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THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. i6mo, 
 
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 ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE~ EARTH'S SUR- 
 FACE. Part I. Glaciers. By N. S. SHALER 
 and WILLIAM M. DAVIS. Illustrated. Folio, 
 
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 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY, 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK. 
 
THE INTERPRETATION 
 OF NATURE 
 
 BY 
 
 NATHANIEL SOUTHGATE SHALER 
 
 PROFESSOR OF GEOLOGY IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 (Cfre Cttorrei&e $rE80, Cambridge 
 1899 
 
7 I 
 
 Copyright, 1893, 
 BY NATHANIEL SOUTHGATE SHALBR. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 FIFTH IMPRESSION- 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THIS volume contains, with slight modi- 
 fication, the course of lectures on the 
 Winkley foundation which I delivered be- 
 fore the students of Andover Theological 
 Seminary in 1891. At the outset I ad- 
 dressed a few words to my audience with 
 the purpose of putting myself en rapport 
 with them, and with the same intention 
 I address my readers in the same terms in 
 this preliminary note. 
 
 It seems desirable to preface the book 
 which I offer to you with some general 
 account of its plan. When I was asked 
 to undertake this task, I was conscious of 
 the difficulties which I should encounter 
 in the work, and was at first disposed to 
 be daunted by them. You all know that 
 
 220884 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 the relations between natural science and 
 religion are somewhat strained. Natural- 
 ists generally have rather a bad name 
 among theologians, and those students of 
 the phenomenal world who have ventured 
 to write about religious matters have 
 rarely won laurels from their friends on 
 either side. I was led to prevail over my 
 fears by the considerations which I shall 
 now briefly present as follows : 
 
 My first contact with natural science 
 .in my youth and early manhood had the 
 not uncommon effect of leading me far 
 away from Christianity. Of late years a 
 further insight into the truths of nature 
 has gradually forced me once again to- 
 wards the ground from which I had 
 departed. 
 
 Although the individual man is apt to 
 overestimate the importance of his mental 
 history, I think I am not mistaken in be- 
 lieving that my own experience, in a way, 
 represents the course which many other 
 naturalists are more or less consciously 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 following. Beginning with the simpler 
 and apparently mechanical facts with 
 which they have to deal, inquirers into 
 phenomena are, at first, almost necessarily 
 led to conceive nature as a great engine, 
 which can be explained as we account 
 for a combination of wheels and levers. 
 Gradually, as they are forced to more ex- 
 tended views of their subject-matter, they 
 perceive that this simple explanation is 
 unsatisfactory. Without conscious argu- 
 ment, moved merely by the weight of the 
 truths which are insensibly driven in upon 
 them, they find their conceptions enlarg- 
 ing ; they are compelled to suppose a 
 kind of control operating in their world 
 which is not purely dynamic. When they 
 attain this position, it seems to me time 
 for them to examine the ground they 
 occupy, with a view to finding what is its 
 relation to that held by the older schools 
 of interpretation, those which we call the 
 theologic. The matter which I have to 
 present to you is directed to this end. 
 
Vi PREFACE. 
 
 After consideration, I determined not to 
 try to undertake a connected argument 
 concerning the relations of science and 
 religion, but rather to take up certain 
 leading questions which have at once a 
 relation to natural history and to theol- 
 ogy. In this presentation I approach the 
 matter altogether from my own point of 
 view, my aim being to show the state of 
 mind to which the student of phenomena 
 is brought by influences which are entirely 
 independent of theological opinions. 
 
 Two of the topics which I treat, those 
 concerning critical points in nature and 
 sympathy, have already had some pre- 
 sentation in print, but the articles have 
 been revised and rewritten for use in this 
 series. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE I 
 
 Effect of the veil of the commonplace in limit- 
 ing our understandings. The greater part of our 
 intellectual work employed in trying to ascer- 
 tain and rationalize what is going on in the world 
 about us. This interpretation of nature begun in 
 the remote progenitors of man ; marked by the 
 curiosity exhibited by the lower animals. Stages 
 of growth of this motive in the lower animals 
 and in man. Origin of the theologic interpre- 
 tation of nature. Why at first animistic or poly- 
 theistic. The way in which the scientific inter- 
 pretation began. Relation of the natural cate- 
 gory to the god in the polytheistic system. 
 Stages of development of this change. Its devel- 
 opment peculiar to the Greeks. Place of Plato 
 and Aristotle in originating the natural interpre- 
 tation of the Universe. Contrast between the spirit 
 of inquiry in the civilizations of Greece and Rome. 
 Effect on Christianity and science arising from 
 the dominance of the Roman spirit. Modern 
 revival of natural science. Influence of Greek 
 learning in the Renaissance and in recent centu- 
 ries. Limitation of scientific spirit to the Aryan 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 people. Outcome of the debate between super- 
 naturalists and naturalists. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 CRITICAL POINTS IN THE CONTINUITY OF NATURAL 
 PHENOMENA 50 
 
 Effect of the modern idea as to the continuity 
 of causation ; genesis of this idea ; limitations as 
 to its validity. Evident conditions of action in 
 nature. Essential individualization of elements 
 and compounds. Sudden alterations in the course 
 of natural action: Meaning of the term " criti- 
 cal point." Mathematical and physical illustra- 
 tions of the principle. Discussion of the critical 
 points of water at various places in the scale of 
 temperature. 
 
 Relation of critical points of the various sub- 
 stances to each other. Effect of these relations 
 in producing unpredictable results. Sudden 
 changes in the courses of action brought about in 
 this way. Extent to which the development of 
 organic life on the earth has depended upon the 
 adjustment of critical points in relation to each 
 other. Influence of these considerations in limit- 
 ing our conceptions as to the nature of causation. 
 
 Effect of critical points in determining the de- 
 velopment of the organic series. Nature of in- 
 herited motives. Illustration from polydactylism. 
 Limitation of our conceptions in this field of 
 inquiry. Critical points in the conflict of inher- 
 itances. Place of the notion of critical points in 
 moral development. Illustrations from history, 
 of peoples and of individual men. Effect of these 
 views upon our conception as to the order of 
 nature. 
 
CONTENTS. ik 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PLACE OF ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE . . 103 
 
 Moral effect of the advancement of science. 
 The influence of the evolutionary hypothesis. In- 
 fluence of this knowledge of natural science on 
 the conceptions of death. Differences between 
 inorganic and organic individualities. Limitations 
 in the development of organic forms, measured 
 in terms of space, time, and the mass of the ma- 
 terial in the visible universe. Painful nature of 
 these conceptions. The reason why they are re- 
 volting to us. 
 
 Effect of self-consciousness on the attitude of 
 man towards nature. Dangers connected with 
 the transition from the old view of nature to the 
 new. Probable outcome of the naturalistic ten- 
 dencies. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS 142 
 
 The impulse towards organization in nature. 
 The life of animals and plants only a higher stage 
 of the development begun in the inorganic world. 
 Organic forms differ from inorganic in ability to 
 inherit experience. Effect of this ability indicated 
 in the variation of organic units. Relation of 
 birth and death to the principle of inheritance. 
 
 General principles of organic advance. The 
 meaning of " species." Variations in the rate of 
 change. Difficulties which beset organic ad- 
 vance. Seldom nature of great successes. Con- 
 ditions which determined the development of 
 man. Nature of the control in his evolution, 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS 91 
 
 Peculiar needs of organic forms which are made 
 necessary by the system of generational succes- 
 sion. Physical contrivances for bridging the gap 
 of death. Development of the sympathetic bond. 
 Of the husbanding habit. Advance of the care- 
 taking motive among men. Development of the 
 institutions of society. Evolution of the family 
 motive; of education. Value of the social store. 
 Relation of human evolution to that of the lower 
 life. Place of rationality in this group of instinc- 
 tive actions. Modification of our view of death. 
 Effect of these considerations on our view of edu- 
 cation. Place of moral teaching in education. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY . . . .232 
 
 Difficulty in explaining the development of al- 
 truism by the selective hypothesis. Various forms 
 of the altruistic motive. "With fellow-beings, 
 with God, with the beautiful in nature. Difficul- 
 ties of the inquiry. Stages in the development 
 of sympathy in the organic groups. Instinctive 
 method of the beehive and ant-hill. Partly ra- 
 tionalized motives in the mammalia. Extension 
 of the motive as we rise in the scale of organiza- 
 tion. Extraordinary increase of it among men. 
 Cause of this advance. Future development of 
 the altruistic motive. Relation to religion ; to the 
 evil of self-consciousness. Natural place of the 
 Christian religion as determined by the foregoing 
 considerations. 
 
CONTENTS. JLl 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL FROM THE POINT 
 
 OF VIEW OF NATURAL SCIENCE 278 
 
 Undue weight given to the opinions of scien- 
 tific men concerning immortality. Brief account 
 of the scientific view of this problem. Original 
 prepossession as to the definite nature of scientific 
 knowledge. Advancing distrust in the relevancy 
 of the ancient arguments against immortality. 
 Old view as to the nature of matter now in doubt. 
 Effects arising from the study of the phenomena 
 of inheritance. Difficulties of the mechanical 
 view in the light of these facts. Molecular na- 
 ture of the bridge from generation to generation. 
 Effect of natural science in decreasing interest in 
 immortality. Judgment from the course of nature 
 in favor of a life beyond the body. Summary 
 and conclusion. 
 
THE 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 THE most that men do in the routine of 
 ' their daily life is so masked by habit that 
 they fail to see how they are moved to 
 their deeds. The veil of the common- 
 place is so thick that it admits no more 
 light than just enough to show us where 
 to place our feet. It reveals nothing of 
 the way behind us or that which is far 
 before. It therefore requires a good deal 
 of careful thinking to secure an adequate 
 notion of what we are really about in the 
 ceaseless activities of our days. With a 
 little pains a man may make a list of all 
 his actions during a single day ; it would, 
 
2 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 however, puzzle the most introspective 
 philosopher to accomplish the more im- 
 portant task of determining what were 
 the mental processes which led him to the 
 several activities. It is doubtful if such 
 an analysis is within the limits of human 
 ability. In such an effort we can at best 
 discern enough to show us some general 
 trends of our thought ; something of 
 those tendencies is indeed evident on a 
 very little self - inquiry. One of these 
 which is marked in every man's mind is 
 to be the subject of our consideration. 
 
 If we examine the processes of our 
 intellects, such at least as go on while we 
 are completely conscious, we note that we 
 are principally employed in trying to as- 
 certain and rationalize what is going on in 
 the world about us. For the larger part 
 of our waking time we are attending to 
 the sensations which come to us on the 
 several lines by which we gain a know- 
 ledge of the matters beyond ourselves. 
 Each distinct effect on the sensorium, 
 
INTERPRETING OUR SENSATIONS. 3 
 
 arising from light, from sound, from odors 
 or other phenomena, as it is seized on by 
 consciousness, is at once interpreted and 
 classed, so that we feel that it falls into a 
 fit place in our understanding. As long 
 as this simple, every-day, or rather every- 
 instant duty is easily accomplished, the 
 work lies in the domain of the habitual, 
 and does not more than momentarily, 
 generally most imperfectly, affect our con- 
 sciousness. We then deal with the im- 
 pressions which are thrust upon us as a 
 well-trained fencer does with the assaults 
 of an antagonist. We instinctively meet 
 them without a knowledge of our action. 
 In an ordinary day we may reasonably 
 estimate that a man with moderately 
 quick wits devises many thousands of 
 these simple explanations, which are se- 
 cured by a quick classification of the im- 
 pression, and its reference to an appro- 
 priate category. On his success in this 
 unconscious endeavor his individual life 
 depends, as that of his ancestors, human 
 
4 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 and brute, for inconceivably many genera- 
 tions has absolutely depended. 
 
 This interpretation of the nature about 
 his individual life which is so conspicuous 
 in man began in his remote progenitors. 
 It is first manifested in simple reactions 
 which are termed " reflex " movements, by 
 means of which, apparently without the 
 exercise of any distinct intelligence, the 
 lowly creature avoided dangers, sought its 
 food, and recognized its mates. Gradually 
 these actions, apparently so simple that 
 some speculators have termed them auto- 
 matic, rise in their grade. The advance 
 is so gradual that between purely reflex 
 action and consciously intelligent work no 
 distinct line can be drawn. We can only 
 say that by insensible gradations what 
 was apparently an automaton becomes a 
 conscious creature. When this stage of 
 consciousness is attained, the reactions are 
 complicated with distinct motives and in- 
 fluenced by more or less definite memo- 
 ries. Finally in man, the appreciation of 
 
THE ADVENT OF CURIOSITY. 5 
 
 nature, with the advent of self-conscious- 
 ness, rises to a higher plane, perhaps the 
 loftiest to which intelligence is to attain 
 upon this sphere. It is outside our pur- 
 pose to consider the stages by which the 
 merely reflex movements relative to the 
 environment, such as may be exhibited by 
 an amoeba or by a decapitated frog, grad- 
 ually become uplifted to the plane of 
 conscious inquiry. The history of this 
 development seems to me a matter which 
 must for the present, and possibly forever, 
 remain inscrutable. We need, however, 
 to note that with the advent of conscious 
 intelligence there comes that motive called 
 curiosity, the impulse which leads the 
 creature to demand explanation of the 
 world about it. It is clear that curiosity 
 is a very intense motive in the life of a 
 host of creatures below the level of man. 
 It is indeed tolerably evident among all 
 the vertebrates where the intellectual fac- 
 ulties are sufficiently developed to enable 
 us to study their mental parts. If we are 
 
6 THE APPRECIA TION OF NA TURE. 
 
 observant we may, in any walk through 
 the woods and fields, note this motive 
 among animals, and observe how it con- 
 tends against the more primal impulse of 
 fear. The skilled hunter knows well that 
 it is in certain creatures a stronger lure 
 than hunger ; that it will often tempt 
 the most timid animal to its death. 
 
 In the groups of animals in which the 
 mental powers are only moderately devel- 
 oped, as in the ordinary creatures of our 
 flocks and herds, this element of curiosity 
 appears to be related mainly to phenomena 
 exhibited by other animals or by objects 
 which they may presume to be of an ani- 
 mal nature. Thus the half-wild cattle of 
 the plains will crowd about a footman, 
 while they will not notice a man on horse- 
 back. They are unaccustomed to the 
 spectacle of a man afoot, and it needs to 
 be explained to their minds. A mounted 
 man is to them a familiar object. They 
 exhibit no strong desire to examine into 
 the details of any other objects save those 
 
CURIOSITY IN ANIMALS: 7 
 
 which appear to be animated. It is other- 
 wise with monkeys. These animals have 
 the interrogative spirit developed in a sur- 
 prisingly intense manner, and it extends 
 to a very wide range of facts. Their well- 
 known mischievous spirit mainly arises 
 from the desire to attain to some under- 
 standing of the things with which they 
 come in contact. The gratification of this 
 impulse in the apes can hardly appear 
 to the more exalted selectionists as the 
 result of any advantage which the crea- 
 tures' ancestors have won from the exer- 
 cise of the habit. So far as the profit is 
 concerned, it is clearly better for the ani- 
 mal to indulge in the impulse of fear 
 and flee from any novel apparition, rather 
 than to approach what may prove to be a 
 serious danger. We must therefore re 
 gard the motive of curiosity which is evi- 
 dent in so many of the lower animals and 
 becomes so exceedingly well developed in 
 the higher groups of the infra -human 
 mammals as something which is not to 
 
8 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 be accounted for by the Darwinian hypo- 
 thesis. 
 
 These considerations, when properly 
 dealt with, serve to show us that we are 
 not in any way distinguished from our 
 immediate kindred among the lower ani- 
 mals as regards the fundamental habits 
 which determine our intellectual relations 
 to environment. Both man and the more 
 intelligent beasts similarly receive this 
 store of impressions from the outer world. 
 They alike give them an interpretation 
 from their previous experience ; they alike 
 have built upon this primitive habit the 
 peculiar superstructure which we term cu- 
 riosity, that is, the desire to seek even at 
 the cost of labor and danger the explana- 
 tion of phenomena which are not at once 
 to be accounted for by the store of re- 
 membered experiences. 
 
 Although there can be no doubt that 
 the motive which leads men to interpret 
 nature had its foundations laid in the 
 grades of being much below the level of 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF CURIOSITY. 9 
 
 humanity, it is clear that the impulse is 
 vastly developed along the line of passage 
 from the lower to the higher estate of 
 being. The most imperfectly educated 
 savage, as for instance the Andaman Is- 
 lander or the Hottentot, doubtless gains 
 a far higher grade of thought in his expla- 
 nation of nature than the ablest ape or 
 other inferior animal, and his curiosity is 
 doubtless cast in a much more logical 
 form than that of his lowly kinsman. 
 The beast, when startled by an unusual 
 sound or sight, probably at the moment 
 uses a certain kind of logic in its mental 
 processes ; by its individual experience 
 and the store which it has inherited from 
 its ancestors, unexplained sounds and 
 sights come to be associated with danger, 
 and so the motives of fear and curiosity 
 are aroused. My horse is startled by the 
 appearance of a bit of paper stirred by 
 the wind. The awakening of his fear is 
 doubtless due to the fact that his mind 
 associates movement on the part of any 
 
IO THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 object with possibly dangerous character- 
 istics. His detailed memory and his 
 power of associating ideas being weak, he 
 cannot at once class the object with the 
 things which he knows are not harmful. 
 If I hold him in the face of the object 
 until he can slowly gather its character- 
 istics, he will be enabled to classify it as 
 innocuous. When the impression has been 
 frequently repeated, a general notion is 
 formed ; the creature, as we say, becomes 
 accustomed to the thing. 
 
 Among men, even among the lowest 
 savages, this process of generalizing the 
 material afforded by the consciousness 
 proceeds with vastly greater speed than in 
 any of the lower creatures and attains to 
 a far more advanced state ; the curiosity 
 likewise is more penetrative. It is not 
 satisfied with the simple conclusions which 
 the beast secures, but it demands a vastly 
 greater measure of explanation as to the 
 meaning of the phenomena. It inquires 
 as to causes. The horse is content when 
 
THE IDEA OF CAUSATION. II 
 
 the bit of moving paper is classed with 
 the things which are not likely to do him 
 harm. In fact, so far as we can see from 
 the actions of the creature, he is satisfied 
 with the division of the surrounding world 
 into the three simple categories of things 
 to himself beneficial, harmful, and inert. 
 The essentially human question which, so 
 far as we can see, is never asked by the 
 lower animals, is, " How did this action 
 come about ? " " What caused the event ? " 
 Indeed, this question is asked in the lower 
 men only in those cases where the ac- 
 tion is in some way forced on their atten- 
 tion ; the idea of causation with reference 
 to the great mass of events in nature 
 which are neither friendly nor hurtful to 
 them, but simply indifferent, appears to be 
 limited to more advanced peoples. 
 
 Although we cannot see the origin of 
 this motive which we term curiosity, it is 
 easy to perceive that man inherits, the im- 
 pulse from prehuman stages of thought 
 and action, and that the later time has 
 
12 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 only served to elevate and extend the 
 modes of its operation. In the first form 
 the interest in the unknown was of a 
 blind sort; seeking no further gratifica- 
 tion than that which the simplest possible 
 classification can afford, a classification 
 which has reference to the individual 
 needs alone. In the primitive man and 
 in children we see this shapeless and pur- 
 poseless state of the motive, which seems 
 to indicate its remote and animal origin. 
 In the savage, even of the lowest sort, this 
 spirit has led to some attempt at ration- 
 alizing the world. The first step toward 
 this great human enterprise appears to 
 have been independently taken by a great 
 number of separate peoples, but it is al- 
 ways in one direction. The natural action 
 demanding explanation is inevitably ac- 
 counted for by the supposition that it is 
 caused by the will of some being like 
 those with whom the man has come in 
 contact. In what may be its simplest 
 form this explanation assumes that wind? 
 
THE CONTROL OF EVENTS. 13 
 
 are caused, say by the motion of the 
 wings of a bird, experience having shown 
 that the air can be moved . in this manner, 
 or the action may be accounted for on 
 the supposition that it is due to the breath 
 of some animal. Still further it may be 
 assumed that the motion is brought about 
 by a humanlike being in some one of the 
 many ways in which man may stir the 
 air. Very often, though at what seems to 
 me to be a later stage in the process of 
 thought, the phenomenon is accounted for 
 on the supposition that it is controlled by 
 the departed spirits of men. 
 
 Early in the organization of society the 
 abler members of the tribe stand apart 
 from their fellows by their strength of 
 body or of mind. They are reverenced 
 for their power. When they die it is 
 natural for their kindred to suppose that 
 they remain about their former dwelling- 
 place and continue to show their . ability 
 by the control of events which affect their 
 kindred. 
 
14 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 We cannot here trace the wide exten- 
 sion of this belief which assigns the con- 
 trol of the world to the spirits of the de- 
 parted ; it was a natural and noble view. 
 It did much to reconcile man to nature ; 
 it seems to me to have been the founda- 
 tion of all our higher interpretation of the 
 universe : the basis of both the theolo- 
 gical and scientific explanations of the 
 order of events. It is very difficult for us 
 to hark back in imagination to the state 
 of men before either religion or science 
 had taken shape. Yet we should endea- 
 vor to conceive the primitive man with 
 a dawning consciousness of the mystery 
 about him ; with a keen sense of the dan- 
 gers of the present and of the hereafter ; 
 with experiences which led him to the 
 belief that the world was a vast brutal 
 enemy of his fondest hopes and desires. 
 In the maze of phenomena he beheld a 
 few traces of order. The days and sea- 
 sons succeeded each other, animals and 
 plants brought forth after their kind, the 
 
THE MONOTHEISTIC IDE^. 15 
 
 streams flowed on forever. Even the evils 
 which afflicted him were evidently in 
 their nature ordered or successive. When 
 these elements of obscure order were 
 explained by the supposition that they 
 were the result of the will of beings essen- 
 tially like himself, a great step towards an 
 intellectual and moral life was made. It 
 is true that the great mass of phenomena 
 which the world exhibited was still unac- 
 counted for : the hypothesis was, indeed, 
 inadequate, but a beginning was made, 
 and with the advance in culture the con- 
 quest was rapidly extended. 
 
 Beginning with this animistic or poly- 
 theistic explanation of the orderly parts 
 of the phenomenal world, the natural path 
 of thought a path trodden, it is true, by 
 few peoples inevitably leads to a more 
 united and more monotheistic view of the 
 universe. Where gained at all, the mono- 
 theistic idea is but slowly acquired, yet 
 it logically follows with the advance in 
 philosophic capacity. The subordinated 
 
1 6 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 intelligences which regulated events were 
 gradually represented as under superior 
 control, something like a hierarchy of 
 powers was conceived one above another, 
 until the great conception was completed 
 in the unique idea of a Supreme Being 
 who used the lesser powers as the agents 
 of his will. Gradually the grosser human 
 attributes were removed from the concep- 
 tion of this omnipotence, and he stands 
 apart from man in all save those qualities 
 which men regard as Godlike. When this 
 idea of nature is attained, even while the 
 polytheistic stage alone exists, the mo- 
 tive of curiosity, partially allayed by the 
 animistic conception, begins again to find 
 itself unsatisfied. The fact is, the theo- 
 logic explanation of nature gives scant 
 room for the exercise of this motive. 
 This explanation necessarily dwells on 
 large matters which are to be accepted on 
 the basis of faith alone ; it cannot con- 
 cern itself with the exploration of the very 
 detailed happenings which meet the eye. 
 
THE SCIENTIFIC MOTIVE. If 
 
 That it is the will of God that things are 
 so does not satisfy the impulse which 
 seeks to know the "how" and the imme- 
 diate "why" of the matter. Thus the 
 spirit of inquiry which led to the institu- 
 tion of the first explanation of the visible 
 world finds in time that it has scant place 
 in the theologic realm : it therefore re- 
 turns to its natural quest and begins its 
 inquiries anew. 
 
 Starting with the theologic conception 
 which is apparently the necessary product 
 of the first series of efforts to explain the 
 order of the universe, the curious spirit 
 necessarily enters on the new quest with 
 its motives greatly affected by the primal 
 beliefs. It is a very remarkable fact that 
 while the theologic explanation of nature 
 has been separately invented, or at least 
 developed from a very primitive notion by 
 many different peoples, the scientific mo- 
 tive is essentially peculiar to one body of 
 folk, the Aryans, and has attained to any 
 considerable development in only one 
 
1 8 THE APPRECIATION' OF NATURE. 
 
 branch of that race, the Greeks and their 
 intellectual descendants, the kindred Eu- 
 ropeans. The essential shape of our mod- 
 ern science is Greek. We have inherited 
 this part of our life from the Hellenes 
 even more immediately than we have 
 taken the basis of our spiritual motives 
 from the Hebrew race. It seems quite 
 probable that the Greeks in their early 
 intellectual history derived the germs of 
 their science from that part of the Aryan 
 people which settled in India. There are 
 indications of something like observational 
 lore among these people of Hindustan in 
 a very early day : but these notions as to 
 the realm of nature were closely bound 
 up with the body of religious opinion, and 
 did not take the distinct form of science. 
 Such as they were, these conceptions of 
 phenomena were a part of the cosmogony 
 of the Hindoo Aryans. From India they 
 seem to have passed to the land of the 
 Nile, and thence by the ancient ways of 
 trade to the Grecian people. Although 
 
THE POLYTHEISTIC CONCEPTION, ig 
 
 the religious conceptions of the Greeks 
 were diversified, they in general sought to 
 account for the phenomena of nature by 
 a complicated anthropomorphic polythe- 
 ism. Although their conceptions are not 
 distinctly formulated, it seems clear that 
 every orderly occurrence in the world was 
 usually conceived, at least in the ages be- 
 fore the fourth century B. c., as explicable 
 on the theory that it was brought about 
 through the will of a being who in essen- 
 tial characteristics was like man. These 
 beings were supposed to be arrayed in a 
 certain hierarchal subordination, the less 
 powerful under the greater, and thus rank 
 above rank until the supreme was at- 
 tained. Certain more philosophical minds 
 conceived the divine as a single person- 
 ality from which the conception of human 
 characteristics was, so far as possible, ex- 
 cluded. Thus Xenophanes spoke of the 
 control as being in the hands of 
 
 " One god among all gods and mankind the greatest ; 
 Neither in body like unto mortals, nor in his spirit" 
 
2O THE APPRECIA TION OF NA TURE. 
 
 Good as is this conception, it is not at all 
 scientific, but purely theological, for even 
 Anaximander appears to have believed 
 that the order of nature was in the control 
 of subordinated intelligences who were in 
 some way dependent upon the supreme. 
 
 The peculiar task before the Greeks, 
 one which they accomplished in a marvel- 
 ously complete manner, was that of fram- 
 ing a conception as to the way in which 
 phenomena were controlled, which would 
 exclude the idea that occurrences were 
 immediately influenced by personal divin- 
 ities. The precise steps of the process 
 are no longer traceable in detail, or at 
 least it requires more scholarship to trace 
 them than I have been able to bring to 
 the undertaking. In general the course 
 of thought of the philosophers who led 
 the way to the scientific conception of 
 nature appears to have been as follows : 
 Reflecting on the hypothesis of polythe- 
 istic control, this ancient view became 
 repugnant to them ; the idea that the 
 
NATURAL LAW. -21 
 
 majestic harmonies of the universe were 
 brought about by the efforts of a throng 
 of exceedingly human-like beings involved 
 in endless discords, such as the mytholo- 
 gies pictured, was naturally offensive to 
 thoughtful men. For a long time no 
 way out of the difficulty was found. At 
 length a hypothesis was invented which 
 by a gradual series of transitions led to 
 the conception of natural law. We find 
 the first distinct marks of this invention 
 in the writings of Plato. It is contained 
 in his doctrine as to the existence of uni- 
 versals in the same sense as individuals 
 exist ; thus, for instance, he seems to have 
 conceived that a particular species of tree 
 existed as an abstraction from the eternal 
 past, the actual plant itself being only the 
 physical incarnation of the eternal form ; 
 the individual man was to be considered 
 as only the animated expression of the 
 equally real but ever enduring idea of 
 humanity. 
 
 In a certain way the abstract or univer- 
 
22 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 sal idea of the thing thus came to replace 
 the earlier and grosser conception of the 
 particular human-like God who shaped the 
 phenomena. We may in a way term this 
 universal a controlling or formative power 
 from which the old conception of all baser 
 qualities has been taken away. The Pla- 
 tonic universal immaterial being, which 
 ever seeks to shape itself in matter, seems 
 to me to be essentially the ancient god 
 from which the philosopher has excluded 
 all irrelevant qualities. The shaping power 
 still remains a distinct creature, inces- 
 santly seeking expression in reality ; it is 
 in a sense the ghost of the old deity or 
 demigod. 
 
 When the abstract conception involved 
 in the Platonic theory of natural order 
 had been formed, the next step toward 
 what we term the scientific idea was 
 quickly attained. We find it in the writ- 
 ings of Aristotle developed in nearly the 
 same degree of elevation which it exhibits 
 in our own day. The Stagyrite advances 
 
ARISTOTL&S METHOD. 23 
 
 the eonception by still further withdrawing 
 from the mental picture of the causes 
 which lead to phenomena, all the qualities 
 of personality. With him the category or 
 framework takes the place of the uni- 
 versal. Things are by him conceived as 
 shaped by some power acting behind the 
 genus or species into which they fall, but 
 he invented, or at least affirmed, the cus- 
 tom of leaving the mode of action of this 
 causation quite without consideration, at 
 least while he was dealing with the mat- 
 ter in a scientific way. With Aristotle, 
 the category thus became a mere alge- 
 braic expression for control in nature ; he 
 used it as a mathematician uses the sign 
 for infinity without pretense of explana- 
 tion; with this recognition of the essen- 
 tial unknowableness of ultimate causes, 
 science in its strict, we may say indeed in 
 its Aryan, sense begins. We thus see, a? 
 far at least as the fragmentary condition 
 of the records of Greek learning permits, 
 that the manner of explaining nature 
 
24 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 which is characteristic of science grew by 
 rapid and tolerably clearly indicated pas- 
 sages of thought from the polytheistic 
 method of accounting for the order of 
 nature. Although there are many indica- 
 tions that the Greeks of times earlier than 
 Aristotle were more or less affected by 
 similar views as to the way in which the 
 universe was controlled, it was in the 
 century of the Stagyrite and his great 
 master that the separation between cos- 
 mology, which seeks to account for all 
 phenomena on the theistic hypothesis, and 
 science, which professes and declares the 
 ignorance which the observer finds to 
 limit his inquiries, was accomplished. Al- 
 though, as we shall have hereafter to note, 
 science has made certain advances in the 
 ways which were first clearly entered on 
 by the Greeks, the essential direction of 
 all its subsequent course was fixed by 
 them. 
 
 The immense advantage which is af- 
 forded by the Aristotelian limitations to 
 
ARISTOTLE'S ACHIEVEMENT. 2$ 
 
 inquiry is admirably shown in the vast 
 , results which the method attained in the 
 hands of its inventor and first master. 
 As long as men sought and seemed to 
 find an account of all things in the imag- 
 ined motives of human-like but undiscern- 
 ible individuals who by their power con- 
 trolled all happenings of the universe, it 
 was impossible to set about the task of 
 explaining phenomena in the physical, 
 organic, or social world in a rational way. 
 When, however, the conception of natural 
 law began to form, a wide and tempting 
 path was opened to a new kind of intellect- 
 ual endeavor, in which men explained oc- 
 currences by the orderly features which 
 facts presented on their face. It seems 
 to me that the enormous work accom- 
 plished by Aristotle, which, taken as a 
 whole and under the conditions in which 
 it was done, must be esteemed as the 
 greatest body of labor ever performed by 
 a man, was due in part at least to the fact 
 that he was the first clearly to see that the 
 
26 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 thing should be interpreted by itself and 
 its relation to other visible things. Or, in 
 other words, to the newly awakened sense 
 that phenomena afforded, if not all that 
 was necessary for their explanation, at 
 least all that could be utilized by human 
 skill. Inspired by this view, which seems 
 to our eyes so commonplace, but / was in 
 his day an inspiration, that brilliant and 
 penetrating mind made haste to assemble 
 the unorganized mass of Greek learning 
 in clear and categoric form. His concep- 
 tion as to the meaning of natural order, 
 and the limits which inquiry into it may 
 put upon his work, enabled him to put the 
 chaos of ancient acquisition into shape 
 with a speed which has had no parallel in 
 other ages. I am tempted to compare 
 Darwin's work with that of Aristotle, but 
 the British philosopher was limited to the 
 narrow field of the biological sciences, 
 while the great peripatetic marched as a 
 conqueror through all the domain of the 
 phenomenal world, and at his death in his 
 
GREEK SCIENCE. 2? 
 
 sixty-third year had founded science for 
 all time. 
 
 The foundations laid by the school of 
 Aristotle waited long before any consider- 
 able structure was built upon them. We 
 can see some effect of his positivist view 
 in the later states of Greek science. It is 
 particularly manifested in the writings of 
 Strabo. But many of the Greeks who 
 sought to explain nature, even where they 
 neglected the polytheistic notions, re- 
 mained subject to the speculative humor 
 characteristic of the Hellenes, and this led 
 them, in the manner of Lucretius, who, 
 though by birth a Roman, was in spirit 
 and training a Greek, to invent purely 
 speculative hypotheses to account for the 
 facts of nature. They were unscientific in 
 that they did not search the phenomena 
 for the explanation they sought, but 
 evolved it from their minds. The Ro- 
 mans, who so greedily appropriated, as far 
 as their nature would permit, the culture 
 of the Greeks, and who were successful 
 
28 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 in acquiring a tincture of their literary 
 and philosophical spirit, as well as their 
 motives in the plastic art, utterly failed to 
 gain any share of the Hellenic spirit in 
 scientific inquiry. In the centuries of 
 intellectual history after the fall of Greece, 
 the Romans developed no inquirer fit to 
 be compared with scores of men who be- 
 longed in the earlier civilization. Pliny 
 the elder was exceedingly curious in all that 
 related to the natural world, but his works 
 show that he never had the faintest idea 
 of science. He knew about as much of 
 its spirit as does the moth when it meets 
 its fate in the candle. Nature attracted 
 him even to his death in the Vesuvian 
 eruption, but it was mere primitive curios- 
 ity that impelled him to his tireless indus- 
 try in gathering facts. 
 
 It is important for students of science 
 to note this striking, indeed we may say 
 amazing, contrast between the scientific 
 spirit of the Greeks and that of the Ro- 
 mans ; it serves to give us many impor- 
 
ROMAN SCIENCE. 2Q 
 
 tant lessons ; it tells us how peculiar and 
 exceptional is that organization of mind 
 which permits the development of the 
 scientific spirit. The Romans had a 
 genius for many of the higher walks of 
 thought and action. The difficult princi- 
 ples of jurisprudence first took clear and 
 logical shape in their hands ; they were of 
 all the ancients the most skillful in mas- 
 tering the conditions of nature and in 
 turning them to the immediate uses of 
 man. They had the historic sense as well 
 developed as the Greeks, and in all mat- 
 ters of government, particularly in the 
 work of administration, they were the 
 superiors of the Hellenes. When, how- 
 ever, we come to science we find that 
 they not only had no power to invent ex- 
 planations after the manner of the Greeks, 
 but they possessed so little intelligent 
 curiosity that they could not make use of 
 what came to them from that people. It 
 would be interesting to note this contrast 
 in more detail, but for the present we 
 
30 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 are concerned with another aspect of 
 the matter, namely, as to the effect of 
 Roman dominancy on the history of the 
 methods of explaining nature. 
 
