which we have so
frequently referred, a bit of matter, say ^T> O^TF °f an mcn
in diameter, will present itself differently. The one de-
scends to it from his molar hights, the other climbs to
it from his molecular lowlands. To the one it appears
small, to the other large. So also as regards the appre-
ciation of the most minute forms of life revealed by the
microscope. To one of these men they naturally ap-
pear conterminous with the ultimate particles of matter,
and he readily figures the molecules from which they di-
rectly spring } with him there is but a step from the
atom to the organism. The other discerns numberless
organic gradations between both. Compared with his
atoms, the smallest vibrios and bacteria of the micro-
scopic field are as behemoth and leviathan.

The law of relativity may to some extent explain the
different attitudes of these two men with regard to the
question of spontaneous generation. An amount of
evidence which satisfies the one entirely fails to satisfy
the other; and while to the one the last bold defense
and startling expansion of the doctrine will appear per-
fectly conclusive, to the other it will present itself as im-

(.6i ) 275

posing a profitless labor of demolition on subsequent in-
vestigators. The proper and possible attitude of these
two men is that each of them should work as if it were
his aim and object to establish the view entertained by
the other.

I trust, Mr. President, that you — whom untoward cir-
cumstances have made a biologist, but who still keep
alive your sympathy with that class of inquiries which
nature intended you to pursue and adorn — will excuse
me to your brethren if I say that some of them seem to
form an inadequate estimate of the distance which sep-
arates the microscopic from the molecular limit, and
that, as a consequence, they sometimes employ a phrase-
ology which is calculated to mislead.

When, for example, the contents of a cell are de-
scribed as perfectly homogeneous, as absolutely struc-
tureless, because the microscope fails to distinguish any
structure, then I think the microscope begins to play a
mischievous part. A little consideration will make it
plain to all of you that the microscope can have no voice
in the real question of germ structure. Distilled
water is more perfectly homogeneous than the contents
of any possible organic germ. What causes the liquid
to cease contracting at 39° F., and to grow bigger until
it freezes ? It is a structural process of which the
microscope can take no note, nor is it likely to do so
by any conceivable extension of its powers. Place this
distilled water in the field of an electro-magnet, and
bring a microscope to bear upon it. Will any change
be observed when the magnet is excited ? Absolutely
none ; and still profound and complex changes have
occurred.

First of all, the particles of water are rendered dia-

*7<5 ( 62 )

magnetically polar ; and secondly, in virtue of the struc-
ture impressed upon it by the magnetic strain of its
molecules, the liquid twists a ray of light in a fashion
perfectly determinate both as to quantity and direction.
It would be immensely interesting to both you and me
if one here present, who has brought his brilliant imag-
ination to bear upon this subject, could make us see as
he sees the entangled molecular processes involved in
the rotation of the plane of polarization by magnetic
force. While dealing with this question he lived in a
world of matter and of motion to which the microscope
has no passport, and in which it can offer no aid. The
cases in which similar conditions hold are simply num-
berless. Have the diamond, the amethyst, and the
countless other crystals formed in the laboratories of
nature and of man, no structure ? Assuredly they have,
but what can the microscope make of it? Nothing. It
cannot be too distinctly borne in mind that between the
microscopic limit and the true molecular limit there is
room for infinite permutations and combinations. It is
in this region that the poles of the atoms are arranged,
that tendency is given to their powers, so that when
these poles and powers have free action and proper
stimulus in a suitable environment, they determine first
the germ and afterwards the complete organism. This
first marshaling of the atoms on which all subsequent
action depends baffles a keener power than that of the
microscope. Through pure excess of complexity, and
long before observation can have any voice in the mat-
ter, the most highly trained intellect, the most refined
and disciplined imagination, retires in bewilderment
from the contemplation of the problem. We are struck
dumb by an astonishment which no microscope can re-

(63) *7/

lieve, doubting not only the power of our instrument,
but even whether we ourselves possess the intellectual
elements which will ever enable us to grapple with the
ultimate structural energies of nature.

