LAY SEEMONS, ADDRESSES, 
 
 AND 
 
 EEVIEWS. 
 
. LAY SEKMONS, ADDBESSES, 
 
 AND 
 
 EEVIEWS. 
 
 
 .^ 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS HENEY HUXLEY, LLJX, F.E.S. 
 
 FIFTH EDITION. 
 
 HACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 1874. 
 
 Right of Translation and Reproduction is rese,rved.[ 
 
LONDON; 
 
 It. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS. 
 BREAD STREET HILL. 
 
A PREFATORY LETTER. 
 
 MY DEAR TYNDALL, .'-.';. 
 
 I should have liked to provide this collection 
 of " Lay Sermons, Addresses, and Keviews," with a 
 Dedication and a Preface. In the former, I should have 
 asked you to allow me to associate your name with the 
 book, chiefly on the ground that the oldest of the papers 
 in it is a good deal younger than our friendship. In 
 the latter, I intended to comment upon certain criticisms 
 with which some of these Essays have been met. 
 
 But, on turning the matter over in my mind, I began 
 to fear that a formal dedication at the beginning of such 
 a volume would look like a grand lodge in front of a set 
 of cottages ; while a complete defence of any of my old 
 papers would simply amount to writing a new one a 
 labour for which I am, at present, by no means fit. 
 
 The book must go forth, therefore, without any better 
 substitute for either Dedication, or Preface, than this 
 letter ; before concluding which it is necessary for me 
 to notify you, and any other reader, of two or three 
 matters. 
 
 I 
 
nfat0rg fitter. 
 
 The first is, that the oldest Essay of the whole, that 
 "On the Educational Value of the Natural History 
 Sciences," contains a view of the nature of the differences 
 between living and not-living bodies out of which I have 
 long since grown. 
 
 Secondly, in the same paper, there is a statement con- 
 cerning the method of the mathematical sciences, which, 
 repeated and expanded elsewhere, brought upon me, 
 during the meeting of the British Association at Exeter, 
 the artillery of our eminent friend Professor Sylvester. 
 
 No one knows better than you do, how readily I 
 should defer to the opinion of so great a mathematician 
 if the question at issue were really, as he seems to think 
 it is, a mathematical one. But I submit, that the dictum 
 of a mathematical athlete upon a difficult problem which 
 mathematics offers to philosophy, has no more special 
 weight, than the verdict of that great pedestrian Captain 
 Barclay would have had, in settling a disputed point in 
 the physiology of locomotion. 
 
 The genius which sighs for new worlds to conquer 
 beyond that surprising region in which "geometry, 
 algebra, and the theory of numbers melt into one another 
 like sunset tints, or the colours of a dying dolphin/' may 
 be of comparatively little service in the cold domain 
 (mostly lighted by the moon, some say) of philosophy. 
 And the more I think of it, the more does our friend 
 seem to me to fall into the position of one of those 
 "verstandige Leute," about whom he makes so apt a 
 quotation from Goethe. Surely he has not duly con- 
 sidered two points. The first, that I am in no way 
 
|Jrrfat0*s IWte, vii 
 
 answerable for the origination of the doctrine he criti- 
 cises : and the second, that if we are to employ the 
 terms observation, induction, and experiment, in the 
 sense in which he uses them, logic is as much an 
 observational, inductive, and experimental science as 
 mathematics; and that, I confess, appears to me to be 
 a reductio ad absurdum of his argument. 
 
 Thirdly, the Essay " On the Physical Basis of Life" was 
 intended to contain a plain and untechnical statement of 
 one of the great tendencies of modern biological thought, 
 accompanied by a protest, from the philosophical side, 
 against what is commonly called Materialism. The 
 result of my well-meant efforts I find to be, that I am 
 generally credited with having invented "protoplasm" 
 in the interests of "materialism/' My unlucky "Lay 
 Sermon" has been attacked by microscopists, ignorant 
 alike of Biology and Philosophy ; by philosophers, not 
 very learned in either Biology or Microscopy ; by clergy- 
 men of several denominations ; and by some few writers 
 who have taken the trouble to understand the subject. 
 I trust that these last will believe that I leave the Essay 
 unaltered from no want of respectful attention to all they 
 have said. 
 
 Fourthly, I wish to refer all who are interested in 
 the topics discussed in my address on "Geological Ee- 
 form," to the reply with which Sir William Thomson has 
 honoured me. 
 
 And, lastly, let me say that I reprint the review of 
 "The Origin of Species" simply because it has been 
 cited as mine by a late President of the Geological Society. 
 
viii , fjrtfaiorg 
 
 If you find its phraseology, in some places, to be more 
 vigorous than seems needful, recollect that it was written 
 in the heat of our first battles over the Novum Organon 
 of Biology ; that we were all ten years younger in those 
 days ; and last, but not least, that it was not published 
 until it had been submitted to the revision of a friend 
 for whose judgment I had then, as I have now, the 
 greatest respect. 
 
 Ever, my dear TYKDALL, 
 
 Yours very faithfully, 
 
 T. H. HUXLEY. 
 
 Los i 'ON, June 1870. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 L 
 
 MM 
 
 ON THE ADVISABLENESS OF IMPROVING NATURAL KNOWLEDGE. 
 (A Lay Sermon delivered in St. Martin's Hall, on the evening 
 of Sunday, the 7th of January, 1866, and subsequently published 
 in the Fortnightly .Review} c, ,,*,. u .. r 1 
 
 II. 
 
 K MANCIPATION BLACK AND WHITE. (The Beader, May 20th, 1865) 20 
 
 III. 
 
 A LIBERAL EDUCATION : AND WHERE TO FIND IT. (An Address 
 to the South London Working Men's College, delivered on the 
 4th of January, 1868, and subsequently published in Macmillaris 
 Magazine] 27 
 
 IV. 
 
 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION : NOTES OF AN AFTER-DINNER SPEECH. (De- 
 livered before the Liverpool Philomathic Society in April 1869, 
 and subsequently published in Macmillari's Magazine) . , . . . 54 
 
 V. 
 
 ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE OF THE NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES. 
 (An Address delivered at St. Martin's Hall, on the 22d July, 1854, 
 and published as a pamphlet in that year) .... ... 72 
 
VI. 
 
 PAHS 
 
 ON THE STITDT OF ZOOLOGY. (A Lecture delivered at the South 
 Kensington Museum, in 1861, and subsequently published by the 
 Department of Science and Art) ............ 94 
 
 t- y x xx viz. 
 
 ON THE PHYSICAL BASIS OP LIFE. (A lay Sermon delivered in 
 Edinburgh, on Sunday, the 8th of November, 1868, at the request 
 of the late Rev. James Cranbrook ; subsequently published in the ^ 
 Fortnightly Review) ................ 120 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE SCIENTIFIC ASPECTS OF POSITIVISM. (A Reply to Mr. Congrevc's 
 Attack upon the preceding Paper. Published in the Fwtnightly 
 JReview,l869) 147 
 
 IX. 
 
 ON A PIECE OF CHALK. (A Lecture delivered to the Working Men of 
 Norwich, during the Meeting of the British Association, in 1868. 
 Subsequently published in Macmillan's Magazine) 174 
 
 GEOLOGICAL CONTEMPORANEITY AND PERSISTENT TYPES OF LIFE. (The 
 Anniversary Address to the Geological Society for 1862) .... 202 
 
 XI. 
 
 GEOLOGICAL REFORM. (The Anniversary Address to the Geological 
 Society for 1869) 228 
 
 XII. 
 THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES, (The Westminster Review, April 1860) . . .255 
 
Cxmfmfs, xi 
 
 XIII. 
 
 PACK 
 
 CRITICISMS ON "THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES." (The Natural History 
 Review, 1864) 299 
 
 XIV. 
 
 ON DESCARTES' " DISCOURSE TOUCHING THE METHOD or USING ONE'S 
 REASON RIGHTLY AND OF SEEKING SCIENTIFIC TRUTH." (An 
 Address to the Cambridge Young Men's Christian Society, delivered 
 on the 24th of March, 1870, and subsequently published in 
 Macmillan's Magazine) .... . 320 
 
 
, 
 
 ON THE ADVISABLENESS OF IMPROVING 
 NATUKAL KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 THIS time two hundred years figo in the beginning of 
 January, 1666 those of our forefathers who inhabited 
 this great and ancient city, took breath between the 
 shocks of two fearful calamities : one not quite past, 
 although its fury had abated ; the other to come. 
 
 Y T ithin a few yards of the very spot on which we 
 are assembled, so the tradition runs, that painful 
 and deadly malady, the plague, appeared in the latter 
 months of 1664 ; and, though no new visitor, smote the 
 people of England, and especially of her capital, with 
 a violence unknown before, in the course of the following 
 year. The hand of a master has pictured what happened) 
 in those dismal months ; and in that truest of fictions, 1 , 
 " The History of the Plague Year," Defoe shows death, 
 with every accompaniment of pain and terror, stalking 
 through the narrow streets of old London, and changing 
 their busy hum into a silence broken only by the 
 wailing of the mourners of fifty thousand dead ; by the 
 woful denunciations and mad prayers of fanatics ; and 
 by the madder yells of despairing profligates. 
 
 But, about this time in 1666, the death-rate had 
 sunk to nearly its ordinary amount; a case of plague 
 occurred only here and there, and the richer citizens 
 
 B 
 
2 lag Strnums, (Essap, atttr |Jcimtos. [i- 
 
 who had flown from the pest had returned to their 
 dwellings. The remnant of the people began to toil 
 at the accustomed round of duty, or of pleasure ; and 
 the stream of city life bid fair to flow back along its 
 old bed, with renewed and uninterrupted vigour. 
 
 The newly kindled hope was deceitful. The great 
 plague, indeed, returned no more ; but what it had 
 clone for tie Londoners, the great fire, which broke 
 out in the autumn of 1666, did for London ; and, in 
 September of that year, a heap of ashes and the inde- 
 structible energy of the people were all that remained 
 of the glory of five-sixths of the city within the walls. 
 
 Our forefathers had their own ways of accounting 
 for each of these calamities. They submitted to the 
 plague in humility and in penitence, for they believed 
 it to be the judgment of God. But, towards the fire 
 they- were furiously indignant, interpreting it as the 
 effect of the malice of man, as the work of the 
 Republicans, or of the Papists, according as their pre- 
 possessions ran in favour of loyalty or of Puritanism. 
 
 It would, I fancy, have fared but ill with one who, 
 standing where I now stand, in what was then a thickly 
 peopled and fashionable part of London, should have 
 broached to our ancestors the doctrine which I now 
 propound to you that all their hypotheses were alike 
 wrong ; that the plague was no more, in their sense, 
 Divine judgment, than the fire was the work of any poli- 
 tical, or of any religious, sect ; but that they were th em- 
 selves the authors of both plague and fire, and that they 
 must look to themselves to prevent the recurrence of 
 calamities, to all appearance so peculiarly beyond the 
 reach of human control so evidently the result of the 
 wrath of God, or of the craft and subtlety of an 
 enemy. 
 
t.J &n imprnbmg 
 
 And one may picture to oneself how harmoniously 
 the holy cursing of the Puritan of that day would have 
 chimed in with the unholy cursing and the crackling 
 wit of the Eochesters and Sedleys, and with the revilings 
 of the political fanatics, if my imaginary plain dealer 
 had gone on to say that, if the return of such misfortunes' 
 were ever rendered impossible, it would not be in virtue 
 of the victory -of the faith of Laud, or of that of 
 Milton ; and, as little, by the triumph of republicanism, 
 as by that of monarchy. Bub that the one thing 
 needful for compassing this end was, that the people 
 of England should second the efforts of an insig- 
 nificant corporation, the establishment of which, a few 
 years before the epoch of the great plague and the 
 great fire, had been as little noticed, as they were 
 conspicuous. 
 
 Some twenty years before the outbreak of the plague 
 a few calm and thoughtful students banded themselves j 
 together for the purpose, as they phrased it, of " im- 
 proving natural knowledge." The ends they proposed 
 to attain cannot be stated more clearly than in the 
 words of one of the founders of the organization : 
 
 " Our business was (precluding matters of theology 
 and state affairs) to discourse and consider of philo- 
 sophical enquiries, and such as related thereunto : as 
 Physick, Anatomy, Geometry, Astronomy, Navigation, 
 Staticks, Magneticks, Ghymicks, Mechanicks, and 
 Natural Experiments; with the state of these studies 
 and their cultivation at home and abroad. We then 
 discoursed of the circulation of the blood, the valves 
 in the veins, the venae lacteae, the lymphatic vessels, 
 the Copernican hypothesis, the nature of comets and 
 new stars, the satellites of Jupiter, the oval shape (as 
 it then appeared) of Saturn, the spots on the sun and 
 
 B 2 
 
Sermons, (Efssajjs, mib Uebietos. L L 
 
 its turning on its own axis, the inequalities and seleno- 
 
 fraphy of the moon, the several phases of Venus and 
 iercury, the improvement of telescopes and grinding 
 of glasses for that purpose, the weight of air, the 
 possibility or impossibility of vacuities and nature's ab- 
 horrence thereof, the Torricellian experiment in quick- 
 silver, the descent of heavy bodies and the degree of 
 acceleration therein, with divers other things of like 
 nature, some of which were then but new discoveries, 
 and others not so generally known and embraced as 
 now they are ; with other things appertaining to what 
 hath been called the New Philosophy, which, from 
 the times of Galileo at Florence, and Sir Francis Bacon 
 (Lord Verulam) in England, hath been much cultivated 
 in Italy, France, Germany, and other parts abroad, as 
 well as with us in England." 
 