 The singular contrast between the atti- 
 tude of the Greek and Roman people in 
 all which relates to the interpretation of 
 nature, long ago led me to question the 
 race kinship of those peoples. Until re- 
 cently this doubt appeared futile, for the 
 reason that historians and archaeologists 
 appeared to be substantially agreed in 
 holding to the idea of their close affinity. 
 It is interesting to note that at the pre- 
 sent time students who are well informed 
 seem inclined to believe that the Etrus- 
 cans came to central Italy from northern 
 Africa, and that they are possibly to be 
 classed as people of Semitic affinities. 
 If this view be correct, it may turn out 
 that a large share of the Roman blood and 
 of the inherited motives which go there- 
 with is not of Aryan origin, and that 
 many elements in the history of Europe 
 
THE DARK AGES. 31 
 
 which are due to the influence of Rome 
 may be accounted for by the supposition 
 that the Latin impulses were founded on 
 the character of a non-Aryan people. 
 
 It was a momentous event in the his- 
 tory of learning when Christianity passed 
 to the people of western Europe through 
 the gates of Rome, for it thereby came 
 into the keeping of a people who were 
 incapable of sympathy with the spirit of 
 scientific inquiry. The result was that 
 for a thousand years or more all trace of 
 the broad catholic spirit which found its 
 summit in Aristotle failed to find a place 
 among the Latin and Gothic peoples. It 
 is often assumed that the lack of the mo- 
 tive of inquiry in these centuries was due 
 to the deliberate exercise of priestly au- 
 thority in its repression. The truth is, 
 that the spirit of the naturalist did not 
 exist among the Romans any more than it 
 did among the Hebrew people. In fact, 
 the intellectual motives of the race who 
 gave us Christianity and of the nation 
 
32 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 which again propagated it in Europe are 
 in many ways akin. This spirit in both 
 peoples permits the nurture of a pro- 
 foundly theistic explanation of the uni- 
 verse, but it has no room for the peculiar 
 views of science. Hence while certain 
 parts of Aristotle's works were almost 
 adopted by the Church as sacred books, 
 we find no evidence of effect arising from 
 his inquiring motive until relatively mod- 
 ern times. All the parts of his writings 
 which we may term naturalistic were 
 essentially incomprehensible to those who 
 had no tincture of the Greek spirit. We 
 therefore do not have to look to the some- 
 what natural antagonism between the 
 theistic and scientific explanations of the 
 phenomenal world for the destruction or 
 suppression of the Hellenic motive of 
 inquiry. It is in the main sufficiently 
 accounted for by the lack of all interest in 
 or understanding of such matters among 
 the people who had to support the struc- 
 ture of the Church. 
 
THE REVIVAL OF SCIENCE. 33 
 
 It should, moreover, be noted that the 
 death of Greek science was as complete, 
 though it came about in a less rapid man- 
 ner among the descendants of the Hel- 
 lenes in eastern Europe than in the west- 
 ern world. In the Byzantine empire the 
 spirit of interpretation was buried beneath 
 trashy word-spinnings, and was lost in all 
 save the imperfect manuscript records. 
 The fact is apparent that Hellenic science 
 was a frail and temporary flower of that 
 marvelous culture which blossomed in 
 Athens in the fourth century B. c. We 
 may well doubt whether it would have 
 given fruitful seed and come to possess 
 the earth, even if Greece had remained 
 unsubjugated, and the Christian religion 
 had not, by giving new life to the theistic 
 explanation of this world, turned men's 
 minds from this inquiry. 
 
 The revival of scientific explanation in 
 the latter part of the Middle Ages affords 
 a much more puzzling series of facts than 
 does its origin in the Hellenic time. The 
 
34 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 original invention of the method we can 
 trace back to a particular age and place 
 when a small body of cultivated people 
 contrived the way of thinking. The revi- 
 val took place almost simultaneously in 
 several widely separated countries. The 
 renaissance of learning occurred sepa- 
 rately and at about the same time in Italy, 
 in Germany, and in Britain. It is difficult 
 to say in what degree it is to be attributed 
 to the influence of the Greek learning in 
 general, which was widely disseminated 
 after the fall of Constantinople, and how 
 far it was due to the better understanding 
 of Aristotle. Rarely is the student able 
 to tell us whence he derived his motives. 
 Yet more rarely does he take pains to 
 analyze the history of his intellectual mo- 
 tives and record them for history's sake. 
 It is, however, clear that whether it was 
 the study of Greek science which aroused 
 our western learning to life or no, the 
 shape it took was determined by the Hel- 
 lenic writings, mainly by those of Aris- 
 
ARISTOTL&S WRITINGS. 35 
 
 totle. He was the one man of science 
 whose works were patronized by the 
 Church. His works were more widely 
 disseminated than those of any other 
 philosopher, and have provided a founda- 
 tion for thought in all the more important 
 branches of science. 
 
 The portion of Aristotle's writings 
 which the Church most favored was, it is 
 true, not that which treats of natural 
 science. This part of his contributions 
 long remained inaccessible in the original 
 language, while the more purely philosoph- 
 ical treatises became common property 
 in the Latin translations. Nevertheless, 
 there were Greek scholars enough for the 
 need, and the principles of the Aristo- 
 telian system which penetrated all his 
 works imbued the minds of men with the 
 scientific spirit. Even a cursory glance 
 at the influence of Aristotle on mediaeval 
 learning will convince the student that 
 this philosopher's position was such that 
 no scholar who understood him could 
 
36 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 escape from his control. His influence 
 was then more pervading in all branches 
 of learning than that of Darwin now is in 
 the particular field of biology. For my 
 part I am convinced that while the ten- 
 dency towards inquiry which led to mod- 
 ern science was indigenous and marks a 
 stage of intellectual development, as it did 
 in Greece, the organization of that motive 
 is due to Hellenic science quite as much 
 as that of our religion is attributable to 
 the motives which arose in certain Asiatic 
 peoples. 
 
 Although modern science has in its 
 essential features departed but little from 
 the main lines indicated by Aristotle, and 
 this because his position was in its nature 
 final, there have been noteworthy changes 
 in certain practical and theoretical fea- 
 tures which have very gradually effected 
 the conduct and success of this method of 
 inquiry. We have learned a simple lesson 
 which the Greeks never knew, which is in 
 effect that it is necessary to verify opin- 
 
THE NEED OF CRITICISM. 37 
 
 ions so far as is possible by experiment, and 
 where that cannot be effected, by repeat- 
 edly comparing the occurrences with the 
 hypothesis by which we seek to explain 
 them. For lack of this system of verifica- 
 tion, the Greeks, even Aristotle himself, 
 were often beguiled by mere speculations, 
 where the tyro in modern inquiry would 
 have found his way to the substantial 
 truth. It required many generations of 
 modern science to make this need of criti- 
 cism and revision clear, and to this day it 
 remains the weakest side of most scientific 
 work. 
 
 The modern conception as to the mode 
 of action of energy has perhaps also served 
 in a measure to change the state of mind 
 of naturalists with reference to the true 
 position of phenomena in the universe. 
 We probably see the curious succession of 
 events in their lines of dependence and 
 interdependence in a clearer manner than 
 the abler Greeks of the peripatetic school, 
 but these are differences of so minor a 
 
38 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 kind that the naturalists or physicists of 
 to-day, apart from the language, would 
 find hardly more difficulty in exchanging 
 ideas with Aristotle than they would en- 
 counter with educated men of their own 
 time and country. 
 
 One of the most essential peculiarities 
 of modern science, as compared with the 
 Hellenic system, is the range of the motive 
 in this age. In the days of Aristotle this 
 branch of inquiry commanded the sympa- 
 thies of only a small part of the societies 
 in which it was nurtured. It remained 
 the possession of the limited class of in- 
 tellectual people ; it did not sensibly affect 
 the conduct of life, either in practical 
 affairs or in the field of morals ; it never 
 became, as in modern times, the agent by 
 which the faculty of mechanical invention 
 has been quickened. Its only conquests 
 were in the minds of men. It did not 
 extend beyond the limits of the Hellenic 
 civilization until some centuries after that 
 civilization fell to pieces. Then in the 
 
SCIENCE AMONG THE SARACENS. 39 
 
 seventh century of our era some of the 
 seed which fell upon what would have 
 seemed at first sight hopelessly stony 
 ground, among the Arabian Moslems, 
 quickened into a brief but vigorous life. 
 I cannot here trace the unique excursion 
 of the scientific motive beyond the limits 
 of the Aryan folk. It is in many ways, 
 however, the most singular and interesting 
 incident in the history of learning. For 
 our purpose we need only to note the fact 
 that the Saracens eagerly sought for the 
 scientific works of the Greeks. They made 
 effective use of all of their more practical 
 parts ; for two centuries they cultivated 
 the sciences of mathematics, chemistry, 
 and astronomy, and, perhaps, advanced , 
 them somewhat beyond the stage in 
 which they were left by the Hellenes, and 
 then, in an inexplicable way, abandoned 
 the field. 
 
 Except for the above-mentioned brief 
 culture of natural science by the Ara- 
 bians, we have no evidence that its mo- 
 
4O THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 tives have ever been appreciated by any 
 other people than the Aryans. Even 
 among the Saracens, although some of its 
 votaries appear to have been of a natural- 
 istic turn of mind, this branch of learning 
 seems to have been used as a toy or a 
 convenient tool, and was not to any ex- 
 tent sought as a means of exploring the 
 world of phenomena. This exceptional 
 extension of science seems rather to ac- 
 cent than to invalidate the general truth 
 that the scientific interpretation of nature 
 is a task for which as yet only the Aryan 
 people are truly and instinctively fitted, 
 and even in this race there are folk such 
 as the Romans who have no innate ten- 
 dencies towards this form of thought. 
 Similar limitations in the intellectual 
 powers of diverse peoples are shown in 
 other fields than that of science. The 
 Aryan folk, notwithstanding their singular 
 capacities, have to thank another race for 
 their religion. A pure monotheism based 
 upon an exalted conception of the duty 
 
THE TASK OF THE ARYANS. 41 
 
 owed by the individual to the Supreme 
 Being did not, so far as the history of our 
 race goes, seem to lie in the trend of their 
 thought. While individual men attained 
 to it they were unable to give it the inten- 
 sity necessary for dominance. The genius 
 of our western nations appears to lead its 
 people towards the consideration of the 
 phenomenal world. It secures ever emi- 
 nent success in the task of dealing with 
 the immediate and tangible realm. It is 
 doubtful if the sense of the unseen which 
 leads to moral and religious conceptions 
 was as strong in our ancestors as it clearly 
 was among certain other peoples, partic- 
 ularly the Hebrews. 
 
 It would be an interesting matter to 
 consider what shape the interpretation 
 of nature would have taken among the 
 Aryans of modern Europe, if they had 
 lacked the inspiration which came from 
 the revival of Greek learning. There are 
 not wanting indications that the motives 
 which lead to this interpretation would 
 
42 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 have created a new something like the 
 methods of inquiry which were invented 
 by the Greeks, and that modern Europe, 
 even if it had lacked Hellenic traditions, 
 would, though doubtless more slowly, have 
 found its way to the existing methods of 
 interpretation. 
 
 In summing up these considerations, we 
 may say that the appreciation of phenom- 
 ena among all men seems to begin with the 
 assumption that their order is determined 
 by the action of beings essentially like 
 men or animals. A polytheism commonly 
 anthropomorphic appears to be the uni- 
 versal and apparently inevitable first step 
 in this process of accounting for events. 
 With the enlargement of these primitive 
 conceptions they become more rationalized ; 
 the order of nature is gradually conceived 
 as due to the influence of more and more 
 powerful unseen agents, until finally the 
 monotheistic conception is more or less 
 perfectly attained. This final majestic 
 picture of universal control appears to 
 
UNIVERSAL CONTROL. 43 
 
 have originated in several different places. 
 It seems to be a natural outgrowth from 
 polytheism. It is true that these mono- 
 theistic views do not exclude, in fact they 
 may be said always to include, the exist- 
 ence of subordinate divinities who are 
 more or less completely conceived as the 
 servants of the supreme power. Nor in 
 an imperfect way is this idea of a central 
 and supreme power made to account for 
 the phenomenal side of the world. It is 
 rather directed towards the moral relations 
 of man. 
 
 With the further development of cul- 
 ture there arises an intenser curiosity 
 concerning the processes of nature. In 
 the highest state of Grecian culture, when 
 men by a very perfect training in the fine 
 arts had their minds quickened to the 
 utmost, they eagerly demanded some ex- 
 planation as to the prevailing order of the 
 organic and the physical world. They 
 were not satisfied with the account which 
 was presented by the religious system of 
 
44 THE APPRECIATION' OF NATURE. 
 
 their age, and so they gradually found 
 their way to the conception of natural 
 law. Again, in the Renaissance, once 
 more quickened by the sense of natural 
 harmony through the arts of painting, 
 sculpture, and poetry, men instinctively 
 sought a rational account of the world 
 which their religious traditions did not 
 offer them. In this time they had the 
 good help which came from the remnants 
 of Hellenic science, and so were hastened 
 on the way which they would probably 
 have achieved, though with greater diffi- 
 culty, if they had been left altogether to 
 their own resources/ For a while and most 
 naturally the Church contended against 
 the new method of interpreting nature. 
 It would have been indeed false to its duty 
 if it had not opposed the ways of science. 
 It was morally bound to uphold the con- 
 viction that the old method of accounting 
 for the course of events by the supernatu- 
 ral hypothesis was true and sufficient. 
 Omar's conclusion that the books which 
 
SCIENCE AND THE CHURCH. 45 
 
 contained the truths of the Koran were 
 superfluous, and all which gainsaid them 
 mischievous, is the logical outcome of 
 reason as exercised by the thorough-going 
 supernaturalist. 
 
 The clearest outcome of the debate be- 
 tween the extreme supernatural ists and 
 the naturalists is that science still lives 
 and has won a curiously strong place 
 among men. There is, however, a less 
 evident, but, to the thoughtful student, 
 larger view of this interaction. This, as 
 it appears to me, I shall now endeavor 
 briefly to set forth. 
 
 As long as natural science dealt with 
 the immediate aspects of simple phenom- 
 ena, the measure of explanation which was 
 demanded was small. It was necessary 
 only to suppose the existence of actions 
 of causation as simple as those with which 
 our own voluntary deeds make us familiar. 
 That necessary kind of sequence of phe- 
 nomena which we term "cause and ef- 
 fect" appears at first sight very simple, 
 
46 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 because it is so like in results to our indi- 
 vidual actions, and thus the first stage of 
 natural inquiry led men of science to the 
 curious and undeclared assumption that 
 the visible was the essential part of the 
 universe. As inquiries have gone deeper 
 into the realm of causation, especially as 
 the conditions of organic life have been 
 made the subject of more penetrating 
 study, the sense of the profundity of nat- 
 ural law has been continually enhanced. 
 In the study of the successions exhibited 
 by animals and plants it has been per- 
 ceived that the march of events from the 
 primitive simplicity towards greater and 
 greater complication, culminating in man, 
 requires us to assume the existence of 
 something like permanent guiding influ- 
 ences operating in the world of matter. 
 As the conception of these and of other 
 laws or principles operating in nature be- 
 comes more complicated, naturalists are 
 being driven step by step to hypothecate 
 the presence in the universe of conditions 
 
THE TREND OF MODERN SCIENCE. 47 
 
 which are best explained by the supposi- 
 tion that the direction of affairs is in the 
 control of something like our own intelli- 
 gence. As yet this thought is vague, but 
 whoever will inform himself as to the 
 trend of modern science will see that even 
 where the votaries of the new learning are 
 most indisposed to recognize the increas- 
 ing measure of their theistic motives, the 
 increase is nevertheless discernible. I 
 am myself convinced that in the next cen- 
 tury there will be a state of science in 
 which the unknown will be conceived as 
 peopled with powers whose existence is 
 justly and necessarily inferred from the 
 knowledge which has been obtained from 
 their manifestations. In other words, it 
 seems to me that the naturalist is most 
 likely to approach the position of the phil- 
 osophical theologian by paths which at 
 first seemed to lie far apart from his do- 
 main. 
 
 On the other hand, the theological con- 
 ceptions, though in their nature rigid, are 
 
48 THE APPRECIATION OF NATURE. 
 
 yielding much to the influence of scien- 
 tific or phenomenal truth. They have al- 
 ready been greatly affected by the concep- 
 tions of physical law operating in material 
 things. Theologians have in good part 
 abandoned the old contention that the 
 course of events was controlled by an ar- 
 bitrary and variable divine will. They are 
 now generally content to abandon the in- 
 terpretation of the phenomenal world to 
 the naturalists, confining their thought 
 within their true and unassailable strong- 
 hold, the moral kingdom. 
 
 The issue of this great discussion is as 
 yet not clearly foretellable, but enough of 
 it can be determined to lead us to the 
 conviction that the two methods of inter- 
 preting nature which were originally 
 united, then long separated, are again to 
 be conjoined. The primary condition of 
 this union will be the abandonment of the 
 existing conception that there are two dis- 
 tinct realms accessible to man, the natural 
 and the supernatural, and the replace- 
 
TRUE IDEA OF THE UNIVERSE. 49 
 
 ment of this view by the idea that the 
 universe is one great field through which 
 the spirit of man is to range with ever- 
 increasing freedom. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 CRITICAL POINTS IN THE CONTINUITY OF 
 NATURAL PHENOMENA. 
 
 ' THE greatest contribution of modern 
 science to human thought is doubtless to 
 be found in the idea of the continuity of 
 causation which it has brought home to 
 the minds of all educated people. The 
 ancients, it is true, speculated on this pos- 
 sible orderly succession of events ; but it 
 has been the peculiar fortune of our own 
 century to trace step by step the links of 
 the great chains of order until the uni- 
 versal bond which unites all actions has 
 been made clear. Our present concep- 
 tion of nature is perhaps no more imbued 
 with the idea of continuity than that set 
 forth by Lucretius, or by the earlier Greek 
 philosophers from whom he derived his 
 ideas ; but, unlike these ancient specula- 
 
THE CONSERVATION OF ENERGY. 51 
 
 tions, our modern opinion is founded on 
 knowledge and is affirmed by experiment. 
 The doctrine of the conservation of en- 
 ergy was obscurely set forth by the Py- 
 thagoreans in the sixth century before 
 Christ, but until within a hundred years it 
 was a mere speculation. It now rests 
 upon as firm ground as the theory of 
 gravitation. By the experiments which 
 affirm it our conceptions of the physical 
 universe are unified as they never were 
 in the earlier history of natural science. 
 Seen through the light which this far- 
 reaching law throws upon the physical 
 world, we conceive all the material uni- 
 verse to be moving onward from stage to 
 stage of being, its primal store of force 
 unchanged ; its matter passing from one 
 form to another, but the quantities of the 
 force and matter remaining as they were 
 in the remotest age of which the imagina- 
 tion can form a picture. Thus the mod- 
 ern philosophical conception of the world 
 excludes the possibility of accidents. The 
 
52 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 orderly succession of events apparently 
 demands the belief that the transitions 
 from one stage of action to another shall 
 not be sudden. It appears to exclude 
 revolution and to give the continuity of a 
 stream to the movement of causation on 
 its way from the infinite past to the infi- 
 nite future. 
 
 My object in this essay is in a brief 
 way to examine the validity of our present 
 conception which assumes the entire con- 
 tinuity of the universe ; to see how far 
 our observations may serve to qualify a 
 certain assumption which has entered into 
 our thought, and which leads us almost 
 insensibly to conclude that because every 
 condition of the physical world is abso- 
 lutely the product of actions which have 
 gone before, we can therefore assume no 
 room for sudden changes in the course of 
 events. 
 
 Accepting, as we must, the idea that 
 every cause is the source of effect, and 
 every effect the result of causation, we 
 
THE UNEXPECTED. 53 
 
 
 
 shall try to see what room this leaves for 
 the occurrence of the unexpected in the 
 phenomenal realm. I cannot too strongly 
 affirm that my intention is not in any way 
 to contend against the doctrine of con- 
 tinuity of action in nature. I shall seek 
 only to modify this conception, and to 
 show that there is an element of unexpect- 
 edness in the operation of natural causes. 
 In this effort I shall first consider certain 
 phenomena of the physical world, and 
 then a group of actions which we find dis- 
 played in the organic realm. 
 
 We readily note the primal fact that 
 the visible universe as far as regards its 
 component elements, those apparently ul- 
 timate individualities in the structure of 
 matter, is extremely discontinuous and, so 
 to speak, fragmentary. There are some 
 scores of these elements, each apparently 
 endowed with primal characteristics differ- 
 ing from one another in an absolute way. 
 Though it is possible and, indeed, prob- 
 able that some of them may be decom- 
 
54 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 posed at high temperatures such as pre- 
 vail in the sun, there is no reason to be- 
 lieve that as a whole there exists, or ever 
 has existed, an elemental uniformity in the 
 universe. The visible realm of nature as 
 we know it is composed of a battalion of 
 individualities, the separate forms of mat- 
 ter. Each of these primal forms exists 
 separately and has its individual charac- 
 teristics ; it acts in a certain limited coop- 
 eration with the other elements. When 
 apart from these combinations it appears 
 to have an absolutely independent life. 
 
 When these separate elements enter 
 into combination, the result of their as- 
 sociation has an unpredictable quality. 
 Given a knowledge of .the properties be- 
 longing to two or more separate elements, 
 it is impossible to say in the present state 
 of our knowledge what will be the result 
 of their association in this or that of the 
 many numerical relations which they may 
 assume. Each of these almost infinitely 
 varying phenomena of association appar- 
 
NOVEL INFLUENCES. 55 
 
 ently institutes a new condition in the 
 world of matter. Whenever two elements 
 or molecules enter a combination not be- 
 fore attained, novel and often startling 
 influences are introduced into the physical 
 world. It is true that the primal force 
 and matter are not changed in quantity; 
 but the mode of action, the effect of these 
 original entities, may be very greatly al- 
 tered. If we conceive an intelligent being 
 looking upon a mass of nebulous matter 
 having only those forms of association 
 which are possible in gases, we must be- 
 lieve that such a being would have been 
 entirely unable, if his intelligence were 
 less than infinite, to form any conception 
 of the result which would arise when that 
 matter came to take the present shape of 
 this earth. Thus at the outset we see 
 that we cannot properly extend the con- 
 ception of uniformity, which we gain from 
 our limited knowledge of the permanence 
 of matter and the persistence of force, 
 very far. The original elemental diver- 
 
56 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 sity of the universe directly provides for 
 the most unexpected results in the course 
 of the successive combinations of its 
 atomic units. 
 
 Turning now from these general consid- 
 erations based upon the complexity of 
 matter, let us consider the element of the 
 unexpected which arises from the varia- 
 tions in the application of energy to the 
 elemental combinations, variations which 
 are independent of the materials asso- 
 ciated in these combined substances. It 
 is my purpose to call attention to the well 
 known but much disregarded fact that, 
 with variations in the amount of energy 
 to which it is subjected, the behavior of 
 matter may alter in a manner calculated 
 to bring about most unforeseeable and 
 divergent consequences. I desire also to 
 show that these variations may occur with 
 extreme suddenness, indeed with revolu- 
 tionary rapidity, and that through this 
 action there may come about in the visi- 
 ble world very great modifications in con- 
 
AN ILLUSTRATION. 57 
 
 dition, made, so to speak, in the twinkling 
 of an eye. The circumstances under 
 which these revolutions occur I shall 
 term critical points. By a critical point 
 I mean a station or period in the series of 
 changing conditions at which a new mode 
 of action is suddenly introduced. 
 
 I can perhaps best explain my meaning 
 of the term "critical point" by a simple il- 
 lustration. Let us imagine a sphere revolv- 
 ing in space about a central sun. Let us 
 conceive that in the simplest condition 
 the planet pursues an orbit which is af- 
 fected only by the gravitative energy of 
 the two bodies, and which is therefore a 
 perfect circle. Now let us imagine that 
 the revolving sphere is subjected to a 
 gradually increasing attraction which leads 
 it away from the controlling sun in some 
 definite direction. Under these condi- 
 tions the body will have its orbit grad- 
 ually changed into an ellipse of greater 
 and greater elongation. Then the in- 
 creasing attraction will at a certain point 
 
58 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 change its path to the parabolic form. 
 Up to a certain position in this series of 
 changes, the sphere will continue to obey 
 the attraction of the sun which originally 
 altogether controlled its motion ; but be- 
 yond that point it will suddenly change 
 its orbit to a hyperbolic form. It may 
 then no longer return about the parent 
 sun, but depart from it altogether. By 
 this illustration we see how in the course 
 of successive gradual changes, each of in- 
 finitely small amount, we may in the end 
 attain a critical point, leading to conse- 
 quences which are indefinitely great. The 
 place in the series where the orbit ceases 
 to lead back to the parent sun is clearly 
 of revolutionary importance. The fore- 
 going is perhaps the simplest illustration 
 of the nature of a critical point, for in it 
 we can see a variation in but one con- 
 dition, that of the gravitating impulse 
 alone. 
 
 Next we may note a few of the striking 
 instances which may be observed in the 
 
CHANGES OF TEMPERATURE. $Q 
 
 field where materials are affected by tem- 
 perature. Perhaps the most familiar of 
 these actions are found in the cases in 
 which matter passes from the state of a 
 gas, first into the liquid and then into the 
 solid form. In this series of changes the 
 molecules or atoms are held apart and 
 maintained in the gaseous state by the 
 action of heat. By progressive cooling, 
 due to the escape of the energy, the mass 
 assumes the fluid form. A yet further 
 loss reduces it to the solid condition. 
 Each of these transitions, though brought 
 about by a progressive and undiscrimina- 
 tive series of changes, is usually accom- 
 plished in a sudden manner. The pas- 
 sages from the gaseous to the fluid or 
 from the fluid to the solid state are, speak- 
 ing generally, immediate, though the 
 changes of temperature which lead to 
 them are absolutely continuous. A very 
 striking instance of this action is seen in 
 the case of water when that substance is 
 affected by variations in heat. Within 
 
6O CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 the limit of temperatures which may be 
 readily observed on the surface of the 
 earth, water or its components exist in 
 several diverse conditions. With a cer- 
 tain high temperature, the elements which 
 compose water are disassociated and exist 
 as two very diverse gases, neither of 
 which has any trace of the physical prop- 
 erties of the fluid which is formed by 
 their union. With a lower temperature, 
 together with certain influences which 
 may serve to bring about a chemical 
 union of the elements, the oxygen and 
 hydrogen enter into relations with each 
 other, producing water. Given a suffi- 
 ciently high temperature, the conjoined 
 elements may continue in the state of 
 vapor. At a certain lower temperature 
 we perceive that the vapor is suddenly 
 converted into a liquid. Each of these 
 changes occurs suddenly and is revolution- 
 ary in its effects. 
 
 Within the limits of heat in which 
 water is liquid we find a number of crit- 
 
THE PROPERTIES OF WATER. 6 1 
 
 ical points dependent upon the tempera- 
 ture. The most noteworthy of these is 
 where at about 39 Fahr. the material 
 which has hitherto been contracting in 
 the process of cooling suddenly begins to 
 expand. This increase in volume it main- 
 tains until at the freezing point it at once 
 becomes solid, and in so doing acquires a 
 totally different set of physical properties 
 from those it had before. 
 
 We should now attend to the fact that 
 the properties of water in these three 
 conditions have entirely different relations 
 to the numerous other substances with 
 which that material comes in contact. In 
 its vaporous form, water is capable of tak- 
 ing almost all other chemical compounds 
 and a great number of the elements into 
 solution, but on the whole its dissolving 
 power differs widely from that which it 
 has in the liquid state. In the form of 
 vapor it is entirely incapable of establish- 
 ing any relations, such as those which are 
 acquired in the formation of organic 
 
62 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 bodies. In the liquid state we also find 
 that water has certain very peculiar func- 
 tions, differing in an essential way from 
 those possessed by its diffused form. 
 
 It is only in its liquid state that water 
 can enter into those combinations with 
 various substances which afford the foun- 
 dation for the greater part of the chemic 
 and organic life of the earth. In its 
 gaseous state water plays a very active 
 dynamic r61e ; in the liquid, the dynamic 
 work is limited, while the range of chemi- 
 cal activities is vastly extended. In its 
 gaseous condition water stores up energy 
 derived from heat ; passing to the liquid 
 state it applies in the descending rain the 
 husbanded force to the earth's surface. 
 
 Downward in the scale of temperature 
 we attain another critical point in the 
 conditions of water which depends, not 
 upon the physical property of the fluid 
 alone, but also upon the relation of its 
 qualities to other substances. At about 
 150 Fahr. we pass into a part of the tern- 
 
ORGANIC LIFE. 63 
 
 perature scale where the combinations of 
 water with other substances begin which 
 make organic life possible. From this 
 part of the scale down to the freezing 
 point of water we find a realm of action 
 in which occurs the whole evolution of 
 organic life. At the freezing point an 
 instantaneous revolution takes place as 
 the substance passes from the liquid to 
 the solid state ; from a condition in which 
 it is the type of instability and the vehicle 
 of the earth's activities, it changes to a 
 rigid form in which it appears to be capa- 
 ble of no movement except that derived 
 from the gravitative impulse. In the 
 body of an animal water is the agent of 
 inconceivably numerous and varied actions 
 which continue as long as it remains in 
 the mobile state. Converted into a solid, 
 it may act as an arrester of all change ; it 
 may preserve the tissues of a dead crea- 
 ture from decay, even for a geologic age, 
 as in the case of the Siberian mammoths. 
 Above the freezing temperature the 
 
64 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 physical conditions of water in relation to 
 the other elements vary with every altera- 
 tion in the measure of heat which it con- 
 tains. Below that point down to the level 
 of the greatest cold which we are able to 
 observe, it remains substantially unchanged 
 in all its relations to other substances. 
 Thus, at the freezing point, in an instan- 
 taneous manner, this substance absolutely 
 reverses nearly all its relations to the sur- 
 rounding world. 
 
 The important relations of water to the 
 physical universe make its critical points 
 more evident to us than those of any 
 other substance. Yet, on examination, we 
 perceive that not only the chemical com- 
 pounds which are known to us, but the 
 elements also, those substances which we 
 suppose to be simple in their composition, 
 exhibit substantially the same feature of 
 critical points in the scale of temperature. 
 Experiments show that oxygen, hydrogen, 
 and other fundamental substances which 
 at ordinary temperatures remain in the 
 
RESULTS OF INTERACTION. 65 
 
 gaseous form, with sufficient cooling pass 
 first into the liquid, and then into the 
 solid state, accomplishing these changes 
 of condition with critical rapidity. As 
 before noted, each of these substances and 
 the critical points of each are more or less 
 related to all the others. The critical 
 points of carbon in the state where it 
 unites with oxygen, the critical points of 
 all substances which enter into relation 
 with water, affect one another in all the 
 combinations which take place in the or- 
 dinary processes of nature. Thus the 
 operation of this visible machinery of the 
 world depends in an inconceivable mea- 
 sure on the interaction of these critical 
 points derived from the relation of sub- 
 stances to heat. 
 
 It is not difficult to see that a very large 
 part of the phenomena of this sphere is 
 brought about by the relations of these 
 critical points of the various substances 
 to one another. Thus, for example, let us 
 take the relations of the critical points of 
 
66 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 water 'to those of the various materials 
 which enter into the organic body and are 
 necessary for its construction. It hap- 
 pens that the critical points of carbonic 
 acid, or the places in the temperature 
 scale where it becomes gaseous, liquid, or 
 solid, are so fixed with reference to tem- 
 perature that its solidifying and vaporiz- 
 ing are below the zero of our temperature 
 scale. Were it otherwise, were the solidi- 
 fying point of this substance, we will say, 
 at the temperature of boiling water, or- 
 ganic life would be impossible, and the 
 activities of the world would be limited 
 to purely physical changes. 
 
 To extend our conception of this inter- 
 action of critical points, let us consider in 
 the first place that organic life, as mani- 
 fested on the earth's surface, depends 
 upon a coincidence in the qualities of a 
 score or more substances within a certain 
 range of temperature, and also on the 
 occurrence on the earth's surface of a 
 certain limited range of heat which must 
 
NARROW SPAN OF ORGANIC LIFE. 6/ 
 
 be maintained in order to make it possible 
 for these substances, at their particular 
 critical points, to cooperate in the produc- 
 tion of life. The maintenance of a cer- 
 tain temperature on the earth's surface 
 depends in turn upon the coincidence of 
 a variety of physical conditions, the ac- 
 tions of which, in order that life be possi- 
 ble, must be balanced with extreme nicety. 
 The delicacy of this adjustment may be 
 judged when we consider the vast range 
 in heat which exists within the limits of 
 our solar system. The temperature of 
 the sun is probably to be measured by the 
 hundred thousand degrees ; that of the 
 space intervening between the solar centre 
 and the earth is certainly hundreds of 
 degrees below zero ; that of the earth's 
 interior is probably more than ten thou- 
 sand degrees. In this great scale of heat 
 organic life can only occupy the narrow 
 span of about one hundred degrees, or 
 from about 32 to near 135, or, perhaps, the 
 one thousandth part of the temperature 
 
68 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 variation which the solar system affords. 
 Thus, the possibility of organic life de- 
 pends upon the occurrence at the earth's 
 surface of a temperature not exceeding a 
 range of about one hundred degrees, while 
 the actual temperature range of the solar 
 system exceeds one hundred thousand de- 
 grees of variation. 
 
 To secure a clearer conception of these 
 conditions, let us convert the data from 
 terms of abstract number to terms of 
 length. In a line one hup Ired thousand 
 inches in length, an extension of about 
 one mile and a half, let the space of each 
 inch represent one degree of Fahrenheit. 
 On that scale mark off a space of eight 
 feet near one end, and this trifling part of 
 the length of the whole line may give us 
 a diagrammatic representation of the ratios 
 between the temperatures of the solar 
 system and those in which organic life 
 can be maintained. If at any time the 
 temperature of the earth's surface should 
 in general fall below or rise much above 
 
TEMPERATURE OF THE EARTH. 69 
 
 the narrow limits which have been indi- 
 cated, the result would, in a brief time, be 
 the destruction of organic life. Now, we 
 know with certainty that for a hundred 
 million years or more such a departure 
 from the prevailing temperature has never 
 taken place on the earth's surface, and this 
 by the fact that the series of organic 
 forms have continued unbroken and in 
 continuous development, both on the land 
 and in the sea, for something like this 
 vast period of time. From age to age 
 changes have occurred on the earth's sur- 
 face which clearly show that in high lati- 
 tudes great alterations in the measure of 
 heat occur and continue for periods of 
 considerable duration. Glacial sheets now 
 and then extend toward the tropics, and 
 again the tropical climate moves far to- 
 ward the poles, but very soon some check 
 on these extravagances comes into opera- 
 tion ; after a brief period of instability 
 the regime of the earth's climate returns 
 to its normal state, and the adjustment of 
 temperature is restored. 
 