But the speculative faculty, of which imagination
forms so large a part, will nevertheless wander into
regions where the hope of certainty would seem to be
entirely shut out. We think that though the detailed
analysis may be, and may ever remain, beyond us, gen-
eral notions may be attainable. At all events, it is plain
that beyond the present outposts of microscopic inquiry
lies an immense field for the exercise of the imagination.
It is only, however, the privileged spirits who know how
to use their liberty without abusing it, who are able to
surround imagination by the firm frontiers of reason,
that are likely to work with any profit here. But free-
dom to them is of such paramount importance that, for
the sake of securing it, a good deal of wildness on the
part of weaker brethren may be overlooked. In more
senses than one Mr. Darwin has drawn heavily upon
the scientific tolerance of his age. He has drawn heav-
ily upon time in his development of species, and he has
drawn adventurously upon matter in his theory of pan-
genesis. According to this theory, a germ already mi-
croscopic is a world of minor germs. Not only is the
organism as a whole wrapped up in the germ, but every
organ of the organism has there its special seed.

This, I say, is an adventurous draft on the power of
matter to divide itself and distribute its forces. But,
unless we are perfectly sure that he is overstepping the
bounds of reason, that he is unwittingly sinning against
observed fact or demonstrated law — for a mind like that
of Darwin can never sin wittingly against either fact or

*7S (64)

law— we ought, I think', to be cautious in limiting his
intellectual horizon. If there be the least doubt in the
matter, it ought to be given in favor of the freedom of
such a mind. To it a vast possibility is in itself a
dynamic power, though the possibility may never be
drawn upon.

It gives me pleasure to think that the facts and
reasonings of this discourse tend rather towards the
justification of Mr. Darwin than towards his condemna-
tion, that they tend rather to augment than to diminish
the cubic space demanded by this soaring speculator ;
.for they seem to show the perfect competence of matter
and force, as regards divisibility and distribution, to bear
the heaviest strain that he has hitherto imposed upon
them.

In the case of Mr. Darwin, observation, imagination,
and reason combined have run back with wonderful
sagacity and success over a certain length of the line of
biological succession. Guided by analogy, in his " Ori-
gin of Species " he placed as the root of life a primor-
dial germ, from which he conceived the amazing rich-
ness and variety of the life that now is upon the earth's
surface, might be deduced. If this were true it would,
not be final. The human imagination would infallibly
look behind the germ, and inquire into the history of its
genesis.

Certainty is here hopeless, but the materials for an
opinion may be attainable. In this dim twilight of
speculation the inquirer welcomes every gleam, and seeks
to augment his light by indirect incidences. He studies
the methods of nature in the ages and the worlds within
his reach, in order to shape the course of imagination
In the antecedent ages and worlds. And though the

( 65 ) 279

certainty possessed by experimental inquiry is here shut
out, the imagination is not left entirely without guidance.
From the examination of the solar system, Kant and
Laplace came to the conclusion that its various bodies
once formed parts of the same undislocated mass ; that
matter in a nebulous form preceded matter in a dense
form j that as the ages rolled away heat was wasted,
condensation followed, planets were detached, and that
finally the chief portion of the fiery cloud reached, by
self-compression, the magnitude and density of our sun.
The earth itself offers evidence of a fiery origin ; and
in our day the hypothesis of Kant and Laplace receives
the independent countenance of spectrum analysis,
which proves the same substances to be common to the
earth and sun. Accepting some such view of the con-
struction of our system as probable, a desire immediately
arises to connect the present life of our planet with the
past. We wish to know something of our remotest an-
cestry.

On its first detachment from the central mass, life, as
we understand it, could hardly have been present on the
earth. How then did it come there ? The thing to be
encouraged here is a reverent freedom — a freedom pre-
ceded by the hard discipline which checks licentiousness
in speculation — while the thing to be repressed, both in
science and out of it, is dogmatism. And here I am in
the hands of the meeting — willing to end, but ready to
go on. I have no right to intrude upon you, unasked,
the unformed notions which are floating like clouds or
gathering to more solid consistency in the modern spec-
ulative scientific mind. But if you wish me to speak
plainly, honestly, and undisputatiously, I am willing to
do so. On the present occasion

You are ordained to call, and I to come.