 The learned Dr. Wallis, writing in 1696, narrates, in 
 these words, what happened half a century before, or 
 about 1645. The associates met at Oxford, in the 
 rooms of Dr. Wilkins, who was destined to become a 
 bishop ; and subsequently coming together in London, 
 they attracted the notice of the king. And it is a 
 strange evidence of the taste for knowledge which the 
 most obviously worthless of the Stuarts shared with 
 his father and grandfather, that Charles the Second 
 was not content with saying witty things about his 
 philosophers, but did wise things with regard to them. 
 For he not only bestowed upon them such attention as 
 he could spare from his poodles and his mistresses, but, 
 being in his usual state of impecuniosity, begged for 
 them of the Duke of Ormond ; and, that step being 
 without effect, gave them Chelsea College, a charter, and 
 a mace : crowning his favours in the best way they could 
 be crowned, by burdening them no further with royal 
 patronage or state interference. 
 
i.J n improtrhtg Uaiural JSnofolebge. 5 
 
 Thus it was that the half-dozen young men, studious 
 of the " New Philosophy," who met in one another's 
 lodgings in Oxford or in London, in the middle of the 
 seventeenth century, grew in numerical and in real 
 strength, until, in its latter part, the " Eoyal Society for 
 the Improvement of Natural Knowledge" had already 
 become famous, and had acquired a claim upon the vene- 
 ration of Englishmen, which it has ever since retained, 
 as the principal focus of scientific activity in our islands, 
 and the chief champion of the cause it was formed to 
 support. 
 
 It was by the aid of the Eoyal Society that Newton 
 published his " Principia." If all the books in the world, 
 except the Philosophical Transactions, were destroyed, it 
 is safe to say that the foundations of physical science 
 would remain unshaken, and that the vast intellectual 
 progress of the last two centuries would be largely, 
 though incompletely, recorded. Nor have any signs 
 of halting or of decrepitude manifested themselves in 
 our own times. As in Dr. Wallis's days, so in these, 
 " our business is, precluding theology and state affairs, 
 to discourse and consider of philosophical enquiries/' 
 But our " Mathematick" is one which Newton would 
 have to go to school to learn ; our " Staticks, Mechanicks, 
 Magneticks, Chymicks, and Natural Experiments" con- 
 stitute a mass of physical and chemical knowledge, 
 a glimpse at which would compensate Galileo for 
 the doings of a score of inquisitorial cardinals ; our 
 " Physick " and " Anatomy " have embraced such in- 
 finite varieties of being, have laid open such new 
 worlds in time and space, have gmpgleji^ jnot unsuc- 
 cessfully, with such complex problems, that" the eyes 
 of Vesalius and of Harvey might be dazzled by the 
 sight of the tree that has grown out of their grain of 
 mustard seed. 
 
ti |Tag Sermous, (Essatrs, nnft gUbietxrs. LI. 
 
 The fact is perhaps rather too much," than too little, 
 forced upon one's notice, nowadays, that all this mar- 
 vellous intellectual growth has a no less wonderful 
 expression in practical life ; and that, in this respect, if 
 in no other, the movement symbolized by the progress 
 of the Royal Society stands without a parallel in the 
 history of mankind. 
 
 A series of volumes as bulky as the Transactions of 
 the Royal Society might possibly be filled with the 
 subtle speculations of the Schoolmen ; not improbably, 
 the obtaining a mastery over the products of mediaeval 
 thought might necessitate an even greater expenditure of 
 time and of energy than the acquirement of the " New 
 Philosophy ;" but though such work engrossed the best 
 intellects of Europe for a longer time than has elapsed 
 since the great fire, its effects were " writ in water," so 
 far as our social state is concerned. 
 
 On the other hand, if the noble first President of the 
 Royal Society could revisit the upper air and once more 
 gladden his eyes with a sight of the familiar mace, he 
 would find himself in the midst of a material civilization 
 more different from that of his day, than that of the 
 seventeenth, was from that of the first, century. And if 
 Lord Brouncker's native sagacity had not deserted his 
 ghost, he would need no long reflection to discover that 
 all these great ships, these railways, these telegraphs, 
 these factories, these printing-presses, without which the 
 whole fabric of modern English society would collapse 
 into a mass of stagnant and starving pauperism, that 
 all these pillars of our State are but the ripples and the 
 bubbles upon the surface of that great spiritual stream, 
 the springs of which, only, he and his fellows were 
 privileged to see ; and seeing, to recognise as that which 
 it behoved them above all things to keep pure and 
 undefilcd. 
 
i.] n impr0bing Uateal JSnaixilebije. 7 
 
 It may not be too great a flight of imagination to 
 conceive our noble revenant not forgetful of the great 
 troubles of his own day, and anxious to know how often 
 London had been burned down since his time, and how 
 often the plague had carried off its thousands. He would 
 have to learn that, although London contains tenfold the 
 inflammable matter that it did in 1666 ; though, not 
 content with filling our rooms with woodwork and light 
 draperies, we must needs lead inflammable and explosive 
 .U'ases into every corner of our streets and houses, we 
 never allow even a street to burn down. And if he 
 asked how this had come about, we should have to 
 explain that the improvement of natural knowledge has 
 furnished us with dozens of machines for throwing water 
 upon fires, any one of which would have furnished the ; 
 ingenious Mr. Hooke, the first "curator and experi- 
 menter" of the Royal Society, with ample materials for 
 discourse before half a dozen meetings of that body : 
 and that, to say truth, except for the progress of natural 
 knowledge, we should not have been able to make even 
 the tools by which these machines are constructed. 
 And, further, it would be necessary to add, that although 
 severe fires sometimes occur and inflict great damage, 
 the loss is very generally compensated by societies, the 
 operations of which have been rendered possible only 
 by the progress of natural knowledge in the direction of 
 mathematics, and the accumulation of wealth in virtue 
 of other natural knowledge. 
 
 But the plague ? My Lord Brouncker's observation 
 would not, I fear, lead him to think that Englishmen of 
 the nineteenth century are purer in life, or more fer- 
 vent in religious faith, than the generation which could 
 produce a Boyle, an Evelyn, and a Milton. He might 
 find the mud of society at the bottom, instead of at the 
 top, but I fear that the sum total would be as deserving 
 
Sermons, (Essays, mttr ^icfatcbs. 
 
 of swift judgment as at tlie time of the Restoration. 
 And it would be our duty to explain once more, and 
 this time not without shame, that we have no reason 
 to believe that it is the improvement of our faith, nor 
 that of our morals, which keeps the plague from our 
 city ; but, again, that it is the improvement of our 
 natural knowledge. 
 
 We have learned that pestilences will only take up 
 their abode among those who have prepared unswept 
 and ungarnished residences for them. Their cities must 
 have narrow, unwatered streets, foul with accumulated 
 garbage. Their houses must be ill-drained, ill-lighted, 
 ill-ventilated. Their subjects must be ill- washed, ill- 
 fed, ill-clothed. The London of 1665 was such a city. 
 The cities of the East, where plague has an enduring 
 dwelling, are such cities. We, in later times, have 
 learned somewhat of Nature, and partly obey her. 
 Because of this partial improvement of our natural 
 knowledge and of that fractional obedience, we have 
 no plague ; because that knowledge is still very imper- 
 fect and that obedience yet incomplete, typhus is our 
 companion and cholera our visitor. But it is not 
 presumptuous to express the belief that, when our 
 knowledge is more complete and our obedience the 
 expression of our knowledge, London will count her 
 centuries of freedom from typhus and cholera, as she 
 now gratefully reckons her two hundred years of 
 ignorance of that plague which swooped upon her 
 thrice in the first half of the seventeenth century. 
 
 Surely, there is nothing in these explanations which 
 is not fully borne out by the facts? Surely, the prin- 
 ciples involved in them are now admitted among the 
 fixed beliefs of all thinking men? Surely, it is true 
 that our countrymen are less subject to fire, famine, 
 pestilence, and all the evils which result from a want 
 
n impr0bhtg ftotural 
 
 of command over and due anticipation of the course of 
 Nature, than were the countrymen of Milton ; and health, 
 wealth, and well-being are more abundant with us than 
 with them ? But no less certainly is the difference due 
 to the improvement of our knowledge of Nature, and 
 the extent to which that improved knowledge has been 
 incorporated with the household words of men, and has 
 supplied the springs of their daily actions. 
 
 Granting for a moment, then, the truth of that which 
 the depredators of natural knowledge are so fond of 
 urging, that its improvement can only add to the resources 
 of our material civilization ; admitting it to be possible that 
 the founders of the Eoyal Society themselves looked for 
 no other reward than this, I cannot confess that I was 
 guilty of exaggeration when I hinted, that to him who 
 had the gift of distinguishing between prominent events 
 and important events, the origin of a combined effort 
 on the part of mankind to improve natural knowledge 
 might have loomed larger than the Plague and have out- 
 shone the glare of the Fire ; as a something fraught with 
 a wealth of beneficence to mankind, in comparison with 
 which the damage done by those ghastly evils would 
 shrink into insignificance. 
 
 It is very certain that for every victim slain by 
 the plague, hundreds of mankind exist and find a fair 
 share of happiness in the world, by the aid of the 
 spinning jenny. And the great fire, at its worst, could 
 not have burned the supply of coal, the daily working 
 of which, in the bowels of the earth, made possible by the 
 steam pump, gives rise to an amount of wealth to which 
 the millions lost in old London are but as an old son. 
 
 . 
 
 But spinning jenny and steam pump are, after all, but 
 toys, possessing an accidental value ; and natural know- 
 ledge creates multitudes of more subtle contrivances, the 
 
10 ^ag Sermons, (Sssags, anfr gtbiefas. [i. 
 
 praises of which do not happen to be sung because they 
 are not directly convertible into instruments for creating 
 wealth. When I contemplate natural knowledge squan- 
 dering such gifts among men, the only appropriate 
 comparison I can find for her is, to liken her to such a 
 peasant woman as one sees in the Alps, striding ever 
 upward, heavily burdened, and with mind bent only on 
 her home ; but yet, without effort and without thought, 
 knittirig for her children. Now stockings are good and 
 comfortable things, and the children will undoubtedly 
 be much the better for them ; but surely it would be 
 short-sighted, to say the least of it, to depreciate this 
 toiling mother as a mere stocking-machine a mere 
 provider of physical comforts? 
 
 However, there are blind leaders of the blind, and not 
 a few of them, who take this view of natural knowledge, 
 and can see nothing in the bountiful mother of humanity 
 but a sort of comfort- grinding machine. According to 
 them, the improvement of natural knowledge always has 
 been, and always must be, synonymous with no more 
 than the improvement of the material resources and the 
 increase of the gratifications of men. 
 
 Natural knowledge is, in their eyes, no real mother of 
 mankind, bringing them up with kindness, and, if need 
 be, with sternness, in the way they should go, and 
 instructing them in all things needful for their welfare ; 
 but a sort of fairy godmother, ready to furnish her pets 
 with shoes of swiftness, swords of sharpness, and omni- 
 potent Aladdin's lamps, so that they may have telegraphs 
 to Saturn, and see the other side of the moon, and thank 
 God they are better than their benighted ancestors. 
 
 If this talk were true, I, for one, should not greatly 
 care to toil in the service of natural knowledge. 1 think 
 I would just as soon be quietly chipping my own flint 
 nxe, after the manner of my forefathers a few thousand 
 
r.j n impmbmg fjtateral |lnofefebfe; n 
 
 years back, as be troubled with the endless malady of 
 thought which now infests us all, for such reward. But 
 I venture to say that such views are contrary alike to 
 reason and to fact. Those who discourse in such fashion 
 seem to me to be so intent upon trying to see what is 
 above Nature, or what is behind her, that they are blind 
 to what stares them in the face, in her. 
 
 I should not venture to speak thus strongly if my 
 justification were not to be found in the simplest and 
 most obvious facts, if it needed more than an appeal 
 to the most notorious truths to justify my assertion, that 
 the improvement of natural knowledge, whatever direc- 
 tion it has taken, and however low the aims of those 
 who may have commenced it has not only conferred 
 practical benefits on men, but, in so doing, has effected 
 a revolution in their conceptions of the universe and of 
 themselves, and has profoundly altered their modes of 
 thinking and their views of right and wrong. I say 
 that natural knowledge, seeking to satisfy natural wants, 
 has found the ideas which can alone still spiritual 
 cravings. I say that natural knowledge, in desiring to 
 ascertain the laws of comfort, has been driven to discover 
 those of conduct, and to lay the foundations of a new 
 morality. 
 
 Let us take these points separately ; and, first, what j I 
 great ideas has natural knowledge introduced into men's 1 1 
 minds ? 
 