70 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 It would be possible to extend these 
 evidences of the balanced relation of crit- 
 ical points in reference to organic life 
 much further than we have done. We 
 may note the organization of the atmos- 
 phere, for instance, and show how the 
 ratio of its several ingredients to each 
 other, notwithstanding the fact that the 
 circumstances seem to lead to a profound 
 instability in their relations, has been pre- 
 served through all the geological time 
 which is recorded in our fossil - bearing 
 strata. We may observe the proportion 
 of carbonic dioxide or carbonic acid gas 
 which is present in the atmosphere. It is 
 absolutely essential to the preservation of 
 organic life that this material shall exist 
 in the air, for the reason that the plants 
 depend upon it for sustenance ; but the 
 proportion of it to the bulk of the atmos- 
 pheric envelope must never exceed a very 
 small portion of its weight. To serve its 
 purpose it is probably essential that it 
 should exist in the proportion of not less 
 
CARBONIC ACID GAS. Jl 
 
 than one tenth of one per cent, and not 
 more than one hundredth of the atmos- 
 pheric mass. If the quantity of this gas 
 should become much less than it now is, 
 vegetable life would cease; if it should 
 ever be present in excess, animal life, at 
 least in its higher forms, would disappear. 
 We should now observe that the quantity 
 of this gaseous carbon which is taken 
 from the atmosphere and built into the 
 rocks in any geological epoch, say in a 
 period of one million years, is certainly 
 greater than all which at any one time 
 can be present in the atmosphere which 
 sustains life. Few geologists will doubt 
 the statement that at least one hundred 
 times as much carbon has passed through 
 the air on its way into the strata as has at 
 any one time since organic life began 
 been contained in the aerial envelope. It 
 is evident that there are some phenomena 
 of compensation or adjustment in the 
 complicated actions which serve to bring 
 gaseous carbon into the atmosphere or to 
 
72 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 remove it therefrom, and that this ar- 
 rangement preserves the necessary bal- 
 ance in a singularly accurate manner. It 
 is as yet undetermined how the required 
 supply of carbonic acid gas is thus con- 
 stantly and uniformly fed into the atmos- 
 phere. The students of the problem are 
 now inclined to believe that it enters the 
 realm mainly from the celestial spaces, 
 possibly in small carbonaceous meteorites 
 which burn in the upper parts of the 
 air. 
 
 A little consideration will show us that 
 these critical points, and especially their 
 adjustment one to the other, exercise a 
 profound influence on the course and as- 
 pect of the material world. The revolu- 
 tion which occurs in each of these sub- 
 stances as it passes its critical point, the 
 change in its mode of action and in its 
 physical properties, and the interaction of 
 these changes of one substance with those 
 of another, introduce an element of varia- 
 tion which must qualify the conception of 
 
LA TENT PO WERS. 73 
 
 uniformity in the universe which we de- 
 rive from the ideas of continuity of causa- 
 tion and of the indestructibility of force 
 and matter. We see that at each of these 
 revolutionary stages the change in the 
 conditions of any substance may result in 
 causing a total alteration as to the effects 
 of the energy which operates in and 
 through it. Thus, in place of imagining 
 the physical world as the seat of absolutely 
 continuous work, we are, by such consid- 
 erations, compelled to conceive it as a. 
 field in which, though the energy and the 
 matter on which energy operates are both 
 constant, the direction in which this force 
 may work, and all the consequences, o its 
 action, may be subjected to the most 
 sudden revolutions. It is evident that in 
 each elemental substance we have a. cer- 
 tain latent directing power which entirely 
 escapes ordinary apprehension. Until the 
 proper moment arrives, this hidden and 
 inconceivable determinant exists only in 
 a potential state ; but at the appointed 
 
74 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 time it may so change the operations of 
 the force which acts upon the matter that 
 the profoundest revolution can be accom- 
 plished. We have only to consider the 
 effects of the passage of water across that 
 slight, indeed, we may say infinitely small, 
 increment or decrement of temperature 
 which separates the solid and liquid con- 
 ditions, in order to conceive the impor- 
 tance of the principle which we are en- 
 deavoring to understand. These critical 
 revolutions in matter, it is true, modify 
 only the results of force ; they do not 
 affect the total energy which the universe 
 contains. 
 
 We may now in a measure perceive the 
 way in which we have to limit the idea of 
 causation. We note that, although this 
 idea of continuity as applied to matter and 
 energy is a vast and most informing con- 
 ception, it does not of itself alone enable 
 us to explain the occurrences which take 
 place in the universe, or even give us an 
 idea of their mode of happening. At first 
 
MODE OF ACTION IN NATURE. f$ 
 
 sight this conception of continuity sug- 
 gests to the mind a sense of identity in 
 the direction of the action of the given 
 cause and of the succession of events 
 which it brings about. We unjustifiably 
 conceive the processions of phenomena in 
 the physical world as going forward, as it 
 were, on straight lines; but the forego- 
 ing considerations, though only a small 
 part of those which could be adduced, in- 
 dicate to us that we have in the mechan- 
 ism a provision for the most sudden de- 
 partures from the direction which events 
 may have hitherto followed. In this re- 
 vised picture of the mode of action in the 
 field of nature to which we come from a 
 study of critical points in particular ele- 
 ments, and the larger similar points which 
 arise from the interaction of the first in 
 various compounded substances, we see 
 that our ideas as to the mode of action 
 have to be greatly modified. This world 
 is thus to be conceived as a place of 
 surprises which take place under natural 
 
76 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 law, but are quite as revolutionary as if 
 they were the products of chance, or a re- 
 sult arising from the immediate interven- 
 tion of the Supreme Power. It is evident, 
 moreover, that the existence of critical 
 points makes the interpretation of the 
 world much more difficult than it would 
 jjbe if such accidents did not occur. 
 
 It does not seem likely that we shall 
 ever be able to predict the nature of these 
 critical latencies of matter in states of 
 which we have had no experience. Cer- 
 tainly, at present we have no means of 
 conceiving the conditions of substances at 
 temperatures of which we cannot make ac- 
 quaintance by observation or experiment. 
 In the present state of our knowledge, we 
 know, for instance, the critical point at 
 which oxygen passes to the solid state 
 at a temperature far below zero ; but we 
 know nothing of the properties which that 
 substance may possess at possible other 
 critical points beyond the degree of heat 
 to which we have seen it subjected. At 
 
ORGANIC STRUCTURES. .77 
 
 temperatures other than those in which 
 we observe, the substances in nature may 
 suddenly develop properties which revo- 
 lutionize the condition of the field in 
 which the particular association of matter 
 and of temperature occurs. 
 
 Turning from the domain of inorganic 
 matter, let us now consider the other 
 realm, in which substances take on the 
 shape which we term organic. In that 
 field we have not only to deal with the 
 elements in their uncombined state or in 
 the various forms of association which 
 prevail in the inorganic world, but we find 
 certain of them entering upon extremely 
 complex forms of association. With each 
 of these almost infinitely numerous va- 
 rieties of associated matter which exist 
 in animals and plants we have not only 
 the determining influence of the original 
 critical point proper to the materials, but 
 we have in each of the associations par- 
 ticular crises which apparently are not to 
 be predicted from any known condition 
 
78 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 of the several elements which compose 
 them. Thus organic structures, from the 
 very great number of the interacting ma- 
 terials of which they are composed, repre- 
 sent a far more complicated equation of 
 physical influences than any inorganic 
 association of substances. Besides the 
 physical combinations of elements which 
 constitute organisms and which may de- 
 pend upon their material relations, we 
 find in these living forms a host of other 
 motives and impulses which are not evi- 
 dently due to the mere physical state of 
 their body. These motives we may term 
 the inheritances of the organism, impulses 
 which are derived from the previous life 
 of the individual in its own body or in 
 that of its ancestors. 
 
 The leading or more important inher- 
 itances are impulses derived from the an- 
 cestral experience of the organic form. 
 We have to imagine them as essentially 
 separate motives handed down from gen- 
 eration to generation, sometimes remain- 
 
INHERITED IMPULSES. ?Q 
 
 ing latent for great periods, to become 
 suddenly manifested under conditions the 
 nature of which is not yet discernible, 
 and which bids fair to remain perma- 
 nently unknown. Except by their mani- 
 festations these inheritances elude percep- 
 tion. Even the imagination of our most 
 fertile naturalists has not yet suggested a 
 conceivable way by which they may be 
 transmitted. In many cases these mo- 
 tives which are handed down to us from 
 our ancestors may be utterly unprofitable ; 
 indeed, their existence is only here and 
 there revealed to us by some exceptional 
 accident which is quite out of the order 
 of usual events. 
 
 I venture to describe one of these ex- 
 ceptional facts, which, though quite well 
 known to naturalists, is unfamiliar to the 
 general reader ; choosing it for the reason 
 that it is a peculiarly striking instance, 
 and one well suited to show us how he- 
 reditary tendencies may for an indefinite 
 period remain latent, and then become 
 
8O CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 most plainly manifested. In all the ver- 
 tebrated animals above the level of the 
 fishes, that is, in all amphibians, rep- 
 tiles, birds, and mammals, the number 
 of the digits or of fingers and toes is nor- 
 mally five on each extremity. The excep- 
 tions to this general rule are so definitely 
 limited and so explicable that they may 
 be neglected, except to state that, when- 
 ever these exceptions occur, they are al- 
 most always in the nature of a reduction 
 in the number of these digits. Where the 
 number is increased, the augmentation is 
 to be explained on the principle of rever- 
 sion to the characteristics of a lower an- 
 cestral species. 
 
 When, in following the ascending series 
 of vertebrate forms, we come to the group 
 of animals which have a close physical 
 kinship with our kind, we find a number 
 of the digits almost invariable. In all 
 forms which can be regarded as in or near 
 the stem of man's genealogical tree, the 
 number of fingers and toes, except for the 
 
SUPERNUMERARY DIGITS. 8 1 
 
 accidents we are about to describe, is in- 
 variably five. It is, in a word, evident 
 that this pentadactylic character of the 
 vertebrate extremity was instituted almost 
 immediately after the development of the 
 series above the level of the fishes, and 
 that inheritance has fixed it in the gno- 
 mons of species which led to the human 
 form in a very firm manner. Yet now and 
 then among these five-fingered forms we 
 find an additional digit occurring. These 
 chance duplications of fingers and toes are 
 more common in the lower mammals, espe- 
 cially in the carnivora, than in man ; but 
 they not infrequently occur in human be- 
 ings. The rate of their happening prob- 
 ably differs considerably among various 
 peoples ; but in general it is likely that 
 one such case exists in somewhere be- 
 tween one hundred thousand and one mil- 
 lion births. Although there is consider- 
 able variety in the conditions of these 
 supernumerary digits, they commonly ap- 
 pear on the side of the hand or foot, next 
 
82 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 to the little finger or the little toe. They 
 are usually provided with a system of 
 bones and muscles, in the manner of the 
 normal digits. 
 
 If these rare variations in the number 
 of digits were limited to a single exces- 
 sive part, we might be tempted to account 
 for them by the question - begging sup- 
 position that they are mere redundant 
 growths, or we might make the more con- 
 venient and perhaps equally rational ex- 
 planation that they are matter of chance ; 
 but we are startled to find that when these 
 supernumerary digits are removed, they 
 have, according to some authorities, the 
 extraordinary power of growing again. It 
 is a matter of familiar experience that the 
 normal fingers and toes do not have this 
 capacity of renewing themselves after they 
 have been destroyed. These facts, from 
 their exceptional nature, demand a careful 
 explanation. Fortunately they at the same 
 time give us a hint as to the cause of their 
 occurrence. 
 
A CONJECTURAL REALM. 83 
 
 There can be little doubt that the ex- 
 planation which we have to apply to these 
 abnormal growths is as follows : when 
 the fishes began to pass upward into the 
 groups where limbs and their extremities 
 attained a more definite and elaborated 
 organization than we find in the fin, the 
 first steps towards this higher state of the 
 extremities probably took place in a series 
 of creatures which have disappeared from 
 the earth, and whose history is now lost 
 in our paleontological record, where the 
 digits were more numerous and less well 
 defined than they now are in the elevated 
 vertebrates. In this lower and conjec- 
 tural realm, the habit of having fingers 
 and toes to a greater number than five 
 was firmly impressed on the organism, 
 and thus became the subject of some- 
 what obstinate inheritance. When in the 
 course of advance, by natural selection 
 or other processes, the number of digits 
 was reduced to five, there remained in the 
 body to be handed on from generation to 
 
84 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 generation a latent and, so far as we can 
 conceive, utterly unprofitable tendency 
 towards the production of the old lost 
 fingers and toes. From one species to 
 another onwards through millions or hun- 
 dreds of millions of generations this an- 
 cestral impulse has survived, never 
 strong enough so to prevail over the 
 forces which lead to the five - fingered 
 body that it could give rise to six-fin- 
 gered species, but ever trying to assert its 
 power, and here and there marking the 
 obdurate continuity of the effort in occa- 
 sional temporary successes. 
 
 It is not to be believed that the impulse 
 which leads to supernumerary digits is 
 the only one of these inherited impulses 
 which remain latent amid the vast array 
 of motives, the effective inheritances, 
 which exist in the higher organism. We 
 must conceive a great number of these 
 inheritances to continue latent in the or- 
 ganism without even the remote chance 
 of claiming the right to presentation 
 
POTENTIAL MOTIVES. 85 
 
 which is granted to the impulse to poly- 
 dactylism. It is perfectly clear that the 
 human body has passed through thou- 
 sands of forms, specifically different the 
 one from the other ; each having definite 
 peculiarities, each sending on in the pro- 
 cession of life a shadow of itself which 
 has been transmitted from species to spe- 
 cies to the existing state of man or the 
 other higher animals. We may thus im- 
 agine each organic species to embody not 
 only the impulses which are effective in 
 the development of its shape, and which 
 serve to determine the functions of the 
 body, but also a vastly greater number of 
 unsatisfied motives, remaining dormant, 
 yet abiding as potentialities which may 
 from time to time prove influential in the 
 history of the creature. 
 
 We probably perceive the influence of 
 these latent inheritances when, in the 
 battle of existence, species undergo retro- 
 grade changes, or, as naturalists phrase it, 
 revert to a lower state of being. In this 
 
86 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 process of reversion, the inheritances 
 which lead toward the higher modifica- 
 tions dimmish in energy ; the old long-un- 
 satisfied tendencies, being left unopposed, 
 obtain their chance of action ; the result 
 is that the form degrades in structure, 
 passing through, though in reverse order, 
 the steps which led it upward, and under- 
 going the modifications of decline with 
 greater rapidity than they were accom- 
 plished during the period of ascent. In 
 the moral as well as in the physical world, 
 we may see these hidden seeds of ancestral 
 impulse, when no longer overshadowed by 
 the newer and therefore stronger motives, 
 spring into activity, and win the creature 
 back to a lower estate. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that we 
 cannot fairly compare the interaction of 
 associated organic impulses with that 
 which takes place in organic matter. It 
 must be confessed that the relation is, so 
 far as we can perceive, mainly analogical. 
 Nevertheless, the analogy has its value to 
 
A COMPARISON. 8/ 
 
 us ; for, as we may readily imagine, each 
 of these impulses derived from inheritance 
 is combined with the other conditions 
 existing in the organic body much in the 
 same manner as the interacting impulses 
 in the physical world. We may make a 
 comparison between the organic and the 
 inorganic world more effective if we limit 
 ourselves in our choice of physical exam- 
 ples to those correspondences which we 
 may obtain from the motions of matter, 
 rather than from the static part of mate- 
 rial phenomena. Let us take the motions 
 of waves, such as those which produce 
 light, or the other class of vibrations 
 which give rise to sound. It is a well- 
 known fact that diverse vibrations of 
 either of these two classes may coexist in 
 the same medium, provided their waves do 
 not interfere with one another. With a 
 given amplitude of wave and a given rate 
 of transmission, these impulses may move 
 on without collision with one another; 
 but at certain points, which we may for 
 
88 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 convenience also term critical, the un- 
 dulations may serve, by combining their 
 force, to increase the action. Again, they 
 may be so combined as to destroy one 
 another. I am forced to conceive in the 
 organic body, at least where that body 
 has a high state of development, a conflict 
 unseen, but of momentous importance, 
 among the vast array of extremely diverse 
 impulses derived from individual and an- 
 cestral experience. The result of this 
 conflict may be such, from time to time, as 
 to bring about an accumulation of energy 
 which serves so to intensify some one or 
 more of these inherited motives that the 
 form is affected by it, and the effect may 
 be transmitted to the offspring. In other 
 conditions, the interferences may lead to 
 the more or less permanent subjugation 
 of certain of these inherited tendencies in 
 such a manner as to bring about a change 
 in the shape of the body. 
 
 It seems to me tolerably evident that 
 we cannot account for the conditions 
 
CONFLICT OF INHERITANCES. 89 
 
 which serve to determine the form of any 
 highly organized animal or plant without 
 assuming the inheritance of what we may 
 safely call an inconceivably great number 
 and variety of impulses; nor can we as- 
 sume that these impulses, or any consider- 
 able part of them, are manifested in the 
 actual form of the organism or in the 
 interaction of its several parts. Beside 
 the indefinite number of impulses which 
 express themselves in the animal as it 
 actually appears to our observation, there 
 must exist in the organism a vast number 
 of unmanifested or faintly indicated ten- 
 dencies which, on account of their weak- 
 ness or other circumstances, have been 
 unable to bring about distinct observable 
 effects. That there is a contention be- 
 tween these tendencies, leading to sudden 
 destruction of the prevailing equilibrium 
 which exists among them, is evident from 
 such cases as that which we have just 
 reviewed. It must be conceived that this 
 combat goes on from generation to gen- 
 
QO CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 eration. With each successive stage, or 
 even in the lifetime of the individual, new 
 motives are gained through experience, 
 and the old become less vigorous from the 
 lack of manifestation. Thus the equation 
 of the impulses which control the organic 
 body must be constantly varying ; the di- 
 rection of development, dependent as it is 
 upon this equation of impulses, must also 
 vary. 
 
 It appears to me that this view affords 
 us a possible means of explaining the va- 
 riations which take place in organic forms, 
 and that we may perhaps find in it a 
 source of change in animals and plants 
 which has been substantially overlooked. 
 It has already been recognized that inher- 
 itance affords us a clew to the continui- 
 ties exhibited in the series of the organic 
 world. It now appears likely that the 
 conflict of inheritances may also lead 
 through other lines of action to the re- 
 verse of continuity, in fact to the insti- 
 tution of variety. We may conceive the 
 
THE INSTITUTION OF VARIETY. 91 
 
 organic species gaining from experience 
 and transmitting to the successive gen- 
 erations a body of diverse impulses, of 
 tendencies to variety of form and action 
 which are ever on the watch for a chance 
 to manifest themselves. If these acted 
 singly, each for itself, the tendency would 
 be to produce mere reversions to ancestral 
 shapes and states. But if they operated 
 interactively, if they combined their mo- 
 tives in any way, as they assuredly do, it 
 may well come about that the changes in 
 structure or function which they cause 
 would be considerable, and some of them 
 might well be in the line of advancement. 
 The hypothesis last set forth may be 
 made the clearer by means of an illus- 
 tration. Let us suppose the tendency to 
 supernumerary fingers to have been origi- 
 nally of no profit to the animal which in- 
 herited it, for the reason that its habits 
 and its relations to its environment in 
 general made more than five fingers disad- 
 vantageous. In course of time, we may 
 
92 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 well imagine that this polydactylic ten- 
 dency might become combined with other 
 tendencies, so that, when the extra finger 
 or toe offered itself for trial in the compe- 
 tition of life, it would not be just what 
 that finger was in the ancestral form 
 whence the constructive impulse was de- 
 rived, but would be profoundly modified 
 through the commingling of other influ- 
 ences. 
 
 This interaction of one influence with 
 another is not altogether hypothetical, for 
 we perceive in the supernumerary human 
 digit that it does not appear in the shape 
 of a batrachian or other prehuman struc- 
 ture, but in the general form proper to 
 a human body ; that is, it represents the 
 result of commingled impulses which are 
 in part inherited from a very remote pe- 
 riod, and in part derived from the more 
 recent experiences of series of organisms 
 in which the creature belongs. 
 
 The reader probably now sees, as clearly 
 as the circumstances permit, the analogy 
 
IN THE MORAL REALM. 93 
 
 which I have been endeavoring to suggest 
 as possibly existing between the interac- 
 tion of the inorganic elements, one with 
 another, and the similar combination be- 
 tween the separate but more or less re- 
 lated motives which guide the develop- 
 ment and control the functions of the 
 organic body. As in the elemental world 
 the combination of two substances com- 
 monly gives rise to a third, differing in 
 qualities from either of the original ingre- 
 dients, so, when the motives or impulses 
 of inheritance combine in the organic 
 body, the result may exhibit a very great 
 complexity, and give rise to sudden and 
 most important changes. 
 
 This conception as to the influence of 
 the unseen impulses which may for a 
 time remain latent in the organic body 
 appears to me to have a justifiable ex- 
 tension to the moral realm, and to throw 
 much light on the historical development 
 of peoples and on the conduct of the indi- 
 vidual. The spectacle which is presented 
 
94 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 by the development of any civilized state 
 affords us many instances in which mo- 
 tives slowly and insensibly accumulate in 
 the minds of men, until a great body of 
 folk may at once be aroused to revolu- 
 tionary action. Cases of this sort may be 
 perceived in those great migrations which 
 from time to time have led the tribes of 
 northern Europe and of western Asia sud- 
 denly to abandon their sedentary condi- 
 tions, and to move forth over land and 
 sea for great distances, under an impulse 
 which appears to have affected in a simul- 
 taneous manner a great host of men. It 
 is unreasonable to suppose that these 
 movements were due to a suddenly ac- 
 quired motive. We can best explain them 
 by the supposition that for generations 
 the equation of impulses which determined 
 the conduct of the folk was undergoing 
 a gradual change, which in the end dis- 
 turbed the ancient equilibrium, and thus 
 revolutionized the conduct of the people. 
 Such sudden outbreaks as the so-called 
 
IN HISTORY. 95 
 
 French Revolution and similar political 
 changes, which simultaneously occur 
 throughout the ranks of the people, with- 
 out any preliminary period of develop- 
 ment which is sufficient to account for 
 the growth of the motives which they ex- 
 hibit, probably come into the same class 
 of actions. They can best be explained 
 by gradual changes in the equation of 
 the unperceived yet functioning impulses 
 which control the course of human con- 
 duct. 
 
 A slow and long-continued change in 
 the organization of internal motives, ter- 
 minating in a revolution in all that re- 
 gards the conduct of the creature, is ob- 
 servable in many groups of animals below 
 the level of man. Thus in the case of 
 the lemming, a little Norwegian mammal 
 resembling the rat, which dwells normally 
 in the mountain district of the Kolen 
 near the borders of Finland, we find that 
 the animal for many years dwells quietly 
 in its native country, but at intervals of 
 
96 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 a few decades is seized with a migratory 
 impulse which leads it to march forth in 
 great bands across the country to the 
 westward. In these marches of the lem- 
 ming the creatures pursue direct paths, 
 turning aside only when they meet an in- 
 superable obstacle ; when they attain the 
 sea, they leap into it and swim away until 
 they are drowned. Although more insen- 
 sate than the human migrations, these sud- 
 den forced marches of the lemmings in a 
 striking way resemble those of the Goths 
 who, in the early centuries of our era, 
 went forth from the same Scandinavian 
 country and devastated the civilization of 
 southern Europe. In both cases the mi- 
 grations appear to be without distinct pur- 
 pose, and to have been induced through 
 the accumulation of impulses to a point 
 where their gratification became impera- 
 tively necessary. 
 
 In the realm of morals, whether we 
 consider it from the point of view of indi- 
 vidual conduct, or the more massive phe- 
 
A THEORY OF CONSCIENCE. 97 
 
 nomena which may be exhibited by as- 
 semblages of men, something of the same 
 effects arising from the accumulation of 
 impulses may be discerned. A man or a 
 race may continue steadfastly in a given 
 course of conduct, which is determined by 
 certain equations of the spiritual motives 
 which are effective in regulating deeds. 
 At a particular time a hitherto latent but 
 long-accumulating impulse may become of 
 critical importance, and in a sudden way 
 transform the emotions and change the 
 way of life in a measure which would be 
 inexplicable to psychologists if they had to 
 suppose the determination of sudden ori- 
 gin. It seems to me evident that through 
 the further consideration of this series of 
 facts we may be able to support a theory 
 of moral conscience in a way that is at 
 once satisfactory and scientific. We may 
 conceive the moral state of each individ- 
 ual to be determined in part by his inheri- 
 tances from his ancestors and in part by 
 that other form of derivation which is 
 
98 CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 proper to his individuality and is estab- 
 lished by his personal conduct. If with 
 this understanding as to the origin of his 
 motives the individual further conceives 
 that his conduct depends upon an equation 
 between the array of his motives, he will 
 find a new sanction applied to his depart- 
 ures from the moral law. Every act 
 serves to stimulate and develop some of 
 these motives which are active or dor- 
 mant in his mind. He cannot know to 
 what extent the particular deeds may 
 affect the equation, but it will generally 
 be clear to him whether that influence is 
 to be for good or evil. He knows it to 
 be his duty, for instance, to be merciful 
 and helpful to his fellow-men. The mo- 
 tives of his conscience alone are enough 
 to direct his conduct in such matters. 
 The scientific aspect of the problem, how- 
 ever, may well add reason to the array of 
 impulses which lead to such good deeds. 
 This work science can accomplish by 
 showing how each action serves to in- 
 
CONCLUSION. 99 
 
 crease the effective power of some ances- 
 tral or recently acquired tendency, thereby 
 operating to magnify a power which helps 
 in the higher life. Above all it may serve 
 in a way that makes for profit by showing 
 us how easily though insensibly revolu- 
 tions which lead to good or evil may be 
 brought about in the unseen realm where- 
 in the nature of the individual is deter- 
 mined. 
 
 We may sum up the considerations^ 
 which have been set forth in the forego- 
 ing pages, briefly as follows : It appears 
 that we have to be on our guard lest we 
 extend our notions of continuity in the 
 natural world beyond the point where 
 the evidence of continuous action justifies 
 the conception. The notion of continu- 
 ity of causation is so overwhelming in its 
 magnitude that we cannot adopt it with- 
 out danger of extending it far beyond the 
 limits of proof. We need to check the 
 course of our imagination when it consid- 
 ers this problem by a frequent contem- 
 
IOO CRITICAL POINTS. 
 
 plat ion of the facts which show the ex- 
 istence of revolution-bringing conditions. 
 These critical conditions we find clearly 
 manifested to us in the inorganic world, 
 in the primary revolutionary actions of 
 matter, and in the more complicated sud- 
 den changes which arise from the inter- 
 action of these primary crises. Viewed^ 
 in this way, the physical universe is seen 
 to be a field in which phenomena, though 
 derived from preceding actions, occur, in 
 a way, spontaneously. Turning from the 
 physical to the organic world, we find 
 something like the same interaction of 
 conditions producing also critical stages 
 in the development of living beings. We 
 can best understand the variations in the 
 organic realm by supposing that they are 
 in part due to interaction of impulses 
 similar to those which we clearly trace in 
 the more visible realm of organic matter. 
 
 In the field of human conduct we also 
 find that this view as to the occurrence of 
 certain changes brought about through 
 
THE COURSE Oft 
 
 the cooperation of separately developed 
 impulses appears to have considerable im- 
 portance. The evidence goes to show the 
 existence of these hidden equations among 
 the inherited and individually acquired ca- 
 pacities, and it moreover indicates that the 
 changes in the tide of impulse which regu- 
 late conduct may thereby be suddenly 
 brought about. Furthermore, the consid- 
 eration of the moral aspect of critical 
 points vastly enhances the dignity of 
 every act, for however the deed may van- 
 ish in the great world of phenomena it 
 substantially remains as a contribution to 
 the motives of the individual. 
 
 Speaking from my own experience alone, 
 I may say in conclusion that by dwelling 
 on these considerations we may attain to 
 a view concerning the course of nature 
 which differs widely from that which 
 seems to be held by most naturalists. 
 We see that this world, though moving 
 onward in its path of change under con- 
 ditions which are determined by the per- 
 
c <; a ;C$I7VCAL POINTS. 
 
 sistence of energy and of matter, is sub- 
 ject to endless revolutionary changes. 
 These crises seem to be arranged in a cer- 
 tain large and orderly way. The minor 
 of them occur with infinite frequency, ap- 
 pearing in every combination of matter; 
 the greater happen but rarely, the great- 
 est only from age to age. After all, the 
 supreme test of our general opinion con- 
 cerning the material world is the satis- 
 faction which the view may give to the 
 beholder. For my own part I find this 
 rational introduction of the unexpected 
 and the unforeseeable into the conception 
 of nature more satisfying than the purely 
 mechanical view which is so commonly 
 held by my brethren in science. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PLACE OF ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 IT should require no extended argu- 
 ment to show that the amplest test of all 
 learning is found in its final effect on the 
 conduct of life. 
 
 The knowledge which we may gain from 
 the universe is indeed infinite in its extent ; 
 however much of it we may compass, the 
 sum of the unknown remains unchanged. 
 The learning which has already been won 
 to the storehouses of scholars vastly tran- 
 scends the understanding of any man, and 
 the harvest is so rapidly increasing that 
 the store gained in any decade is beyond 
 the comprehension of the individual stu- 
 dent. While we may not seek to limit 
 this noble work of men of science who are 
 exploring all the ways of nature for truths, 
 for it is beyond our power to determine 
 
104 ORGANIC LIFE Itf NATURE. 
 
 the limitations in the usefulness of that 
 which they may secure, the value of their 
 acquisitions to their kindred must in the 
 end be measured by the effect of the 
 learning on the destiny of mankind. As 
 finite beings we can be interested only in 
 that which affects ourselves. If we be 
 devotees to a particular branch of recon- 
 dite learning, the most abstruse phenom- 
 ena, things which are utterly remote from 
 the relations of ordinary men, may be of 
 vital importance to us, because they en- 
 large our conceptions and afford the pre- 
 cious sense of conquest from the unknown, 
 which is one of the most soul-inspiring of 
 experiences ; but in the large and general 
 life of the world they may be trivialities, 
 matters which are properly "caviare to 
 the general." 
 
 It is these simple and just considera- 
 tions which lead many educated people to 
 look upon the swift advance of modern 
 science as boding little good to the higher 
 intellectual and spiritual interests of man- 
 
PHYSICAL DISCOVERIES. 1 05 
 
 kind. They see in these gains so much 
 of material profit, so much that contri- 
 butes to mere physical necessities and 
 comforts, that they fear for the integrity 
 of the ancient humanistic learning and 
 devotion. All thoughtful naturalists hope 
 to show that while the substantial advan- 
 tages which have come to us from the 
 exploration of nature are very great, so 
 extensive indeed that to the casual on- 
 looker they conceal all the moral qualities 
 which they contain, there is behind this 
 veil of commonplace affairs much which 
 may profoundly influence our souls. 
 When the almost childlike surprise with 
 which we look upon the physical discov- 
 eries of our day has passed away, when 
 we cease to treat these truths as toys or 
 as mere garments of our ordinary life, 
 when, in a word, we are sufficiently famil- 
 iar with them to see their spiritual mean- 
 ing, then alone will we find our way to 
 the higher blessings which they bring. 
 Although this stage of the relation of 
 
IO6 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 science to culture is as yet in great part 
 to be attained, there are -certain fields in 
 which the better work of interpretation 
 can be begun, fields from which we may 
 gather some forerunning of the harvest, 
 which in its fullness can be garnered only 
 by those who come after our time. 
 
 It is in the realm of the organic world 
 that we may expect to win the most that 
 makes for moral advancement ; that physi- 
 cal realm is still, in a certain way, remote 
 from our finer perceptions ; only our 
 grosser senses can as yet seize upon its 
 phenomena ; there is majesty and beauty 
 in its vistas, but the ways of men have not 
 yet traversed them. It is otherwise with 
 the realm of life, which we now see to 
 be clearly akin to our own. It is because 
 we now recognize this kinship and view 
 all living things as sharers with ourselves 
 in this gift of sentiency, this capacity to 
 profit by experience, this privilege of 
 handing on a bettered life to the ages 
 which are to be, that organic beings afford 
 
ESSENTIAL UNITY OF LIFE. IO/ 
 
 a surer if not a higher teaching than does 
 the material of which they are composed. 
 Of all the marvelous gains in understand- 
 ing which this century has afforded, none 
 other is destined to be so profitable as 
 this conception of the essential unity of 
 life. Through this view the history of 
 man has gained a vast perspective ; in 
 place of an arbitrary beginning of our 
 life in this moment of time, we behold an 
 orderly succession which extends back to 
 the inconceivably remote ages. We ap- 
 pear to ourselves no longer as unrelated 
 beings akin to similar creatures of the 
 earth only by a mysterious connection 
 with an inconceivable supreme power, but 
 germane to all the creatures of this and 
 vanished ages ; each animal and plant 
 becomes an interpreter of our life and 
 stands ready to testify as to the laws of 
 our body or our mind. 
 
 It is impossible to overestimate the in- 
 fluence of the new-found truth on the 
 destiny of man. It will require, indeed, 
 
IO8 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 centuries of study before these wilder- 
 nesses of facts which await interpretation 
 are brought to order and applied to their 
 fit use in guiding the conduct of individ- 
 uals and of societies. Already we see 
 the effect of this better understanding of 
 human nature in the inquiries concerning 
 the principles of heredity which are now 
 going on, and which promise to throw 
 great light on the treatment of diseases, 
 the management of criminals, and the 
 methods of educational work. The effect 
 of the wider view may also be discovered 
 in the studies of the psychologists, who 
 are now free to consider the mind of man 
 as open to explanation through the men- 
 tal habits and experiences of our lower 
 kindred among the brutes. My present 
 aim is to show that by the same reference 
 of our own conditions of existence to the 
 lower life, which we are free to study in 
 the records of past ages as well as in the 
 multitudinous beings of to-day, we may 
 arrive at certain general conclusions as to 
 
BIRTH AND DEATH. 109 
 
 the nature of those obligations which re- 
 quire each individual to tread the fatal 
 round from the mother's womb to the 
 grave. 
 