28o ( 66 )

Two views, then, offer themselves to us. Life was
present potentially in matter when in the nebulous form,
and was unfolded from it by the way of natural develop-
ment, or it is a principle inserted into matter at a later
date. With regard to the question of time, the views of
men have changed remarkably in our day and genera-
tion j and I must say as regards courage also, and a
manful willingness to engage in open contest, with fair
.weapons, a great change has also occurred.

The clergy of England — at all events the clergy of
London — have nerve enough to listen to the strongest
views which any one amongst us would care to utter ;
and they invite, if they do not challenge, men of the
most decided opinions to state and stand by those opin-
ions in open court. No theory upsets them. Let the
most destructive hypothesis be stated only in the lan-
guage current among gentlemen, and they look it in the
face. They forego alike the thunders of heaven and the
terrors of the other place, smiting the theory, if they do
not like it, with honest secular strength. In fact, the
greatest cowards of the present day are not to be found
among the clergy, but within the pale of science itself.

Two or three years ago in an ancient London college
— a clerical institution — I heard a very remarkable lec-
ture by a very remarkable man. Three or four hundred
clergymen were present at the lecture. The orator
began with the civilization of Egypt in the time of
Joseph ; pointing out that the very perfect organization
of the kingdom, and the possession of chariots, in one
of which Joseph rode, indicated a long antecedent
period of civilization. He then passed on to the mud
of the Nile, its rate of augmentation, its present thick-
ness, and the remains of human handiwork found therein;

<67) 28*

thence to the rocks which bound the Nile valley, and
which team with organic remains. Thus, in his own
clear and admirable way, he caused the idea of the
world's age to expand itself indefinitely before the mind
of his audience, and he contrasted this with the age
usually assigned to the world.

During his discourse he seemed to be swimming
against a stream ; he manifestly thought that he was op-
posing a general conviction. He expected resistance ;
so did I. But it was all a mistake ; there was no ad-
verse current, no opposing conviction, no resistance,
merely here and there a half humorous but unsuccess-
ful attempt to entangle him in his talk. The meeting
agreed with all that had been said regarding the an-
tiquity of the earth and of its life. They had, indeed,
known it all long ago, and they good-humoredly rallied
the lecturer for coming amongst them with so stale a
story. It was quite plain that this large body of clergy-
men, who were, I should say, the finest samples of their
class, had entirely given up the ancient landmarks, and
transported the conception of life's origin to an indefi-
nitely distant past.

In fact, clergymen, if I might be allowed a paren-
thesis to say so, have as strong a leaning towards scien-
tific truth as other men, only the resistance to this bent
— a resistance due to education — is generally stronger
in their case than in others. They do not lack the pos-
itive element, namely, the love of truth, but the negative
element, the fear of error, preponderates.

The strength of an electric current is determined by
two things — the electro-motive force, and the resistance
that force has to overcome. A fraction, with the former
as numerator and the latter as denominator, expresses

282 ( 68 )

the current-strength. The "current-strength" of the
clergy towards science may also be expressed by mak-
ing the positive element just referred to the numerator,
and the negative one the denominator of a fraction.
The numerator is not zero nor is it even small, but the de-
nominator is large ; and hence the current strength is
such as we find it to be. Slowness of conception, even
open hostility, may be thus accounted for. They are
for the most part errors of judgment, and not sins
against truth. To most of us it may appear very sim-
ple, but to a few of us it appears transcendently won-
derful, that in all -classes of society truth should have
this power and fascination. From the countless modifi-
cations that life has undergone through natural selec-
tion and the integration of infinitesimal steps, emerges
finally the grand result that the strength of truth is
greater than the strength of error, and that we have
only to make the truth clear to the world to gain the
world to our side. Probably no one wonders more at
this result than the propounder of the law of natural
selection himself. Reverting to an old acquaintance of
ours, it would seem, on purely scientific grounds, as if
a Veracity were at the heart of things j as if, after ages of
latent working, it had finally unfolded itself in the life of
man ; as if it were still destined to unfold itself, growing in
girth, throwing out stronger branches and thicker leaves,
and tending more and more by its overshadowing pres-
ence to starve the weeds of error from the intellectual
soil.