 I cannot but think that the foundations of all natural 
 knowledge were laid when the reason of man first came 
 face to face with the facts of Nature : when the savage 
 first learned that the fingers of one hand are fewer than 
 those of both ; that it is shorter to cross a stream than 
 to head it ; that a stone stops where it is unless it be 
 moved, and that it drops from the hand which lets it go ; 
 
12 fag Sermons, (Essmrs, anb Jlcbrefos. L T - 
 
 that light and heat come and go with the sun ; that 
 sticks burn away in a fire ; that plants and animals grow 
 and die ; that if he struck his fellow-savage a blow he 
 would make him angry, and perhaps get a blow in return, 
 while if he offered him a fruit he would please him, and 
 perhaps receive a fish in exchange. When men had 
 acquired this much knowledge, the outlines, rude though 
 they were, of mathematics, of physics, of chemistry, of 
 biology, of moral, economical, and political science, were 
 
 I sketched. Nor did the germ of religion fail when 
 science began to bud. Listen to words which, though 
 new, are yet three thousand years old : 
 
 u . . . When in heaven the stars about the moon 
 Look beautiful, when all the winds are laid, 
 And every height comes out, and jutting peak 
 And valley, and the immeasurable heavens 
 Break open to their highest, and all the stars 
 Shine, and the shepherd gladdens in his heart." 1 
 
 If the half-savage Greek could share our feelings thus 
 far, it is irrational to doubt that he went further, to 
 find, as we do, that upon that brief gladness there 
 follows a certain sorrow, the little light of awakened 
 human intelligence shines so mere a spark amidst the 
 abyss of the unknown and unknowable ; seems so in- 
 sufficient to do more than illuminate the imperfections 
 that cannot be remedied, the aspirations that cannot be 
 realized, of man's own nature. But in this sadness, this 
 consciousness of the limitation of man, this sense of an 
 open secret which he cannot penetrate, lies the essence of 
 |lall religion; and the attempt to embody it in the forms 
 1 furnished by the intellect is the origin of the higher 
 /theologies. 
 
 Thus it seems impossible to imagine but that the 
 foundations of all knowledge secular or sacred were 
 
 1 Need it be said that this is Tonnyson's English for Homer's Greek ? 
 
i-] (Dit impr0bm0 fjafural puotoferge. 13 
 
 laid when intelligence dawned, though the superstructure 
 remained for long ages so slight and feeble as to be 
 compatible with the existence of almost any general 
 view respecting the mode of governance of the universe. 
 No doubt, from the first, there were certain phenomena 
 which, to the rudest mind, presented a constancy of 
 occurrence, and suggested that a fixed order ruled, at 
 any rate, among them. I doubt if the grossest of Fetish 
 worshippers ever imagined that a stone must have a 
 god within it to make it fall, or that a fruit had a god 
 within it to make it taste sweet. With regard to such 
 matters as these, it is hardly questionable that man- 
 kind from the first took strictly positive and scientific 
 views. 
 
 But, with respect to all the less familiar occurrences 
 which present themselves, uncultured man, no doubt, has 
 always taken himself as the standard of comparison, as 
 the centre and measure of the world ; nor could he well 
 avoid doing so. And finding that his apparently un- 
 caused will has a po \verful effect in giving rise to many 
 occurrences, he naturally enough ascribed other and 
 greater events to other and greater volitions, and came 
 to look upon the world and all that therein is, as the 
 product of the volitions of persons like himself, but 
 stronger, and capable of being appeased or angered, as 
 he himself might be soothed or irritated. Through such 
 conceptions of the plan and working of the universe all 
 mankind have passed, or are passing. And we may now 
 consider, what has been the effect of the improvement 
 of natural knowledge on the views of men who have 
 reached this stage, and who have begun to cultivate 
 natural knowledge with no desire but that of "increasing 
 God's honour and bettering man's estate." 
 
 For example, what could seem wiser, from a mere 
 material point of view, more innocent, from a theological 
 
14 ^ag Stcnums, (Essmjs, rmfr U*bieba*. fi 
 
 one, to an ancient people, than that they should learn 
 ("he exact succession of the seasons, as warnings for their 
 husbandmen ; or the position of the stars, as guides to 
 their rude navigators 1 But what has grown out of this 
 search for natural knowledge of so merely useful a 
 character? You all know the reply. Astronomy, 
 which of all sciences has filled men's minds with general 
 ideas of a character most foreign to their daily ex- 
 perience, and has, more than any other, rendered it 
 impossible for them to accept the beliefs of their fathers. 
 Astronomy, which tells them that this so vast and 
 seemingly solid earth is but an atom among atoms, 
 whirling, no man knows whither, through illimitable 
 space ; which demonstrates that what we call the peace- 
 ful heaven above us, is but that space, filled by an 
 infinitely subtle matter whose particles are seething and 
 surging, like the waves of an angry sea ; which opens 
 up to us infinite regions where nothing is known, or 
 ever seems to have been known, but matter and force, 
 operating according to rigid rules ; which leads us to 
 contemplate phsenomena the very nature of which 
 demonstrates that they must have had a beginning, and 
 that they must have an end, but the very nature of 
 which also proves that the beginning was, to our concep- 
 tions of time, infinitely remote, and that the end is as 
 immeasurably distant. 
 
 But it is not alone those who pursue astronomy who 
 ask for bread and receive ideas. What more harmless 
 than the attempt to lift and distribute water by pumping 
 it ; what more absolutely and grossly utilitarian ? But 
 out of pumps grew the discussions about Nature's 
 abhorrence of a vacuum ; and then it was discovered 
 that Nature does not abhor a vacuum, but that air has 
 weight ; and that notion paved the way for the doctrine 
 that all matter has weight, and that the force which 
 
t.] (Dn hnpr0hmg |f steal |hi0folebg*. 15 
 
 produces weight is co-extensive with the universe, in 
 short, to the theory of universal gravitation and endless 
 force. While learning how to handle gases led to the 
 discovery of oxygen, and to modern chemistry, and to 
 the notion of the indestructibility of matter. 
 
 Again, what simpler, or more absolutely practical, 
 than the attempt to keep the axle of a wheel from 
 heating when the wheel turns round very fast ? Ho\\ 
 useful for carters and gig drivers to know something 
 about this ; and how good were it, if any ingenious 
 person would find out the cause of such phsenomena, 
 and thence educe a general remedy for them. Such 
 an ingenious person was Count Eumford ; and he and 
 his successors have landed us in the theory of the per- 
 sistence, or indestructibility, of force. And in the in- | 
 finitely minute, as in the infinitely great, the seekers 
 after natural knowledge, of the kinds called physical and 
 chemical, have everywhere found a definite order and 
 succession of events which seem never to be infringed. 
 
 And how has it fared with "Physick" and Anatomy? 
 Have the anatomist, the physiologist, or the physician, 
 whose business it has been to devote themselves assi- 
 duously to that eminently practical and direct end, the 
 alleviation of the sufferings of mankind, have they 
 been able to confine their vision more absolutely to the 
 strictly useful ? I fear they are worst offenders of all. 
 For if the astronomer has set before us the infinite 
 magnitude of space, and the practical eternity of the 
 duration of the universe; if the physical and chemical 
 philosophers have demonstrated the infinite minuteness 
 of its constituent parts, and the practical eternity of 
 matter and of force ; and if both have alike proclaimed 
 the universality of a definite and predicable order and 
 succession of events, the workers in biology have not 
 only accepted all these, but have added more startling 
 
10 l&m Sermons, (Gssugs, anb ^cbixfos. [T. 
 
 theses of their own. For, as the astronomers discover in 
 the earth no centre of the universe, but an eccentric 
 speck, so the naturalists find man to be no centre of 
 the living world, but one amidst endless modifications 
 of life ; and as the astronomer observes the mark of 
 practically endless time set upon the arrangements of 
 the solar system so the student of life finds the records 
 of ancient forms of existence peopling the world for ages, 
 which, in relation to human experience, are infinite. 
 
 Furthermore, the physiologist finds life to be as 
 dependent for its manifestation on particular molecular 
 arrangements as any physical or chemical phenomenon : 
 and, wherever he extends his researches, fixed order 
 and unchanging causation reveal themselves, as plainly 
 as in the rest of Nature. 
 
 Nor can I find that any other fate has awaited tHe 
 germ of Religion. Arising, like all other kinds of 
 knowledge, out of the action and interaction of man s 
 mind, with that which is not man's mind, it has taken 
 the intellectual coverings of Fetishism or Polytheism ; cf 
 Theism or Atheism ; of Superstition or Rationalism, 
 With these, and their relative merits and demerits, I 
 have nothing to do ; but this it is needful for my 
 purpose to say, that if the religion of the present differs 
 from that of the past, it is because the theology of the 
 present has become more scientific than that of the pas'; 
 because it has not only renounced idols of wood and 
 idols of stone, but begins to see the necessity of breaking 
 in pieces the idols built up of books and traditions and 
 fine-spun ecclesiastical cobwebs : and of cherishing the 
 noblest and most human of man's emotions, by worship 
 " for the most part of the silent sort" at the altar of the 
 Unknown and Unknowable. 
 
 Such are a few of the new conceptions implanted in 
 our minds by the improvement of natural knowledge. 
 
i] it tmprxrfamg fjatural 
 
 Men have acquired the ideas of the practically infinite j 
 extent of the universe and of its practical eternity ; 
 they are familiar with the conception that our earth 
 is but an infinitesimal fragment of that part of the 
 universe which can be seen ; and that, nevertheless, its ; 
 duration is, as compared with our standards of time, 
 infinite. They have further acquired the idea that man 
 is but one of innumerable forms of life now existing in 
 
 O 
 
 the globe, and that the present existences are but the 
 last of an immeasurable series of predecessors. More- 
 over, every step they have made in natural knowledge 
 has tended to extend and rivet in their minds the con- 
 ception of a definite order of the universe which is 
 embodied in what are called, by an unhappy metaphor, 
 the laws of Nature and to narrow the range and 
 loosen the force of men's belief in spontaneity, or in 
 changes other than such as arise out of that definite 
 order itself. 
 
 Whether these ideas are well or ill founded is not the" 
 question. No one can deny that they exist, and have 
 been the inevitable outgrowth of the improvement of 
 natural knowledge. And if so, it cannot be doubted i 
 that they are changing the form of men's most cherished \ 
 and most important convictions. 
 
 And as regards the second point the extent to which 
 the improvement of natural knowledge has remodelled 
 and altered what may be termed the intellectual ethics 
 of men, what are among the moral convictions most 
 fondly held by barbarous and semi-barbarous people ? 
 
 They are the convictions that authority is the soundest ^ 
 basis of belief; that merit attaches to a readiness to 
 believe ; that the doubting disposition is a bad one, 
 and scepticism a sin ; that when good authority has 
 pronounced what is to be believed, and faith has ac-i 
 
18 |foiT Sermons, (Bssatrs, anfr JRefwfos. [i. 
 
 cepted it; reason has no further duty. There are many 
 excellent persons who yet hold by these principles, and 
 it is not my present business, or intention, to discuss 
 their views. All I wish to bring clearly before your 
 minds is the unquestionable fact, that the improvement 
 of natural knowledge is effected by methods which 
 directly give the lie to all these convictions, and assume 
 the exact reverse of each to be true. 
 
 The improver of natural knowledge absolutely refuses 
 to acknowledge authority, as such. For him, scepticism 
 is the highest of duties ; blind faith the one unpardon- 
 able sin. And it cannot be otherwise, for every great 
 advance in natural knowledge has involved the absolute 
 rejection of authority, the cherishing of the keenest 
 scepticism, the annihilation of the spirit of blind faith ; 
 and the most ardent votary of science holds his firmest 
 convictions, not because the men he most venerates 
 hold them ; not because their verity is testified by 
 portents and wonders ; but because his experience teaches 
 him that whenever he chooses to bring these convictions 
 into contact with their primary source, Nature when- 
 ever he thinks fit to test them by appealing to experiment 
 and to observation Nature will confirm them. The 
 man of science has learned to believe in justification, 
 not by faith, but by verification. 
 
 Thus, without for a moment pretending to despise 
 the practical results of the improvement of natural 
 knowledge, and its beneficial influence on material civili- 
 zation, it must, 1 think, be admitted that the great 
 ideas, some of which I have indicated, and the ethical 
 spirit which I have endeavoured to sketch, in the levy 
 moments which remained at my disposal, constitute the 
 real and permanent significance of natural knowledge. 
 
 If thene ideas be destined, as I believe they are, to 
 be more and more firmly established as the world grows 
 
i.] <Hht impairing ftateral Jiimifolebjj*. 19 
 
 older ; if that spirit be fated, as I believe it is, to 
 extend itself into all departments of human thought, and 
 to become co-extensive with the range of knowledge ; : f, 
 as our race approaches its maturity, it discovers, as I be- 
 lieve it will, that there is but one kind of knowledge and 
 but one method of acquiring it ; then, we, who are still 
 children, may justly feel it our highest duty to recognise 
 the advisableness of improving natural knowledge, and 
 so to aid ourselves and our successors in their course 
 towards the noble goal which lies before mankind. 
 

 IL 
 
 EMANCIPATION BLACK: AND WHITE. 
 
 QUASHIE'S plaintive inquiry, "Am I not a man and a 
 brother?" seems at last to have received its final reply- - 
 the recent decision of the fierce trial by battle on the 
 other side of the Atlantic fully concurring with that long 
 since delivered here in a more peaceful way. 
 