 To primitive men of all races the su- 
 preme incidents of birth and death have 
 ever been mysteries which were to be ex- 
 plained only by including them under the 
 even more mysterious class of decrees of 
 a superior power. With all these accounts 
 of the origin of death it has ever remained 
 to men a violent and unreasonable in- 
 fringement of their personality. It has 
 colored all their views of this world and 
 denied them access to the true light. It 
 has often led them to believe that the 
 universe was essentially cruel. Where 
 they have found consolation in their fear 
 and affliction, they have not often discov- 
 ered it in the nature about them, but in 
 the belief in some powers which they have 
 conceived to be acting beyond this sphere ; 
 some strength which in the end might lift 
 them above the brutal rule of these des- 
 
IIO ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 pots of the dust. It seems to me that an 
 unprejudiced inquiry into the history of 
 birth and death, or in other words into 
 this generational order of the organic 
 world, may in certain ways enlarge our 
 conceptions concerning the place of these 
 incidents in the system of life, and there- 
 by spiritualize our judgments concerning 
 them. If I may judge of others by myself 
 this better understanding will do much to 
 exalt the student's conception of the great 
 machinery of the universe, which by its 
 operation lifts his body for a moment into 
 the light, and then lets it fall again into 
 the lower inanimate realm. 
 
 Taking it as our first task to examine 
 into the place of death in nature, we must 
 ask the reader at the outset to make sure 
 that he has apprehended in a general way 
 the more evident features which separate 
 organic forms, the creatures with which 
 we have mainly to deal, from the array of 
 the mineral kingdom. It seemed to the 
 ancient naturalists a relatively simple mat- 
 
LIVING THINGS. Ill 
 
 ter to define the living thing in a man- 
 ner which would trenchantly separate it 
 from the things which had not life. The 
 ability to move, the capacity to assimilate 
 food, the power of generating its kind, 
 have all been selected as exclusive charac- 
 teristics of living things. A closer study 
 of the facts has made it impossible any 
 longer to regard these old definitions as 
 sufficient. It has been found that finely 
 divided particles of many substances when 
 suspended in a fluid will, under the influ- 
 ence of some forces as yet not well under- 
 stood, take on an incessant movement. So 
 perfectly does this motion resemble that 
 of some of the microscopic forms of the 
 lower simple organisms, that naturalists 
 at first supposed that in observing these 
 movements they were dealing with living 
 beings. The crystals of the rocks per- 
 form functions which were once supposed 
 to be peculiar to animals and plants ; they 
 undergo changes in their constitution, 
 often taking in new materials, which they 
 
112 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 sometimes decompose into their elements 
 and rebuild in the new growth. So, too, 
 crystals are in a way capable of multiply- 
 ing themselves, for when one begins to 
 form, others of the same species, as it 
 were, sprout from it, much in the manner 
 of certain lowly forms which are certainly 
 alive. In truth, we can no longer main- 
 tain the existence of a clear physical dif- 
 ference between the organic and the inor- 
 ganic world, and must regard these realms 
 as divided from each other by features 
 which when measured in a formal way 
 are most unsubstantial. 
 
 Looking at the organization of the 
 physical universe, and seeking to learn 
 the nature of its divisions, we readily per- 
 ceive that the material parts, the chemical 
 substances in whose varied forms matter 
 presents itself to us, tend ever to take on 
 individual shapes, and to exercise specific 
 functions. From the primitive condition 
 of diffused nebulous material, where the 
 only definite structures were the ultimate 
 
A GGRE GA TION OF MA TTER. 113 
 
 atoms of which the mass was composed, 
 matter hastens ever towards aggregations 
 of diverse natures : falling together into 
 centres of union, they evolve the solar sys- 
 tems, the fixed stars of space with their 
 attendant planetary spheres. In each of 
 these bodies or aggregations matter devel- 
 ops other groups of individualities ; the 
 atoms combine in more and more compli- 
 cated associations, and these from time to 
 time associate themselves in regular geo- 
 metric shapes as crystals, or in less defi- 
 nite forms as concretions. In all of these 
 associations we have a certain measure of 
 action which is indistinguishable from that 
 which takes place in the organic forms. 
 These aggregations of matter grow to de- 
 finite shapes ; they have a show of func- 
 tions, they sometimes appear to breed 
 their kind, and they often perish after a 
 more or less lengthened though indeter- 
 minate period of existence. Finally, this 
 struggle for advance out of the primal 
 confusion of material things leads to the 
 
114 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 creation of that last-formed and highest 
 state of association of materials with 
 which we have as yet become acquainted, 
 the forms we term " living." 
 
 To the eye of the philosophical ob- 
 server, organic things appear as the con- 
 summation of an effort towards organi- 
 zation which has pervaded the universe 
 since the earliest stages of which we can 
 have any conception. As we advance in 
 the steps of this great on-going, we find 
 that the fields in which the augmenting 
 successes are attained ever become more 
 limited in their conditions. The forma- 
 tion of matter in the celestial spheres is 
 the most universal and complete of all 
 these processes of organizing nature. 
 Nearly the whole of the visible universe 
 has thus been cast into the spheroidal 
 shape, there being only here and there 
 masses which retain the nebulous form, 
 and the greater part of these are evi- 
 dently converging towards the next state 
 of organization. The molecular order of 
 
LIMIT A TIONS. 1 1 5 
 
 grouping in the atoms is also far advanced 
 throughout the visible universe. The crys- 
 talline state has been instituted in certain 
 portions of the earth's crust, and probably 
 in the outer parts at least of several other 
 planets in this solar system, and may in- 
 deed be a common feature in the similar 
 bodies which we with reason believe to 
 exist about the other suns. The whole 
 of these solar centres, the central portions 
 of the planets, and perhaps of the whole of 
 the lesser satellites which attend them, in 
 all probability at least nine hundred and 
 ninety-nine one thousandths of the mate- 
 rial world, remain so far heated that the 
 forces which lead to organization have not 
 as yet been able to bring the substances 
 into the crystalline form. Although the 
 crystal-making energies are as yet in- 
 effective in all save a small part of the 
 matter of the spheres, the domain of the 
 organic processes measured by the field 
 it occupies is infinitely less manifested. 
 Looking at this vast assemblage of or- 
 
II 6 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 ganic forms which on this earth at present 
 contains not less than a million species, 
 beholding these forms occupying nearly 
 every available point on the earth's sur- 
 face, the spaces of the air, the depths of 
 the sea, the darkness of the caverns, even 
 the surfaces of the snow -fields, it may 
 seem to the observer that life is endowed 
 with the power to maintain itself under a 
 great variety of conditions ; but when we 
 consider the extent of that dot in space, 
 our solar system, and compare its area and 
 its mass with the field occupied by animals 
 and plants, we see how truly insignificant 
 are the dimensions in which life finds a 
 dwelling-place. 
 
 Life as we know it depends upon condi- 
 tions so limited in their nature that it 
 seems almost a miracle that it exists at all. 
 So narrow is the way this higher organiza- 
 tion has to tread that we must marvel that 
 it ever found its way into being. The exis- 
 tence of all organic forms depends in the 
 first place upon the maintenance on the 
 
TEMPERA TURE. 1 1 / 
 
 earth, during at least a part of the year, of 
 a temperature which does not fall below 
 the freezing point or rise much above 100 
 Fahr. The range of heat which life can 
 sustain may be taken as less than 100 ; 
 but in the sun we have a temperature 
 which cannot well be estimated as less 
 than 100,000 Fahr., and in the depths of 
 the earth is probably to be measured by 
 tens of thousands of degrees on that scale, 
 while in the realm of ether between the 
 solar and terrestrial spheres there is a 
 degree of cold which is certainly to be 
 reckoned as some hundreds of degrees 
 below zero. Amid these contending ex- 
 tremes of heat and cold life must find its 
 narrow place. It happens by a combina- 
 tion of circumstances, which, if a matter of 
 pure fortuity, must have been a most rare 
 chance, that on the surface of the earth 
 the proper conditions were secured in a 
 very ancient day. Since the beginning of 
 the geological record there has probably 
 never been a time when at the height of 
 
ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 six miles above the earth's surface, even 
 over the equator, the temperature neces- 
 sary for the life of animals and plants has 
 existed, and in all these ages the death- 
 dealing level of cold has probably lain much 
 nearer the surface in all high latitudes. 
 Beneath the surface of the earth, life does 
 not exist except in the crevices of the soil 
 and in the chambers of caverns ; and even 
 in this subterranean realm it attains only 
 a lowly estate and could not be preserved 
 save for the contributions of food derived 
 from the sun-lit realm. 
 
 Being in an essential way the product 
 of solar irradiation, of which the field it 
 occupies must receive definite and very ac- 
 curately measured quantities, organic life 
 is necessarily limited to the surface of 
 those planets, where a temperature a little 
 above the freezing and below the boiling 
 point of water is maintained. Few of 
 those spheres of our solar system can 
 present the conditions which permit mat- 
 ter to rise to this highest form of aggre- 
 gation in animals and plants. 
 
PLANETARY LIFE. 1 19 
 
 The planet Mercury from its nearness 
 to the sun must have a temperature too 
 high for these delicate forms. Even Venus, 
 though much more remote from the solar 
 centre, probably has a degree of heat mak- 
 ing its climatal conditions almost impossi- 
 ble for life. Beyond the orbit of the earth 
 the power of the sun's rays to maintain 
 sufficient warmth rapidly diminishes. Mars 
 seems to be the only one of the exterior 
 planets which can have living tenants, and 
 even there it is hardly to be believed that 
 life can exist. As to the status of the 
 planetary bodies which probably circle 
 around the fixed stars, we are not only 
 uninformed, but seem debarred from all 
 chance of knowledge. As a basis -of con- 
 jecture as to the condition of the innumer- 
 able minor spheres of space, we have only 
 the simple facts revealed to us by the 
 spectroscope, which tells us something as 
 to the chemical nature of the matter con- 
 tained in those stellar masses. This in- 
 formation is clearly to the effect that their 
 
I2O ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 chemical constitution is the same as that 
 of our own sphere. The telescope, more- 
 over, shows by the facts concerning the 
 nebulae it discloses, that the law of organ- 
 ization, by virtue of which matter takes on 
 its shape in those remote suns, is the same 
 as that which determines the form of our 
 own celestial family ; it is therefore a fair 
 presumption that planets are a common 
 feature in the universe. This, even 
 though it may be inspiring to the imagi- 
 nation, leads to no other definite conclu- 
 sion than that to which we attain from the 
 study of our own planetary spheres. This 
 is in effect as follows : organic life is neces- 
 sarily limited to an almost inconceivably 
 small part of the space and the mass of 
 the visible universe. 
 
 A similar consideration as to the portion 
 of the materials of the universe which 
 have won their way to the organic state 
 will show us that the share which this liv- 
 ing impulse has in the mass of matter is 
 as limited as its measure of extension. At 
 
LIMIT A TION IN MASS. 121 
 
 the present moment the living beings of 
 all kinds on the earth do not altogether 
 amount to more than would form a thin 
 sheet if they were evenly spread out upon 
 its surface. If we could reduce all these 
 living forms to such a sheet, it would prob- 
 ably be less than a foot in thickness over 
 the surface of this sphere, or somewhere 
 near one ten-millionth part of the whole 
 mass. It is not likely that at any time 
 since life came into existence it has ever 
 lifted more than some such infinitesimal 
 portion of the mass to the organic state. 
 Trifling as is this proportion of living 
 matter to that which abides in the lower 
 physical condition, v;e must yet further 
 diminish its proportion to the body of 
 the visible universe by the consideration 
 that the sun and the greater part of the 
 planets and their attendant satellites, as 
 well as all the vast realm of the ethereal 
 spaces, are utterly beyond the possibility 
 of organic existence. 
 
 We should go yet further, and note that 
 
122 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 in time the place of life is limited as it is 
 in space and mass. Although the period 
 during which life has endured on this earth 
 is great beyond comprehension, it cannot 
 indeed well be less than 100,000,000 years, 
 its duration is but as an instant when 
 compared with the ages through which 
 the material universe has endured. Be- 
 yond this period of life lie dim ages during 
 which the concentration of matter from 
 the state of nebulous dispersion into the 
 solar system was brought about, and yet 
 other ages in which this globe was cooling 
 from its original very heated state to that 
 in which its surface became fit for tenancy 
 by animals and plants. It may be that one 
 hundred or one thousand times the vital 
 period was required for the accomplish- 
 ment of these processes which led to the 
 formation of our solar system. Thus tak- 
 ing no account of the infinite past which 
 elapsed before the aggregation of the 
 spheres was begun, or of the infinite future 
 after the sun's heat shall have been so far 
 
LIMITATION IN TIME. 12$ 
 
 diminished that living beings can no 
 longer endure, we behold that these no- 
 blest forms of existence are limited to 
 what we may fairly term a moment of 
 time. 
 
 This glance at the larger circumstances 
 of organic life, though but superficial, 
 shows us very clearly that, measured .in 
 terms of space, time, and mass, this form 
 of being has an inconceivably small place 
 in the universe. If we should reckon its 
 importance solely by these tests, we should 
 be justified in ranking it as a trifling and 
 temporary incident in the march of the 
 greater inanimate nature. It is impossi- 
 ble, indeed, for the first time to contem- 
 plate these limitations of that form of 
 existence to which we ourselves belong 
 without being appalled at the physical 
 conditions of all our kind. The ancients 
 in their more solemn hours were stricken 
 with dismay when they considered the 
 place which the individual man had in this 
 ample nature ; but it is left to us in the 
 
124 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 modern day so to extend the perspectives 
 of the universe that not only the race 
 of man but all the assemblage of living 
 beings appear to be more the creatures 
 of the moment than our forefathers con- 
 ceived the most ephemeral insect to be. 
 Awful as is this conception of the universe 
 which modern science, by breaking down 
 the comfortable prison of ancient belief, 
 has opened to us, it is not likely that it 
 will long affright mankind. At the mo- 
 ment of surprise we are like the wayfarer 
 who, wandering over some flowery upland, 
 comes unexpectedly to the edge of a great 
 precipice. For the instant his mind is 
 overwhelmed by the profound depths be- 
 fore him, but when his eyes become accus- 
 tomed to the scene his senses go forth 
 again, and he sees that the depth is still a 
 part of his own beautiful world. 
 
 Many persons, when they come for the 
 first time to consider these great concep- 
 tions of the place of life in nature, or even 
 that small part of the view which concerns 
 
MAWS PLACE IN NATURE. 12$ 
 
 the position which they individually or 
 their race really occupies, are, in the tu- 
 mult of soul which the revelation induces, 
 impelled to a revolt against the universe. 
 Some of the largest and gentlest of men, 
 who have been nurtured in the languid and 
 rather enervating air of purely humanized 
 interests, look upon this physical infinite 
 as a vast and terrible engine moving with 
 relentless and merciless energy over the 
 tender forms of those creatures which, 
 cursed with sentiency, are doomed to be 
 crushed beneath its wheels. There can 
 be no question that this is a very natural 
 first view as to man's place in nature ; of 
 the place, indeed, in which all life belongs. 
 If it were the final view of those relations, 
 even the dearest lovers of the truth might 
 well doubt the good of our better know- 
 ledge. They might be tempted to believe 
 that it would have been better to have 
 stayed in the world of fiction than to have 
 been forced to face such realities. But all 
 that there is of gloom in this vista which 
 
126 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 modern knowledge opens to us comes 
 from within ourselves. It is due to the 
 false attitude which old beliefs as to the 
 position of man in nature have engendered 
 in us. For ages the trend of the common 
 thinking, indeed of the greater part of phi- 
 losophical speculation and of nearly all 
 religious teaching, has been directed as 
 if to the end of setting man apart from 
 and against nature. So effective has this 
 teaching been that the separation of the 
 human spirit from the environing world 
 is almost complete. In this, their very 
 cradle, men have been taught to look 
 upon themselves as in a prison ; they 
 have considered the vast machinery of 
 the material universe which has brought 
 them into being as something alien to 
 their better selves, as a realm to be es- 
 caped from through the gates of death. 
 
 It is by no means difficult to see how 
 this singular attitude of man to his imme- 
 diate master, the material world, has come 
 to be. To obtain a clear understanding as 
 
SELF-CONSCIO USNESS.. 1 2? 
 
 to the way in which our present view has 
 been forced upon us, it is important that 
 we now turn aside for the moment to con- 
 sider its genesis. While our life was in 
 the keeping of the creatures below th<* 
 level of man, the reconciliation with na 
 ture was essentially complete, as it is be- 
 tween the spheres of our solar system or 
 the atoms of which they are composed ; 
 but as the advancing beings in our ances- 
 tral line began to do more and more diffi- 
 cult tasks, deeds requiring ever a greater 
 share of thought, they were compelled 
 little by little to take themselves into ac- 
 count. As long as actions were instinc- 
 tive, even if they were movements such 
 as those we make in fencing, or in any 
 other well-learned tasks which are familiar 
 to an animal or a man, the sense of self 
 did not have to be awakened in their ex- 
 ecution, for the being acts in an auto- 
 matic manner. When, however, the thing 
 to be done requires forethought, and in 
 the measure of the fore-thinking a self- 
 
128 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 hood is aroused, a great change comes 
 over the conditions of life. With this 
 change to consciousness in action men 
 find that they are set over and against na- 
 ture in their efforts to wring their grati- 
 fication from a rather unyielding world. 
 Generation by generation this antagonism 
 increases, until man becomes what we now 
 find him, a self-seer and a self-seeker, his 
 personality grown beyond all account, and 
 all the capacities which it can master ar- 
 raigned in combat with the world about 
 him. To this anomalous being there is 
 a simple twofold division of the universe, 
 himself on one side and all else on the 
 other. The classification, though prepos- 
 terous, is perfectly natural and marks a 
 stage in his moral and spiritual develop- 
 ment. 
 
 Almost as soon as our ancestors found 
 their way to this strange knowledge of 
 themselves which self-consciousness gives, 
 and began their long war with the world 
 about them, making of all else an age- 
 
MAN'S LONELINESS. 129 
 
 long enemy, the peculiar loneliness of their 
 situation began to be apparent to man. 
 The love of kindred inherited from the 
 lower life, though it might assuage, could 
 not cure this hunger for a union with eter- 
 nal things. At first, perhaps altogether 
 and ever in large part, this impulse towards 
 a friendly relation with some assuring per- 
 manence came from fear, fear of that 
 dark and mysterious realm, the world of 
 phenomena, from which he was in endur- 
 ing peril, and which in the end was sure 
 to overcome him. It was impossible for 
 him to turn to this environing nature for 
 consolation, for it seemed his implacable 
 enemy. The only way open to him was 
 through his imagination, which led him 
 to conceive a realm beyond the natural, 
 which he filled with friendly or at least 
 with propitiable beings, strong enough to 
 give him some aid in the path of life, and 
 willing to lift him to their more exalted 
 sphere when the fight was over. These 
 gods and the place in which they abode 
 
I3O ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 were conceived as, foreign to the every- 
 day world, comfortably beyond its inimical 
 realm of familiar material things. In a 
 half-conceived way these overruling pow- 
 ers were supposed to exercise a kind of 
 sovereignty over the ruder forces of the 
 universe. Their world was a better world 
 than this, but it was too much to believe 
 that they had entirely escaped from the 
 arch-enemy, matter. Gradually, with the 
 advance in intellectual power, with the ac- 
 cumulated store of possessions, this con- 
 ception of a blessed alien realm became 
 with certain peoples so adorned, so mag- 
 nificent, so captivating, that by the very 
 multitude and array of its fictions it be- 
 came very real to their minds. When 
 this dual view of man's place in nature 
 was completed as far as his mind could 
 affect its shape, by slow going and at first 
 slight beginnings, now here, now there, 
 but altogether among the men of our 
 own Aryan race, students began to satisfy 
 their curiosity concerning the phenomenal 
 
PURE STUDY OF NATURE. 131 
 
 world by closely observing its effects. At 
 first these inquiries were clouded by super- 
 natural conceptions. The Greeks alone 
 among the ancients succeeded in separat- 
 ing the facts from their religious belief, 
 and thereby they instituted the first pure 
 study of nature. With the extension of 
 the Roman spirit in Pagan and early 
 Christian days the spirit of natural in- 
 quiry was lost, and it was not entirely 
 revived until just after the overthrow of 
 Byzantium by the Turks in 1452. This 
 historic event led to the migration of 
 Greek scholars to western Europe, and 
 especially to northern Italy. With them 
 they brought what remained in their pos- 
 session of the manuscripts which con- 
 tained the records of Greek science. 
 Other fragments of this learning per- 
 haps even more valuable, for they had 
 been treasured by their keepers for some 
 centuries came to western Europe from 
 the Arabian followers of Mahomet. These 
 seeds from the ancient naturalism did not 
 
132 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 fall on stony ground; they came upon a 
 fertile soil, where they grew apace. The 
 arts of architecture, painting, and sculp- 
 ture, and the study of human anatomy had 
 done much to prepare the mind of man 
 for a living contact with the phenomenal 
 world. 
 
 Since the beginning of the sixteenth 
 century the growth of this modern recon- 
 ciliation of the human mind with nature 
 has gone forward with great rapidity. 
 Only in the best ages of Grecian learn- 
 ing, when that hive of thought was most 
 active, do we find anything like this 
 gain in naturalistic motives. Despite the 
 sturdy and well-directed opposition of the 
 Roman Church, the glow of the new 
 learning, arising among the separate peo- 
 ples of Italy, France, Germany, and Eng- 
 land, has grown to a great light which 
 illuminates the way of man. Before it the 
 shadowy, because imaginary, world is fad- 
 ing away. Day by day men are more 
 clearly perceiving that the ancient hostile 
 
THE NEW LEARNING. 133 
 
 attitude towards the material universe was 
 the greatest of the many errors of their in- 
 tellectual infancy ; one which it is their 
 first duty to set aright. In this correc- 
 tion of the great primitive blunder the 
 naturalists seem to the supernaturalists to 
 be doing a cruel work. It is not a matter 
 of surprise that in this overturning there 
 should be a great deal of heart-burning 
 and much distress brought about. It is 
 easy, however, for the calmer spirits to 
 see that the cause of truth will not suffer 
 by the change, and that the best of the 
 old view will be preserved in the new. 
 There is room in the actual universe for 
 all the good which the ideals of man have 
 ever contained. There is on earth a 
 firmer foundation for heaven than it has 
 had before. 
 
 Thus we see that the existing attitude 
 of half -fear, half -trust which men hold to 
 the material world is explained by their 
 history and their mental development. 
 The fear represents the remains of the 
 
134 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 immemorial terror derived from man's old 
 attitude towards the nature about him, 
 which he conceived to be his enemy ; the 
 trust arises from the new sense of the 
 order, the majesty, the immense purpose- 
 fulness of the material universe. Man 
 has not yet learned to feel that his heaven 
 is to be made in the world about his door ; 
 it is hard for him to change the habits 
 of thought which millenniums have bred 
 in him, and which are embodied in the 
 mightiest traditions of his race. It may 
 yet require centuries to effect this great 
 and momentous change, to turn into the 
 fields of his daily life the tide of hope 
 and love which had gone into the barren 
 realm of the imagined supernatural. It 
 is, however, clear to all those who believe 
 that naturalism is to replace supernatural- 
 ism that this end should be speedily and 
 effectively attained ; first, in order that the 
 transition should be effected as rapidly 
 and clearly as possible, and second, that 
 the measure of the necessary change 
 
PERILS OF TRANSITION. 135 
 
 should not be overlooked. All the true 
 advocates of the natural view of man's 
 relations should do what in them lies to 
 secure these results, for on them depends 
 the avoidance of many dangers. 
 
 The greatest peril which may be en- 
 countered in this transition will be found 
 in the destruction of the old ideals be- 
 fore the new have been established. At 
 present the old implicit confidence in the 
 supernatural is in good part shaken. The 
 moral standards which that trust upheld 
 are imperfectly supported, and there is a 
 certain amount of risk that the ancient 
 control over the conduct of life may be 
 lost before the new sense of obligation is 
 insured. As I shall try to show hereafter, 
 the admonitions of right doing and the 
 denunciations of evil conduct which come 
 to us from the world of fact are as manda- 
 tory as any which have been delivered to 
 men from the supernatural realm. But the 
 voice of nature can be heard only by those 
 whose ears are attuned thereto, while blind 
 faith has a place in all men. 
 
136 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 There is reason to fear that men are 
 being led to abandon the old trust in tra- 
 dition before they have any confidence 
 in or indeed any knowledge of the other 
 teaching. 
 
 The other and perhaps equally serious 
 risk is seen in the hasty conclusion often 
 expressed by religious-minded people, that 
 naturalism inevitably means the overthrow 
 of all faith in things unseen; that those 
 who love and trust the visible universe are 
 committed to base and carnal views, and 
 that they give no place to things beyond 
 the touch of hand and sight of eye. This 
 judgment of naturalism, though it doubt- 
 less finds a certain justification in the atti- 
 tude of many narrow-minded persons who 
 deem themselves true students of nature, 
 is nevertheless unjustifiable. Whoever 
 deals with a realm of the actual in a proper 
 way finds himself persuaded that he has to 
 do with the infinite ; he keenly feels that 
 what he or his kind can ever learn from it 
 is as nothing to that which must remain un- 
 
WHAT NATURALISM MEANS. 137 
 
 known. He, the naturalist, differs from the 
 supernaturalist not in the lesser measure of 
 his willingness to postulate the existence 
 of many things which elude his senses, 
 armed though he may be with skill and in- 
 struments to aid his powers, but by his be- 
 lief, based on what he knows in the ways of 
 experience, that there is but one kingdom, 
 one order, and one control in the universe. 
 He objects to the conception of a supernal 
 realm separated in its character from the 
 lower world ; moreover, he questions the 
 trustworthiness of the view, fundamental 
 in many religions, which holds to the ex- 
 istence of a dual principle of good and evil 
 throughout nature. Beyond these impor- 
 tant differences as to primal concepts there 
 is really little of moment to separate the 
 men who approach the unknown through 
 the old ways of the imagination and those 
 who find their path into the depths from 
 the newer avenues of science. It cannot 
 be denied that the differences in methods 
 are to a certain extent radical, but the re- 
 
138 ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 suits obtained may not be far apart. The 
 moral interpretation of the universe, which 
 is the essence of religion, will be accom- 
 plished as well by the priests who go with 
 the naturalist to the verge of the fields 
 which have been won by science as it has 
 been in the past by the purely imaginative 
 method. The difference will exist in the 
 acceptance, on the part of all inquirers, 
 of the unity, trustworthiness, and teaching 
 value of material things. 
 
 There is abundant room for spiritual 
 truths in the universe. In fact, our mod- 
 ern physical science is ever tending away 
 from the crude conceptions of matter held 
 by the ancients. It seems now as if the 
 end of the long dispute between the mate- 
 rialists and the spiritualists may soon come 
 about through the growing conviftion of 
 physicists that all matter is but a mode of 
 action of energy ; that the physical uni- 
 verse is not a congeries of atoms, which 
 are inert except when stirred by the dy- 
 namic powers; that all phenomena whatever 
 
THE TWO SCHOOLS. 139 
 
 are but manifestations of power. In other 
 words, the students of nature are now 
 nearer to those who have trusted for guid- 
 ance to the divining sense than ever be- 
 fore. The only thing which really divides 
 their motives is the shadow of the old 
 fear of the tangible world, which came 
 into existence in the earlier combats of 
 man with his environment. 
 
 It seems to me of the utmost importance 
 that all those who perceive the necessity 
 of conjoining the two methods of inter- 
 preting nature should use their best efforts 
 to clear away this old, unnatural, yet most 
 historic division which parts the thought- 
 ful men of our time. The way to accom- 
 plish this end is not clear. While we may 
 trust much to the course of nature, to the 
 trends of thought which are insensibly and 
 yet urgently driving philosophical minds 
 into a sense that the field of their inqui- 
 ries has no boundaries, we may also effect 
 something by a deliberate consideration 
 of the nature of this ideal division. It is 
 
I4O ORGANIC LIFE IN NATURE. 
 
 manifest that the real difficulty, however, 
 consists in the nature of the evidence on 
 which the two schools base their work. 
 The naturalist rests his conclusions on 
 facts which are or may be known to all 
 men whatsoever ; the supernaturalist rests 
 his contention on observations which are 
 patent only to a particular class of per- 
 sons. So far as religion bares its doctrines 
 on the hypothesis that events in the nat- 
 ural world occur outside of the realm of 
 law, there seems at present no prospect 
 of a real reconciliation between these 
 views. So far as religion is founded or 
 may be made to rest on phenomena of 
 man's moral nature and on the sense of 
 the depth of the universe, the limitless 
 possibility of its conditions, we are entitled 
 to expect a substantial unity between these 
 two schools of interpreters. 
 
 Even in the matter of miracles it seems 
 not improbable that science is likely to 
 come nearer to religion than in the earlier 
 days of that learning. The occurrence of 
 
HOPE OF RECONCILIATION. 141 
 
 the exceptional under the control still of 
 natural law is now more clear to naturalists 
 than it was a century ago. We have come 
 to see something of the latent in nature. 
 We have come, moreover, to perceive how 
 far the state of mind of the individual ob- 
 server affects his perceptions. In other 
 words, the naturalist of to-day more than 
 his predecessors feels how difficult it is to 
 discern the exact truth by any observa- 
 tions which are not made under the most 
 critical conditions. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 THE simpler realm of nature, that in 
 which the organization of matter is under 
 the control of purely physical laws of ag- 
 gregation, so far as our knowledge goes, 
 gives us the visible forms and shapes of 
 the celestial bodies, the crystals and con- 
 cretions and the invisible aggregations of 
 molecules made up of more or less numer- 
 ous atoms grouped together in definite on- 
 der. These shapes in the organic world, as 
 they pervade every portion of its mass and 
 are formed wherever the conditions permit, 
 show u that matter inevitably inclines 
 towards a shapely order. All our know- 
 ledge concerning the realm of material 
 things leads us to a belief in the univer- 
 sality of this impulse towards organization. 
 The original nebulous or fragmental con- 
 
ORGANIZA TION. 1 43 
 
 dition in which substances were diffused 
 through space everywhere tends to give 
 place to the state in which the materials 
 are aggregated into the spheres. When 
 this advance is attained, the substances 
 enter into the more complex associations 
 which give rise to chemical combinations 
 or to crystalline bodies. When the adjust- 
 ment of temperature on the surface of our 
 own planet permits, and perhaps also on 
 the similarly situated attendants of our 
 own sun and of the far-away fixed stars, 
 the grouping of atoms and molecules be- 
 comes much more complicated. A higher 
 mode of existence develops, and sentient 
 life begins to perceive the world about it. 
 As the life of animals and plants is 
 merely a higher stage in the ancient and 
 universal process of development, such as 
 is exhibited in the lower plane of physical 
 being, it should not surprise us to find that 
 the lower orders of creation in many ways 
 prefigure the higher, that the shapes of 
 crystals and concretions somewhat resem- 
 
144 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 ble the organic forms. In the present state 
 of our knowledge it is indeed not easy to 
 draw the precise line between the lower 
 and the higher orders of being. It is only 
 in the general results to which they attain 
 that we can secure the foundation on 
 which to rest a philosophical discrimina- 
 tion between them. Looking upon nature 
 in a large way, we readily perceive that the 
 tendency of all matter is towards more 
 complicated forms in the association of 
 its ultimate parts. Below the plane of 
 organic life the successes in this effort are 
 limited to a few groups of forms, none of 
 which in complication compare with that 
 feature as exhibited by truly living beings. 
 The limitation in the advance obtained by 
 the purely physical individualities of na- 
 ture is apparently in large part due to the 
 fact that they are but slightly, if at all, en- 
 dowed with the capacity of varying accord- 
 ing to the circumstances which environ 
 them. The celestial spheres, the various 
 substances arising from the arrangement 
 
THE TENDENCY OF MATTER. 145 
 
 of the molecules, the crystals and con- 
 cretions, which together include all the 
 definite aggregations of matter, are sub- 
 stantially the same, whatsoever be the' con- 
 ditions in which they come to exist. They 
 depend for their organization altogether 
 upon internal impulses. They are but 
 little influenced by actions which come 
 from without. In this feature the physi- 
 cal units differ in a most important way 
 from associations of matter which we rec- 
 ognize as really endowed with life ; but 
 there is a yet more important difference 
 correlated with that first described, which 
 makes it possible for organic individuals 
 to store experience and transmit the ever- 
 accumulated harvest of profit from gen- 
 eration to generation. 
 
 All the individualities of the physical 
 world, except the elementary atoms, ex- 
 hibit more or less clearly a tendency to 
 give birth to forms like themselves. The 
 solar centres in their contraction throw off 
 planets and these in turn develop satellites. 
 
146 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 Molecular combinations appear to lead to 
 the grouping of other atoms into a simi- 
 lar order. Crystals breed by some kind of 
 contagion other crystals like themselves ; 
 but all of these foreshadowings of the 
 generational process are obscure, and in 
 no case does the individual rise above the 
 level of the forms whence it came. It is 
 otherwise in organic nature. There the 
 creatures are vastly more flexible than the 
 individuals of the lower life. They adapt 
 themselves in an immediate manner to the 
 peculiarities of their environment. Those 
 conditions which surround them make 
 an impression on their bodies which is 
 transmitted to their progeny, and these 
 influences, accumulating from age to age, 
 become the precious store of influences 
 which lead organisms ever upward to 
 higher planes of existence. 
 
 It is indeed in the ability of living 
 beings to inherit experience that we find 
 the most general and the most impor- 
 tant, if it be not the sole characteristic 
 
 
INHERITED EXPERIENCE. 
 
 feature which separates them from the 
 lower classes of individuals which com- 
 pose the universe. These grosser organi- 
 zations profit nothing from their succes- 
 sion. The first crystals of the primal 
 molecules were doubtless in all regards 
 
 the same as those formed in the latest 
 
 / 
 
 time. The organic form is never exactly 
 like its ancestors. 
 
 Closely related to this ability to profit by 
 experience is another less eminent pecu- 
 liarity of organic life, namely, the capacity 
 of appropriating materials which it finds 
 stored in previously existing combinations 
 of matter, taking to itself such portion as 
 it needs of their material part, and con- 
 verting the energy involved in their chemi- 
 cal combinations to its use. On these two 
 foundations rests the great difference in 
 the nature of organic forms as compared 
 with those not endowed with the principle 
 of life. Before this organic grade of struc- 
 tures was attained, all the processes of na- 
 ture led only to an endless repetition of 
 
148 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 similar forms. We seem to see in the ef- 
 forts of matter to rise above its primitive 
 simplicity a ceaseless, untiring striving to- 
 wards the higher life, which, as we have 
 seen, is attained only in the strangely rare 
 conditions which this earth and possibly 
 other planets afford, but which cannot 
 have any place on the stellar spheres. 
 
 Considered merely from the point of 
 view of their physical variety, the struc- 
 tures of the organic world vastly exceed 
 those of inorganic nature. In that lower 
 realm we know a few score of elemental 
 substances combined in a few hundred 
 molecular forms and associated in perhaps 
 a thousand distinct crystalline shapes. 1 
 
 In the higher order of life the state of 
 matter permits the development of an in- 
 conceivably greater variety of individuali- 
 
 1 I am fully aware of the fact that in the chemist's 
 laboratory an almost infinite range of combinations of 
 atoms and molecules can be effected. These, however, 
 appear to me to be essentially unnatural associations. 
 Nothing like as numerous combinations exist in the 
 world about us. 
 