But this is parenthetical ; and the gist of our present
inquiry regarding the introduction of life is this : Does
it belong to what we call matter, or is it an independent
principle inserted into matter at some suitable epoch—

( 69 ) 283

say when the physical conditions become such as to
permit of the development of life ? Let us put the
question with all the reverence due to a faith and cul-
ture in which we all were cradled — a faith and culture,
moreover, which are the undeniable historic antecedents
of our present enlightenment. I say, let us put the
question reverently, but let us also put it clearly and
definitely.

There are the strongest grounds for believing that
during a certain period of its history the earth was not,
nor was it fit to be, the theater of life. Whether this
was ever a nebulous period, or merely a molten period,
does not much matter ; and if we revert to the nebulous
condition, it is because the probabilities are really on its
side. Our question is this : Did creative energy pause
until the nebulous matter had condensed, until the earth
had been detached, until the solar fire had so far with-
drawn from the earth's" vicinity as to permit a crust to
gather round a planet ? Did it wait until the air was is-
olated, until the seas were formed, until evaporation,
condensation, and the descent of rain had begun, until
the eroding forces of the atmosphere had weathered and
decomposed the molten rocks so as to form soils, until
the sun's rays had become so tempered by distance and
by waste as to be chemically fit for the decompositions
necessary to vegetable life ? Having waited through
those aeons until the proper conditions had set in, did
it send the fiat forth, " Let life be !" ? These questions
define a hypothesis not without its difficulties, but the
dignity of which was demonstrated by the nobleness of
the men whom it sustained.

Modern scientific thought is called upon to decide be-
tween this hypothesis and another ; and public thought

284 ( 70 )

generally will afterwards be called upon to do the same.
You may, however, rest secure in the belief that the
hypothesis just sketched can never be stormed, and that
it is sure, if it yield at all, to yield to a prolonged siege.
To gain new territory, modern argument requires more
time than modern arms, though both of them move with
greater rapidity than of yore.

But however the convictions of individuals here and
there may be influenced, the process must be slow and
secular which commends the rival hypothesis of natural
evolution to the public mind. For what are the core
and essence of this hypothesis ? Strip it naked and
you stand face to face with the notion that not alone the
more ignoble forms of animalcular or animal life, not
alone the nobler forms of the horse and lion, not alone
the exquisite and wonderful mechanism of the human
body, but that the human mind itself — emotion, intel-
lect, will, and all their phenomena — were once latent in
a fiery cloud. Surely the mere statement of such a
motion is more than a refutation. But the hypothesis
would probably go even further than this. Many who
hold it would probably assent to the position that at the
present moment all our philosophy, all our poetry, all
our science, and all our art — Plato, Shakespeare, New-
ton, and Raphael — are potential in the fires of the sun.

We long to learn something of our origin. If the
evolution hypothesis be correct, even this unsatisfied
yearning must have come to us across the ages which
separate the unconscious primeval mist from the con-
sciousness of to-day. I do not think that any holder of
the evolution hypothesis would say that I overstate it or
overstrain it in any way. I merely strip it of all vague-
ness, and bring before you, unclothed and unvarnished,
the notions by which it must stand or fall

Surely these notions represent an absurdity too mon-
strous to be entertained by any sane mind. Let us,
however, give them fair play. Let us steady ourselves
in front of the hypothesis, and, dismissing all terror and
excitement from cur minds, let us look firmly into it with
the hard, sharp eye of intellect alone. Why are these
notions absurd, and why should sanity reject them?
The law of relativity, of which we have previously
spoken, may find its application here. These evolution
notions are absurd, monstrous, and fit only for the
intellectual gibbet in relation to the ideas concerning
matter which were drilled into us when young. Spirit
and matter have ever been presented to us in the rudest
contrast, the one as all noble, the other as all vile. But
is this correct ? Does it represent what our mightiest
spiritual teacher would call the eternal fact of the uni-
verse ? Upon the answer to this question all depends.