 The question is settled ; but even those who are most 
 thoroughly convinced that the doom is just, must see 
 good grounds for repudiating half the arguments which 
 have been employed by the winning side ; and for 
 doubting whether its ultimate results will embody the 
 hopes of the victors, though they may more than realize 
 the fears of the vanquished. It may be quite true that 
 some negroes are better than some white men ; but no 
 rational man, cognizant of the facts, believes that the 
 average negro is the equal, still less the superior, of the 
 average white man. And, if this be true, it is simply 
 incredible that, when all his disabilities are removed, and 
 our prognathous relative has a fair field and no favour, 
 as well as no oppressor, he will be able to compete 
 successfully with his bigger-brained and smaller-jawed 
 rival, in a contest which is to be carried on by thoughts 
 and not by bites. The highest places in the hierarchy of 
 civilization will assuredly not be within the reach of our 
 dusky cousins, though it is by no means necessary that 
 
ii.] (SSmmteipathm 38 lack aittr SBSfluic. 21 
 
 they should be restricted to the lowest. But whatever 
 the position of stable equilibrium into which the laws of 
 social gravitation may bring the negro, all responsibility 
 for the result will henceforward lie between Nature and 
 him. The white man may wash his hands of it, and the 
 Caucasian conscience be void of reproach for evermore. 
 And this, if we look to the bottom of the matter, is the 
 real justification for the abolition policy. 
 
 The doctrine of equal natural rights may be an illogical 
 delusion; emancipation may convert the slave from a 
 well fed animal into 'a pauperised man ; mankind may 
 even have to do without cotton shirts ; but all these evils 
 must be faced, if the moral law, that no human being 
 can arbitrarily dominate over another without grievous 
 damage to his own nature, be, as many think, as readily 
 demonstrable by experiment as any physical truth. If 
 this be true, no slavery can be abolished without a double 
 emancipation, and the master will benefit by freedom 
 more than the freed-man. 
 
 The like considerations apply to all the other questions 
 of emancipation which are at present stirring the world 
 the multifarious demands that classes of mankind shall 
 be relieved from restrictions imposed by the artifice of; 
 man, and not by the necessities of Nature. One of the 
 most important, if not the most important, of all these, is 
 that which daily threatens to become the " irrepressible " I 
 woman question. What social and political rights have 
 women ? What ought they to be allowed, or not allowed 
 to do, be, and suffer ? And, as involved in, and under- 
 lying all these questions, how ought they to be educated?^ 
 
 There are philogynists as fanatical as any "misogu- 
 nists" who, reversing our antiquated notions, bid the 
 man look upon the woman as the higher type of 
 humanity ; who ask us to regard the female intellect as 
 the clearer and the quicker, if not the stronger; who 
 
22 ^ag Sermons, (fssajs, mrb gtbwfos. fn. 
 
 desire us to look up to the feminine moral sense as the 
 purer and the nobler ; and bid man abdicate his usurped 
 sovereignty over Nature in favour of the female line. 
 On the other hand, there are persons not to be outdone 
 in all loyalty and just respect for woman-kind, but by 
 nature hard of head and haters of delusion, however 
 charming, who not only repudiate the new woman- 
 worship which so many sentimentalists and some philo- 
 sophers are desirous of setting up, but, carrying thei? 
 audacity further, deny even the natural equality of the 
 sexes. They assert, on the contrary, that in every 
 excellent character, whether mental or physical, the 
 average woman is inferior to the average man, in the 
 sense of having that character less in quantity, and lower 
 in quality. Tell these persons of the rapid perceptions and 
 the instinctive intellectual insight of women, and they 
 reply that the feminine mental peculiarities, which pass 
 under these names, are merely the outcome of a greater 
 impressibility to the superficial aspects of things, and of 
 the absence of that restraint upon expression, which, in 
 men, is imposed by reflection and a sense of responsibility. 
 Talk of the passive endurance of the weaker sex, and 
 opponents of this kind remind you that Job was a man, 
 and that, until quite recent times, patience and long- 
 suffering were not counted among the specially feminine 
 virtues. Claim passionate tenderness as especially 
 feminine, and the inquiry is made whether all the best 
 love-poetry in existence (except, perhaps, the "Sonnets 
 from the Portuguese " ) has not been written by men ; 
 whether the song which embodies the ideal of pure and 
 tender passion Adelaida was written by Frau Beeth- 
 oven ; whether it was the Fornarina, or Kaphael, who 
 painted the Sistine Madonna. Nay, we have known one 
 such heretic go so far as to lay his hands upon the arK 
 itself, so to speak, and to defend the startling paradox 
 
IL] (gmmtqpa&m Jjlach anir lEjjtte. 23 
 
 that, even in physical beauty, man is the superior, He 
 admitted, indeed, that there was a brief period of early 
 youth when it might be hard to say whether the prize 
 should be awarded to the graceful undulations of the 
 female figure, or the perfect balance and supple vigour of 
 the male frame. But while our new Paris might hesitate 
 between the youthful Bacchus and the Venus emerging 
 from the foam, he averred that, when Venus and Bacchus 
 had reached thirty, the point no longer admitted of a 
 doubt; the male form having then attained its greatest 
 nobility, while the female is far gone in decadence ; and 
 that, at this epoch, womanly beauty, so far as it is inde- 
 pendent of grace or expression, is a question of drapery 
 and accessories. 
 
 Supposing, however, that all these arguments have a 
 certain foundation ; admitting for a moment, that they 
 are comparable to those by which the inferiority of the 
 negro to the white man may be demonstrated, are they 
 of any value as against woman-emancipation ? Do they 
 afford us the smallest ground for refusing to educate 
 women as well as men to give women the same civil 
 and political rights as men ? No mistake is so commonly 
 made by clever people as that of assuming a cause to be 
 bad because the arguments of its supporters are, to a 
 great extent, nonsensical. And we conceive that those 
 who may laugh at the arguments of the extreme 
 philogynists, may yet feel bound to work heart and soul 
 towards the attainment of their practical ends. 
 
 As regards education, for example. Granting the 
 alleged defects of women, is it not somewhat absurd to 
 sanction and maintain a system of education which 
 would seem to have been specially contrived to ex- 
 aggerate all these defects 1 
 
 Naturally not so firmly strung, nor so well balanced, 
 as boys, girls are in great measure debarred from the 
 
24 a J5crm0its (Essans antr 3 
 
 sports and physical exercises which are justly thought 
 absolutely necessary for the full development of the 
 vigour of the more favoured sex. Women are, by nature, 
 more excitable than men prone to be swept by tides of 
 emotion, proceeding from hidden and inward, as well as 
 from obvious and external causes ; and female education 
 does its best to weaken every physical counterpoise to 
 this nervous mobility tends in all ways to stimulate the 
 emotional part of the mind and stunt the rest. We find 
 girls naturally timid, inclined to dependence, born con- 
 servatives ; and we teach them that independence is 
 unladylike ; that blind faith is the right frame of mind ; 
 and that whatever we may be permitted, and indeed 
 encouraged, to do to our brother, our sister is to be left 
 to the tyranny of authority and tradition. With few 
 insignificant exceptions, girls have been educated either 
 to be drudges, or toys, beneath man ; or a sort of angels 
 above him; the highest ideal aimed at oscillating between 
 Clarchen and Beatrice. The possibility that the ideal of 
 womanhood lies neither in the fair saint, nor in the fair 
 sinner; that the female type of character is neither 
 bettei nor worse than the male, but only weaker ; that 
 women are meant neither to be men's guides nor their 
 playthings, but their comrades, their fellows and their 
 equals, so far as Nature puts no bar to that equality, does 
 not seem to have entered into the minds of those who 
 have had the conduct of the education of girls. 
 
 If the present system of female education stands self- 
 condemned, as inherently absurd ; and if that which we 
 have just indicated is the true position of woman, what 
 | is the first step towards a better state of things? We 
 reply, emancipate girls. Eecognise the fact that they 
 share the senses, perceptions, feelings, reasoning powers, 
 emotions, of boys, and that the mind of the average girl 
 is less different from that of the average boy, than the 
 
".] (^mancipation glarh anfr (Sttjjiie. 25 
 
 mind of one boy is from that of another ; so that what- 
 ever argument justifies a given education for all boys, 
 justifies its application to girls as well. So far from 
 imposing artificial restrictions upon the acquirement of 
 knowledge by women, throw every facility in their way. 
 Let our Faustinas, if they will, toil through the whole 
 round of 
 
 " Jurist erei und Medizin, 
 Und leider ! auch Philosophic. w 
 
 Let us have " sweet girl graduates " by all means. They 
 will be none the less sweet for a little wisdom ; and the 
 "golden hair" will not curl less gracefully outside the 
 head by reason of there being brains within. Nay, if 
 obvious practical difficulties can be overcome, let those 
 women who feel inclined to do so descend into the 
 gladiatorial arena of life, not merely in the guise of 
 retiarice, as heretofore, but as bold sicarice, breasting the 
 open fray. Let them, if they so please, become mer- 
 chants, barristers, politicians. Let them have a fair field, 
 but let them understand, as the necessary correlative, 
 that they are to have no favour. Let Nature alone sit 
 high above the lists, " rain influence and judge the 
 prize." 
 
 And the result? For our parts, though loth tD 
 prophesy, we believe it will be that of other emanci- 
 pations. Women will find their place, and it will neither 
 be that in which they have been held, nor that to which 
 some of them aspire. Nature's old salique law will not 
 be repealed, and no change of dynasty will be effected. 
 The big chests, the massive brains, the vigorous muscles 
 and stout frames, of the best men will carry the day, 
 whenever it is worth their while to contest the prizes of 
 life with the best women. And the hardship of it is, 
 that the very improvement of the women will lessen 
 
ermons, (Essajrs, antr gcfarctos. 
 
 their chances. Better mothers will bring forth better 
 sons, and the impetus gained by the one sex will be 
 transmitted, in the next generation, to the other. The 
 most Darwinian of theorists will not venture to pro- 
 pound the doctrine, that the physical disabilities under 
 \\hich women have hitherto laboured, in the struggle for 
 existence with men, are likely to be removed by even the 
 most skilfully conducted process of educational selection. 
 We are, indeed, fully prepared to believe that the 
 bearing of children may, and ought, to become as free 
 from danger and long disability, to the civilized woman, 
 as it is to the savage ; nor is it improbable that, as 
 society advances towards its right organization, mother- 
 hood will occupy a less space of woman's life than it has 
 hitherto done. But still, unless the human species is to 
 come to an end altogether a consummation which can 
 hardly be desired by even the most ardent advocate of 
 " women's rights " somebody must be good enough to 
 take the trouble and responsibility of annually adding to 
 the world exactly as many people as die out of it. In 
 consequence of some domestic difficulties, Sydney Smith 
 is said to have suggested that it would have been good 
 for the human race had the model offered by the hive 
 been followed, and had all the working part of the female 
 community been neuters. Failing any thorough-going 
 reform of this kind, we see nothing for it but the old 
 division of humanity into men potentially, or actually, 
 fathers, and women potentially, if not actually, mothers. 
 And we fear that so long as this potential motherhood is 
 her lot, woman will be found to be fearfully weighted in 
 the race of life. 
 
 The duty of man is to see that not a grain is piled 
 
 { upon that load beyond what Nature imposes; that 
 
 J injustice is not added to inequality. 
 
III. 
 
 A LIBERAL EDUCATION ; AND 
 WHERE TO FIND IT. 
 
 THE business which the South London Working Men's 
 College has undertaken is a great work ; indeed, I might 
 say, that Education, with which that college proposes to 
 grapple, is the greatest work of all those which lie ready 
 to a man's hand just at present. 
 
 And, at length, this fact is becoming generally recog- 
 nised. You cannot go anywhere without hearing a buzz 
 of more or less confused and contradictory talk on this 
 subject nor can you fail to notice that, in one point at 
 any rate, there is a very decided advance upon like 
 discussions in former days. Nobody outside the agri-| 
 cultural interest now dares to say that education is a\ 
 bad thing. If any representative of the once large and 
 powerful party, which, in former days, proclaimed this 
 opinion, still exists in a semi-fossil state, he keeps his 
 thoughts to himself. In fact, there is a chorus of voices, 
 almost distressing in their harmony, raised in favour of 
 the doctrine that education is the great panacea for 
 human troubles, and that, if the country is not shortly 
 to go to the dogs, everybody must be educated. 
 
 The politicians tell us, " you must educate the masses 
 because they are going to be masters." The clergy join 
 in the cry for education, for they affirm that the people 
 
23 fag S*rm0ris, $*as> ant> gebwfos. L ITI - 
 
 are drifting away from church and chapel into the 
 broadest infidelity. The manufacturers and the capita- 
 lists swell the chorus lustily. They declare that igno- 
 rance makes bad workmen ; that England will soon be 
 unable to turn out cotton goods, or steam engines, 
 cheaper than other people ; and then, Ichabod ! Ichabod ! 
 the glory will be departed from us. And a few voices 
 are lifted up in favour of the doctrine that the masses 
 should be educated because they are men and women 
 "with unlimited capacities of being, doing, and suffering, 
 and that it is as true now, as ever it was, that the people 
 perish for lack of knowledge. 
 
 These members of the minority, with whom I confess 
 I have a good deal of sympathy, are doubtful whether 
 any of the other reasons urged in favour of the education 
 of the people are of much value whether, indeed, some 
 of then? are based upon either wise or noble grounds of 
 action. They question if it be wise to tell people that 
 you will do for them, out of fear of their power, what 
 you have left undone, so long as your only motive was 
 compassion for their weakness and their sorrows. And, if 
 ignorance of everything which it is needful a ruler should 
 know is likely to do so much harm in the governing 
 classes of the future, why is it, they ask reasonably 
 enough, that such ignorance in the governing classes of 
 the past has not been viewed with equal horror 1 
 
 Compare the average artisan and the average country 
 squire, and it may be doubted if you will find a pin to 
 choose between the two in point of ignorance, class 
 feeling, or prejudice. It is true that the ignorance is of 
 a different sort that the class feeling is in favour of a 
 different class, and that the prejudice has a distinct 
 favour of wrong-headedness in each case but it is 
 questionable if the one is either a bit better, or a bit 
 worse, than the other. The old protectionist theory is 
 
in.] STxkeral Cburaftnu 29 
 
 the doctrine of trades unions as applied by the squires, 
 and the modern trades unionism is the doctrine of the 
 squires applied by the artisans. Why should we be 
 worse off under one regime than under the other ? 
 