- DEVELOPMENT OF VARIETY. 149 
 
 ties. There are at present on this sphere 
 not less than a million, some estimate a 
 million and a half species of animals and 
 plants, and no one who is familiar with 
 the geological record can doubt that since 
 living things began to exist, at least a hun- 
 dred times as many species have dwelt 
 upon the earth. But even these vast and 
 inconceivable numbers give us no adequate 
 impression as to the variety of the organic 
 world, for we must bear in mind the fact 
 that each of the countless individuals of 
 these numerous species exhibits a mea- 
 sure of difference from its kindred much 
 greater than is found in the diverse units 
 of the mineral varieties. The molecules, 
 the crystals, or the celestial spheres are 
 substantially cast in the same mould for 
 each kind ; so far as our senses can discern, 
 they are as much characterized by simi- 
 larity as are the higher organisms by di- 
 versity. It is thus clear that the diver- 
 sification of the universe has been far 
 more effectively secured in the relatively 
 
I5O MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 trifling amount of matter which has ever 
 been animated than in all the enormously 
 greater volume which as yet has felt the 
 influence of the physical powers alone. A 
 due consideration of these striking facts 
 will make it clear to the student that the 
 flower and the fruit of the universal striv- 
 ing after organization is to be found, not 
 in the vast aggregations of the solar sys- 
 tems nor in the endless simple repetitions 
 of association in molecules and crystals, 
 but in the rare fields where the conditions 
 are so balanced and related to each other 
 as to permit the materials to enter on the 
 organic state. 
 
 Although the diversification of matter, 
 the end which seems to have been every- 
 where and unceasingly sought, is gener- 
 ally advanced by the organic structures, 
 the most important novelty which life in- 
 troduces into the world consists in the 
 principle of progressive accumulation of 
 inheritances, so that the properties of the 
 structure are determined, not as in the 
 
PROGRESSIVE ACCUMULATION. 151 
 
 case of the physical unit, by laws depen- 
 dent upon the primal conditions of matter, 
 but by experiences won in the earlier life, 
 either in that of the individual or in that 
 of its ancestors since the beginning of the 
 series to which it belongs. Material forms 
 remain unchanged, or if destroyed fall back 
 to more simple states of being, leaving 
 no trace of their previous existence. Or- 
 ganic structures are ceaselessly changing 
 the store of experience, and this store is 
 transmitted by each generation to its suc- 
 cessor, and so age by age they vary in 
 their attitude towards the world. They 
 alone can harvest the light and transmit it 
 in ever-increasing store. 
 
 It is impossible to observe the contrast 
 between animate and inanimate creatures 
 without coming to the conclusion that the 
 capacity to acquire and transmit is the in- 
 finitely peculiar and important gain which 
 living creatures have won. All their other 
 characteristics are of relatively slight value 
 when compared with this feature. Mea- 
 
152 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 sured in the terms of our own understand- 
 ing, this introduction of truly historic be- 
 ings into the universe is the greatest 
 revolution which we can conceive to have 
 occurred in all the processes of nature 
 since that atom of the all which we term 
 the visible universe came forth from that 
 which was before. By the slight but stead- 
 fast increment of profit which contact with 
 the neighboring world affords living be- 
 ings, they rise farther above the plain of 
 material existence, generation by genera- 
 tion. The simpler ways of appreciating 
 the surrounding nature are gradually de- 
 veloped until the higher or intellectual 
 state of sentiency is attained. Finally in 
 ourselves the age's product of understand- 
 ing looks off upon the universe with com- 
 prehending mind. 
 
 Assuming, as we are entitled to do, that 
 the progressive development of life in 
 structure and intellectual power is the 
 crowning achievement of the organizing 
 motives in the universe, let us now con- 
 
LIMITS OF ADVANCEMENT. 153 
 
 sider the limits which the physical condi- 
 tions set upon this process of advance- 
 ment. As we shall at once see, this is a 
 question of transcendent importance, for 
 it affects the whole aspect of the animate 
 world in the profoundest manner. On it 
 depend the processes of birth, life, and 
 death, and all the other features connected 
 with the march of the generations. There 
 is indeed no other problem which the nat- 
 uralist has to consider which is so full of 
 importance to the student of life. Whether 
 he approaches the question from a purely 
 historic or from a moral point of view, he 
 will find that he is almost appalled by the 
 momentous nature of the considerations 
 which are presented to him. 
 
 The most important result attained by 
 the organic system of this planet mani- 
 festly consists in the invention of individ- 
 ual organic beings, each of which endures 
 but for a moment of time and then gives 
 place to its successors. If we could but 
 divest ourselves of that commonplace view 
 
154 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 of nature which dims the vision of the 
 keenest-eyed and limits the sight of less 
 cultivated men, we should perceive the 
 singular momentariness of the individual 
 in the organic series to which it belongs. 
 If we look upon the creatures of any field 
 or forest, we observe that the greater part 
 of them endure but for a summer. Within 
 the limits of a single square mile of fertile 
 ground there may in the summer time be 
 three or four thousand species, counting 
 only plants, insects, and the higher forms 
 of animals. Nearly all of these perish 
 after a brief term of individual life, first 
 bringing forth their eggs or seed, which 
 they place where the next season's sun 
 may quicken them ; then they return to 
 that great store of the soil whence all life 
 springs. Nothing else in nature, save the 
 waves of light and heat, which by their 
 pulsations bear forth the blessed power of 
 the sun, or the swift successive whirlings 
 of the celestial spheres on their axes of 
 rotation, bringing the recurrence of day 
 
SHORTNESS OF LIFE. 155 
 
 and night, is parallel to this endless com- 
 ing and going of the generations. Nor 
 can these waves of ether or planetary spin- 
 nings be compared with the succession of 
 living things ; for they are but motions, 
 while in the organic forms the process of 
 change involves the rapid concurrence of 
 a host of molecules of matter into definite 
 order, and their equally rapid return to 
 a lower state of relative disorganization. 
 With each of these surges of life which 
 the generational impulse sends on, millions 
 and millions of atoms and molecules spring 
 into order, and by their complicated accord 
 lift the association into the organic state ; 
 then in a moment the mastering impulse 
 goes from them and they fall back into the 
 inanimate realm. To an intellectual being, 
 whose lifetime was framed in terms of the 
 geologic ages, this generational movement 
 of the organic forms of the earth would 
 probably appear as do the waves of sound 
 or of light to ourselves. To such a crea- 
 ture the successive oscillations would prob- 
 
156 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 ably be hidden from the senses, and only 
 a continuous impression of advancement 
 in the really unbroken series of existence 
 would be presented to his attention. If 
 such a supposed being were endowed with 
 continuous life, and should proceed to an- 
 alyze the phenomena of animate nature, 
 he would gain certain impressions denied 
 to us by the exceeding brevity of our lives. 
 He would quickly and clearly see what we 
 but half perceive, that in a physical 
 sense and in the large reckoning the in- 
 dividual is of but little account, is in fact 
 but a stepping-stone over which the great 
 processes of being pass in their upward 
 and onward going. So trifling an ele- 
 ment would the separate life seem that 
 this inquirer might well ask the question 
 why the individual is subjected to this 
 endless separation from and return to 
 the animate world ; why the primal form 
 should not go on unfolding its possibilities 
 of development without the use of this 
 costly machinery of the generations. It 
 
ADVANCE IN ORGANIZATION. 157 
 
 is not worth while for us to essay the 
 explanation which that age-enduring spirit 
 would have to give. We must be content 
 with the finite answer we derive from 
 our scanty opportunities for studying the 
 phenomena. This is in effect as follows : 
 All advance in organization depends 
 upon processes of reconstruction, on the 
 rearrangement of molecules in definite and 
 somewhat stable order, and the creation 
 of new parts by their combinations. At 
 the same time all life depends as well on 
 the simultaneous orderly correlation of the 
 material parts of which the being is com- 
 posed ; on the continuous activity of the 
 organs and their material accord. Thus 
 the execution of the work on which the ex- 
 istence of the body depends makes it im- 
 possible for the frame to be in a state of 
 flux, which advancement demands. Like 
 other structures, it must cease to function 
 if important improvements in the design 
 are to be effected. It would have been 
 possible, we may assume, for an infinite 
 
158 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 power to have so arranged the vital en- 
 gines that there need have been only a 
 certain limited number of them in the 
 world, each enduring for all the geologic 
 ages. This is not the plan which nature 
 presents to us. All the manifold series of 
 organic beings exhibit the scheme in which 
 each individual is brought under the best 
 attainable conditions, which guide it to 
 maturity. When its structure is complete, 
 it profits by the inheritances transmitted 
 to it by its ancestors, and hands on that 
 body of profit along with the accretions 
 won during the individual life, and then 
 passes away. 
 
 In observing the march of the genera- 
 tions the student cannot afford to limit 
 his inquiry to the general aspects of the 
 phenomena ; he needs to trace in much 
 detail the process by which the unend- 
 ing advance in the grade of organization 
 has been secured. As yet the researches 
 of naturalists have mainly been directed to 
 the simpler facts connected with the his- 
 
PROCESS OF DEVELOPMENT. 159 
 
 tory of life upon this earth. Geologists 
 have used those "medals of creation" 
 which the fossils afford in the same way 
 as the historian uses the coins which he 
 finds in ancient cities. In both cases, the 
 remains serve to identify periods and to 
 trace the succession in the peopling of 
 a district. Paleontologists, who consider 
 fossils from the point of view of the rela- 
 tions of species, have, it is true, to a certain 
 extent essayed to determine the genealogi- 
 cal trees of the organic series ; but on the 
 whole their labors, until the reign of Dar- 
 win, were confined to very limited fields. 
 Thus, although we have a vast body of in- 
 formation concerning the development of 
 animals and plants in geologic time, there 
 is little of it which is suited to afford the 
 unprofessional reader a clear idea as to 
 the steps by which the organic series ad- 
 vance. Although the time is not yet ripe 
 for the presentation of this great prob- 
 lem in a clear manner, we have secured 
 enough information to enable us to pre- 
 
160 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 sent, at least in a general way, a statement 
 as to the process by which development is 
 attained. 
 
 In considering the advance of the or- 
 ganic series it is by no means necessary 
 to approach the matter with any prepos- 
 sessions concerning the nature of the laws 
 which determine the ongoing. For our 
 purpose, indeed, it is better to put aside the 
 question as to the measure of the truth 
 which the Darwinian and other views af- 
 ford, and to consider animals and plants 
 in their purely phenomenal aspect. Impor- 
 tant as are the several doctrines which 
 have been adduced in explanation of the 
 facts presented by these creatures, the 
 visible truth demands the first attention 
 of all students. Limiting ourselves, there- 
 fore, to the phenomenal aspects exhibited 
 in the successions of life, we shall briefly 
 set forth, somewhat in the manner of a 
 catalogue, the general truths which have 
 been secured by the study of the earth's 
 organic history. 
 
IMPORTANT ERRORS. l6l 
 
 Organic life began with exceedingly 
 simple combinations of a structural sort, 
 which were formed in the earlier geo- 
 logic ages, and has advanced by succes- 
 sive stages of evolution from its primitive 
 simplicity to its present exceeding com- 
 plication. This advance is exhibited not 
 only in the material body but in the intel- 
 ligence as well. The foregoing proposi- 
 tions contain the most important and gen- 
 erally well-founded truths which natural 
 science has contributed to human know- 
 ledge. Although they were affirmed of 
 old, for the Greeks had some vague per- 
 ception of them, their demonstration has 
 been the triumph of this century. As is 
 the case with many other scientific truths, 
 the general understanding of these max- 
 ims is somewhat in error, and these errors 
 are too important to be passed without 
 correction. It is in all cases difficult to 
 keep the popular understanding in such 
 matters in the qualified shape in which 
 framed by men of science ; thus the gen- 
 
1 62 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 eral conception as to the nature of the 
 earth's path around the sun is exceedingly 
 erroneous. Most people imagine that our 
 sphere has a circular orbit ; those who are 
 better informed are aware that its way is 
 elliptical; but few save astronomers con- 
 ceive the almost indescribable irregulari- 
 ties in its course. In fact, it would be safer 
 to say that all the complications of move- 
 ment have never been at one time com- 
 passed by any human intelligence. When, 
 by means of diagrams and explanations, 
 which take account only of the larger 
 truths, we bring this apparently simple 
 matter of the earth's movement aroun-d 
 the sun into a condition to be understood, 
 we at the same time neglect a great body 
 of facts concerning the motions some of 
 which have great influence on the or- 
 ganic history of this planet. 
 
 Seeing how much is necessarily neg- 
 lected in our account of the earth's orbit, 
 it is not difficult to imagine how much 
 greater is the amount of the omission 
 
INCOMPLETE RECORDS. 163 
 
 which we make in our general proposi- 
 tions concerning the path of organic life. 
 In fact, the qualifications which we have 
 to apply to the statements are much more 
 extensive and vastly more important than 
 are those which have to be introduced 
 if we would express the truth with refer- 
 ence to the planetary motions. The first 
 of these corrections to which the student 
 should attend relates to the extent of our 
 information concerning the earlier stages 
 of the organic series. It is not true that 
 we have found, even in the most ancient 
 rocks, the first steps of any organic series. 
 The fact is that we trace living forms from 
 the present day downward through the 
 rocks and backward through the geologic 
 ages to the plane of the Lower Cambrian, 
 in which horizon life is abundant ; and 
 though of a lower grade than that of to- 
 day, still vastly removed from what we 
 may term conditions of primitive simpli- 
 city. In general it may be said that we 
 have followed in outline the steps which 
 
1 64 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 form the upper half of the long ladder 
 which has led to the higher forms of 
 plants and animals such as now exist on 
 the earth. In the earliest legible chapter 
 of the great stone book we readily per- 
 ceive that the record begins somewhere 
 near half-way down in the history of or- 
 ganic events. There is not much reason 
 to hope that we shall ever recover the 
 missing volumes of the great chronicle. 
 The dead past has not only buried its dead, 
 but has quite effaced the burial-places. 
 
 It must not be supposed that the great 
 blank in the geologic records which con- 
 cerns the history of life before the Cam- 
 brian time is the only destroyed portion 
 of the period. It is indeed only the first 
 and greatest of the many missing parts 
 of the history. Beginning with the pres- 
 ent day and going backward step by step 
 through the records, we find a great num- 
 ber of these lapses, each of which has to 
 be bridged with conjecture until the stu- 
 dents of the earth are able, through the 
 
INSTITUTION OF SPECIES. 165 
 
 discovery of other strata, to fill the gaps. 
 A large part of the vast labor which is 
 devoted to the interpretation of rocks is 
 directed to this end of supplying the miss- 
 ing links. It is readily to be conceived 
 that all these breaks in the record make 
 it difficult for those who seek to interpret 
 the history of life to trace the march 
 of the generations from the earlier ages 
 to the present day. Fragmentary as the 
 work as yet is, it may fairly be said that 
 even to the most critical the evidence is 
 sufficient to warrant the statements which 
 we shall now present. 
 
 It is a very evident fact that in the pro- 
 cess of organic advance the steps of the 
 ongoing are attained through the institu- 
 tion of distinct species, each composed of 
 innumerable individuals which for a time 
 preserve something like similar forms, and 
 then with more or less suddenness change 
 their aspect so that they must be regarded 
 as specifically distinct from the creatures 
 which gave them birth. Without under- 
 
1 66 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 taking the almost impossible task of defin- 
 ing what we mean or should mean by the 
 term species, we may for our present pur- 
 pose say that the word is to be applied 
 to an assemblage of living beings which 
 freely interbreed, and which have for the 
 time effected a certain measure of adjust- 
 ment of their conditions and relations 
 with the organic and inorganic world with 
 which they come in contact. So long as 
 this adjustment does not vary through 
 the action of the many perturbing causes, 
 the like reproduces like, and the species 
 remains in what we may term a static con- 
 dition. When the change occurs, a por- 
 tion or the whole of the individuals con- 
 tained in the group undergo variations 
 which sometimes speedily, sometimes 
 slowly lead to departures from the an- 
 cestral state. The range in the pliability 
 of these cohorts of organisms which we 
 term species is exceedingly great. In 
 some groups, as for instance in the bra- 
 chiopoda, a species may remain almost 
 
THE RATE OF VARIATION. 167 
 
 constant through all the geologic ages 
 from the Lower Cambrian to the present 
 day. Thus in the genus lingula, the 
 best-known member of this group, there 
 are existing forms which, so far as we can 
 judge from their well-preserved shells, de- 
 part less from their ancestors which lived 
 in the earliest geologic periods where dis- 
 tinct fossils have been found, than do the 
 individuals in ordinarily variable species. 
 If we rested our opinion on the facts pre- 
 sented by the remains of these creatures, 
 we might fairly conclude that the earliest 
 varieties and those now living might have 
 bred together. 
 
 In the same group which contains the 
 lingula we find other genera, in which the 
 species are in such a state of flux, as 
 regards all the important features of the 
 organism, that within the limits of a few 
 feet of strata the shapes undergo a greater 
 change than has come about in the lingu- 
 las in all the period of their history which 
 we can trace. We may indeed say that 
 
1 68 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 the rate of alteration among animals and 
 plants, even in species which are some- 
 what nearly akin, varies in the ratio of at 
 least one to a thousand. If we could mea- 
 sure the range accurately, it might well 
 prove to be ten times as great as the pro- 
 portion which we have just indicated. In 
 general the swiftness with which organic 
 species are modified is greater in the 
 higher than in the lower forms. The nu- 
 merous instances of permanence allied to 
 that just above noted are almost all found 
 in the groups which may fairly be ranked 
 as low in the scale of being. They all 
 fall into the classes of animals commonly 
 known as invertebrates; that is, below the 
 series of backboned creatures to which 
 man belongs. In most cases the change- 
 lessness is associated with unvarying hab- 
 its of life, yet there are not wanting in- 
 stances in which along with a total change 
 in the mode of living the form remains 
 unaltered. The most notable example of 
 this nature is found in the species of cray- 
 
CRAYFISHES. 169 
 
 fishes, which have the habit of excavat- 
 ing complicated subterranean chambers, 
 in which they dwell for the greater part 
 of their lives. Although the crayfishes 
 belong to a group of animals which in 
 general possess a very elastic body, forms 
 which vary readily with the alteration of 
 habit, they have undergone no change 
 in shape to fit them for this peculiar 
 method of life. All their parts are very 
 similar to those of the kindred lobsters, 
 a group from which they appear to have 
 sprung at some time during the paleozoic 
 era. Our wonder at the rigid form of the 
 crayfish is the greater when we consider 
 that the group has revolutionized the 
 stages by which it passes from the egg 
 to the adult. While the lobsters, which 
 it so closely resembles, exhibit in com- 
 mon with the other crustaceans a series 
 of metamorphoses occurring after extru- 
 sion from the egg, the crayfishes have 
 abandoned these stages, which would be 
 inconvenient in their habit of life, and 
 
MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 proceed, even in the first epochs of their 
 independent life, directly to the adult 
 form. 
 
 Such instances as those afforded by the 
 crayfish are rare, but the naturalist knows 
 hundreds of cases which serve, though in 
 a less effective way, to indicate that the 
 measure of change which alterations of en- 
 vironment can produce in a species varies 
 in a great and remarkable manner. It is 
 therefore evident that the rate at which 
 organic forms may alter is dependent on 
 other influences besides those which arise 
 from the immediate instance of environ- 
 ment. I have elsewhere (see page 90) 
 undertaken to show that the variability of 
 animals and plants may depend in large 
 measure upon an internal and invisible 
 contest among and between the host of 
 their inheritances. For our present pur- 
 pose, it is sufficient to note that something 
 else besides the surrounding nature and 
 the expressed motives which serve to de- 
 termine the habits of life enters into the 
 
RE TROGRESSION. 1 7 1 
 
 equation which controls the shape of the 
 creature. In the present state of our 
 science the conditions which bring about 
 organic variation are rarely discernible. 
 We only perceive the endless flow of 
 change. All our theories as to the cause 
 thereof are still in the field of working 
 hypotheses, or, in simpler phrase, they are 
 conjectures ; though, be it said, of a scien- 
 tific sort. 
 
 The next point which the student will 
 do well to note concerns the end to which 
 the variation of species naturally leads. 
 It is a common supposition that the direc- 
 tion of the movement is ever upward. The 
 fact is that in a large number of cases, 
 perhaps in the aggregate in more than 
 half, the change gives rise to a form 
 which, by all the canons by which we de- 
 termine relative rank, is to be regarded 
 as regressive or degradational. In many 
 cases the advancement or retrogression % 
 appears to be determined by the condi- 
 tions of the environment. Thus the kin- 
 
MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 dred of the shrimps may, by the better 
 adjustment of their bodily parts to the 
 needs of an active life, go onward to the 
 higher structure of the lobsters and crabs ; 
 or, on the other hand, certain varieties, tak- 
 ing up the habit of dwelling in the gills 
 of the fishes, where their life is of the sim- 
 plest sort, may sink downward through 
 many gradations of decline to a state in 
 which they closely resemble the worms. 
 A yet more common cause of degradation 
 is found in those cases in which a group, 
 such as the ammonites, after flourishing 
 for geologic ages, and developing a great 
 variety of species, appears gradually to 
 enter on a state of decrepitude, in which 
 the variations which before led upward 
 afterwards bring about a steadfast decline. 
 Although this last-described class of deg- 
 radation has only been traced in a clear 
 manner in a few organic series, it probably 
 occurs throughout the animal and vege- 
 table kingdoms. Species, genera, fami- 
 lies, and orders have all, like the individ- 
 
DANGER IN VARIATION. 173 
 
 uals of which they are composed, a period 
 of decay in which the organic gain won 
 with infinite toil and pains is altogether 
 lost in the old age of the group. 
 
 When any organic species rapidly va- 
 ries in shape or habits, it seems to be 
 in danger of extermination. The danger 
 probably arises from the change in the 
 relation of the body to its environment, 
 which the alterations bring about. It is 
 easy to see that these innovations have an 
 experimental quality, and the result of the 
 essay is to bring the individuals who make 
 it more or less in peril. So long as a 
 form remains quietly within the adjust- 
 ment which may have preserved it un- 
 harmed for ages, its estate is secure ; when 
 it seeks new methods of life, it encounters 
 unwonted risks. If by the variation it is 
 led into a field of being where the equa- 
 tions which affect it are distinctly and per- 
 manently profitable, a new specific form 
 may be established and maintained. It is 
 clear, however, that a large part of the 
 
174 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS, 
 
 new forms which arise in any organic se- 
 ries are necessarily unsuited to endure. 
 Where the variations occur with reference 
 to the habits of some other animal or 
 plant, where they are so arranged as to 
 give the creature immunity from a particu- 
 lar enemy, or to secure it food from some 
 peculiar source, a modification in a single 
 feature of the environment may lead to its 
 death. Thus it comes about that the gen- 
 eral feeders, those forms like the lingulae 
 which take their sustenance from a great 
 variety of organic materials such as float 
 in sea water, appear to be very persisting 
 forms ; so, too, the species which have de- 
 vised peculiar and effective methods of pro- 
 tection which secure them immunity from 
 enemies are apt to maintain their shapes 
 unchanged for ages. A familiar instance 
 of this is found in certain mollusks, such 
 as our common clam, where the individuals 
 excavate chambers in the mud of the sea 
 bottom which are admirably devised to 
 secure them against assault. These well- 
 
DIFFICULTY OF ADVANCE. 175 
 
 sheltered forms retain their characteristics 
 for geologic periods, while the more super- 
 ficial inhabitants of the sea-floor are sub- 
 ject to relatively great alteration. A con- 
 trasted instance may be found in the case 
 of such insects as depend for their sub- 
 sistence on particular species of plants. 
 The definiteness of their conditions ren- 
 ders them liable to speedy destruction. 
 
 The foregoing considerations, which 
 could be indefinitely extended and still 
 leave us without an adequate conception 
 as to the accidents which may befall spe- 
 cies, may serve as a foundation on which 
 to build a better understanding concern- 
 ing the difficulties which beset the contin- 
 uous advance of animal and vegetable life. 
 To insure the passage from a lower to a 
 higher grade of organization, it is neces- 
 sary that the variation in form should be 
 such as will lead it to break through the 
 wall of environment in that part of its 
 periphery which leads towards a higher 
 plane of being. Attaining a new plane, 
 
MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 the ongoing host appears in most cases to 
 regain a temporary permanence of shape, 
 and by thus becoming more or less fixed 
 in its characteristics is enabled to balance 
 itself with its environment. Then again 
 variations occur which may lead another 
 step upward, but which are far more likely 
 to bring the procession of life into some 
 unprofitable field, in which degradation or 
 death ensues. In order to conceive the 
 relative infrequency with which the varia- 
 tions occur in such a way as to insure or- 
 ganic advance, we must now turn our atten- 
 tion to the number of specific forms which 
 have been developed during the march of 
 the generations, and compare the total 
 with the sum of successes in the way of 
 advancement which has been attained. 
 
 Although the census of organic beings 
 now in existence on the earth's surface is 
 as yet incomplete, enough is known to 
 make it clear that the total number of 
 these discriminated forms is much more 
 than a million. If we could go back to 
 
NUMBER OF SPECIES. 
 
 the time of the middle tertiary and com- 
 pare the forms then existing with those 
 now alive, we should find that the number 
 of species in the earlier time was nearly 
 as great as at present, but that by far the 
 larger portion of these forms were evi- 
 dently distinct from those now living on 
 the earth. If we could in a similar man- 
 ner proceed backward through the geo- 
 logic ages to the dawn of life, it seems 
 quite certain that the total number of spe- 
 cies which could be observed would ex- 
 ceed one hundred million. Although this 
 estimate may seem to some naturalists un- 
 reasonably high, few if any of those who 
 have endeavored to ascertain the specific 
 variety exhibited by the animals in the 
 paleozoic seas, and who at the same time 
 have taken account of the vast unrecorded 
 time before the deposition of the Cam- 
 brian beds, will esteem the reckoning ex- 
 cessive. 
 
 Turning now to the consideration of the 
 numbers of the highly successful organic 
 
MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 forms which have come into existence 
 through the vast experiments of the past, 
 we see at once how infrequent are the 
 ways which lead through the ages stead- 
 fastly and unbrokenly towards eminent 
 success. Considered merely from the 
 point of view of organic perfection, the 
 greater part of the living forms, whether 
 of animals or of plants, may fairly be re- 
 garded as successful. If, however, we 
 take account of intellectual advancement 
 as well as of physical construction, we may 
 well be surprised at the few instances in 
 which a high grade of development has 
 been attained. It requires no argument 
 to show the student that the transcend- 
 ent successes of life are to be found 
 among those forms where something like 
 a social system has been instituted, 
 where the individuals of a species ex- 
 change their services in mutually helpful 
 cooperation, which results in the creation 
 of a commonwealth. This, the highest 
 grade of organization, has been in a mea- 
 
THE RATIO OF SUCCESSES. 179 
 
 sure attained in but a few hundred spe- 
 cies. The bees, the ants, and the ter- 
 mites among the insects, a number of spe- 
 cies among the birds, a few scor^ forms 
 of mammals^ make up the total of these 
 accomplishments. In only one genus, 
 that in which we ourselves belong, has 
 the success been preeminent. It indeed 
 so far transcends all the other accomplish- 
 ments as to lie in a realm apart from the 
 "rest of organic life. We thus see that 
 even if we take into account all the ani- 
 mals which have invented a society, call- 
 ing the number of these species one thou- 
 sand, the ratio of the eventual triumphs 
 to the relative failures is about one to one 
 hundred thousand. If we count man, as 
 we well may, as the solitary distinguished 
 success, then the proportion is something 
 like one to a hundred million. 
 
 With the above described conception 
 as to the position of man, let us proceed 
 with our task of framing a picture of the 
 stages of advance upon which his develop- 
 
ISO MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 ment has absolutely depended. Taking 
 no account of the collateral kindred, and 
 reckoning only the species which have 
 afforded the steps on the long way from 
 the dawn of life to the estate of man, we 
 find the number of these specific steps 
 in the organic genealogy of mankind to 
 be inconceivably numerous. It is certain 
 that they must have been counted by the 
 thousand. It is difficult indeed to conceive 
 an upward gradation from the inorganic 
 basis of life to the station of man with- 
 out a succession of specifically different 
 forms which would vastly transcend the 
 last-named number. It is my individual 
 opinion that the specific variations which 
 have led to the human form may well 
 have amounted to near a hundred thou- 
 sand. Even if we limit the species in 
 our ancestry to as small a total as ten 
 thousand, we have to assume an almost 
 impossible rate of change to bring the 
 development within the limits which are 
 commonly set for the duration of recorded 
 
THE NUMBER OF STEPS. l8l 
 
 
 
 geologic time. Most observers are dis- 
 posed to assume that organic life began 
 at something like a hundred million years 
 ago. Dividing this period into ten thou- 
 sand intervals, we should have to come 
 to the conclusion that the average time 
 required to effect the transition from one 
 species to another did not exceed ten 
 thousand years. If the number of spe- 
 cific forms in the series which leads to 
 man was a hundred thousand, then the 
 time required for each of the transitions 
 was not more than a millennium. All 
 the evidence goes to show that even the 
 greater of these durations would have 
 been insufficient in length. 
 
 We next come to a point of great impor- 
 tance, one which is generally neglected 
 in the considerations which are now oc- 
 cupying our attention, and which may be 
 briefly stated as follows : The develop- 
 ment of a continuous organic series, such 
 as that which has led to man, or any other 
 of the higher organisms existing at the 
 
1 82 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 present day, depends upon the institution 
 of each new species in the chain of being 
 at a certain time and place in the life 
 of the antecedent form. The ascending 
 branch must go forth and establish itself 
 in relation to its environment before the 
 immediate progenitors have become seri- 
 ously enfeebled. The advance must be 
 made from somewhere near the highest 
 plane of the antecedent life. Thus in our 
 degradational series, we do not find new 
 ascending stems which attain the develop- 
 ment which has been lost in the descent. 
 Moreover, if any species in the direct 
 line of advancement fails to give off the 
 ascending shoot, but passes away with- 
 out leaving the improved generation, all 
 chance of further advance on that particu- 
 lar line is lost. To perceive the momen- 
 tousness of this fact, we must note that 
 nowhere have paleontologists found a spe- 
 cies, genus, or other group which has 
 passed away, afterwards reinstituted. It 
 thus seems to me tolerably clear that if 
 
A CONDITION OF ADVANCE. 183 
 
 any considerable step in the progress of 
 the species which held the future of man 
 had been omitted, the result would have 
 been the failure of the series. In a very 
 short time the possible ancestors of our 
 species would have departed from the nar- 
 row way in which advance was possible, 
 or have been overcome by death, thus mak- 
 ing a break in the path of our life, a 
 break which could not have been bridged 
 over by any variations which might have 
 occurred in the collateral related forms. 
 
 If the foregoing considerations have the 
 validity which they seem to me to possess, 
 we may fairly say that the appearance of 
 man has depended upon the institution of 
 thousands of new species, each of which 
 had to appear at the right time and place 
 in order to accomplish the succession. 
 The question may naturally suggest itself 
 whether, instead of the peculiar form of 
 man, in case that form had been rendered 
 impossible by a failure in the chain of be- 
 ing, another related and perhaps equally 
 
1 84 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 effective offshoot might not have appeared 
 in its stead. To this suggestion, which 
 may seem at first sight very plausible, the 
 geologist may make the following answer. 
 If the system of successions in species 
 had been such as to permit the replace- 
 ment of the lost stem in the growth which 
 led to man by offshoots from collateral 
 branches, we should expect to find evi- 
 dence of many parallel series of organisms 
 all trending in the direction which the 
 kinship of man has attained. It needs but 
 little knowledge of the facts of paleontol- 
 ogy to show the observer that such is not 
 the case. Considering only the last im- 
 portant step in the series, that which led 
 from the anthropoid level to the estate of 
 man, we readily note the fact that, although 
 there are a number of species still existing 
 which represent the pre-human state of 
 development, none of them appear to be 
 trending towards the human state. If to- 
 morrow man should disappear from the 
 planet, there is no reason to suppose that 
 
SUMMING UP. 185 
 
 by any process of change a similar crea- 
 ture would be evolved, however long the 
 animal kingdom continued to exist. Our 
 nearest kindred among the quadrumanous 
 animals are on paths of development or 
 retrogression which give no promise that 
 they will arrive at a lofty goal. 
 
 We may sum up the foregoing consid- 
 erations as follows : In the process of or- 
 ganic development, the first important step 
 consists in the organization of individuals, 
 each of which can gather experience, and 
 build the results into a form in which they 
 can be transmitted to its successors. The 
 function of the individual is thus accom- 
 plished, and it then passes away to make 
 room for its offspring. The separate be- 
 ings of the several generations are gath- 
 ered into associations of like forms, which 
 we term species, each of which, for a 
 greater or less period, remains in a some- 
 what stable state, but usually, after a time, 
 by some process of change through selec- 
 tion or other influences, alters its shape 
 
1 86 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 and reconstructs itself in relation to an- 
 other assemblage of environing conditions. 
 Generally these changes end in the de- 
 struction of the form without any great 
 advance in station having been secured. 
 Here and there some influences, the na- 
 ture of which we cannot discern in the 
 present state of our knowledge, leads the 
 varying life on pathways which are di- 
 rected upward. In very few cases have 
 these forms succeeded in attaining to the 
 plane of social organizations which may 
 be termed elevated, and in only one case 
 has a transcendent success been attained. 
 The success of man has been due, not 
 to any very peculiar accomplishment of an 
 organic kind, for in his frame he is much 
 like his kindred, the anthropoids. It has 
 been won by an entire change in the limi- 
 tations of his psychic development. Until 
 we arrive at the estate of man, the rate of 
 mental development in the various intel- 
 lectual animals is, on the whole, not more 
 rapid than that of their organic modifica- 
 
THE PLACE OF HUMANITY. l8/ 
 
 tions. In most cases it seems limited by 
 the purely physical progress of the several 
 forms. When, however, we come to man, 
 we appear to find the old bondage of the 
 mind to the body swept away ; and the 
 intellectual parts develop with extraor- 
 dinary rapidity, while the frame remains 
 essentially unchanged. It is in this new 
 freedom that we find the one dominant 
 characteristic of man, the feature which 
 entitles us to class him as an entirely new 
 kind of animal. 
 
 It is safe to say that there have been 
 a hundred million species of organisms 
 developed on the earth since life began to 
 be. At the present time there are about 
 a million such forms tenanting this planet. 
 Thus our own species appears, from the 
 point of view of its supreme success, not 
 only most exceptional, but absolutely alone 
 in the history of this sphere. When this 
 peculiarity in the position of man comes 
 to be well understood, when it is dis- 
 tinctly seen that in his case the organic 
 
1 88 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 order has undergone a unique and com- 
 plete revolution, the place of humanity in 
 the world will begin to be understood. 
 The inquiries of biologists, showing so 
 clearly the close physical relation between 
 man and the lower animals, naturally led 
 to an undue approximation of our own kind 
 to the lower life. The evidences of psychic 
 identity which have been accumulated 
 seemed at first sight to affirm the rela- 
 tion. Many naturalists at the present 
 day perceive little reason for making any 
 very trenchant division between our own 
 kind and our kindred among the higher 
 apes. It appears to me that this classi- 
 fication is overthrown when we consider 
 the curious emancipation from the domi- 
 nance of the body which man exhibits. 
 He alone with an unchanged frame is en- 
 abled to undergo enormous alterations in 
 the measure of his intellectual power, and 
 to accomplish these changes at a rate 
 which, in a geologic sense, is exceedingly 
 swift. 
 