Supposing, instead of having the foregoing antithesis
of spirit and matter presented to our youthful minds, we
had been taught to regard them as equally worthy and
equally wonderful ; to consider them, in fact, as two op-
posite faces of the self-same mystery. Supposing that
in youth we had been impregnated with the notion of
the poet Goethe, instead of the notion of the poet
Young, looking at matter, not as brute matter, but as
" the living garment of God ;" do you not think that
under these altered circumstances the law of relativity
might have had an outcome different from its present
one ? Is it not probable that our repugnance to the
idea of primeval union between spirit and matter might
be considerably abated ? Without this total revolution
of the notions now prevalent the evolution hypothesis
must stand condemned ; but in many profoundly

236

thoughtful minds such a revolution has already taken
place. They degrade neither member of the mysteri-
ous duality referred to; but they exalt one of them
from its abasement, and repeal the divorce hitherto ex-
isting between both. In substance, if not in words,
their position as regards spirit and matter is : "What
God hath joined together let not man put asunder."

I have thus led you to the outer rim of speculative
science, for beyond the nebula scientific thought has
never ventured hitherto, and have tried to state that
which I considered ought, in fairness, to be outspoken.
I do not think this evolution hypothesis is to be flouted
away contemptuously ; I do not think it is to be de-
nounced as wicked. It is to be brought before the bar
of disciplined reason, and there justified or condemned.
Let us hearken to those who wisely support it, and to
those who wisely oppose it ; and let us tolerate those,
and they are many, who foolishly try to do neither of
these things.

The only thing out of place in the discussion is dog-
matism on either side. Fear not the evolution hypoth-
esis. Steady yourselves in its presence upon that faith
in the ultimate triumph of truth which was expressed by
old Gamaliel when he said : " If it be of God, ye cannot
overthrow it; if it be of man, it will come to naught."
Under the fierce light of scientific inquiry this hypoth-
esis is sure to be dissipated if it possess not a core of
truth. Trust me, its existence as an hypothesis in the
mind is quite compatible with the simultaneous exist-
ence of all th ose virtues to which the term Christian
has been applied. I.t does not solve — it does not pro-
fess to solve — the ultimate mystery untouched. At bot-
tom it does nothing more than " transport the concep-
tion of life's origin to an indefinitely distant past."

( 73 )

For, granting the nebula and its potential life, the
question, whence came they ? would still remain to
baffle and bewilder us. And with regard to the ages of
forgetfulness which lie between the conscious life of the
nebula and the conscious life of the earth, it is but an
extension of that forgetfulness which preceded the birth
of us all. Those who hold the doctrine of evolution
are by no means ignorant of the uncertainty of their
data, and they yield no more to it than a provisional
assent. They regard the nebular hypothesis as proba-
ble, and in the utter absence of any evidence to prove
the act illegal, they extend the method of nature from
the present into the past. Here the observed uniform-
ity of nature is their only guide. Within the long range
of physical inquiry they have never discerned in nature
the insertion of caprice. Throughout this range the
laws of physical and intellectual continuity have run
side by side. Having thus determined the elements of
their curve in this world of observation and experiment,
they prolong that curve into an antecedent world, and
accept as probable the unbroken sequence of devel-
opment from the nebula to the present time.

You never hear the really philosophical defenders of
the doctrine of uniformity speaking of impossibilities in
nature. They never say, what they are constantly
charged with saying, that it is impossible for the builder
of the universe to alter His work, Their business is
not with the possible, but the actual j not with a world
which might be, but with a world which is. This they
explore with a courage not unmixed with reverence, and
according to methods which, like the quality of a tree,
are tested by their fruits. They have but one desire —
to know the truth. They have but one fear — to believe

aSS ( 74 )

a lie. And if they know the strength of science, and
rely upon it with unswerving trust, they also know the
limits beyond which science ceases to be strong. They
best know that questions offer themselves to thought
which science, as now prosecuted, has not even the ten-
dency to solve. They keep such questions open, and
will not tolerate any unlawful limitation of the horizon
of their souls. They have as little fellowship with the
atheist who says there is no God as with the theist who
professes to know the mind of God.

"Two things," said Immanuel Kant, "fill me with
awe : the starry heavens and the sense of moral respon-
sibility in man." And in his hours of health and
strength and sanity, when the stroke of action has
ceased and the pause of reflection has set in, the scien-
tific investigator finds himself overshadowed by the
same awe. Breaking contact with the hampering de-
tails of earth, it associates him with a power which gives
fulness and tone to his existence, but which he can
neither analyze nor comprehend.

-r

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