 Again, this sceptical minority asks the clergy to think 
 whether it is really want of education which keeps the 
 masses away from their ministrations whether the most 
 completely educated men are not as open to reproach on 
 this score as the workmen ; and whether, perchance, this 
 may not indicate that it is not education which lies at 
 the bottom of the matter ? 
 
 Once more, these people, whom there is no pleasing, 
 venture to doubt whether the glory, which rests upon 
 being able to undersell all the rest of the world, is a very 
 safe kind of glory whether we may not purchase it too 
 dear ; especially if we allow education, which ought to 
 be directed to the making of men, to be diverted into a 
 process of manufacturing human tools, wonderfully adroit 
 in the exercise of some technical industry, but good for / 
 nothing else. V 
 
 And, finally, these people inquire whether it is the 
 
 masses alone who need a reformed and improved educa- . 
 
 tion. They ask whether the richest of our public schools 
 might not well be made to supply knowledge, as well as 
 gentlemanly habits, a strong class feeling, and eminent 
 proficiency in cricket. They seem to think that the noble 
 foundations of our old universities are hardly fulfilling 
 
 their functions in their present posture of half-clerical 
 
 seminaries, half racecourses, where men are trained to 
 win a senior wranglership, or a double-first, as horr>es are 
 trained to win a cup, with as little reference to the needs 
 of after-life in the case of the man as in that of the 
 racer. And, while as zealous for education as the rest, 
 they affirm that, if the education of the richer classes 
 were such as to fit them to be the leaders and the 
 
30 |*ag Stnnons, (Sssags, ant) JBUbiefos, [m. 
 
 governors of the poorer ; and, if the education of the 
 poorer classes were such as to enable them to appreciate 
 really wise guidance and good governance ; the politicians 
 need not fear mob-law, nor the clergy lament their want 
 of flocks, nor the capitalists prognosticate the annihilation 
 of the prosperity of the country. 
 
 Such is the diversity of opinion upon the why and the 
 wherefore of education. And my hearers will be pre- 
 pared to expect that the practical recommendations 
 which are put forward are not less discordant. There is 
 
 loud cry for compulsory education. We English, in 
 spite of constant experience to the contrary, preserve a 
 touching faith in the efficacy of acts of parliament ; and 
 I believe we should have compulsory education in the 
 course of next session, if there were the least probability 
 that half a dozen leading statesmen of different parties 
 would agree what that education should be. 
 
 Some hold that education without theology is worse than 
 none. Others maintain, quite as strongly, that educa- 
 tion with theology is in the same predicament. But this 
 is certain, that those who hold the first opinion can by no 
 means agree what theology should be taught ; and that 
 those who maintain the second are in a small minority. 
 
 At any rate "make people learn to read, write, and 
 cipher/' say a great many ; and the advice is un- 
 doubtedly sensible as far as it goes. But, as . has 
 happened to me in former days, those who, in despair of 
 getting anything better, advocate this measure, are met 
 with the objection that it is very like making a child 
 practise the use of a knife, fork, and spoon, without 
 giving it a particle of meat. I really don't know what 
 reply is to be made to such an objection. 
 
 But it would be unprofitable to spend more time in 
 disentangling, or rather in showing up the knots in, the 
 ravelled skeins of our neighbours. Much more to the 
 
ITL] , fihrnl <burati0n. 31 
 
 purpose is it to ask if we possess any clue of our own 
 which may guide us among these entanglements. And 
 by way of a beginning, let us ask ourselves What is u 
 education ? Above all things, what is our Ideal of a [ 
 thoroughly liberal education ? of that education which, 
 if we could begin life again, we would give ourselves 
 of that education which, if we could mould the fates to 
 our own will, we would give our children. Well, I know 
 not what may be your conceptions upon this matter, 
 but I will tell you mine, and I hope I shall find that our 
 views are not very discrepant. 
 
 Suppose it were perfectly certain that the life and 
 fortune of every one of us would, one day or other, 
 depend upon his winning or losing a game at chess. 
 Don't you think that we should all consider it to be a 
 primary duty to learn at least the names and the moves 
 of the pieces ; to have a notion of a gambit, and a keen 
 eye for all the means of giving and getting out of check ? 
 Do you not think that we should look with a disappro- 
 bation amounting to scorn, upon the father who allowed 
 his son, or the state which allowed its members, to grow 
 up without knowing a pawn from a knight ? 
 
 Yet it is a very plain and elementary truth, that the 
 life, the fortune, and the happiness of every one of us, 
 and, more or less, of those who are connected with us, do 
 depend upon our knowing something of the rules of a 
 game infinitely more difficult and complicated than chess. 
 It is a game which has been played for untold ages, every 
 man and woman of us being one of the two players in a 
 game of his or her own. The chess-board is the world^ 
 the pieces are the phenomena of the universe, the rules! 
 of the game are what we call the laws of Nature. The 
 player on the other side is hidden from us. We know 
 that his play is always fair, just, and patient. But also 
 
32 -^an Sermons, (Essngs, anb ricfaieins. [in. 
 
 we know, to our cost, that he never overlooks a mistake, 
 or makes the smallest allowance for ignorance. To the 
 man who plays well, the highest stakes are paid, with that 
 sort of overflowing generosity with which the strong 
 shows delight in strength. And one who plays ill is 
 checkmated without haste, but without remorse. 
 My metaphor will remind some of you of the famous 
 picture in which Retzsch has depicted Satan playing at 
 chess with man for his soul. Substitute for the mocking 
 fiend in that picture, a calm, strong angel who is playing 
 for love, as we say, and would rather lose than win and 
 I should accept it as an image of human life. 
 
 Well, what I mean by Education is learning the rules 
 of this mighty game. In other words, education is the 
 instruction of the intellect in the laws of Nature, under 
 which name I include not merely things and their forces, 
 but men and their ways ; and the fashioning of the 
 affections and of the will into an earnest and loving 
 desire to move in harmony with those laws. For me, 
 education means neither more nor less than this. Any- 
 thing which professes to call . itself education must be 
 tried by this standard, and if it fails to stand the test, 1 
 will not call it education, whatever may be the force of 
 authority, or of numbers, upon the other side. 
 . It is important to remember that, in strictness, there 
 is no such thing as an uneducated man. Take an ex- 
 treme case. Suppose that an adult man, in the full 
 vigour of his faculties, could be suddenly placed in tho 
 world, as Adam is said to have been, and then left to 
 do as he best might. How long would he be left 
 uneducated ? Not five minutes. Nature would begin 
 to teach him, through the eye, the ear, the touch, the 
 properties of objects. Pain and pleasure would be at his 
 elbow telling him to do this and avoid that; and by slow 
 degrees the man would receive an education, which, if 
 
in.] g, liberal (Sftmcafum. 33 
 
 narrow, would be thorough, real, and adequate to his 
 circumstances, though there would be no extras and very 
 few accomplishments. 
 
 And if to this solitary man entered a second Adam, 
 or, better still, an Eve, a new and greater world, that of 
 social and moral phenomena, would be revealed. Joys -*' 
 and woes, compared with which all others might seem 
 but faint shadows, would spring from the new relations. 
 Happiness and sorrow would take the place of the 
 coarser monitors, pleasure and pain ; but conduct would 
 still be shaped by the observation of the natural conse- 
 quences of actions ; or, in other words, by the laws of 
 the nature of man. 
 
 To every one of us the world was once as fresh and 
 new as to Adam. And then, long before we were sus- ... 
 ceptible of any other mode of instruction, Nature took 
 us in hand, and every minute of waking life brought its 
 educational influence, shaping our actions into rough 
 accordance with Nature's laws, so that we might not be 
 ended untimely by too gross disobedience. Nor should 
 I speak of this process of education as past, for any one, 
 be he as old as he may. For every man, the world is as 
 fresh as it was at the first day, and as full of untold 
 novelties for him who has the eyes to see them. And 
 Nature is still continuing her patient education of us in 
 that great university, the universe, of which we are all 
 members Nature having no Test-Acts. 
 
 Those who take honours in Nature's university, who 
 learn the laws which govern men and tLmgs and obey 
 them, are the really great and successful men in this 
 world. ( The great mass of mankind are the " Poll," who 
 pick up just enough to get through without much dis- 
 credit. Those who won't learn at all are plucked ;) and 
 then you can't como up again. Nature's pluck means 
 extermination. 
 
34 W*% Srnn0its, (fesns, mtb Jjkbiefos. [nt 
 
 Thus the question of compulsory education is settled 
 so far as Nature is concerned. Her bill on that question 
 was framed and passed long ago. But, like all com- 
 pulsory legislation, that of Nature is harsh and wasteful 
 in its operation. Ignorance is visited as sharply as 
 wilful disobedience incapacity meets with the same 
 punishment as crime. Nature's discipline is not even a 
 word and a blow, and the blow first ; but the blow 
 without the word. It is left to you to find out wi.y 
 your ears are boxed. 
 
 The object of what we commonly call education that 
 1 education in which man intervenes and which I sh;dl 
 distinguish as artificial education is to make good thetfe 
 defects in Nature's methods; to prepare the child to 
 receive Nature's education, neither incapably nor igno- 
 rantly, nor with wilful disobedience ; and to understand 
 the preliminary symptoms of her displeasure, without 
 . waiting for the box on the ear. In short, all artificial 
 education ought to be an anticipation of natural educa- 
 tion. And a liberal education is an artificial education, 
 which has not only prepared a man to escape the 
 great evils of disobedience to natural laws, but has 
 trained him to appreciate and to seize upon the rewards, 
 which Nature scatters with as free a hand as her 
 penalties. 
 
 That man, I think, has had a liberal education, who 
 
 "* has been so trained in youth that his body is the ready 
 
 servant of his will, and does with ease and pleasure all 
 
 the work that, as a mechanism, it is capable of ; whose 
 
 - intellect is a clear, cold, logic engine, with all its parts 
 
 of equal strength, and in smooth working order ; ready, 
 
 like a steam engine, to be turned to any kind of work, 
 
 and spin the gossamers as well as forge the anchors of 
 
 the mind ; whose mind is stored with a knowledge of 
 
 the great and fundamental truths of Nature and of the 
 
ISfceral (JbtrraiicrtT, 35 
 
 laws of her operations ; one who, no stunted ascetic, is 
 full of life and fire, but whose passions are trained tc? 
 come to heel by a vigorous will, the servant of a tender 
 conscience; who has learned to love all beauty, whether 
 of Nature or of art, to hate all vileness, and to respect 
 others as himself. 
 
 Such an one and no other, I conceive, has had a liberal 
 education ; for he is, as completely as a man can be, in 
 harmony with Nature. He will make the best of her, 
 and she of him. They will get on together rarely ; she 
 as iris ever beneficent mother ; he as her mouth-piece, 
 her conscious self, her minister and interpreter. 
 
 Where is such an education as this to be had ? 
 Where is there any approximation to it ? Has any one 
 tried to found such an education ? Looking over the 
 length and breadth of these islands, I am afraid that all 
 these questions must receive a negative answer. Con4 
 side] our primary schools, and what is taught in them.) 
 A child learns : 
 
 1. To read, write, and cipher, more or less well; but 
 in a very large proportion of cases not so well as to take 
 pleasure in reading, or to be able to write the commonest 
 letter properly. 
 
 2. A quantity of dogmatic theology, of which the 
 child, nine times out of ten, understands next to nothing. 
 
 3. Mixed up with this, so as to seem to stand or fall 
 with it, a few of the broadest and simplest principles of 
 morality. This, to my mind, is much as if a man of 
 science should make the story of the fall of the apple in 
 Newton's garden, an integral part of the doctrine of 
 gravitation, and teach it as of equal authority with the 
 law of the inverse squares. 
 
 4. A good deal of Jewish history and Syrian geo- 
 graphy, and, perhaps, a little something about English 
 
 D2 
 
in. 
 
 history and the geography of the child's own country. 
 But I doubt if there is a primary school in England in 
 which hangs a map of the hundred in which the village 
 lies, so that the children may be practically taught by it 
 "* wha,t a map means. 
 
 5. A certain amount of regularity, attentive obedience, 
 respect for others : obtained by fear, if the master be in- 
 competent or foolish; by love and reverence, if he be wise. 
 
 So far as this school course embraces a training in 
 
 the theory and practice of obedience to the moral laws 
 
 of Nature, I gladly admit, not only that it contains a 
 
 valuable educational element, but that, so far, it deals 
 
 with the most valuable and important part of all educa- 
 
 tion. Yet, contrast what is done in this direction with 
 
 what might be done ; with the time given to matters of 
 
 comparatively no importance ; with the absence of any 
 
 .. attention to things of the highest moment ; and one is 
 
 /tempted to think of Falstaff's bill and "the halfpenny 
 
 /Worth of bread to all that quantity of sack." 
 