ADVANCE IN* MENTAL POWER. 189 
 
 A reasonable construction of the facts 
 warrants the statement that the law of 
 generational advance has in man under- 
 gone a sudden, indeed we may say a par- 
 oxysmal, alteration ; in truth, the most 
 startling change which the history of or- 
 ganic life exhibits. In the ongoing of 
 the generations before man, the physical 
 and the psychic development went for- 
 ward at nearly equal rates. In man alone 
 do we find the body remaining relatively 
 invariable, showing no capacity for open- 
 ing up new lines of development, while 
 the intellectual powers appear almost un- 
 limited in their possibilities of advance. 
 It is hardly too much to say that the mea- 
 sure of advance in mental power, which 
 has been attained in human kind and won 
 in a few thousand years, exceeds all which 
 was accomplished in the tens of thousands 
 of species through which our life has 
 passed in its advance to the estate of man. 
 The naturalist knows no miracles ; to him 
 this departure from the old generational 
 
1 90 MARCH OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 principle is a part of the great order of 
 events. Nevertheless, he must confess 
 that there is nothing in the history of life 
 up to the level of man, which has met his 
 view, in any way calculated to explain the 
 psychic freedom of our species, the ease 
 with which the mental powers advance 
 while the bodily parts undergo no atten- 
 dant change. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 EVERYWHERE in organic nature, in ani- 
 mals and plants alike, we find evidence 
 of certain similar needs. First of these 
 comes the necessity of providing for the 
 sustenance of the creature by means of 
 food. No sooner in the history of the in- 
 dividual is this primal condition satisfied 
 than the problem of reproduction has to 
 be dealt with. Here, as in the matter of 
 nutrition, the method of dealing with the 
 question, though different in the several 
 organic groups, exhibits in them all an es- 
 sential similarity. The life of the race is 
 given for a time into the keeping of indi- 
 viduals, who, rising from the egg or seed, 
 try their powers in the tasks of life, give 
 birth to their successors, and then pass 
 away. Death is in all cases accepted as 
 
THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 a condition of advancement. The series 
 which have attained the highest develop- 
 ment have evidently won their place in 
 good part by organizing the method in 
 which the old give way to the young. As 
 this system of generational succession be- 
 comes affirmed, the difficulties attendant 
 on the ever-recurring return of the life to 
 the simplicity of the egg, and the dangers 
 which the feeble germs incur, lead to con- 
 tinual efforts to increase the measure of 
 the help which the parents may give their 
 offspring, and from these efforts there 
 arise a host of contrivances, partly struc- 
 tural, partly instinctive or intellectual, by 
 which the adult life helps that which is 
 germinating. The last of these great 
 structural advances were made in the 
 mammalian series ; the latest and incom- 
 parably the most important -of the intel- 
 lectual gains which look to this end were 
 begun, or at least foreshadowed, in the 
 lower groups, but were only carried very 
 far in human society. 
 
MOTHER AND CHILD. 193 
 
 The mechanical gains of the series of 
 animals whence man has derived his frame 
 and the cardinal motives of his mind con- 
 sist in the development of the milk-glands 
 and teats in the earlier forms of the group, 
 and the creation of the placenta in the 
 later members of the series. By these 
 contrivances the young are enabled to 
 profit by the strength of the mother until 
 they have passed by the peculiar weak- 
 nesses of their early development. By 
 these improvements in the relation of 
 mother and child development can be 
 maintained for a much longer time than 
 in the more primitive system of parental 
 relations, and thereby a greater measure 
 of advance is made possible. Vast as is 
 the profit of these singular bonds between 
 the mother and infant, the greatest step 
 towards the union of the strong with the 
 weak is afforded by the expansion of the 
 sympathies, by the growth of the affec- 
 tion between the elders and the young 
 of the species. Parental care exists in 
 
194 THE BOND. OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 many of the lower forms of animals ; a 
 love of the tribe is shown in the social 
 insects, such as the ants and bees ; but 
 while this is to these lower beings at 
 once very profitable, and so well developed 
 as to bring about the formation of very 
 elaborate social systems, such as those of 
 the ant-hill and the bee-hive, it is only 
 in the mammalia and the birds that the 
 family affection leads to the formation of 
 tribal sympathies which we recognize by 
 their manifestations to be clearly akin to 
 our own motives. These altruistic emo- 
 tions are evidently valuable to creatures 
 even in groups far below the level of man. 
 Considerable as is this sympathetic bond 
 which causes the leaders of the herding 
 mammalia to risk their lives for the safety 
 of the weaker members of their associa- 
 tion, in most cases it leads only to a cer- 
 tain rude defense of the young and the 
 females against the assaults of the larger 
 beasts of prey. Although the danger 
 from this source is by no means unimpor- 
 
THE HUSBANDING HABIT. 195 
 
 taut, this is not the exigency in which the 
 young are in the most constant need of 
 help. Their most serious requirement is 
 that of food in the season of scanty sup- 
 ply. The husbanding habit, though com- 
 mon among the insects, where it is in 
 some cases most ingeniously elaborated, 
 is rare and clumsy in its modes of action 
 among the vertebrates. Curiously enough 
 its development among the mammals, save 
 in man, is almost entirely limited to the 
 group of rodents, creatures which in other 
 regards than their mental parts show no 
 features which entitle them to high place 
 in the class to which they belong. In this 
 structurally rather inferior order, we find 
 nearly all the species which have a well- 
 determined habit of providing' during the 
 summer or autumn against the dearth of 
 the winter season. The squirrels, rats, 
 mice, but above all the beaver, have the 
 custom of hoarding provisions which they 
 gather with laborious determination and 
 store away with skill. It would be easy 
 
196 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 to show that this habit depends in a great 
 measure on the physical structure of these 
 creatures, which structure greatly favors 
 the resort to roots and seeds for food, and 
 lends itself naturally to the formation of 
 an instinctive habit of storing these arti- 
 cles in hoards for winter use. Except in 
 the case of the beaver, this habit cannot 
 be deemed social, for the creatures make 
 the provision, each for itself alone, and 
 with little reference to its kindred of the 
 tribe or family. 
 
 In general among the mammals below 
 the level of man, we find only the merest 
 rudiments of a social system. There is no 
 trace of anything like institutions or spe- 
 cial rules of conduct, such as create the 
 framework of human society. We see 
 one form of these devices in the insects. 
 In that group, at least among the commu- 
 nal forms, habits are so ordered that the 
 members of the commonwealth greatly 
 aid each other in the varied needs of life : 
 some gather and distribute food ; others 
 
SOCIAL SYSTEM OF INSECTS. 197 
 
 provide for the need of reproduction ; in 
 some cases, as in certain groups of ants, 
 yet other classes of the society act as sol- 
 diers. In some of the species, by a rude 
 process of adoption, feebler but indus- 
 trious varieties are taken into the colony 
 and there retained as slaves. In yet other 
 instances the ants cultivate aphids, from 
 which they derive a honey-like secretion. 
 They bear these little animals to suitable 
 places on the stems or branches of the 
 plants, and guard them from enemies. 
 Sometimes the ants carry this protective 
 work so far that they inclose the aphids 
 within walls of clay, so that they may be 
 secured from various dangers. But all 
 these marvelous things are done by the 
 insects in a purely formal way. They act 
 by the mental process which characterizes 
 their class, and which leads to deeds done 
 under the impulse of mere habit, in which 
 neither immediate sympathy nor distinct 
 rationality appears to have any share in 
 shaping the act. 
 
198 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 The great advantage we find in the 
 group of mammals is that whatever may 
 be done for the fellow-being is accom- 
 plished through emotions guided by a sym- 
 pathetic understanding of the fellow-crea- 
 ture, and with a certain measure of reason 
 in the act. It is true that many of these 
 actions become in a way habitual, and all 
 tend to be affected in this manner ; but 
 the ever-increasing importance of ration- 
 ality causes all the acts of these mam- 
 malian species to have much higher intel- 
 lectual quality than those of the insects. 
 When the creature is moved to action, the 
 stimulus operates on the passions, and the 
 deed is the expression of these motives. 
 It is not accomplished in the automatic 
 way in which it is brought about in the 
 case of the bees and ants. The effect of 
 this increase in rationality is that as soon 
 as the ancient and deeply-rooted sympa- 
 thies which are firmly implanted in this se- 
 ries of animals in their age-long experience 
 come to be guided by the higher intelli- 
 
A VAST ADVANCE. 199 
 
 gence of mankind, the connection between 
 the generations begins to be established 
 by means of institutions, if by this word 
 we may designate the permanent condi- 
 tions which are exhibited in the relations 
 between men. In place of the vague and 
 incoherent feeling for and with the kin- 
 dred, which we find among the lower 
 mammals, or the formal and limited co- 
 operative work of the communal insects, 
 we have in the social order of our species 
 a vast advance in the bond between the 
 generations, which is effected through the 
 same habitual, but still sympathetically 
 enlivened, institutions which more devel- 
 oped memory and reason foster. 
 
 First of all we must note the great ad- 
 vance in the care-taking motives among 
 men. Foresight, that creature of the 
 memory and of the constructive imagina- 
 tion, is scarcely developed among the 
 lower mammals ; except in the very special 
 instance of the beavers and the other 
 lesser rodents, there are only rare in- 
 
2OO THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 stances of forelooking, such as are ex- 
 hibited by the herds of the suck-giving 
 animals, who post sentinels to warn the 
 congregation when enemies approach. 
 Thus this motive of foresight, on which 
 all advance depends, is broadly indicated 
 below the level of man. But among the 
 lowest men we find perhaps one hundred 
 times the capacity for anticipating needs 
 which exists in any of the lower verte- 
 brate series. Even the most primitive 
 savages make some deliberate preparation 
 for the demands of to-morrow or the next 
 season of dearth. When the Andaman 
 islander or other low savage shapes any 
 tool, he does his labor with reference to 
 actions in the more or less remote future ; 
 he shapes it from his memory of expe- 
 riences and his expectations of actions 
 which he is hereafter to perform. With 
 all such people there is some husbanding 
 of food, some preparation of garners. 
 
 Morally naked as these brutal men seem 
 to be, we still find that there exist among 
 
RIGHTS OF OWNERSHIP. 2OI 
 
 them the elements of institutions which 
 regulate the conditions of their conduct 
 towards each other. Although the sense 
 of possession, with reference to property 
 in their wives, children, or chattels, is 
 often weak in the lower grades of human 
 kind, there are still some accepted princi- 
 ples which determine the rights of owner- 
 ship and of inheritance. These principles 
 are commonly founded on the sympathetic 
 relations between individuals who abide 
 together in the primitive family or its later 
 product, the tribe or clan. At first these 
 institutions concerning property have rela- 
 tively little value, for there is not much to 
 possess or to inherit, yet the scanty rai- 
 ment and the rude tools which the dying 
 leave are the beginnings of that vast store 
 of hereditaments which in large measure 
 control the shape and regulate the advance 
 of modern society. In the tribal state the 
 most important bond between the mem- 
 bers of the society is that which obliges 
 men to risk their lives for the common 
 
2O2 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 safety. Hence we have the institutions of 
 defense and valor and obedience to the 
 chosen leader, which are so well provided 
 in the early states of society that they re- 
 main in the traditions of civilization long 
 after the immediate needs which secured 
 their existence have passed away. 
 
 The institutions of valor and loyalty, the 
 first of the moral bonds of society to be 
 well affirmed, were naturally among the 
 first products of human sympathy, for on 
 their efficient action depends the chance 
 which may be afforded to all the other 
 motives of a social sort to find a place in 
 which to take root. 
 
 Until a body of people is gathered to- 
 gether, bound in association by a common 
 pride, and fended from the assaults of their 
 enemies by the devotion of vassals and the 
 skill of chieftains, there is no soil in which 
 the other higher motives may find a chance 
 to plant themselves : hence these primal 
 forms of sympathetic institutions are or 
 have been of overwhelming value to hu- 
 
THE FEUDAL SPIRIT. 2O3 
 
 man interests. That which is, at least in 
 its more advanced form, the feudal spirit, 
 has also certain very important effects in 
 linking one generation to another. Under 
 it, as a reward for valor, there arise cer- 
 tain privileges and considerations which 
 belong to particular men ; in almost all 
 cases these immunities, on death, pass to 
 the kindred of the man : hence we have the 
 bond of the family strengthened, and at 
 the same time there is awakened a sense 
 of the principle of inheritance, which, 
 though it at first may relate only to the 
 descent of privileges, comes in time to 
 have a more important meaning. In the 
 very lowest state of savagery there is but 
 little consideration given to the individual 
 because of his ancestors, and for a long 
 time in the upward going, men are valued 
 by their individual power in action, rather 
 than for any qualities of their ancestors. 
 Incidentally, however, in all social develop- 
 ment the family bond, in which the tribal 
 organization began, again most potently 
 
2O4 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 asserts itself in a redivision of the society 
 into households. 
 
 The social segmentation by means of 
 which the gens arises within the tribe 
 marks, as nothing else does, the passage 
 from the first to the second stage of na- 
 tional development. The change from the 
 purely tribal compact or defensive condi- 
 tion of the aggregation to that in which 
 increasing security permits the social or- 
 der to obey the motives which lead to 
 inner and more complete development, 
 would of itself afford a most interesting 
 field for inquiry. But for our present 
 purpose we need only to note that the di- 
 vision into gentes or families, under the 
 common but enlarged and affirmed tribal 
 authority, leads to the institution of an- 
 other and nearer bond between the several 
 individuals in the several lines of inher- 
 itance. Each of these subdivisions, en- 
 dowed with inheritances of privileges of 
 pride and of property, looks forward with 
 keen interest to the successors in its line. 
 
THE FAMILY. 2O$ 
 
 These family units are well-determined 
 elements of the nascent state ; they often 
 gather about them as retainers or as slaves 
 the feebler elements of society, those who 
 have never had ancestors strong enough 
 to secure a social place for their stock. 
 
 With the next step in the advancing 
 social order, the gentile system commonly 
 disappears, and the separate family rises in 
 dignity ; the measure of the enhancement 
 in the importance of the household is gen- 
 erally in proportion to the degree in which 
 security against external or internecine 
 danger has been affirmed. The status of 
 the family is indeed the best index of the 
 development of law in a society, for only 
 in a well-regulated state can these sep- 
 arate units, the families, be sufficiently 
 protected to maintain themselves, and only 
 in such a state can the man be left free 
 enough from other demands on his alle- 
 giance to do his part as master of a well- 
 organized household. The peculiar advan- 
 tage of the limited family consists in the 
 
2O6 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 fact that it permits the elders of a group, 
 in which the affections are strong, to do 
 their will in giving to the children the 
 largest possible share of the help which 
 the adult members of the society can spare 
 for their nurture. There are not wanting 
 theorists who look upon the somewhat self- 
 ish limitation of the exclusive household 
 as a damage to society in general ; some 
 of them propose to help the social order 
 by turning the life which is now shut in 
 by the home walls into the common field 
 of national activity. Such people mistake 
 the essential position of the home ; they 
 fail to see that the family is a most per- 
 fect contrivance for the difficult task of 
 conveying from parent to child the varied 
 nurture which is necessary to lift the hu- 
 man infant to the state in which it must 
 come to its adult work. It is the only 
 traversable bridge over which the succes- 
 sive generations of this vastly complicated 
 being can pass across the gap which death 
 is ever making between the individual 
 
SYSTEMATIC TEACHING. 2O? 
 
 stages of life. The width and depth of 
 this interval increase with each advance 
 in the status of man. It is now the most 
 serious of our social problems, the more so 
 because it is unseen, to lift the youth of 
 our time to the ever more exalted station 
 of our kind. 
 
 While the family is to be reckoned as 
 the most effective instrument for applying 
 the resources of society in the task of con- 
 veying the social store to the young, our 
 whole system of schooling, an outgrowth 
 of the household education, is a later, and, 
 in the higher stages of society, a very 
 important supplement to the domestic 
 work. The history of systematic teaching 
 is one of the most interesting chapters in 
 the records of civilization. To tell it in 
 a sufficient manner would require a great 
 treatise ; we can only note the outlines of 
 the story. All true literature is the ex- 
 pression of the sympathies ; it is the pro- 
 duct of those motives deeply stamped in 
 the mammalian series, whence man derives 
 
2O8 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 his store of qualities which leads the crea- 
 ture to go out towards its kindred : first 
 towards its own children, and then in ever- 
 widening circles to its more distant rela- t 
 tions, the other members of the gens, the 
 tribe, the nation, all mankind, and even all 
 nature. This, the primal form of learn- 
 ing, the product of the affections, begins 
 in all cases with the song or chant, in 
 which the sentiments receive the peculiar 
 mould which the metric impulse gives to 
 them. At first it concerns the simpler 
 motives of men : war, the chase, sexual 
 love, all of which are primal interests, and 
 the very foundations of the literary mo- 
 tive. As records are developed, the task 
 of the bard enlarges ; as national ongoing 
 begins, the store of the scholar soon be- 
 comes larger than the household teaching 
 can impart, and in the natural division of 
 labor a portion of the task of instructing 
 is transferred to the helpers of the house- 
 hold labor, the teachers, whereby it be- 
 comes unfortunately in part severed from 
 
THE PROCESS OF ACCUMULATION. 209 
 
 the sympathetic motives which should 
 attend all the work of uplifting the youth. 1 
 The family and its adjunct the school 
 are the means whereby the store of 
 wealth of all kinds, that of learning as 
 well as of more material quality, is applied 
 to the supreme task of uplifting the weak 
 youth to the strength of the mature. The 
 process of accumulation, extremely imper- 
 fect in the primitive conditions of society, 
 goes on apace with each step in the eco- 
 nomic advance. Among the Australian 
 savages or the Andaman Islanders the 
 store of goods of all kinds available for 
 the nurture of the weak is very small ; 
 taking account of the material elements 
 
 1 The decadence of value in education, as it is removed 
 from the household, a decay due, I believe, to the loss 
 of the sympathetic motive, may be well measured by 
 the effect on the teaching of art which has come from 
 the modern practice of giving over all such instruction to 
 public schools. While art work was done in the family 
 or in the household workshops, but little removed from 
 the influences of the hearth, it was more direct, more 
 appealing to man than in its modern school form. 
 
2IO THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 of subsistence alone, it is probably not on 
 the average equal to more than a month's 
 labor per capita of the total population. 
 In our most civilized states, counting all 
 the "plant" of civilization, houses, roads, 
 care which has gone to the improvement 
 of fields, etc., it is at least one hundred 
 times as much as among the lower sav- 
 ages ; it may indeed amount to a thousand 
 times that sum. Among the more primi- 
 tive peoples there is only a small share of 
 human endeavor embodied in the intangi- 
 ble yet precious heritage of the folk ; their 
 literature, their science, and their law can 
 hardly be valued at a higher price in terms 
 of labor than their chattels ; but in civil- 
 ized states these products of thought and 
 experience are of incalculable importance. 
 Age by age this store has increased until 
 now it has gone quite beyond the distrib- 
 utive efficiency of our family or school 
 system ; the very wealth of the people 
 clogs the channels by which it should find 
 its way to the rising generation. 
 
THE OFFICES OF WEALTH. 211 
 
 It is an almost impossible task in a 
 work such as this to do more than help 
 the reader's imagination to conceive the 
 vast harvest of good which the race has 
 won, and is constantly augmenting, all of 
 which is in effect a garment to shelter the 
 individual, a strong and flexible chain to 
 knit the generations together, and thus to 
 unify mankind. We can clearly see how 
 vast is the importance of the mechanical 
 method of binding the child to the mother 
 through the placenta, by which the young 
 is permitted to enjoy for a greater time 
 the advantages of the mother's vigor. 
 The great accumulation of disposable 
 wealth which is at the command of hu- 
 man society in a certain broad way is anal- 
 ogous to that bond between the parent 
 and the child. It connects the mental, 
 moral, and physical labor of the genera- 
 tions in the same effective way as the 
 placenta unites the bodily organization of 
 the generations together. The devices of 
 capital, currency, credit, wages, etc., are all 
 
212 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 means whereby this store of inherited 
 profit can be made to serve the needs for 
 which it so admirably provides. These 
 needs are, in general, the maintenance of 
 the individual and the nurture of the 
 youth. The family is the principal agent 
 in securing the second and more important 
 object accomplished by wealth, namely, its 
 distribution. With every advance in so- 
 cial structure, the share of this store, 
 which, through the household, is devoted 
 to the uses of the youth, is increased ; in 
 truth, the proportion of its gains which the 
 community consecrates to this purpose is 
 the best possible measure of the grade of 
 its organization. 
 
 Although our habits of thought inevi- 
 tably lead us to consider the position of 
 man as apart from that of the lower ani- 
 mated nature, it is easy to see that this 
 store of inheritances, which constitutes 
 the moral and material transmittenda of 
 society, is essentially like, in all save its 
 mass, to that which binds the flocks and 
 
THE DESIRE FOR UNION. 213 
 
 herds of the lower life together; their 
 sympathetic motives which have led to 
 the affection for children or associates or 
 chieftains, their friendly definite rules of 
 conduct, their stores of food when such 
 are amassed, are all more than mere fore- 
 shadowings of the institutions of human 
 society. They all alike point to the ac- 
 complishment of the great end, namely, 
 the union, by a community of goods, of 
 creatures which are severed from each 
 other through the law by which the life of 
 the species is but temporarily given into 
 the keeping of individuals. Thus while 
 nature recognizes that severance is neces- 
 sary to success in development, the part- 
 ing is no sooner secured than the reunion 
 is sought by every possible means. Great 
 as are the gains in the physical union of 
 the generations by the food stored in the 
 egg, the action of the milk glands or the 
 placenta, the results brought about are 
 trifling compared with those attained by 
 intellectual processes which man unend- 
 
214 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 ingly employs to accomplish the same end. 
 In fact, the organic and the intellectual 
 union which the mammalian series ex- 
 hibit have in many regards essentially dif- 
 ferent results. The contrivances of milk 
 glands and placenta serve to nourish the 
 young in the more infantile period, and 
 thus lead it past the difficulties which it 
 encounters in the first stages of develop- 
 ment ; their effect is to keep the body 
 plastic for a longer time than would other- 
 wise be possible, and so to favor a higher 
 physical and mental development. The so- 
 cial institutions accomplish another end ; 
 they directly contribute to the moral and 
 intellectual nurture of the young by giving 
 to them the experience and acquisitions 
 of their predecessors. 
 
 So far in this process of developing the 
 social resources of men or the coincident 
 task of organizing the means whereby 
 they are distributed, there has been no 
 pervading rationality, no definite purpose. 
 Each special part of the work has, it is 
 
NO PERVADING RATIONALITY. 215 
 
 true, been done in a more or less conscious 
 and determined manner, but the great gen- 
 eral effects have been accomplished in a 
 way hardly more regulated by the con- 
 scious will of men than are the processes 
 of the seasons. Man has acted to gratify 
 his momentary desires, and the ever-ruling 
 powers "have organized his actions into 
 the assembled good. The tribal system 
 grew from that of the family as directly 
 and as simply as the tree from its seed ; 
 wealth followed from foresight and greed, 
 learning from curiosity, law from just but 
 momentary decisions. These social frag- 
 ments were integrated without intention. 
 They came together to form the bond be- 
 tween the individuals and the generations, 
 with no more of human plan in the action 
 than shapes the processes which unite the 
 child with the mother in the period before 
 its birth. It is only when the advancing 
 curiosity and the organized inquiry which 
 it brings about lead men to make re- 
 searches into their own mental states, that 
 
2l6 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 the marvel of it all appears to us. We 
 then see that by following his instincts, 
 with only a faint ray of reason to guide 
 him in the immediate steps he had to take, 
 man has by his sympathetic labor con- 
 structed in a nobler way the same kind of 
 society which we find in the economy of a 
 sponge or coral colony or the more intel- 
 lectual bond of the ant-hill. The humanly 
 contrived society binds the individuals in 
 a common life, insures the elevation of the 
 young, and minimizes, as far as seems to 
 be possible, the evils which arise from the 
 brief duration of the individual life. If it 
 had been contrived with foresight to meet 
 the peculiar needs, it could not, so far as 
 we can see, have been better adjusted to 
 them. 
 
 As yet the break which death makes in 
 the process of being is imperfectly re- 
 paired by these social contrivances. The 
 blow to the individual, the fear and sorrow 
 which it brings to the sufferer and to those 
 who are endeared to him, remain with only 
 
THE ANCIENT HURT OF DEATH. 21 / 
 
 the limited assuaging which the highest of 
 social motives, religion, alone can afford. 
 There is, however, reason to hope, or it 
 may be to expect, that through the fuller 
 understanding of the place of the indi- 
 vidual being in the world there will be a 
 further mitigation of this evil. When men 
 come to feel how true it is that the life of 
 their kind is the infinitely important matter 
 for care, and that the individual is of mo- 
 ment mainly as he contributes to the sus- 
 tenance, defense, and elevation of the kind, 
 we may hope for a new moral support in 
 the trial which death brings. It is through 
 the modern view of science that we come 
 to see how this nature, which holds men 
 as the body of the mother does the un- 
 born child, has provided that they spring 
 from the lower creatures, inheriting their 
 motives and unfolding them into a higher 
 form, so that in a natural manner they 
 are endowed with the marvelously per- 
 fect resources against the more evident 
 dangers which the individualizing of life 
 
21 8 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 brings about. It is now the task of the 
 rational man to take up this work which 
 has been done for him by the agents of 
 the older and the outer nature, and to per- 
 fect it by the use of his sympathetic un- 
 derstanding and his rational toil. Every 
 step he takes in this magnificent task will 
 serve still further to make him free of the 
 evils of his isolation, and thus to heal the 
 ancient hurt of death ; for it will lead him 
 further from the consideration of self, in 
 which all fear of death has its origin, and 
 bring him more into the enduring life of 
 his kind. When he enters on this way he 
 indeed leaves death behind him. 
 
 It is evident that there are two ways 
 by which men instinctively seek to guard 
 themselves from the evils which they ap- 
 prehend through death. In one of these 
 they find their consolation in the hope of 
 a personal immortality which shall afford 
 them beyond the change a chance to re- 
 sume their activities, and in due time to 
 recover the associations which alone make 
 
SACRIFICE OF SELF, 2 19 
 
 life precious. Although this way leads 
 through hedonistic fields, it lies in the 
 higher parts of that sterile realm, and has 
 been to many a path of advancement. The 
 other course, that along which the higher 
 spirits travel, is altruistic. It leads to the 
 sacrifice of the individual's interest in 
 himself, and to the devotion of all his 
 thought to the interests of his kind and 
 to the purposes of his Maker. So far as 
 these motives which lead to the expecta- 
 tion of immortal personal life, or to the 
 devotion of a man's powers to his infinite 
 or finite kindred, are matters of pure reli- 
 gion, I pass them by. There are, how- 
 ever, certain considerations of an imme- 
 diately practical nature concerning which 
 the man of science, as such, has a right to 
 an opinion. 
 
 It is quite natural that the strong hand 
 of death should be manifested in our so- 
 cial systems, for they are but the reflex 
 of human experience, the present account 
 of all which has gone before in the series 
 
220 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 of being which has led to their evolution. 
 The general conduct of every society, as 
 well as that of the individuals which com- 
 pose it, is to a great extent influenced by 
 traditions which have been derived from 
 a remote past. In most cases these cus- 
 tomary actions are below the plane of 
 feeling and understanding which prevail 
 among the individuals in the association. 
 In general we may say that the plane of 
 social action is below the level of its effec- 
 tive elements ; thus it comes, about that 
 while the congeries of influences which 
 operate upon men who dwell together 
 serves to elevate the inefficient members 
 of the association, it operates to lower the 
 grade of action of those who do the work 
 of advance. Therefore society needs a 
 constant revision in order that we may 
 weed out the customs and the traditions 
 on which they are founded, that serve to 
 retard the upward going of men. 
 
 Considering our social system with ref- 
 erence to the impress which death has 
 
MORTUARY EVILS. 221 
 
 made upon it, we at once note certain ob- 
 servances which are the relics and results 
 of a state of mind much lower than that 
 which exists among the better spirits of 
 our own time. The first of these mortu- 
 ary evils which we may note is found in 
 the excessive grief for the dead which so 
 extensively prevails even among people 
 who are religious-minded ; that is, who 
 should look with perfect confidence upon 
 the order of events in which they are 
 placed. It is difficult to overestimate the 
 gravity of the burden which grief imposes 
 on mankind. The injuries which it brings 
 arise in part from the essentially selfish 
 direction of the energy of the person who 
 indulges in sorrow which leads to the deg- 
 radation of the individual mind, and partly 
 from the loss which is thus brought about 
 in the altruistic motives which alone can 
 advance the moral culture of the people. 
 The evil of grief is enhanced by the fact 
 that like all the other emotions it is read- 
 ily accumulated by inheritance. The ten- 
 
222 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 dency to excessive sorrow is probably 
 among the more transmissible of human 
 qualities. The result is that the unhappy 
 state of mind is handed on from genera- 
 tion to generation, and maintains itself 
 against all the corrective influences which 
 religion and philosophy should bring into 
 action. Here and there it is true that 
 we find individuals who have in a measure 
 escaped from this burden of sorrow, but 
 .as a whole the corrective influence of our 
 higher thinking has had but little effect in 
 lightening the load of grief which death 
 inflicts. 
 
 The customs connected with our dispo- 
 sition of the dead are well calculated, not 
 only to maintain this burden, but to in- 
 crease the tax which it imposes on society. 
 The costs of inhumation are often greater 
 than those incurred in the education of an 
 individual ; the cemeteries, at least those 
 about our great cities, generally represent 
 a much greater expenditure than do the 
 schools of the people. Thus the cost of 
 
EDUCATIONAL ASPECTS.. 22$ 
 
 the property contained in the cemetery 
 of Mt. Auburn is probably as great as that 
 of Harvard College. It is many times as 
 great as that involved in all the school- 
 buildings belonging to the people who- 
 bury their dead in that cemetery. As this 
 is somewhat of a digression from the main 
 path of this essay, we may not consider it 
 further. It will, however, be clear to all 
 considerate people that our methods with 
 the dead not only do violence to our judg- 
 ment as to the place of death in the world, 
 but also withdraw from the living the help 
 which they should receive from their fel- 
 low-men. 
 
 We now turn to consider the educa- 
 tional aspects of the matter which we 
 have in hand. The question is, in what 
 way and to what extent our knowledge 
 concerning the development of life can be 
 made to elevate the thought and action 
 of man. It is clear that the conception 
 concerning the place of the individual 
 human being in the society to which he 
 
224 THE BOND OP THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 belongs may be vastly improved by this 
 larger understanding of his relations which 
 science affords. It is also clear that it 
 would be a difficult matter to bring the 
 ideas home to the people. When the 
 teacher essays this task, he at once finds a 
 difficulty arising from the large and inde- 
 finable character of the knowledge which 
 has to be presented to the pupil before the 
 moral value of the teaching can be se- 
 cured. Few indeed among our naturalists 
 are led to take a moral view of the facts 
 which their domain affords. If, therefore, 
 the educative value of the truth concern- 
 ing the history of organic life depended 
 upon a system of teaching which would 
 give the mass of our people any consid- 
 erable part of the learning on which our 
 conclusions rest, we might well doubt its 
 value in general education. 
 
 Fortunately for those who would set 
 forth clearly to all men the important 
 truths of any science, there exists among 
 all people a singular capacity for adopting 
 
EPIGRAMMATIC TEACHING. 22$ 
 
 conclusions which they take, not by the 
 way of detailed knowledge, but through 
 maxims which present in a condensed 
 form the essence of complicated truths. 
 Almost all the useful lore which influ- 
 ences the masses of society secures its 
 effective presentation in this epigram- 
 matic form. So long as learning remains 
 in the shape in which the investigator 
 uses it, it is generally useless to the unini- 
 tiated in the science. It is only when the 
 poet does his work, when he phrases the 
 truth in a form to appeal to the imagina- 
 tion, or the more prosaic litterateur in 
 a kindred way adapts the statement to 
 ordinary understandings, that the public 
 has a profit from the inquiry. A good 
 instance of the way in which a recondite 
 conclusion of science may be brought 
 home to a people and greatly influence 
 their thought and action may be found 
 in the popular history of the Darwinian 
 hypothesis. The currency of this view 
 beyond the limits of the professional natu- 
 
226 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 ralists is mainly due to its happy expres- 
 sion in Mr. Spencer's phrase, " the survival 
 of the fittest." The term "natural selec- 
 tion," though a more consistent and logi- 
 cal expression of Mr. Darwin's main result, 
 is purely scientific, and could never have 
 had much meaning to the masses of men. 
 It is evident that we cannot expect 
 much moral influence from science until 
 its truths have obtained a currency which 
 can alone be given them through the chan- 
 nels of sympathetic understanding. They 
 must enter into that humanized body of 
 knowledge which constitutes literature. 
 It appears to me that the moral value of 
 this learning cannot well be conveyed 
 through our ordinary schools. The trend 
 of the work done by these institutions 
 appears to be steadily, and perhaps inev- 
 itably, towards other and more immediate 
 ends. In our universities, it is true, there 
 is fit time and place for the teacher of sci- 
 ence to direct the attention of the student 
 to the moral aspects of his inquiries. Yet 
 
MORAL TRUTHS OF SCIENCE. 22*J 
 
 even there, as my own experience clearly 
 indicates, this important task cannot de- 
 mand much of the teacher's attention. He 
 necessarily feels that his main duty is to 
 present the truth in a purely scientific 
 manner. A part of the work which has 
 to be done in order to bring the moral 
 aspects of science before the public may 
 be accomplished, indeed is now being in a 
 measure done, by those writers, such as 
 Mr. Spencer, who without much detailed 
 knowledge of nature possess- quick under- 
 standings and the literary faculty which 
 enables them to shape their knowledge for 
 the needs of the ordinary man. Good as 
 much of this work is, it appears to me 
 incompetent to effect the end we have in 
 view. The experience of the ages clearly 
 shows that the inculcation of moral truths 
 can only be successfully effected in the per- 
 sonal way. The instilling of such truths 
 seems to demand the immediate influence 
 of a personality. The weight of the im- 
 pression depends upon the voice and the 
 
228 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 eye of a teacher, and upon that indescrib- 
 able atmosphere which surrounds those 
 who lead the conduct of men. On this 
 account we are led to look, for the inculca- 
 tion of those scientific conclusions which 
 concern morals, to the class of teachers to 
 whom for ages the specific moral educa- 
 tion of society has been committed. 
 