 Let us consider what a child thus " educated " knows, 
 and what it does not know. Begin with the most im- 
 portant topic of all morality, as the guide of conduct. 
 The child knows well enough that some acts meet with 
 approbation and some with disapprobation. But it has 
 never heard that there lies in the nature of things a 
 
 O 
 
 reason for every moral law, as cogent and as well defined 
 as that which underlies every physical law ; that stealing 
 lying are just as certain to be followed by evil 
 consequences, as putting your hand in the fire, or jump- 
 ing out of a garret window. Again, though the scholar 
 may have been made acquainted, in dogmatic fashion, 
 with the broad laws of morality, h^hashad^o_training 
 in the a^licatipjq_.ojL. those, laws toThe difficult problems 
 which result from the complex conditions of modern 
 civilization. Would it not be very hard to expect any oue 
 
in.] , fikral (Etmtattcrn. 37 
 
 to solve a problem in conic sections who had merely been 
 taught the axioms and definitions of mathematical science? 
 
 A workman has to bear hard labour, and perhaps 
 privation, while he sees others rolling in wealth, and 
 feeding their dogs with what would keep his children 
 from starvation. "Would it not be well to have helped . 
 that man to calm the natural promptings of discontent 
 by showing him, in his youth, the necessary connexion 
 of the moral law which prohibits stealing with the 
 stability of society by proving to him, once for all, that 
 it is better for his own people, better for himself, better 
 for future generations, that he should starve than steal ? 
 If you have no foundation of knowledge, or habit of \ 
 thought, to work upon, what chance have you of persua- I 
 ding a hungry man that a capitalist is not a thief " with 1 
 a circumbendibus ? " And if he honestly believes that, of 
 what avail is it to quote the commandment against steal- 
 ing, when he proposes to make the capitalist disgorge ? 
 
 Again, the child learns absolutely nothing of the 
 history or the political organization of his own country. 
 His general impression is, that everything of much im- 
 portance happened a very long while ago ; and that the 
 Queen and the gentlefolks govern the country much 
 after the fashion of King David and the elders and 
 nobles of Israel his sole models. Will you give a man V 
 with this much information a vote 1 In. easy times he / 
 sells it for a pot of beer. Why should he not ? It i$ of 
 about as much use to him as a chignon, and he knows as 
 much what to do with it, for any other purpose. In bad 
 times, on the contrary, he applies his simple theory of 
 government, and believes that his rulers are the cause of 
 his sufferings a belief which sometimes bears remark- 
 able practical fruits. 
 
 Least of all, does the child gather from this primary I 
 "education" of ours a conception of the laws of the! 
 
38 f^rr Smn0ns, (Essnjs, mifr |lcbicfos. [in. 
 
 physical world, or of the relations of cause and effect 
 therein. And this is the more to be lamented, as the 
 poor are especially exposed to physical evils, and are 
 
 I more interested in removing them than any other class 
 
 1 of the community. If any one is concerned in knowing 
 the ordinary laws of mechanics one would think it is the 
 hand-labourer, whose daily toil lies among levers and 
 pulleys ; or among the other implements of artisan work. 
 And if any one is interested in the laws of health, it is 
 the poor workman, whose strength is wasted by ill-pre- 
 pared food, whose health is sapped by bad ventilation and 
 bad drainage, and half whose children are massacred by 
 disorders which might be prevented. Not only does our 
 
 ,' present primary education carefully abstain from hinting 
 to the workman that some of his greatest evils are trace- 
 
 "^able to mere physical agencies, which could be removed 
 by energy, patience, and frugality ; but it does worse- 
 it renders him, so far as it car. deaf to those who could 
 help him, and tries to substitute an Oriental submission 
 to what is falsely declared to be the will of God, for his 
 natural tendency to strive after a better condition. 
 
 What wonder then, if very recently, an appeal has 
 been made to statistics for the profoundly foolish pur- 
 pose of showing that education is of no good that it 
 diminishes neither misery, nor crime, among the masses of 
 mankind ? I reply, why should the thing which has 
 ' been called education do either the one or the other ? If 
 I am a knave or a fool, teaching me to read and write 
 won't make me less of either one or the other unless 
 somebody shows me how to put my reading and writing 
 
 -to wise and good purposes. 
 
 Suppose any one were to argue that medicine is of no 
 use, because it could be proved statistically, that the 
 percentage of deaths was just the same, among people 
 who had been taught how to open a medicine chest, and 
 
in.] g, f ihral (Eburafion. 39 
 
 among those who did not so much as know the key by 
 sight. The argument is absurd ; but it is not more 
 preposterous than that against which I am contending. 
 The only medicine for suffering, crime, and all the other 
 woes of mankind, is wisdom. Teach a man to read and 
 write, and you have put into his hands the great keys of 
 the wisdom box. But it is quite another matter whether 
 he ever opens the box or not. And he is as likely to 
 poison as to cure himself, if, without guidance, he 
 swallows the first drug that comes to hand. In these 
 times a man may as well be purblind, as unable to read 
 lame, as unable to write. But I protest that, if I 
 thought the alternative were a necessary one, I would 
 rather that the children of the poor should grow up 
 ignorant of both these mighty arts, than that they should j 
 remain ignorant of that knowledge to which these arts i 
 are means. 
 
 It may be said that all these animadversions may 
 apply to primary schools, but that the higher schools, at 
 any rate, must be allowed to give a liberal education. 
 In fact, they professedly sacrifice everything else to this 
 object. 
 
 Let us inquire into this matter. What do the higher^ 
 schools, those to which the great middle class of the! 
 country sends it children, teach, over and above the in-) 
 struction given in the primary schools ? There is a little 
 more reading and writing of English. But, for all that, 
 every one knows that it is a rare thing to find a boy of 
 the middle or upper classes who can read aloud decently, 
 or who can put his thoughts on paper in clear and gram- 
 matical (to say nothing of good or elegant) language. 
 The " ciphering" of the lower schools expands into 
 elementary mathematics in the higher ; into arithmetic, 
 with a little algebra, a little Euclid. But I doubt ii 
 
4 3s Strmoits, (Sssajs, anir Ucbictos. [1^1- 
 
 one boy in five hundred has ever heard the explanation 
 of a rule of arithmetic, or knows his Euclid otherwise 
 than by rote. 
 
 Of theology, the middle class schoolboy gets rather 
 less than poorer children, less absolutely and less rela- 
 tively, because there are so many other claims upon his 
 attention. I venture to say that, in the great majority 
 of cases, his ideas on this subject when he leaves school 
 are of the most shadowy and vague description, and 
 associated with painful impressions of the weary hours 
 spent in learning collects and catechism by heart. 
 
 Modern geography, modern history, modern literature ; 
 the English language as a language ; the whole circle 
 of the sciences, physical, moral, and social, are even 
 more completely ignored in the higher than in the lower 
 schools. Up till within a few years back, a boy might 
 have passed through any one of the great public schools 
 with the greatest distinction and credit, and might never 
 so much as have heard of one of the subjects I have 
 just mentioned. He might never have heard that the 
 earth goes round the sun; that England underwent a 
 great revolution in 1688, and France another in 17S9; 
 that there once lived certain notable men called Chaucer, 
 Shakspeare, Milton, Voltaire, Goethe, Schiller. The first 
 might be a German and the last an Englishman for any- 
 thing he could tell you to the contrary. And as for 
 science, the only idea the word would suggest to his 
 mind would be dexterity in boxing. 
 
 I have said that this was the state of things a few 
 years back, for the sake of the few righteous who are 
 to be found among the educational cities of the plain. 
 But I would not have you too sanguine about the result, 
 if you sound the minds of the existing generation of 
 public schoolboys, on such topics as those I have 
 mentioned. 
 
ITT.] , f ifool (E&itrathm. 41 
 
 Now let us pause to consider this wonderful state of 
 affairs; for the time will come when Englishmen will 
 quote it as the stock example of the stolid stupidity of 
 their ancestors in the nineteenth century. The most 
 thoroughly commercial people, the greatest voluntary 
 wanderers and colonists the world has ever seen, are 
 precisely the middle classes of this country. If there be 
 a people which has been busy making history on the 
 great scale for the last three hundred years and the 
 most profoundly interesting history history which, if 
 it happened to be that of Greece or Eome, we should 
 study with avidity it is the English. If there be a 
 people which, during the same period, has developed a 
 remarkable literature, it is our own. If there be a 
 nation whose prosperity depends absolutely and wholly 
 upon their mastery over the forces of Nature, upon their 
 intelligent apprehension of, and obedience to, the laws 
 of the creation and distribution of wealth, and of the 
 stable equilibrium of the forces of society, it is pre- 
 cisely this nation. And yet this is what these wonderful 
 people tell their sons : " At the cost of from one to two 
 thousand pounds of our hard earned money, we devote 
 twelve of the most precious years of your lives to school. 
 There you shall toil, or be supposed to toil ; but there \ 
 you shall not learn one single thing of all those you wiilj 
 most want to know, directly you leave school and enter I 
 upon the practical business of life. You will in all 
 probability go into business, but you shall not know 
 where, or how, any article of commerce is produced, or 
 the difference between an export or an import, or the 
 meaning of the word 'capital/ You will very likely settle 
 in a colony, but you shall not know whether Tasmania 
 is part of New South Wales, or vice versd. 
 
 " Very probably you may become a manufacturer, but 
 you shall not be provided with the means of under- 
 
Smn0its, (Essajjs, mrtr gebiefos. [in 
 
 standing the working of one of your own steam-engines, 
 or the nature of the raw products you employ ; and, 
 when you are asked to buy a patent, you shall not have 
 the slightest means of judging whether the inventor is 
 an impostor who is contravening the elementary prin- 
 ciples of science, or a man who will make you as rich 
 as Croesus. 
 
 " You will very likely get into the House of Commons. 
 You will have to take your share in making laws which 
 may prove a blessing or a curse to millions of men. 
 But you shall not hear one word respecting the political 
 organization of your country ; the meaning of the con- 
 troversy between freetraders and protectionists shall 
 never have been mentioned to you ; you shall not so 
 much as know that there are such things as economical 
 laws. 
 
 " The mental power which will be of most importance 
 in your daily life will be the power of seeing things as 
 they are without regard to authority ; and of drawing 
 accurate general conclusions from particular facts. But 
 at school and at college you shall know of no source of 
 truth but authority ; nor exercise your reasoning faculty 
 upon anything but deduction from that which is laid 
 down by authority. 
 
 " You will have to weary your soul with work, and 
 many a time eat your bread in sorrow and in bitterness, 
 and you shall not have learned to take refuge in the 
 great source of pleasure without alloy, the serene resting- 
 place for worn human nature, the world of art." 
 
 Said I not rightly that we are a wonderful people? 
 I am quite prepared to allow, that education entirely 
 devoted to these omitted subjects might not be a com- 
 pletely liberal education. But is an education which 
 ignores them all, a liberal education ? Nay, is it too 
 much to say that the education which should embrace 
 
in.] g, Pwal Ciwtafmit. 
 
 these subjects and no others, would be a real educa- 
 tion, though an incomplete one ; while an education 
 which omits them is really not an education at 
 all, but a more or less useful course of intellectual 
 gymnastics \ 
 
 For what does the middle- class school put in the place 
 of all these things which are left out ? It substitutes 
 what is usually comprised under the compendious title 
 of the " classics" that is to say, the languages, the 
 literature, and the history of the ancient Greeks and 
 Romans, and the geography of so much of the world 
 as was known to these two great nations of antiquity. 
 Now, do not expect me to depreciate the earnest and / 
 enlightened pursuit of classical learning. I have not 
 the least desire to speak ill of such occupations, nor 
 any sympathy with those who run them down. On 
 the contrary, if my opportunities had lain in that di- 
 rection, there is no investigation into which I could 
 have thrown myself with greater delight than that of 
 antiquity. 
 
 What science can present greater attractions than 
 philology ? How can a lover of literary excellence fail \ 
 to rejoice in the ancient masterpieces ? And with what 
 consistency could I, whose business lies so much in the / 
 attempt to decipher the past, and to build up intelligible / 
 forms out of the scattered fragments of long-extinct 
 beings, fail to take a sympathetic, though an unlearned, 
 interest in the labours of a Niebuhr, a Gibbon, or a 
 Grote? Classical history is a great section of the pa- 
 laeontology of man ; and I have the same double respect 
 for it as for other kinds of palaeontology that is to say, 
 a respect for the facts which it establishes as for all 
 facts, and a still greater respect for it as a preparation 
 for the discovery of a law of progress. 
 
44 Him Sermcms, 6ssnns, nntr |Uhitfos. [m. 
 
 But if the classics were taught as they might be 
 taught if boys and girls were instructed in Greek and 
 Latin, not merely as languages, but as illustrations of 
 philological science ; if a vivid picture of life on the 
 shores of the Mediterranean, two. thousand years ago, 
 were imprinted on the minds of scholars ; if ancient 
 history were taught, not as a weary series of feuds and 
 fights, but traced to its causes in such men placed under 
 such conditions ; if, lastly, the study of the classical 
 books were followed in such a manner as to impress boys 
 with their beauties, and with the grand simplicity of 
 their statement of the everlasting problems of human 
 life, instead of with their verbal and grammatical pecu- 
 liarities ; I still think it as little proper that they should 
 form the basis of a liberal education for our contempo- 
 raries, as I should think it fitting to make that sort of 
 palaeontology with which 1 am familiar, the back-bone 
 of modern education. 
 