 I am aware that the foregoing proposi- 
 tion, that instruction in those truths of 
 natural science which are of most concern 
 to the masses of men should be left to 
 the order of pastors, will not commend 
 itself to most naturalists. They will gen- 
 erally apprehend that such a channel of 
 presentation will lead to very distorted 
 statements, in which the natural facts will 
 be warped to suit the exigencies of partic- 
 ular creeds. It may be confessed that this 
 fear is reasonable. In answer to this ob- 
 jection we should consider the following 
 points : Out of the necessities of their 
 situation men have determined that their 
 moral conduct shall be supervised by a 
 
PASTORS AS TEACHERS. 22Q 
 
 body of clergy. No one who acquires a 
 reasonably good conception of the condi- 
 tions of society can expect a state of the 
 social order in which these care-takers of 
 conduct will cease to have their appointed 
 work to do. To this clergy naturally falls 
 the task of disseminating and inculcat- 
 ing moral truth. We cannot imagine the 
 division of their functions between two 
 classes of men, the one dealing with the 
 moral considerations which are founded on 
 religious creeds, and the other with those 
 which are contributed by natural science. 
 Such a division of labor would be prepos- 
 terous. 
 
 It is impossible to foresee the steps by 
 which this practical unification of science 
 and religion may be brought about. It 
 is clear that the way which leads to it is 
 long and the obstacles are many, but the 
 result appears inevitable. Although the 
 endeavor to forecast the process by which 
 the facts of science which affect the con- 
 duct of life may become embodied with 
 
230 THE BOND OF THE GENERATIONS. 
 
 our older moral teaching would be futile, 
 there are certain considerations concern- 
 ing the matter which we have at this time 
 to face. It is clearly necessary that our 
 clergy should be so far informed concern- 
 ing the truths which natural science af- 
 fords that they may at once proceed with 
 their use. This duty is the more imme- 
 diate for the reason that the general pub- 
 lic, even in the less educated parts of our 
 society, already begin to perceive that the 
 new learning has a moral aspect ; they are 
 indeed making a rude and half-informed 
 use of these new acquisitions. Thus in 
 the case of the maxim "the survival of 
 the fittest," the half-conceived idea leads 
 many persons to the pernicious corollary 
 that whatever is, is right, or to the less 
 objectionable, but utterly erroneous no- 
 tion, that the forces of the environing 
 nature will of themselves alone secure 
 moral advancement. Moreover, certain 
 half - conceptions of scientific truth are 
 leading men to regard their individuality 
 
IMPORTANCE OF THE INDIVIDUAL. 23! 
 
 as unimportant. The naturalist alone, how- 
 ever he may labor within his appointed 
 field, can never hope to show to men the 
 moral significance of their personality, 
 which is disclosed by his peculiar inqui- 
 ries, and which can be made vastly to rein- 
 force our ancient canons of conduct. It 
 is for the preacher to bear in upon men 
 the fact that each person is the keeper of 
 all the good which with infinite toil and 
 pains has been won by the generations of 
 life which have led to the estate of man. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 THE mental qualities which we term 
 altruistic are those instinctive emotions 
 which lead the mind to actions which 
 have no relation to personal gratification, 
 but on the contrary involve some subjuga- 
 tion of the immediate desires of the self. 
 Every intelligent student of mental phe- 
 nomena has recognized the extreme diffi- 
 culty which is encountered in the effort to 
 explain the origin of these motives. Self- 
 ishness, or hedonism, in all its moods, is 
 readily explained. As long as the mind 
 inclines to do those things which bring 
 immediate profit in the gratification of 
 personal desires, its action is within the 
 limits which we term natural ; but when 
 the emotions lead to self-sacrifice, which 
 can have no reference to profit, to acts 
 
THE MYSTERY OF ALTRUISM. 233 
 
 which have their satisfaction in unprofit- 
 ableness, the observer is at a loss for an 
 explanation. All students of the mind 
 have more or less clearly perceived the 
 essential mystery of altruism. Kant found 
 it insoluble. Schopenhauer sets forth the 
 problem in the beginning of his essay on 
 the foundation of morality (Die Grund- 
 lage der Moral) with delightful clearness,, 
 and then wraps it in his cold fog of pes- 
 simism. A score of other students have 
 wrestled with the problem, have seen its esr 
 sential mystery, but have left it as obscure 
 as they found it. No one who has consid- 
 ered this question can doubt that of. all 
 metaphysical problems, it is the one which 
 needs the most light. Any student is jus- 
 tified in making the almost inevitable fail- 
 ure which he sees must await his efforts 
 to clear the doubts away. The importance 
 of altruism is vastly increased by the fact 
 that it "is here that religion finds its founda- 
 tions in the nature of man. It is because 
 the mind of man is altruistic, because it 
 
234 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 goes out to his fellows, to the world of 
 phenomena which lies beyond his appe- 
 tites, or yet further to that realm which 
 lies beyond the visible world, that religion 
 exists or duty finds a chance to be. 
 / As long as man was looked upon as 
 independently created, as long as he was 
 regarded as a thing outside of the other 
 life of the world, the naturalist had no 
 reason to consider the question of altruism 
 as within his province. But the modern 
 advance in the theory of life has made it 
 perfectly clear that man is, in all his parts, 
 both physical and mental, the last term in 
 an organic series which has led in an un- 
 broken succession of links from the lowest 
 forms of life to his present estate. This 
 brings the question clearly within the 
 province of the naturalist, and gives him 
 a right to take a part in the study of the 
 altruistic motive. 
 
 Before we undertake to see what aid the 
 naturalist can give in this inquiry, let us 
 examine a little more closely into the 
 
THE PHENOMENA OF ALTRUISM. 235 
 
 facts ; let us see in a rapid way what 
 classification can be made in the phenom- 
 ena of altruism. Thus we shall set the 
 problem clearly before our minds. Defin- 
 ing altruism as the unselfish expenditure 
 of mental power upon things outside of 
 the limits of individuality, an expenditure 
 made with no reference to the organic 
 needs of the individual, we give to the 
 word a wider connotation than is com- 
 monly assigned to it. In the ordinary use 
 of the word, sympathy is regarded as an 
 affection pertaining to one's fellow-men 
 alone ; but if we look closely we see that 
 it includes in many modern minds a pre- 
 cisely similar emotion toward all those 
 animals which can be conceived of feeling 
 as men feel. Following it further, we see 
 that, with some variation in intensity, it 
 includes the love of nature. There is, it 
 seems to me, only a difference in degree 
 and in certain minor concomitants be- 
 tween the emotion with which we caress 
 a dog and that we experience when we 
 
236 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 enjoy a beautiful landscape. The essen- 
 tial feature in both is the going out of the 
 mind into the field of life beyond itself ; 
 so it is with the impulse to religion. Dif- 
 fering widely from the other forms of sym- 
 pathy in its mixture of motives, it is still 
 essentially altruistic ; but for the personal 
 motive of sympathy, that outward going of 
 the mind, it could not exist. 
 
 These three forms of the altruistic mo- 
 tive, namely, the sympathy with the fellow- 
 man, the sympathy with nature, and the 
 sympathy with the Infinite, have very dif- 
 ferent degrees of intensity, and are other- 
 wise divisible from each other in many 
 ways. Sympathy with the fellow-man is 
 the most intense of the three. It is the 
 simplest form of the motive ; it may ex- 
 ist with less admixture of related motives 
 than the other divisions of altruistic im- 
 pulses. It is the most universal among 
 men, and the most frequently active in 
 any mind. Moreover, as we shall here- 
 after see, it is the form of this instinct 
 
DEGREES OF INTENSITY. 
 
 that we can trace among the lower ani- 
 mals. 
 
 The impulse to sympathy with the Infi- 
 nite or with a God is next in intensity, but 
 in its quality very much less simple and 
 unmixed than that with the fellow-man ; 
 while the sympathy with nature, the out- 
 going of the mind to the world of life, 
 organic and physical, is the least intense 
 of all. This last is a mode of altruism that 
 is essentially modern in origin, and as yet 
 has but slight effect upon most minds. 
 The love of nature seems to be not only 
 a motive of modern days, but it appears 
 to be mainly limited to the Aryan people. 
 It is not unlikely that it is in effect an 
 overflowing of the sympathies which were 
 originally developed in our kind, by the 
 love of kindred, of chieftains, or of the 
 Supreme. In the progress of social devel- 
 opment, we can, in a general way at least, 
 trace the stages of development from the 
 more primal conditions of the altruistic 
 motives, to the more developed form in 
 
238 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 which they now find a place in the minds 
 of the more cultivated men. 
 
 These facts lead the naturalist to regard 
 the sympathy with the fellow-being as 
 probably the original form of all the 
 modes of altruism, the others being of 
 later origin in the process of development 
 of this motive in the animal life below 
 the level of man. Anything which he 
 can discover which will throw light on 
 the conditions under which this altruistic 
 motive had its origin will, he may be 
 sure, be a welcome contribution to the 
 matter. 
 
 Before we undertake this inquiry, let us 
 notice the fact that, although the evolu- 
 tion of altruism is a matter which lies well 
 within the province of the naturalist, it 
 belongs to a class of questions that he is 
 not well fitted to examine. The organic 
 world has two distinct realms : the one 
 includes the vast assemblage of specific 
 forms, visible, tangible bodies, explain- 
 ing themselves to the senses, and afford- 
 
ANIMAL MIND. 239 
 
 ing an infinite field for the employment of 
 all the observer's skill of eye and hand; 
 the other realm is that of mental parts. 
 Here the field of observation is as shad- \ 
 owy and perplexed as it is evident and 
 clear in the physical realm. That which 
 the naturalist sees of animal mind he sees 
 at an immense disadvantage. In the first 
 place he cannot perceive the mind of any 
 being directly ; he can only infer the men- 
 tal constitution of the creature from its 
 acts, and these acts are performed by 
 parts that are, in most cases, utterly un- 
 like those with which he is accustomed to 
 see emotions expressed. It is only when 
 the creatures belong in the upper part of 
 the animal kingdom and are akin to him- 
 self in the nature of their emotions and 
 their modes of expression, that he can at- 
 tain much certainty in his observations. 
 Moreover, the whole training of the nat- 
 uralist, as it is now pursued, tends to 
 blind him to the observation of such ob- 
 scure things as the mental phenomena of 
 
240 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 nature. Every pursuit, if it become de- 
 voted to its ends, creates an idol of preju- 
 dice in the mind. With the naturalist it 
 is the idol of clearness, what we might 
 perhaps better call the idol of evident fact, 
 that is created. Accustomed to see all 
 with which he deals, the invisible is sure 
 to be with him the non-existent. Every 
 now and then some experience tells him 
 that the invisible element in the operation 
 of this life is really greater than the visi- 
 ble element. He sees, for instance, the 
 little transparent sphere of the egg, ap- 
 parently no more specialized than a small 
 bit of calf s-foot jelly, yet he knows that 
 it is charged with the history and the 
 profit of a hundred million years of life, 
 which it will hand down to the beings 
 which are to come from it. Despite these 
 lessons, which he may have at any hour 
 of his work, the naturalist must bow before 
 the matter-of-fact, and shun this indefinite 
 field. His life must be in the open day 
 of plainly seen things. There are few 
 
BEGINNING OF MENTAL POWERS. 241 
 
 naturalists, and those mainly of the class 
 that did not enter on the study of zoology 
 by the anatomical path, who have shown 
 any skill in the study of the mental parts 
 of animals. With these limitations well 
 in mind, we may enter on the inquiry into 
 the natural history of altruism, free from 
 any over-expectation of the results that 
 may be attained. 
 
 It is not possible to determine where- 
 abouts in the ascending scale of animal 
 life the mental powers began to exist. 
 The lowest organized creatures that we 
 may safely term animals are, to our senses, 
 only shapeless, tiny bits of jelly, transpar- 
 ent, with no trace of organs of any de- 
 scription. They move by protruding the 
 semi-fluid mass on one side and drawing 
 it in on the other ; they feed by rolling 
 themselves around the bit of food, absorb- 
 ing its nutriment into their body, and then 
 rolling their elastic forms away from the 
 undigested matter ; and they reproduce by 
 a simple division of the body. Of one in- 
 
242 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 dividual we may make two or ten by divid- 
 ing it with a knife, and each bit will accept 
 the separate existence with no shock to the 
 organism. Yet it is difficult to watch these 
 creatures without forming the opinion 
 that they have some mode of mind in 
 them. Their acts seem to involve voli- 
 tion ; they may be automatic, yet some 
 mental quality must be the governor of 
 the automatism. 
 
 There is a whole sub-kingdom the 
 protozoa which shows little structural 
 advance on the primitive simplicity of its 
 lower members. Individuals learn the art 
 of combining themselves into associations 
 that build wonderful communities, such 
 as our sponges ; but nowhere in them do 
 we find the mark of mental habits. If 
 there be anything like a mind in their 
 level of life, it must be limited to the sim- 
 plest reflection of desires, and to a volition 
 which gives activities for their gratifica- 
 tion. The next step higher, we find our- 
 selves among the radiated animals. Here, 
 
MENTAL HABITS. 243 
 
 at the outset, a great advance in machin- 
 ery for sentiency is developed. There is 
 a nervous system ; there are the begin- 
 nings of sight and touch organs. The 
 machinery of the nerves thus begins to 
 recognize the existence of an outer world, 
 from which impressions are to be gained, 
 which may guide the life of the individ- 
 ual. Still these impressions must be of 
 the dimmest sort. The life is gathered 
 within the walls of the animal. There is 
 hardly more than the faintest mental reac- 
 tion of the creature upon the outer world. 
 One great advance the creatures in the 
 highest group of the radiates effect. They 
 discover the art of moving in a definite di- 
 rection over the sea bottom in such a way 
 that the head, or the part that bears the 
 most important sense organs, is foremost 
 in the advance. This organization of the 
 body, in such a manner that the motion is 
 in a determined axis, and the instruments 
 of perception at its anterior end, is replete 
 with momentous consequences to animal 
 
244 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 life. It determines that the means of cog- 
 nition shall not be distributed over the 
 whole periphery of the body, but shall be 
 concentrated at the point where they can, 
 in the main, alone do effective work. Only 
 with something like a head, with its instru- 
 ments of sensation, and of action with ref- 
 erence to that sensation, can the creature 
 begin to understand its environment, and 
 to reconcile itself, by its activities, to its 
 conditions. 
 
 In the group of mollusca, which is yet 
 higher in the scale of living beings, the 
 intellectual machinery is greatly advanced. 
 The nervous system becomes well devel- 
 oped in the highest forms ; in the cuttle- 
 fishes, there is something like a brain, a 
 well-developed eye, which, unlike the lower 
 eyes that give only a, sense of light and 
 darkness, affords a distinct image, as our 
 eyes do ; a sense of touch, and a sense of 
 hearing. With this advance in the means 
 whereby mental contact with the outer 
 world is secured, there is a proportionate 
 
CARE OF OFFSPRING. 24$ 
 
 gain in the mental power. The creature 
 is no longer locked within itself. The 
 squid, at least, among the mollusca is one 
 of the most acutely sensitive animals. Im- 
 pressions from the outer world are received 
 by its organism and expressed in its ac- 
 tions as well as they are in the true fishes. 
 It is noteworthy as the lowest animal 
 which shows anything of these ready reac- 
 tions upon the outer world. Curiosity and 
 fear are certainly indicated in its move- 
 ments, and some of its acts seem to show 
 rage as well. 
 
 Among the higher groups of mollusca 
 we begin to find actions which are related 
 to the care of the offspring. The mother 
 seeks the place for the nest with care and 
 deposits her eggs, often with extraordi- 
 nary precautions. Although this care-tak- 
 ing is in a way mechanical or organic, it 
 represents the beginning of parental af- 
 fection, which, like all the other of our 
 moral and intellectual gains, has its roots in 
 the lower unconscious world. The organic 
 
246 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 forethoughts with reference to the protec- 
 tion of the young, which are found in the 
 history of many marine gasteropods, ex- 
 ceed in complication any contrivances 
 which are known to us in the higher 
 realms of life. 
 
 Although in the mollusca we find no 
 traces of sympathy, we may say that its 
 highest members show that they have ad- 
 vanced to a point where there is a keen 
 consciousness of an outer world, so that 
 the necessary foundations for altruism are 
 there indicated. 
 
 Turning now to another series of organic 
 forms, the articulates, we find the most 
 rapid and wonderful advances toward in- 
 tellectual powers. The three other and 
 lower groups of animals, protozoans, radi- 
 ates, and mollusca, have types of structure 
 that do not well admit of sense organs or 
 the machinery for the use of volition ; but 
 beginning with the lowest articulates we 
 find a many-jointed body provided with a 
 well-developed nervous system, elaborating 
 
ADVANCE IN PERCEPTION. 247 
 
 mechanisms for receiving sensations and 
 numerous means for executing the behests 
 of the will. Already in the Crustacea, or 
 in the middle part of the group of articu- 
 lates, we find nimble bodies and keen 
 senses, showing that the animal has be- 
 come capable of an alert perception of 
 the outer world. Among the insects this 
 advance is completed as far as the articu- 
 late series goes. Our familiar experience 
 with many forms of insect life shows us 
 how quick is this reaction of the mental 
 parts upon the outer world. Observe a 
 spider or a wasp with its prey, or the bees 
 at work in a hive. What could show a 
 more complete perception of environment 
 than their actions ? If we compare the 
 behavior of articulated animals with that 
 of a polyp or amoeba, we easily perceive 
 how far the animal body has advanced in 
 its fitness to be the habitation of intel- 
 ligence. 
 
 Though it can hardly be doubted that 
 among the highest mollusca there is a rec- 
 
248 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 ognition of the fellow life, it is among the 
 articulates that we first find clear evidence 
 of sympathetic motives. The development 
 of this primal sympathy is undoubtedly 
 connected with the separation of the sexes, 
 which in the lower animals, as in many 
 plants, are generally united in one individ- 
 ual. When the sexes become distinct, 
 some recognition of kindred life becomes 
 necessary. We find another stage in its 
 development in the relation of parent and 
 offspring. The continuous care which one 
 or both parents exercise over the young is 
 a very strong means of pushing onward 
 the growth of the altruistic motives. The 
 complete recognition of the external life, 
 which is the basis of altruism in all its 
 moods, as well as of the higher power of 
 hedonism, is helped by the combat of the 
 males with each other, and by the life of 
 flight and chase which becomes so conspic- 
 uous a feature in these highly developed 
 forms. 
 
 Until we rise to the level of the insects, 
 
SYMPATHY AMONG ANIMALS. 249 
 
 there is no distinct mark of a sympathy 
 which goes beyond the love of parent for 
 offspring ; but among the higher animals 
 the motive goes one step farther and gives 
 us sympathy with the fellow-being within 
 the limits of the tribe. This is best seen 
 in the colonies of ants ahd bees, in which 
 there is clearly a distinct recognition of 
 the companion workers in the hive or ant- 
 hill. At no point, however, does it go so 
 far as to include the species within its 
 bounds. The ant will aid his clansmen, 
 but his sympathy is limited by the bounds 
 of his community. The member of an- 
 other tribe is his enemy. 
 
 In most cases the sympathy which pre- 
 vails among associated insects appears to 
 be limited to the work which it is neces- 
 sary for them to do in order to maintain 
 and extend the power of their colonies. 
 Nevertheless, there are instances where we 
 are forced to believe that the mutual help 
 which they render one another is based 
 upon something more humanlike than a 
 
250 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 blind automatic devotion to their social 
 labors. Thus ants will assist each other 
 with their burdens, working together in 
 perfect harmony. Where a member of 
 their society is in trouble, as, for instance, 
 by having his feet entangled in a sticky 
 substance, his fellow - workers will labor 
 assiduously, though generally with little 
 skill, to free him from his difficulties. In 
 other instances, such as among our dung 
 beetles, two or more individuals will often 
 combine their forces in a way to show a 
 spirit of mutual help and some sense of 
 the conditions under which it may be best 
 rendered. There are those who hold to 
 the view that all these associated actions 
 of insects are performed in an automatic 
 way, the creatures acting with no more 
 consciousness than exists in the case of a 
 decapitated frog, when, through the reflex 
 action of its spinal column, it scratches 
 a portion of the skin which the experi- 
 menter irritates. This view concerning 
 the nature of the animal intelligence is 
 
INTELLECTUAL MOTIVES. 2$ I 
 
 probably entertained by few persons who 
 have attentively studied the behavior of 
 bees and ants. A careful consideration of 
 their actions more generally leads to the 
 supposition that their motives, though 
 without the element of self-consciousness, 
 are of a truly intellectual nature. 
 
 While we must marvel at the altruistic 
 accord which makes it possible for thou- 
 sands of creatures to combine their work, 
 we must not suppose that there is a per- 
 fect likeness between the motives that 
 actuate a wasp or a bee and the sympathy 
 that we find in the higher forms of life. 
 The principal use of these instances of 
 altruistic relation in the articulates is to 
 show us that this class of motives is no 
 peculiar property of the vertebrate ani- 
 mals, in which man belongs, but that it 
 originates in other series of animals, which 
 have no blood kinship with man. 
 
 Coming now to the series of forms which 
 lead up to man, the vertebrates, or back- 
 boned animals, we find very complete 
 
NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 proof of a separate development of the 
 altruistic motives, leading to results that, 
 while they are akin to those attained by 
 the articulates, are different from those 
 less advanced forms in many important 
 ways. Low down in the fishes we find 
 the sexes separated ; and very early in the 
 series, sexual affection apparently gives 
 the beginning of the sympathetic motives. 
 As we advance in the vertebrate series to 
 the level of the birds and mammals, we 
 find that the young are born in a more 
 and more perfect condition and demand 
 a larger amount of parental aid and care. 
 Thus the parental relation, in place of be- 
 ing a momentary affair, as in the lower 
 forms, becomes an element in the emo- 
 tions of the mother for the greater part of 
 her life. The public owes to John Fiske 
 the first statement of this important truth. 
 Among the lower vertebrates, as is the 
 case with the lowlier forms of all the great 
 series of animals, the care of the offspring 
 is a task which is almost entirely assigned 
 
PARENTAL AFFECTION. 253 
 
 to the female. The duties connected with 
 the function of reproduction which can 
 enter upon the plane of consciousness are 
 few, and usually occupy but a brief time in 
 her life. The sympathetic motives con- 
 nected with the task are thus in their na- 
 ture very temporary, their period of awak- 
 ening being limited to the time in which 
 their operation is necessary. As we ad- 
 vance in the vertebrate series, the duration 
 of infancy, the period when the young are 
 dependent on the mother for food or pro- 
 tection, ever becomes greater, until in the 
 ordinary life of the higher mammalia, the 
 child of one year is hardly weaned and 
 discarded before the succeeding offspring 
 claims a place in the parent's affection. 
 Thus many of these creatures below the 
 level of man have the females of the spe- 
 cies placed under conditions which insure 
 an almost perennial activity of the ma- 
 ternal sympathies. Among the animal 
 progenitors of man there were probably 
 thousands of forms which were subjected 
 
254 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 to this primal education of the altruistic 
 sense. 
 
 In general, the male parent among the 
 mammals exhibits little interest in his off- 
 spring ; in fact, the sense of any personal 
 relation cannot, under the customs of 
 these animals, be expected to exist. In 
 certain fishes, and many birds which have 
 the pairing habit, and where the male 
 comes to recognize a relation to his pro- 
 geny, his sympathy with the young is very 
 clearly expressed. It may, indeed, be as 
 intense as it is in the female. The rapid 
 development of the sympathetic motive 
 among mankind may, in part, be attrib- 
 uted to the fact that they alone, among 
 the mammals, have developed the mono- 
 gamic habit, and thus attained to some- 
 thing like the mother's relation to the off- 
 spring. As soon as this condition of the 
 family was established and the parental 
 affection of the male thereby defined and 
 concentrated, the conditions which make 
 for the development of the sympathetic 
 
SYMPATHY OF THE TRIBE. 255 
 
 motive in human kind were greatly en- 
 hanced ; both parents being in this re- 
 gard quickened, the energy of the motive, 
 and the measure in which it was trans- 
 mitted from generation to generation, was 
 necessarily much increased.' 
 
 After this primal affection for offspring, 
 the next altruistic step leads to the sym- 
 pathy of the tribe, which may possibly 
 result from the extension of the parental 
 motive over a larger field, though it seems 
 to me that it arises from some more gen- 
 eral causes. Until we rise to man, the 
 advance in altruism seems to lead little 
 farther than to the bounds of the herd, 
 which is sometimes only the expanded 
 family. Yet there are traces of a sym- 
 pathy that takes cognizance of a whole 
 species to which the creature belongs. 
 Among our pigs, the cry of distress of any 
 of the species arouses a self-sacrificing 
 sympathy which is beautiful to behold. 
 This much-abused animal gives us the 
 most familiar evidence of a wide-reaching 
 
2$6 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 altruism that we find in the ordinary do- 
 mesticated animals. Traces of this mo- 
 tive are discernible in our horned cattle. 
 The smell of the blood of their species 
 will throw them into a state of excitement, 
 but unlike the pigs, who are willing to do 
 battle for a shrieking comrade, the motive 
 does not impel them to action. The best 
 evidence of distinct sympathetic emotion 
 of the human sort may be found in the 
 higher monkeys. All the evidence goes 
 to show that the play of this emotion in 
 their minds is singularly like our own. It 
 is seen in the elephants, which are remark- 
 ably altruistic animals. Although sym- 
 pathies of monkeys seem to be more like 
 those of man than do those of the lower 
 animals, it may be that this apparent 
 greater likeness is due to the fact that 
 the machinery of expression in the an- 
 thropoids is closely akin to that of man. 
 
 The best evidence as to the likeness 
 which exists between the sympathetic 
 motives of our vertebrate kindred and our 
 
DOMESTICATION OF ANIMALS. 2$? 
 
 own is shown by the ease with which 
 many of these creatures can be made the 
 familiar and affectionate companions of 
 man. Almost all the birds, except those 
 of prey, and a large part of our mammals, 
 including a number of predaceous forms, 
 can be, in a complete sense, domesticated, 
 and be made to acquire a distinct affection 
 for their captors. Although much of this 
 affection can be accounted for by the skill 
 and other dominant qualities of the mas- 
 ters, the facts afford a strong presumption 
 for the opinion that the fundamental mo- 
 tives of these beasts are clearly akin to 
 those of our own species. The only logi- 
 cal explanation of the facts is found in the 
 conclusion that the mind of the animal 
 goes out to his master from the same sym- 
 pathetic reason which leads the master to 
 love him. Moreover, we often note among 
 the animals themselves, at least among the 
 domesticated forms, a tendency of individ- 
 uals of widely different species to make 
 
 pets of each other. 
 i 
 
NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 The foregoing brief glance at the prog- 
 ress of sympathies in the animal kingdom 
 will justify the following general state- 
 ment : 
 
 In the beginning of the animal develop- 
 ment, the mind germ is shut up within the 
 body with no effective means of contact 
 with the outer world. Slowly, on many 
 different lines of development, through 
 infinitely varied experiments, mechanisms 
 are devised which give this nascent mind 
 instruments of relation with the outer 
 world. Sight, touch, hearing, taste, smell, 
 perhaps other unperceived agents of sen- 
 sibility, gradually bring these creatures to 
 a sense of the outer world. The world of 
 phenomena reacts on the mind, and in 
 various ways aids in its development. All 
 through this lower life the development is 
 entirely hedonistic or selfish. The world 
 is only for the gratification of greeds, and 
 the mind does not appear to act at all, 
 except under the stimulus of appetite. It 
 sleeps between the demands of the several 
 
THE LOWER RACES OF MEN. 259 
 
 forms of hunger. There is some recogni- 
 tion of the outer world and a capacity to 
 act on this recognition at last. Sexual and 
 parental love lay the foundations of true 
 sympathy. 
 
 This sense of sympathy appears to 
 widen apace as we rise in the scale of or- 
 ganization, but in its wider aspect it is 
 substantially limited to those animals 
 which go in herds or droves. It is not 
 seen in the solitary animals, who, however 
 devoted they may be to their young, ex- 
 hibit no trace of affection for others of 
 their species. When we come to consider 
 the position of the sympathies in the lower 
 races of men, we find that they afford us 
 a singularly close likeness to the condi- 
 tions that we find in the brute kindred 
 of man. The maternal sympathy is the 
 strongest of all the forms of the emotion. 
 The tribal sympathy is hardly more ardent 
 than among the monkeys, and there is 
 scarcely a trace of the extended affection 
 for the species which belongs in the higher 
 
26O NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 man. Of the outgoing of the mind in 
 sympathy to nature or to a Creator, there 
 is scarcely a trace. The recognition of a 
 Divinity, if it exists at all, rests upon the 
 impulse of fear, but not of love. 
 
 But from this animal form of the sym- 
 pathies in the lower man there goes on, 
 in certain races, a most rapid development 
 of the whole range of altruistic motives. 
 To the love of the mother for the young 
 the love of the father is added, for among 
 the lowest savages there is little trace of 
 paternal care. Sympathy with the tribe 
 is rapidly extended to sympathy with the 
 race. The motive of love toward the gods 
 grows in intensity as well as purity, and 
 is finally gathered into the intense, life-ab- 
 sorbing devotion of the higher monothe- 
 ism. In very modern days we have these 
 motives yet more extended. The keen 
 sympathy which included only the tribe 
 has been extended, until at length it in- 
 folds all the life of the lower animals in 
 its loving embrace. Yet more strangely, 
 
SCOPE OF SYMPATHETIC MOTIVES. 26 1 
 
 there has been added to this set of affec- 
 tions a love of nature, an affection for the 
 whole range of phenomena, which, though 
 in its beginning, and as yet weak, prom- 
 ises to become, through inheritance and 
 habit, one of the most important elements 
 in the structure of the mind. 
 
 It is not easy too strongly to affirm the 
 measure of the difference in the range of 
 volume of the sympathetic motive be- 
 tween the most cultivated men of to-day 
 and those of two thousand years ago. It 
 seems to me that the essential, indeed we 
 may say the vital difference between the 
 Greeks in their prime and the more cul- 
 tivated people of to-day consists in the 
 scope of the sympathetic motives. In all 
 that relates to merely human sympathy 
 within the bounds of the family or of ac- 
 quaintance, the difference between Athe- 
 nian culture and that of the present day 
 may perhaps be reckoned as not very 
 great. Nevertheless, the affection in the 
 domestic circle appears to have been less 
 
262 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 strong than with our time and people, and 
 the friendships between men less pure 
 and trustworthy than in our own society. 
 A remarkable feature of the Grecian mind 
 consisted in the fact that the sympathies 
 never went forth to the folk who were 
 beyond the limits of their own race and 
 language. To them the barbarian was ab- 
 solutely uninteresting except, it might be, 
 from mere curiosity. If the penetrating 
 mind of Aristotle could consider the con- 
 ditions of our modern life, nothing would 
 surprise him so much as the interest of 
 our people in far-away folk with whom we 
 hold relation only through sympathy. In 
 every other feature of our society he would 
 see the amplification of motives which 
 existed in his own time. From the point 
 of view of altruism, he would be forced to 
 the conviction that the modern man was, 
 in a way, a new moral species. He would, 
 for instance, be entirely puzzled by our 
 missionary societies and those for the pre- 
 vention of cruelty to animals. 
 
VARIOUS MODES OF ALTRUISM. 263 
 
 It seems to me that all these various 
 modes of altruism have much in common. 
 They all rest upon the singular power the 
 mind has to put itself beyond the sphere 
 of its personal desires and appetites ; on 
 its having power to go in imagination into 
 the place of the life it has in view. Mani- 
 festly the strongest of these modes or emo- 
 tions of altruism is that which is the deep- 
 est stamped into the mind by long use, 
 namely, sympathy with progeny. Next in 
 intensity and constancy is the form we 
 term friendship, which passes by insensi- 
 ble gradations into the larger affection for 
 the race, or for life in general. The form 
 of the emotion which we term the love of 
 God, which manifests itself in a devotion 
 to a divinity, is perhaps the most intense 
 form of the altruistic sentiment, but it is 
 far more variable in different individuals 
 than either of the preceding. The faint- 
 est and newest of these modes of altruism 
 is the love of nature, which has several 
 obscure modes or subordinate divisions, 
 such as the love of the beautiful. 
 
264 NA TURAL HIS TOR Y OF S YMPA THY. 
 
 It is now for us to consider a very im- 
 portant question concerning this series of 
 development, which we can evidently trace 
 in the altruistic motives. Has the forma- 
 tion of these motives been due, in any con- 
 siderable degree, to the action of selective 
 forces ? Can we hope to explain the evolu- 
 tion of this class of impulses by the sup- 
 position that each stage in the advance of 
 altruism was so far profitable that the crea- 
 tures which made the advance survived, 
 while those which did not failed to sur- 
 vive ? 
 
 Although I believe that the theory of 
 selection enables us to account for many 
 of the structural peculiarities of animals, I 
 confess it does not seem to me possible to 
 extend the results of our observations to 
 these mental peculiarities of animals. All 
 we know of mind seems to indicate that it 
 does not follow in its changes the same 
 train of conditions as the body it occupies. 
 We see this conspicuously in ourselves. 
 
 Man, in his physical frame, is, consider- 
 
THE HYPOTHESIS OF SELECTION. 26$ 
 
 ing the length of his sojourn on earth, the 
 variety of conditions he occupies, and the 
 diversity of employment he pursues, a sin- 
 gularly invariable animal as regards his 
 bodily frame, while his mental parts, and 
 especially the altruistic elements thereof, 
 have a very wide range of variations. If 
 we consider the parental sympathy alone, 
 we may fairly argue that the offspring have 
 a better chance of surviving when the 
 mother is moved to the care of them, so 
 the strain of blood in which care-giving 
 is best implanted will be most likely to 
 bring the young to the adult condition. 
 But beyond this point it is difficult to see 
 how selective or hereditary action can 
 have anything to do with the advance in 
 the altruistic motive. When it comes to 
 sympathy within the limits of the tribe, 
 it is not possible to construct a tenable 
 hypothesis to explain it, by means of selec- 
 tion. Although the fact that any individ- 
 ual is willing to sacrifice his life for the 
 community is doubtless advantageous to 
 
266 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 the association, it is clearly not profitable 
 to the individual, at least not in a material 
 way. 
 
 It will not do to say that those tribes 
 which have the most self-sacrificing indi- 
 viduals are the most likely to survive in 
 their contentions with other tribes, and 
 that in this way the selection is brought 
 about. It would be almost as reasonable 
 to assert that the French nation was ele- 
 vated in size and vigor by the Napoleonic 
 wars, which took nearly all the well-grown 
 and sturdy men to death on foreign battle- 
 fields. Such reasoning reduces the valua- 
 ble hypothesis of selection to the level of 
 the doctrine of cycles and epicycles, which 
 the old astronomy applied to the solar sys- 
 tem. With another epicycle it was easy 
 for the Ptolemaic astronomy to explain 
 each peculiarity of the stars' motions as it 
 was discovered, and so to keep the scheme 
 in accord with the supposition that the 
 earth stood still and the heavenly bodies 
 moved around it. So, too, the believers in 
 
SELECTION DOES NOT EXPLAIN. 267 
 
 the unlimited action of selection may, by 
 adding another epicycle of wider range to 
 their hypothesis, secure an available expla- 
 nation of every fact in nature ; but this 
 method will not commend itself to natural- 
 ists who have not made a cult of this law. 
 
 Even if we should accept the second 
 stage of development of altruism, as deter- 
 mined by selection, it would not aid us 
 much. It would only help us to go a little 
 farther in the guidance of this hypothesis, 
 for when we come to the point where the 
 altruistic emotions of man expand, so as to 
 include all life and the power that lies be- 
 yond the realm of visible things, even the 
 wildest advocate of selection would not 
 claim that it could aid us to understand 
 how this extension came about. 
 
 It seems to me that the facts compel us 
 to believe that, though selection may ac- 
 count for the accumulation and increase of 
 the earliest and simplest modes of altru- 
 ism, it helps us but little to understand 
 the conditions that have originated it or 
 
268 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 have given it the great place in man's life 
 that it now has. It seems to me most rea- 
 sonable to suppose that the altruistic mo- 
 tive, the impulse to get beyond the bounds 
 of self, owes its development, if not its 
 origin, to determinative influences that 
 we cannot recognize in any known natural 
 laws, unless we assume a law of moral 
 advance. 
 
 It is self-evident that the altruistic mo- 
 tives are the foundation of religion and 
 morality. However formalized, however 
 concealed by the superstructure they de- 
 rive from the accidents of the mind, these 
 elements of our human life have all 
 their supports in the sympathetic motive. 
 Therefore the way in which these motives 
 have developed in the past and are to 
 change in the future are matters of the 
 very highest interest to all who care for 
 the moral advance of man. 
 
 As to the future of the altruistic im- 
 pulse, the naturalist has little right to 
 speak. The motives of this division of the 
 
THE FUTURE OF ALTRUISM. 269 
 
 mind are less distinctly connected with 
 any developmental process than any other 
 instincts, and they have long since escaped 
 from the dominion of the laws which he 
 studies. It is evident that the matter is 
 now a subject for the psychologist alone. 
 I venture, however, to follow the line of 
 these considerations a little way beyond 
 the limits of biological science. It is al- 
 ready clear to us that the altruistic mo*- 
 tives lead creatures in which they origi- 
 nate, far beyond the narrow path trodden 
 by our brute ancestors in their narrow 
 round of greeds and satisfactions. All the 
 mental and moral growth which could be 
 had in the earlier life was gained through 
 these altruistic impulses. From the lower 
 life this seed of better things came to 
 man. It has been the task of all religion 
 to foster the development of the sympa- 
 thetic motive, and to set its care above 
 all other human interests. In this task 
 it is doing the most natural work in the 
 world, the work that is the most perfect 
 
2/0 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 furtherance of the best in the earlier law. 
 Hitherto it has been the peculiar work of 
 religion to enforce the action and to direct 
 the altruistic motives in two lines : namely, 
 sympathy with the fellow-being and the 
 love for the Supreme. There can be no 
 doubt in the reasonable mind that the 
 work has been, on the whole, well done. 
 There has doubtless been a great advance 
 6*f the altruistic motives from the worship 
 of anthropomorphic gods in former time to 
 the worship of a Supreme Being. It seems 
 to me that this energetic form of altruism 
 which religion has bred in men has flowed 
 back upon the lower forms of the emo- 
 tion, and that man is more sympathetic 
 towards his fellows and towards the natural 
 world than he ever could have been but 
 for the worship of the Creator. In every 
 field of human thought we find the influ- 
 ence of this vast awakening, which could 
 only have come from the exercise of the 
 altruistic impulse in its highest and most 
 stimulating form. Only through religion 
 
THE SENSE OF SIN. 2? I 
 
 could man advance swiftly and surely to 
 the sense of ordered control in nature, 
 which is the breath of all science. 
 
 There is yet another and more impor- 
 tant effect in part accomplished, in larger 
 part yet to be secured, by the further ad- 
 vance of the altruistic motive. When, in 
 the process of mental development, self- 
 consciousness arises, a trial that probably 
 did not come upon life until it attained to 
 man's estate, the creature finds itself in a 
 miserable plight. Then for the first time 
 the soul feels itself naked and alone in the 
 world. The old impulses, inherited from 
 the animal ancestry, join issue with the 
 emotions which the sympathies arouse. 
 Then, it seems to me, awakens the sense 
 of sin. The natural man is at war with 
 the spiritual man, and the creature's self- 
 hood grows sore from the conflict. No 
 one of us but what has felt the almost 
 mortal sickness which sometimes comes 
 from the many varying moods of self-con- 
 sciousness. Men seek some lightening of 
 
272 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 the burden wherever they can find it. 
 They give themselves back to the uncon- 
 sciousness that blessed their animal ances- 
 tors, by means of alcohol or opium. They 
 forget themselves on the battlefield or at 
 the gaming-table, or, in a better way, they 
 seek escape in human fellowship, in some 
 battle with nature, or in the exercises of 
 religion, downward or upward, any way 
 out of this torment of self. 
 
 From this trouble of self-consciousness, 
 which probably owes its origin, in part at 
 least, to the exercise of altruistic motives, 
 altruism itself opens a blessed way. Few 
 mortals are so unhappily shaped that their 
 souls may not become possessed with this 
 outgoing power of sympathy, and thus 
 attain this way of escape from self-con- 
 sciousness. Religions have offered various 
 paths of escape. Buddhism proposes that 
 the mind shall free itself from self-con- 
 sciousness by what to men of our time is 
 an incomprehensible process of crushing 
 the self within itself. The creed of Islam 
 
THE CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE. 2/3 
 
 seeks it by an excitation of a religious 
 fury. It seems to me that the Christian 
 doctrine, looked at purely from the point 
 of view of natural science, has the merit 
 of setting the altruistic motives on a wider 
 foundation than any other form of reli- 
 gion. "Thou shalt love the Lord thy 
 God with all thy soul and all thy might, 
 and thy neighbor as thyself." Verily, this 
 is the greatest of all commandments ; on 
 it, indeed, hang all the law and the pro- 
 phets. It has carried man farther out of 
 the prison of self than all the other teach- 
 ings that have come to him. Far as this 
 advance in altruistic habits has gone, there 
 is no sign that it is near its end. Men 
 live more out of themselves, through their 
 sympathies, than ever before. 
 
 The love of nature has been added to 
 the other loves, and in the well-developed 
 man of to-day, every moment affords 
 something to call the mind out into the 
 universe. It gives promise of going yet 
 farther. Under its beneficent forgetful- 
 
2/4 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 ness, that ugliest incident of our personal- 
 ity, death, is losing something of the old 
 darkness of its shadows. Men no longer 
 spend so much of their life like prisoners 
 under sentence, with the sound of the 
 building scaffold ringing in their ears. 
 Altruistic persons are too little in the 
 narrow space of their selfhood to consider 
 death. It seems to me that we may look 
 for the time when men will live out their 
 lives in sympathetic activities so far above 
 the plane of self, that not only labor, but 
 this end of all earthly labor, will be almost 
 unfelt. If this comes, life will have com- 
 pleted its cycle from the dull unconscious- 
 ness of the lower brutes to the self-con- 
 sciousness of man's early state, and thence 
 by the escape from selfhood through sym- 
 pathy, to that real absorption into the 
 Infinite, that true nirvana, which nature 
 offers by the way of the sympathies. 
 
 To the naturalist who looks upon the 
 present estate of man as the result of the 
 physical and organic influences to which 
 
THE PLACE OF CHRISTIANITY. 2?$ 
 
 he has been subjected during all his course 
 from the lowest life to the present time, 
 religions appear to be the products of 
 human history, and are to be estimated in 
 the same way as other facts. Considering 
 the religions of mankind as phenomena, 
 and valuing them according to their rela- 
 tion with the series of organic develop- 
 ments, and leaving aside in the estimate 
 all the prejudices of education, it seems to 
 the student clear that Christianity occu- 
 pies a peculiar place in these modes of 
 thought. More than any other it is, in the 
 essentials of its form, in the direct trend 
 of psychic development. In my own mind, 
 the doctrine of Christ is the summit and 
 crown of the organic series. It expresses 
 the final result of that directed striving 
 which began hundreds of millions of years 
 ago, and through infinite toil and pains 
 has led to this supreme accomplishment. 
 It offers the natural line of escape from 
 the evils of hedonism, and the curse which 
 self-consciousness brought upon mankind. 
 
276 NATURAL HISTORY OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 If this view of the relation of altruism 
 to human development be true, then it is 
 evident that we, who are in our various 
 ways striving to better the condition of 
 our fellows, may learn from it much that 
 will give direction to our work as teachers. 
 In the first place, it shows us that the key 
 to education is in developing the altruistic 
 powers. We must train the mind to go 
 out of itself, and stay out of the self as 
 far as possible. This habit of projecting 
 the mind beyond the inner realm can only 
 be attained by taking the strongly inher- 
 ited forms of sympathy, those that are 
 most easily awakened, and through their 
 exercise, developing the general capacity 
 for outgoing. The sympathy with the 
 fellow-being and the power to adore the 
 Infinite thus become the first objects of 
 our education. With these sympathies 
 aroused, we may hope to have a mind well 
 fitted for all the forms of altruistic action. 
 Therefore I think that education should 
 begin with what we may, with a new and 
 
THE KEY TO EDUCATION; 2/7 
 
 better meaning, call the humanities ; those 
 lines of culture that lead the mind out on 
 the easy way to sympathy and affection 
 for one's fellow-men. From these inher- 
 ited and therefore natural forms of altru- 
 ism we may hope to win a place for that 
 love of nature on which the man of 
 science builds. I feel compelled to resent 
 the efforts of those educators who would 
 undertake the training for the work of life 
 with the study of physical science alone. 
 There may be minds that can be immedi- 
 ately awakened to life by physical science, 
 for in the infinite variety of man almost 
 any peculiarity can be found ; but no ob- 
 servant teacher can feel it safe to. begin 
 the intellectual life of the child with 
 things so remote from the old channels of 
 the human mind. Man has had the world 
 opened to him by the gateway of his sym- 
 pathies, and by that portal he should al- 
 ways be led on his way into life. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL FROM THE 
 POINT OF VIEW OF NATURAL SCIENCE. 
 
 AN excessive, and, in a way, unreason- 
 able respect for the opinions of scientific 
 men in the matter of the immortality of 
 the soul is characteristic of our modern 
 thought. It indicates the growing con- 
 viction as to the essential unity of all 
 things ; it shows that the mass of men are 
 insensibly drifting to the great conclu- 
 sion with which naturalists and supernat- 
 uralists have alike to reckon, the abso- 
 lute unity in the government of nature. 
 There is perhaps no other feature of pub- 
 lic opinion which so clearly shows how 
 deeply the general principles of modern 
 science have penetrated into the body of 
 public opinion, as this insistent desire 
 
THE VIEWS OF NATURALISTS. 279 
 
 to test ancient faiths by the new know- 
 ledge. 
 
 The attitude of scientific men towards 
 the doctrine of the personal immortality 
 of the soul appears to be a matter of 
 much interest to the public. Every 
 teacher in this field of inquiry finds him- 
 self subject to frequent interrogations as 
 to the measure of his belief in a future 
 life, and he readily discovers that his an- 
 swers have an undue weight with those 
 who hear them. There is hardly suffi- 
 cient reason for this desire to ascertain 
 the views of naturalists concerning a 
 problem which clearly lies beyond their 
 province. The rules of their calling limit 
 them to considerations which have a place 
 in the phenomenal world alone. If they 
 go far from the facts with which they have 
 to deal, they transgress the limits of their 
 clearly defined field, and enter wildernesses 
 which they have no right to tread. If 
 they essay journeys there, they must make 
 them without the semblance of authority. 
 
280 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 Although the students of nature are by 
 the rules of their craft limited to the phe- 
 nomenal world, they have been wont to 
 express their convictions as to the possi- 
 bilities of existence in forms independent 
 of the body, and have often given their 
 verdict as to the immortality of the soul in 
 a very authoritative manner. In general 
 their verdict has been adverse to the doc- 
 trine of immortality. I propose to con- 
 sider the nature of the foundations of this 
 judgment, and in general to take account 
 of the facts which appear to make for or 
 against the view that the essential quali- 
 ties of men survive the process of death. 
 The reader should not expect much profit 
 from these considerations ; yet while the 
 results will have a negative rather than a 
 positive value, they may serve in a way to 
 clear the ground of certain incumbrances, 
 and to show in a definite manner the 
 proper attitude of those who cultivate 
 physical science towards the large ques- 
 tion of the hereafter. 
 
BONDAGE OF ANCIENT BELIEFS. 28 1> 
 
 When the method of interpreting na- 
 ture by means of observations parted 
 from the more ancient system in which 
 the phenomena of the world were ac- 
 counted for by the direct interference of 
 a supernatural power, the votaries of the 
 new science naturally became at once, and 
 to a very great extent, emancipated from 
 the bondage of ancient beliefs. They 
 seemed to themselves to enter upon a 
 terrestrial paradise which appeared well 
 walled off from the mystical realm ; they 
 were in a measure excommunicated by 
 the older faith, and they rejoiced in their 
 new-found freedom. Many a man of to- 
 day personally experiences the influence 
 of this transition which he may trace in 
 the whole history of natural science. If 
 from the intangible realm of faith or phi- 
 losophy, where he sees but dimly or not 
 at all, he comes to the study of clear-cut 
 natural facts, he is apt to be enchanted 
 with the clear seeing which he at once 
 enjoys. For a time he seems to be in a 
 
282 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 realm of light ; he fancies that his new 
 province is so replete with certainties that 
 he will never have again to deal with 
 shadowy things. Antecedent and conse- 
 quent are so distinctly enchained that 
 there seems no place for doubt ; but as 
 the student goes on in his work he finds 
 that his ways lead from beneath the verti- 
 cal sun which illuminates simple truths to 
 regions where the rays become more and 
 more aslant, and in the end the light fails 
 him altogether. He is then in the place 
 of our science of to-day, where the men of 
 science become conscious of the fact that 
 they, too, have to explore the darkness if 
 they would seek the answer of all their 
 larger questions. 
 
 The sturdy, self-satisfied denials of im- 
 mortality; the confident statements of 
 men who said there was no soul because 
 they could not find it with the knife or 
 weigh it in the balance, were put forth in 
 the days when naturalists had but begun 
 their inquiries in the phenomenal world 
 
EXPLORING THE DARKNESS. 283 
 
 Year by year they have learned a fitter 
 distrust as to their right to pass a final 
 judgment in this matter. Steadfastly they 
 have come to perceive more clearly the 
 truth that they really abide in a universe, 
 and that the part which is revealed to 
 them is to the sum of the facts only as one 
 to infinity. Gradually it has been forced 
 upon them that they too have to assume 
 the intangible if they would take any firm 
 steps in explaining the series of facts with 
 which they have to deal. A large part of 
 this caution is due to our study of organic 
 phenomena, especially in that part of the 
 biologic field where the investigator has 
 to consider the marvelous truths of inher- 
 itance. In face of these facts of descent, 
 the most pragmatic naturalist is sure to 
 learn some caution in his criticism of phi- 
 losophers and theologians. 
 
 In general it may be said that the most 
 insistent expressions of disbelief as to the 
 endurance of the individual after the body 
 has been resolved into its elements have 
 
284 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 come from the students of biology, mainly 
 from those who have been concerned in 
 the anatomical study of the human body. 
 In these men the habit of the common- 
 place, which so tends to degrade all our 
 conceptions of nature, has led to the belief 
 that the unseen was non-existent. It is 
 difficult for the most fair-minded student 
 of organic forms to perceive the magni- 
 tude of the unknown in all that pertains 
 to psychic phenomena, so long as his in- 
 quiries are limited to an individual crea- 
 ture. The most important effect from 
 that new aspect of our science which we 
 term Darwinian is found in the fact that 
 it has forced students to look upon each 
 separate organism as a mere phase in the 
 propagation of a great impulse, which has 
 been transmitted through an inconceivably 
 long series from the remote past. Here, 
 indeed, we find the spiritual element in our 
 modern biologic science, which has already 
 greatly affected, though it has but begun 
 to influence, the minds of naturalists. 
 
MATERIALISTIC OPINIONS. 285 
 
 Not only has this sense of the profound 
 depth of the unknown sobered the minds 
 of students who concern themselves with 
 the organic world, but a change in the 
 views concerning the constitution of mat- 
 ter has also done much to bring them to a 
 new attitude as to the substantial foun- 
 dations of the phenomena with which 
 they have to deal. A generation ago we 
 conceived that matter was an inert some- 
 thing which was quickened into activity 
 by energy, and that this energy was in its 
 nature essentially different from the phy- 
 sical basis of the universe. The confidence 
 of those who held to the opinions com- 
 monly termed materialistic was largely 
 due to this belief in the dual organization 
 of nature. Observing the ever-changing 
 character of the natural forces and the 
 endless transmutations which they un- 
 dergo in action, and noting at the same 
 time what seemed to them the inert char- 
 acter of substance except when stirred 
 into motion or built into form, they natu- 
 
286 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 rally were led to deny the immortality of 
 the soul, and to base their negations, as 
 they supposed, on a firm material founda- 
 tion. Of late years, however, the opinion 
 has been gaining among physicists that 
 matter itself is but a mode of action of 
 energy, and so in place of the dualistic 
 basis, naturalists are being driven to a con- 
 ception of unity as regards the phenome- 
 nal world. 
 
 It is not difficult to see that in propor- 
 tion as we come to the opinion that nature 
 is but an exhibition of energy in various 
 forms of presentation we are driven to a 
 new conception as to the essential condi- 
 tions of existence. It is obvious that we 
 are less entitled than of old to make state- 
 ments based upon the evanescent charac- 
 ter of energy, or to suppose that we have 
 compassed the range of its modes of ac- 
 tion. The correction brings with it no 
 affirmation, but it diminishes our trust in 
 the ancient disbeliefs. 
 
 It is to modern studies in biology that 
 
VASTNESS OF THE PROBLEM. 287 
 
 we owe the greatest pause in the tide of 
 conceit or confidence that so long bore our 
 naturalists comfortably onward. The old 
 doctrine of archetypes or supposed un- 
 seen moulds which shaped organic forms 
 conduced to theoretically definite views 
 concerning the nature of life. Discern- 
 ing naturalists for some centuries have 
 had a vague sense as to the meaning of 
 inheritance. They saw that within the 
 limits of human kind, for instance, such 
 features as race characteristics indicate 
 the long-continued accumulation of pecu- 
 liarities. It was not, however, until the 
 students of plants and animals abandoned 
 the theory of special separate creations 
 and came to look upon the existing spe- 
 cies as the lineal and normal descendants 
 of ancestral forms which lead step by step 
 backward to the dawn of life, that it was 
 possible for them even to begin to see the 
 vast nature of the problems with which 
 they had to deal. As yet, we have made 
 but a beginning in the work of exploring 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 this great shadowy realm, but even at the 
 outset of the labors we perceive how great 
 are the changes of view concerning the 
 character of organic beings which we are 
 there to obtain. 
 
 The main point in the theory of descent 
 which deserves our attention concerns the 
 accumulation and transmission of experi- 
 ence. It is evident that all the familiar 
 creatures which now inhabit the planet 
 derive the influences which form their 
 bodies from the preceding geologic ages. 
 They are not to be regarded as congeries 
 of material so arranged that they operate 
 in the manner of clocks, but each is in 
 effect directed by influences which have 
 been accumulated, it may be through mil- 
 lions of generations. The first hypothesis 
 -of inheritance is that of Charles Darwin, 
 commonly known as pangenesis. Accord- 
 ing to this theory, each portion of the 
 organic body is continually giving forth 
 swarms of hypothetical gemmules or mi- 
 nute structural units, which have in them- 
 
PANGENESIS. 28$ 
 
 selves the capacity of reproducing or guid- 
 ing the reproduction of parts essentially 
 like those whence they came. In the 
 process of birth of a new individual a 
 sufficient quantity of these gemmules is 
 handed on through the passage of the egg 
 to- control the shape of the new being. 
 Thus we have to suppose that every cell 
 of an animal or plant is constantly putting 
 forth swarms of these gemmules, which, 
 when they are transferred by the process 
 of generation, in some unknown way find 
 their path to the particular part of the 
 body which they are to inform as to its 
 correct shape. 
 
 Difficult as it is to form a conception of 
 how descent in the first step is controlled 
 by the method of pangenesis, the further 
 application of the hypothesis to the more 
 extended phenomena of inheritance leads 
 us to suppositions which are not only im- 
 possible of conception, but appear utterly 
 to transcend the powers of the imagina- 
 tion. Thus when we find in human kind 
 
2QO IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 superfluous digits from time to time ap- 
 pearing, and discover that these excessive 
 parts have the power of growing again 
 after they have been removed by the 
 knife, we are forced to believe, as Mr. 
 Darwin has so well shown, that the ten- 
 dency to the supernumerary parts as well 
 as to their growth after they have been 
 destroyed is due to the persistence in man 
 of organic motives derived from ancestors 
 characterized by polydactylic extremities. 
 But as these many fingered and toed 
 beasts are separated from the human 
 race by millions of generations, how can 
 these gemmules have continued in being 
 through such extended series of transmis- 
 sions ? 
 
 Admirable as is the hypothesis of pan- 
 genesis when considered merely as a dar- 
 ing feat of the scientific imagination, it is 
 evident that it utterly fails to satisfy the 
 first conditions of a theory, namely, that 
 it shall bring a portion of the unknown 
 within the limits of the understanding. It 
 
PSYCHIC ACTION. 29 1 
 
 does not in the least extend or simplify 
 our conception, but leaves us in the 
 densest fog of speculation. Although this 
 supplementary element of Mr. Darwin's 
 hypothesis has in general failed to com- 
 mend itself to philosophical naturalists, it 
 has in an indirect way been of much ser- 
 vice to science. It has forced naturalists 
 to perceive the magnitude and difficulty of 
 the problems which they have to encoun- 
 ter in this field of inquiry. From this con- 
 sideration they are naturally brought to a 
 state of mind concerning the relations of 
 life to matter which is very different from 
 that which characterized their predeces- 
 sors. It is difficult to set forth the nature 
 of this change of view in precise phrase, 
 but the modification is so important that 
 we must now essay the task. 
 
 Until the phenomena of inheritance 
 were in a measure appreciated, biologists 
 generally considered psychic action to be 
 a mere function of the nervous system and 
 to owe its manifestations to some peculiar- 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 ity in the structure of that organic part. 
 They regarded the mind of man as a direct 
 product of the brain, and explained the 
 coincidences which we find among all the 
 individuals of a kind as fully accounted for 
 by the likeness in the machinery of this 
 great nerve centre. With this assumption, 
 it seemed a relatively simple and direct 
 conclusion that the mental qualities could 
 be accounted for by the nature of the 
 mechanism which produced them. It was 
 therefore only necessary to explain the 
 uniformity in structure of the cerebral 
 parts in order sufficiently to explain the 
 origin of the likeness of the mental phe- 
 nomena in man or any other species of 
 animal ; they had but to suppose a law 
 enforcing the shape of those parts to ac- 
 count for the uniformity of the product. 
 Here, as elsewhere, they covered their ig- 
 norance by the use of that most question- 
 begging of all scientific epithets, " law." 
 
 The facts already ascertained concern- 
 ing the conditions of inheritance, although 
 
MENTAL QUALITIES. 293 
 
 
 
 they are only a small part of what we have 
 to learn in the matter, show us clearly that 
 the ancient apparently simple explanation 
 of mental phenomena can no longer be 
 safely trusted. If a mechanical explana- 
 tion can be used at all, it must be vastly 
 more complicated than that which has 
 been hitherto adduced. It is clear that all 
 the essential qualities of the mind pass 
 from generation to generation over the re- 
 productive bridge, borne onward in the 
 keeping of chemical molecules. Although 
 in the higher forms the ovum has the cell 
 character, in all species, even up to man, 
 the male element, which is at least as po- 
 tent as the female, loses its cellular struc- 
 ture and transmits its qualities through 
 its molecular organization alone. If there 
 be any organization of these molecules 
 other than that of a purely chemical kind, 
 the fact entirely escapes our apprehension. 
 It is moreover in a high degree improbable 
 that any such unseen shaping actually oc- 
 curs. We are thus forced to the conclu- 
 
294 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 sion that the ongoing of life from gener- 
 ation to generation is brought about in 
 large measure by influences which may be 
 given over for transmission to the simpler 
 aggregates of matter. We have to sup- 
 pose that these associations of atoms, at 
 most a few score or a few hundred in num- 
 ber, which are the units of the proto- 
 plasmic mass, can effectively contain and 
 transmit the important elements of expe- 
 rience acquired by myriads of ancestors ; 
 that they can convey this experience to 
 other molecules, and so from generation 
 to generation of the molecular series ; that 
 the impulses will assert themselves at the 
 right time and place in the developing 
 organism. 
 
 The way in which the generational 
 transmission is effected not only goes 
 quite beyond our field of knowledge, but 
 appears also to transcend the limits of the 
 scientific imagination. 
 
 There is only one conclusion of evident 
 value, at least at the present time, which 
 
LATENT POWERS OF MATTER. 
 
 we can gain from the facts above noted, 
 and this is in effect that matter, even in 
 its simpler states of organization in the 
 atom or molecule, may contain a practi- 
 cally infinite body of latent powers. So 
 far, of course, we have seen this soul-bear- 
 ing capacity of matter in its simpler states 
 only in the organic realm ; but he would 
 be a rash man who should affirm that 
 this was the only place in nature where 
 the material or chemical substances were 
 enabled to become the keepers of intellec- 
 tual seed. From an a priori point of view, 
 and without reference to the facts which 
 we have gained concerning the sequences 
 of organic life, it appears to me less diffi- 
 cult to suppose the capacities of an indi- 
 vidual mind to be perpetuated after death, 
 and this in a natural manner, than to ex- 
 plain the phenomena of inheritance which 
 are clearly indicated in the organic series. 
 To account for these evident truths de- 
 mands the supposition of such colossal 
 potentialities in the psychic capacities of 
 
2Q6 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 matter that we can hardly see a limit to 
 the field of its possible action. 
 
 It is quite beyond the province of the 
 naturalist to suggest any ways in which 
 intelligence, parted by death from its 
 habitation, can be preserved; he has no 
 evidence that such preservation actually 
 occurs. He should be the last man to 
 deny that the vast body of individual ex- 
 perience, which seems to indicate the 
 existence of visible forms representing the 
 departed, is a mere mass of falsehoods ; 
 he can only say that the conditions of all 
 such observations are such as make any- 
 thing like scientific inquiry exceedingly 
 difficult if not quite impossible. It is too 
 soon to say what may come forth from the 
 devoted inquiries of those persons who, 
 in certain cases well trained in observa- 
 tion, are giving their lives in endeavor- 
 ing to verify these ancient beliefs in ap- 
 paritions. However, to the cold-minded 
 critic, it appears doubtful whether, as yet, 
 any substantial basis has been laid on 
 
A SCIENCE OF APPARITIONS. 2()J 
 
 which we may hope to base conclusions 
 of affirmative value. Not only are the 
 reputed phenomena apparently uncontrol- 
 lable in a scientific sense, but the state 
 of mind of the observer appears to be so 
 inevitably influenced by the ancient inher- 
 ited emotions which induce what we may 
 term the superstitious state of mind, that 
 he is necessarily unfit for the task of 
 gathering data in the moments when he 
 should be in the most rational state. 
 
 Although naturalists may fairly hope 
 for a science of apparitions, they in gen- 
 eral feel uncertain, as yet, whether this 
 learning will not show the phenomena to 
 be due altogether to the action of the 
 observer's mind. At the same time rea- 
 sonable inquirers, however skeptical, in 
 the original sense of that word, may fairly 
 grant that if certain phenomena, ap- 
 parently well observed, can be verified in 
 the critical and thoroughgoing way which 
 the difficulties of the matter make neces- 
 sary, we will then have some slight begin- 
 nings of an altogether new science. 
 
298 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 While the evidence which he is now 
 gathering leads the thoughtful naturalist 
 greatly to limit the range of his assertions 
 as to the possibilities of psychic phenom- 
 ena in the material world, the effect of his 
 studies seems to be to decrease rather than 
 to increase the personal interest which he 
 is likely to feel in the question of immor- 
 tality. In part this influence is due to 
 the vast enlargement of the present which 
 has come from the more extended know- 
 ledge of nature. Every well-informed 
 observer of the phenomenal world finds 
 himself day by day more concerned with 
 the moment. If he be a dutiful man, the 
 sense of responsibility with reference to 
 immediate action is so great that he in- 
 stinctively puts aside every consideration 
 with which he does not feel himself 
 obliged to deal. This vast .extension of 
 thought in our own horizon, in the plane 
 of our daily life, has in a way forced men 
 to dwell less upon matters of the here- 
 after. We are in the position of soldiers 
 
THE SPIRIT OF CONTENT. 299 
 
 in the heat of battle who are compelled 
 to act with reference to the instant until 
 the death-wound sets us free. 
 
 There is another effect which bears on 
 the interest in immortality, one derived 
 from the close study of nature, which is 
 hard to set forth in words. When the 
 student comes to feel, as the intellectually 
 prosperous naturalist always does, that he 
 is part of a vast tide, or rather a portion 
 of a gigantic organization which is mov- 
 ing forward steadfastly in the control of 
 an order, of a purpose, he becomes con- 
 tent to abandon himself to the power 
 which controls his action, or rather we 
 should say to go freely and energetically 
 in the path on which he is impelled, with- 
 out regard to the goal, but with perfect 
 confidence that whatever the destination, 
 it is in all senses fit. If he is to live for- 
 ever, that life will be good for the whole ; 
 if he is to be extinguished or changed, as 
 are the mere vibrations of matter, then 
 that, too, is for the good of the whole. 
 
300 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 It would be easy to show that this spirit 
 of content with the universe has a some- 
 what religious character. The change in 
 the form of our intellectual lives which 
 has led men, metaphorically speaking, to 
 broaden their interests in the horizontal 
 plane and diminish them in the vertical, 
 has been attended by a growth of keener 
 interest in our fellow-men, and also we 
 may say in our fellow-nature. Acting in 
 the moment and for the best interests of 
 their kind, there is no loss, there is rather 
 a gain, in the sympathetic element of life. 
 Men at least avoid the risk of that hedon- 
 ism which Carlyle well describes as an 
 effort "to save their dirty little souls." 
 Good as have been many of the effects 
 of the endeavor to secure a blessed im- 
 mortality, it is clear to us all that much 
 wrong -doing, much obdurate selfishness, 
 has come from the greed with which men 
 have sought that end. The content with 
 which naturalists accept nature, the feel- 
 ing that this nature is a part of themselves 
 
CONTINUOUS TRENDS. 30! 
 
 and they of it, the unexpressed but ever- 
 existing supposition that the whole is 
 good, is closely akin to the reconciliation 
 with the omnipotent which is the declared 
 goal of most religions. In it there is some- 
 thing of the peace of God which passeth 
 understanding. 
 
 There is yet another effect arising from 
 the study of nature which is not without 
 its influence on our views concerning im- 
 mortality. This is due to the fact that 
 most naturalists acquire a kind of instinct 
 which leads them to suppose underlying 
 purposes, or at least continuous trends, 
 in the course of universal events. Thus 
 they perceive a steadfast progress from 
 the lower stages of inorganic to the higher 
 forms of organic existence. It seems, in 
 a way, a denial of the observed order to 
 suppose that the series is interrupted with 
 the death which overtakes each individual, 
 and which must, with the cooling of the 
 suns, overwhelm all the higher life which 
 the planets bear. For one, I cannot help 
 
3<D2 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 looking upon absolute death, that kind of 
 passing away which would leave organic 
 life quite without issue, as in a way offen- 
 sive to my understanding, and in a mea- 
 sure out of the observed order of phe- 
 nomena. Clearly the trend of all the ages 
 the history of which we can trace has led 
 to the integration of energy in higher in- 
 telligence. It is a most unsatisfactory 
 supposition that all this toil and pains is 
 to be without fruit. It is by no means 
 certain that the fit harvest is personal im- 
 mortality ; but, so far as we can see, the 
 unknown continuation of the known is 
 best satisfied by the hypothesis that life 
 is in some way perpetuated, with all the 
 personal profit which has been attained 
 by that greatest of all natural results, the 
 individual soul. 
 
 We may sum up the foregoing consid- 
 erations in a brief way, as follows : the 
 early materialistic conceptions of natural- 
 ists, which rested upon an assumed sim- 
 plicity in the world with which they had 
 
SCIENTIFIC FAITHS. 303 
 
 to deal, have of late been greatly shaken 
 by the advance of their knowledge. In 
 proportion as their inquiries have ex- 
 tended, they have been compelled to 
 make suppositions concerning the action 
 of natural forces which are almost, if 
 not quite, as mystical as those which of 
 old they condemned the theologians for 
 holding. As the labors of these men of 
 science have accumulated, they have be- 
 gun to develop an interesting body of mo- 
 tives and instincts, such as the confidence 
 in nature and in the underlying purpose- 
 fulness of those sequences on which we 
 found the so-called laws. These motives 
 lie in the field of religion ; they are prop- 
 erly to be called faiths, in the broader 
 sense of the word. As yet the develop- 
 ment of these habitual conceptions derived 
 from the study of nature has not gone 
 very far ; but the trend is sufficiently clear 
 to make it plain that much may be ex- 
 pected in the way of spiritual growth from 
 this development of natural science. 
 
304 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 It is not likely that observational meth- 
 ods will ever give us much help in deter- 
 mining the matter of fact in the problem 
 of immortality. It would, however, be 
 rash and unscientific to say that all the 
 phenomena of so-called spiritualism are 
 the result of fraud or self-deception. Nat- 
 uralists have been blamed for not essay- 
 ing inquiries which seem to give a hope 
 of finding proof that the human soul sur- 
 vives death. With rare exceptions, scien- 
 tific men feel little or no interest in such 
 studies. Experience shows them that the 
 field is not one which can be profitably 
 cultivated with their instruments of in- 
 quiry. Moreover, they are overwhelm- 
 edly occupied with work in regions where 
 they are sure of their harvest, and where 
 each day's gain is replete with profit to 
 their fellow-men. 
 
 It cannot be denied that the naturalists' 
 way of regarding the facts of life and 
 death has a certain narrowness. This fea- 
 ture, however, is inherent in the system 
 
THE NATURALISTIC PROVINCE. 305 
 
 which they pursue ; it has to be taken as 
 the defect of their quality. It seems to 
 me to be the province of religion, or at 
 least one of its many duties, to consider 
 the moral individual, both as regards im- 
 mediate and remote action, from a point 
 of view which the student of physical na- 
 ture does not occupy ; from which, indeed, 
 the conditions of his work in a measure 
 debar him. Although the naturalist rec- 
 ognizes emotions as important facts, he 
 cannot give them a large place in the labo- 
 ratory of his understanding. His province 
 is the evident and the ponderable. It is 
 for those who approach the problems of 
 life on other paths to apply the truths 
 which the study of nature affords in all 
 that relates to the moral conduct of men. 
 It is rather for them to judge how impor- 
 tant is the belief in immortality to the 
 conduct of life ; it is for them to gather 
 the evidences in support of this belief, and 
 to enforce the view upon mankind. 
 
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