 It is wonderful how close a parallel to classical 
 training could be made out of that palaeontology to which 
 I refer. In the first place I could get up an osteological 
 primer so arid, so pedantic in its terminology, so alto- 
 gether distasteful to the youthful mind, as to beat the 
 recent famous production of the head-masters out of 
 the field in all these excellences. Next, I could exercise 
 my boys upon easy fossils, and bring out all their 
 powers of memory and all their ingenuity in the applica- 
 tion of my osteo-grammatical rules to the interpretation, 
 or construing, of those fragments. To those who had 
 reached the higher classes, I might supply odd bones 
 to be built up into animals, giving great honour and 
 reward to him who succeeded in fabricating monsters 
 most entirely in accordance with the rules. That 
 would answer to verse-making and essay- writing in 
 the dead languages. 
 
ni.] g, pkol (gbitcafimi. 45 
 
 To be sure, if a great comparative anatomist were 
 to look at these fabrications he might shake his head, ,, 
 or laugh. But what then ? Would such a catastrophe 
 destroy the parallel? What think you would Cicero, , 
 or Horace, say to the production of the best sixth 
 form going? And would not Terence stop his ears ; 
 and run out if he could be present at an English per- 
 formance of his own plays? Would Hamlet, in the 
 mouths of a set of French actors, who should insist 
 on pronouncing English after the fashion of their own 
 tongue, be more hideously ridiculous ? 
 
 But it will be said that I am forgetting the beauty, and 
 the human interest, which appertain to classical studies. 
 To this I reply that it is only a very strong man who 
 can appreciate the charms of a landscape, as he is 
 toiling up a steep hill, along a bad road. What with 
 short-windedness, stones, ruts, and a pervading sense 
 of the wisdom of rest and be thankful, most of us 
 have little enough sense of the beautiful under these 
 circumstances. The ordinary schoolboy is precisely in 
 this case. He finds Parnassus uncommonly steep, and 
 there is no chance of his having much time or inclination 
 to look about him till he gets to the top. And nine 
 times out of ten he does not get to the top. 
 
 But if this be a fair picture of the results of classical 
 teaching at its best and I gather from those who 
 have authority to speak on such matters that it is so 
 what is to be said of classical teaching at its worst, 
 or in other words, of the classics of our ordinary middle- 
 class schools? 1 I will tell you. It means getting up 
 endless forms and rules by heart. It means turning 
 Latin and Greek into English, for the mere sake of 
 being able to do it, and without- the smallest regard 
 
 1 For a justification of what is here said about these schools, see that 
 valuable book, " Essays on a Liberal Education,'* passim. 
 
Sermons, (Sssags, anb |Uiittixrs [in. 
 
 to tlie worth, or worthlessness, of the author read. It 
 means the learning of innumerable, not always decent, 
 fables in such a shape that the meaning they once had 
 is dried up into utter trash ; and the only impression 
 left upon a boy's mind is, that the people who believed 
 such things must have been the greatest idiots the 
 world ever saw. And it means, finally, that after a 
 dozen years spent at this kind of work, the sufferer 
 shall be incompetent to interpret a passage in an author 
 he has not already got up; that he shall loathe the 
 sight of a Greek or Latin book ; and that he shall 
 never open, or think of, a classical writer again, until, 
 wonderful to relate, he insists upon submitting his 
 sons to the same process. 
 
 These be your gods, Israel ! For the sake of this 
 net result (and respectability) the British father denies 
 his children all the knowledge they might turn to 
 account in life, not merely for the achievement of 
 vulgar success, but for guidance in the great crises of 
 human existence. This is the stone he offers to those 
 whom he is bound by the strongest and tenderest ties 
 to feed with bread. 
 
 If primary and secondary education are in this un- 
 satisfactory state, what is to be said to the universities ? 
 This is an awful subject, and one I almost fear to 
 touch with my unhallowed hands; but I can tell you 
 what those say who have authority to speak. 
 
 The Kector of Lincoln College, in his lately published, 
 valuable " Suggestions for Academical Organization with 
 especial reference to Oxford," tells us (p. 127) : 
 
 "The colleges were, in their origin, endowments, 
 
 not for the elements of a general liberal education, 
 
 ut for the prolonged study of special and professional 
 
 faculties by men of riper age. The universities ein- 
 
in.] g, pkral (Etoxcafiott 47 
 
 braced both these objects. The colleges, while they 
 incidentally aided in elementary education, were specially 
 devoted to the highest learning 
 
 " This was the theory of the middle-age university and 
 the design of collegiate foundations in their origin. Time 
 and circumstances have brought about a total change. 
 The colleges no longer promote the researches of science , 4~* 
 or direct professional study. Here and there college 
 walls may shelter an occasional student, but not in 
 larger proportions than may be found in private life. 
 
 Elementary teaching of youths under twenty is now / 
 
 the only function performed by the university, and 
 almost the only object of college endowments. Colleges 
 were homes for the life-study of the highest and most 
 abstruse parts of knowledge. They have become boarding 
 schools in which the elements of the learned languages 
 are taught to youths." 
 
 If Mr. Pattison's high position, and his obvious love 
 and respect for his university, be insufficient to convince 
 the outside world that language so severe is yet no 
 more than just, the authority of the Commissioners 
 who reported on the University of Oxford in 1850 is 
 open to no challenge. Yet they write : 
 
 " It is generally acknowledged that both Oxford and 
 the country at large suffer greatly from the absence of a 
 body of learned men devoting their lives to the cultivation 
 of science, and to the direction of academical education. 
 
 " The fact that so few books of profound research 
 emanate from the University of Oxford, materially 
 impairs its character as a seat of learning, and con- 
 sequently its hold on the respect of the nation/' 
 
 Cambridge can claim no exemption from the reproaches 
 addressed to Oxford. And thus there seems no escape 
 from the admission that what we fondly call our great 
 scats of learning are simply " boarding schools " for 
 
48 Jfajj Sermons, (Sssags, atttr Eebhfos. [ni. 
 
 bigger boys ; that learned men are not more numerous 
 in them than out of them ; that the advancement of 
 knowledge is not the object of fellows of colleges ; 
 that, in the philosophic calm and meditative stillness 
 of their greenswarded courts, philosophy does not thrive, 
 and meditation bears few fruits. 
 
 It is my great good fortune to reckon amongst my 
 friends resident members of both universities, who are 
 men of learning and research, zealous cultivators of 
 science, keeping before their minds a noble ideal of a 
 university, and doing their best to make that ideal a 
 reality ; and, to me, they would necessarily typify the 
 universities, did not the authoritative statements I have 
 quoted compel me to believe that they are exceptional, 
 and not representative men. Indeed, upon calm con- 
 sideration, several circumstances lead me to think that 
 the Kector of Lincoln College and the Commissioners 
 cannot be far wrong. 
 
 I believe there can be no doubt that the foreigner 
 who should wish to become acquainted with the scientific, 
 or the literary, activity of modern England, would simply 
 his time and his pains if he visited our universities 
 with that object. 
 
 And, as for works of profound research on any subject, 
 and, above all, in that classical lore for which the 
 universities profess to sacrifice almost everything else, 
 why, a third-rate, poverty-stricken German university 
 turns out more produce of that kind in one year, than 
 our vast and wealthy foundations elaborate in ten. 
 
 Ask the man who is investigating any question, pro- 
 foundly and thoroughly be it historical, philosophical, 
 philological, physical, literary, or theological; who is 
 trying to make himself master of any abstract subject 
 (except, perhaps, political economy and. geology, both 
 of which are intensely Anglican sciences) whether he 
 
in.] & f iforal tftorra&m. 49 
 
 is not compelled to read half a dozen times as many 
 German, as English, books ? And whether, of these 
 English books, more than one in ten is the work of 
 a fellow of a college, or a professor of an English 
 university ? 
 
 Is this from any lack of power in the English aa 
 compared with the German mind? The countrymen 
 of Grote and of Mill, of Faraday, of Eobert Brown, 
 of Lyell, and of Darwin, to go no further back than 
 the contemporaries of men of middle age, can afford 
 to smile at such a suggestion. England can show now, 
 as she has been able to show in every generation since 
 civilization spread over the West, individual men who 
 hold their own against the world, and keep alive the 
 old tradition of her intellectual eminence. 
 
 But, in the majority of cases, these men are what 
 they are in virtue of their native intellectual force, and 
 of a strength of character which will not recognise impedi- 
 ments. They are not trained in the courts of the 
 Temple of Science, but storm the walls of that edifice in 
 all sorts of irregular ways, and with much loss of time 
 and power, in order to obtain their legitimate positions. 
 
 Our universities not only do not encourage such men ; 
 do not offer them positions, in which it should be their 
 highest duty to do, thoroughly, that which they are most 
 capable of doing ; but, as far as possible, university train- 
 ing shuts out of the minds of those among them, who 
 are subjected to it, the prospect that there is anything in 
 the world for which they are specially fitted. Imagine 
 the success of the attempt to still the intellectual hunger 
 of any of the men I have mentioned, by putting before 
 him, as the object of existence, the successful mimicry 
 of the measure of a Greek song, or the roll of Ciceronian 
 prose ! Imagine how much success would be likely 
 to attend the attempt to persuade such men, that the 
 
 E 
 
50 JTitj Germans, (Essmrs, rmfo Sebicfos. [m. 
 
 education which leads to perfection in such elegancies 
 is alone to he called culture; while the facts of history, 
 the process of thought, the conditions of moral and 
 social existence, and the laws of physical nature, are 
 left to be dealt with as they may, by outside bar- 
 barians ! 
 
 It is not thus that the German universities, from 
 being beneath notice a century ago, have become what 
 they are now the most intensely cultivated and the 
 most productive intellectual corporations the world has 
 ever seen. 
 
 The student who repairs to them sees in the list of 
 classes and of professors a fair picture of the world 
 of knowledge. Whatever he needs to know there is 
 some one ready to teach him, some one competent to 
 discipline him in the way of learning ; whatever his 
 special bent, let him but be able and diligent, and in 
 due time he shall find distinction and a career. Among 
 his professors, he sees men whose names are known 
 and revered throughout the civilized world ; and their 
 living example infects him with a noble ambition, and a 
 love for the spirit of work. 
 
 The Germans dominate the intellectual world by 
 virtue of the same simple secret as that which made 
 Napoleon the master of old Europe. They have declared 
 la carriere ouverte aux talents, and every Bursch 
 marches with a professor's gown in his knapsack. Let 
 him become a great scholar, or man of science, and 
 ministers will compete for his services. In Germany, 
 they do not leave the chance of his holding the office 
 he would render illustrious to the tender mercies of a 
 hot canvass, and the final wisdom of a mob of country 
 parsons. 
 
 In short, in Germany, the universities are exactly what 
 the Hector of Lincoln and the Commissioners tell us the 
 
ni.J & Pforal (Ebxwa&m, 51 
 
 English universities are not ; that is to say, corporations 
 " of learned men devoting their lives to the cultivation 
 of science, and the direction of academical education." 
 They are not " boarding schools for youths," nor clerical 
 seminaries ; but institutions for the higher culture oi 
 men, in which the theological faculty is of no more 
 importance, or prominence, than the rest ; and which 
 are truly "universities," since they strive to represent 
 and embody the totality of human knowledge, and 
 to find room for all forms of intellectual activity. 
 
 May zealous and clear-headed reformers like Mr. 
 Pattison succeed in their noble endeavours to shape 
 our universities towards some such ideal as this, without 
 losing what is valuable and distinctive in their social 
 tone ! But until they have succeeded, a liberal education 
 will be no more obtainable in our Oxford and Cambridge 
 Universities than in our public schools. 
 
 If I am justified in my conception of the ideal of a 
 liberal education; and if what I have said about the 
 existing educational institutions of the country is also 
 true, it is clear that the two have no sort of relation 
 to one another; that the best of our schools and the 
 most complete of our university trainings give but 
 a narrow, one-sided, and essentially illiberal education 
 while the worst give what is really next to no education 
 at all. The South London Working-Men's College 
 could not copy any of these institutions if it would 
 I am bold enough to express the conviction that it 
 ought not if it could. 
 
 For what is wanted is the reality and not the mere 
 name of a liberal education ; and this College must 
 steadily set before itself the ambition to be able to 
 give that education sooner or later. At present we 
 are but beginning, sharpening our educational tools, 
 
 E 2 
 
52 |fog Sermons, <ss:tns, mttr Jlcbtcfos. [ni. 
 
 as it were, and, except a modicum of physical science, 
 we are not able to offer much more than is to be found 
 in an ordinary school. 
 
 Moral and social science one of the greatest and 
 most fruitful of our future classes, I hope at present 
 lacks only one thing in our programme, and that is a 
 teacher. A considerable want, no doubt; but it must 
 be recollected that it is much better to want a teacher 
 than to want the desire to learn. 
 
 Further, we need what, for want of a better name, 
 I must call Physical Geography. What I mean is that 
 which the Germans call " JSrakunde** It is a descrip- 
 tion of the earth, of its place and relation to other 
 bodies ; of its general structure, and of its great features 
 winds, tides, mountains, plains ; of the chief forms 
 of the vegetable and animal worlds, of the varieties 
 of man. It is the peg upon which the greatest quantity 
 of useful and entertaining scientific information can be 
 suspended. 
 
 Literature is not upon the College programme; but 
 I hope some day to see it there. For literature is 
 the greatest of all sources of refined pleasure, and one 
 of the <*reat uses of a liberal education is to enable 
 us to enjoy that pleasure. There is scope enough for 
 the purposes of liberal education in the study of the 
 rich treasures of our own language alone. All that 
 is needed is direction, and the cultivation of a refined 
 taste by attention to sound criticism. But there is 
 no reason why French and German should not be 
 mastered sufficiently to read what is worth reading 
 in those languages, with pleasure and with profit. 
 
 And finally, by -and -by, we must have History ; 
 treated not as a succession of battles and dynasties ; 
 not as a series of biographies ; not as evidence that 
 Providence has always been on the side of either Whigs 
 
f ikral (Sbtttafimr. 53 
 
 or Tories ; but as the development of man in times 
 past, and in other conditions than our own. 
 
 But, as it is one of the principles of our College to 
 be self-supporting, the public must lead, and we must 
 follow, in these matters. If my hearers take to heart 
 what I have said about liberal education, they will 
 desire these things, and I doubt not we shall be able 
 to supply them. But we must wait till the demand 
 is made. 
 
IT. 
 
 SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION: NOTES OF AN 
 AFTER-DINNER SPEECH. 
 
 [MR. THACKERAY, talking of after-dinner speeches, has lamented that 
 "one never can recollect the fine things one thought of in the 
 cab," in going to the place of entertainment. I am not aware that 
 there are any "fine things" in the following pages, but such as 
 there are stand to a speech which really did get itself spoken, at 
 the hospitable table of the Liverpool Philomathic Society, more or 
 less in the position of what " one thought of in the cab."] 
 
 THE introduction of scientific training into the general 
 education of the country is a topic upon which I 
 could not have spoken, without some more or less 
 apologetic introduction, a few years ago. But upon 
 this, as upon other matters, public opinion has of late' 
 undergone a rapid modification. Committees of both 
 Houses of the Legislature have agreed that something 
 must be done in this direction, and have even thrown 
 out timid and faltering suggestions as to what should 
 be done ; while at the opposite pole of society, com- 
 mittees of working-men have expressed their conviction 
 that scientific training is the one thing needful for 
 their advancement, whether as men, or as workmen. 
 Only the other day, it was my duty to take part in 
 the reception of a deputation of London working men, 
 who desired to learn from Sir Roderick Murchison, the 
 Director of the Royal School ol Mines, whether the 
 
iv.] . Srienfrfu: (Kbit cation. 55 
 
 organization of the Institution in Jermyn Street could 
 be made available for the supply of that scientific 
 instruction, the need of which could not have been 
 apprehended, or stated, more clearly than it was by 
 them. 
 
 The heads of colleges in our great Universities (who 
 have not the reputation of being the most mobile of 
 persons) have, in several cases, thought it well that, 
 out of the great number of honours and rewards at 
 their disposal, a few should hereafter be given to the 
 cultivators of the physical sciences. Nay, I hear that 
 some colleges have even gone so far as to appoint one, 
 or, may be, two special tutors for the purpose of putting 
 the facts and principles of physical science before the 
 undergraduate mind. And I say it with gratitude 
 and great respect for those eminent persons, that the 
 head masters of our public schools, Eton, Harrow, 
 Winchester, have addressed themselves to the problem 
 of introducing instruction in physical science among 
 the studies of those great educational bodies, with 
 much honesty of purpose and enlightenment of under- 
 standing ; and I live in hope that, before long, impor- 
 tant changes in this direction will be carried into effect 
 in those strongholds of ancient prescription. In fact, 
 such changes have already been made, and physical 
 science, even now, constitutes a recognised element of 
 the school curriculum in Harrow and Eugby, whilst 
 I understand that ample preparations for such studies 
 are being made at Eton and elsewhere. 
 
 Looking at these facts, I might perhaps spare myself 
 the trouble of giving any reasons for the introduction 
 of physical science into elementary education ; yet I 
 cannot but think that it may be well, if I place before 
 you some considerations which, perhaps, have hardly 
 received full attention. 
 
55 Sfag Sermons, (Essrms, antr gcfeietos. [iv. 
 
 At otlier times, and in other places, I have endeavoured 
 to state the higher and more abstract arguments, by 
 which the study of physical science may be shown 
 to be indispensable to the complete training of the 
 human mind ; but I do not wish it to be supposed 
 that, because I happen to be devoted to more or less 
 abstract and "unpractical" pursuits, I am insensible 
 to the weight which ought to be attached to that which 
 has been said to be the English conception of Paradise 
 >namely, "getting on." I look upon it, that "getting 
 on" is a very important matter indeed. I do not 
 mean merely for the sake of the coarse and tangible 
 results of success, but because humanity is so con- 
 stituted that a vast number of us would never be 
 impelled to those stretches of exertion which make 
 us wiser and more capable men, if it were not for the 
 absolute necessity of putting on our faculties all the 
 strain they will bear, for the purpose of " getting on" 
 in the most practical sense. 
 
 Now the value of a knowledge of physical science 
 as a means of getting on, is indubitable. There are 
 hardly any of our trades, except the merely huckstering 
 ones, in which some knowledge of science may not 
 be directly profitable to the pursuer of that occupation. 
 As industry attains higher stages of its development, 
 as its processes become more complicated and refined, 
 and competition more keen, the sciences are dragged 
 in, one by one, to take their share in the fray ; and 
 he who can best avail himself of their help is the man 
 who will come out uppermost in that struggle for exist- 
 ence, which goes on as fiercely beneath the smooth 
 surface of modern society, as among the wild inhabit- 
 ants of the woods. 
 
 IBut, in addition to the bearing of science on ordinary 
 practical life, let me direct your attention to its immense 
 
Srimtifir (&bm%iwn. 57 
 
 influence on several of the professions. I ask any one 
 who has adopted the calling ofan engineer, how much 
 time he lost when he left school, because he had to 
 devote himself to pursuits which were absolutely novel 
 and strange, and of which he had not obtained the 
 remotest conception from his instructors ? He had 
 to familiarize himself with ideas of the course and 
 powers of Nature, to which his attention had never 
 been directed during his school-life, and to learn, forf 
 the first time, that a world of facts lies outside andj 
 beyond the world of words. I appeal to those who 
 know what Engineering is, to say how far I am right 
 in respect to that profession ; but with regard to 
 another, of no less importance, I shall venture to 
 speak of my own knowledge. There is no one of 
 us who may not at any moment be thrown, bound 
 hand and foot by physical incapacity, into the hands 
 of a medical practitioner. The chances of life and 
 death for all and each of us may, at any moment, 
 depend on the skill with which that practitioner is 
 able to make out what is wrong in our bodily frames, 
 and on his ability to apply the proper remedy to the 
 defect. 
 
 The necessities of modern life are such, and the 
 class from which the medical profession is chiefly 
 recruited is so situated, thaiffew medical men can hope 
 to spend more than three or four, or it may be five, 
 years in the pursuit of those studies which are imme- 
 diately germane to physic. How is that all too brief 
 period spent at present ? I speak as an old examiner, 
 having served some eleven or twelve years in that 
 capacity in the University of London, and therefore 
 having a practical acquaintance with the subject ; 
 but I might fortify myself by the authority of the 
 President of the College of Surgeons, Mr. Quain, whom 
 
58 |^g Strmtms, <ssag$, anfr 
 
 I heard the other day in an admirable address (the 
 Hunterian Oration) deal fully and wisely with this very 
 topic. 1 
 
 A young man commencing the study of medicine is 
 at once required to endeavour to make an acquaintance 
 with a number of sciences, such as Physics, as Chemistry, 
 as Botany, as Physiology, which are absolutely and entirely 
 strange to him, however excellent his so-called education 
 at school may have been. Not only is he devoid of all 
 apprehension of scientific conceptions, not only does he 
 fail to attach any meaning to the words "matter," 
 "force," or "law" in their scientific senses, but, worse 
 still, he has no notion of what it is to come into contact 
 with nature, or to lay his mind alongside of a physical 
 fact, and try to conquer it, in the way our great naval 
 hero told his captains to master their enemies. His 
 whole mind has been given to books, and I am hardly 
 exaggerating if I say that they are more real to him 
 ^ than Nature. He imagines that all knowledge can be 
 got out of books, and rests upon the authority of some 
 
 1 Mr. Quain's words (Medicil Times and Gazette, February 20) are : " A 
 few words as to our special Medical course of instruction and the influence 
 upon it of such changes in the elementary schools as I have mentioned. The 
 student now enters at once upon several sciences physics, chemistry, anatomy, 
 physiology, botany, pharmacy, therapeutics all these, the facts and the 
 language and the laws of each, to be mastered in eighteen months. Up to 
 the beginning of the Medical course many have learned little. We cannot 
 claim anything better than the Examiner of the University of London and 
 the Cambridge Lecturer have reported for their Universities. Supposing that 
 at school young people had acquired some exact elementary knowledge in 
 physics, chemistry, and a branch of natural history say botany with the 
 physiology connected with it, they would then have gained necessary know- 
 ledge, with some practice in inductive reasoning. The whole studies are 
 processes of observation and induction the best discipline of the mind for 
 the purposes of life for our purposes not less than any. ' By such study 
 (says Dr. Whewell) of one or more departments of inductive science the 
 mind may escape from the thraldom of mere words.' By that plan the 
 burden of the early Medical course would be much lightened, and more time 
 devoted to practical studies, including Sir Thomas Watson's * final and supreme 
 stage ' of the kuowledge of Medicine. 5 ' 
 
iv.J Scientific <gjutcati0it. 59 
 
 master or other ; nor does he entertain any misgiving 
 that the method of learning which led to proficiency 
 in the rules of grammar, will suffice to lead him to a 
 mastery of the laws of Nature. The youngster, thus 
 unprepared for serious study, is turned loose among 
 his medical studies, with the result, in nine cases out 
 of ten, that the first year of his curriculum is spent 
 in learning how to learn. Indeed, he is lucky, if at 
 the end of the first year, by the exertions of his teachers 
 and his own industry, he has acquired even that art of 
 arts. After which there remain not more than three, 
 or perhaps four, years for the profitable study of such 
 vast sciences as Anatomy, Physiology, Therapeutics, 
 Medicine, Surgery, Obstetrics, and the like, upon his 
 knowledge or ignorance of which it depends whether 
 the practitioner shall diminish, or increase, the bills of 
 mortality. Now what is it but the preposterous con- 
 dition of ordinary school education which prevents a 
 young man of seventeen, destined for the practice of 
 medicine, from being fully prepared for the study of 
 nature; and from coming to the medical school, equipped 
 with that preliminary knowledge of the principles of 
 Physics, of Chemistry, and of Biology, upon which he 
 has now to waste one of the precious years, every 
 moment of which ought to be given to those studies 
 which bear directly upon the knowledge of his 
 profession ? 
 
 There is another profession, to the members of which, 
 I think, a certain preliminary knowledge of physical 
 science might be quite as valuable as to the medical 
 man. The practitioner of medicine sets before himself 
 the noble object of taking care of man's bodily welfare ; 
 but the members of this other profession undertake to 
 "minister to minds diseased," and, so far as may be, 
 to diminish sin and soften sorrow. Like the medical 
 
60 Jfag S-ermoits, (Essatrs, attfr |Ulmtes. L IV - 
 
 profession, the clerical, of which I now speak, rests its 
 power to heal "upon its knowledge of the order of the 
 universe upon certain theories of man's relation to 
 that which lies outside him. It is not my business to 
 express any opinion about these theories. I merely 
 wish to point out that, like all other theories, they are 
 professedly based upon matter of fact. Thus the clerical 
 profession has to deal with the facts of Nature from a 
 certain point of view ; and hence it comes into contact 
 with that of the man of science, who has to treat the 
 same facts from another point of view. You know how 
 often that contact is to be described as collision, or 
 violent friction ; and how great the heat, how little 
 the light, which commonly results from it. 
 
 In the interests of fair play, to say nothing of those 
 of mankind, I ask, Why do not the clergy as a body 
 acquire, as a part of their preliminary education, some 
 such tincture of physical science as wil] put them in 
 a position to understand the difficulties in the way 
 of accepting their theories, which are forced upon the 
 mind of every thoughtful and intelligent man, who has 
 taken the trouble to instruct himself in the elements 
 of natural knowledge? 
 
 Some time ago I attended a large meeting of the 
 clergy, for the purpose of delivering an address which 
 I had been invited to give. I spoke of some of the 
 most elementary facts in physical science, and of the 
 manner in which they 'directly contradict certain of the 
 ordinary teachings of the clergy. The result was, that, 
 after I had finished, one section of the assembled eccle- 
 siastics attacked me with all the intemperance of pious 
 zeal, for stating facts and conclusions which no com- 
 petent judge doubts; while, after the first speakers had 
 subsided, amidst the cheers of the great majority of their 
 colleagues, the more rational minority rose to tell me 
 
Snmtifir (Siwratbit. 
 
 that I had taken wholly superfluous pains, that they 
 already knew all about what I had told them, and 
 perfectly agreed with me. A hard-headed friend of 
 im*De, who was present, put the not unnatural question, 
 "Then why don't you say so in your pulpits?" to 
 which inquiry I heard no reply. 
 
 In fact the clergy are at present divisible into three 
 sections : an immense body who are ignorant and speak 
 out ; a small proportion who know and are silent ; 
 and a minute minority who know and speak according 
 to their knowledge. By the clergy, I mean especially 
 the Protestant clergy. Our great antagonist I speak 
 as a man of science the Roman Catholic Church, the 
 one great spiritual organization which is able to resist, 
 and must, as a matter of life and death, resist, the 
 progress of science and modern civilization, manages 
 her affairs much better. 
 
 Tt was my fortune some time ago to pay a visit to 
 one of the most important of the institutions in which 
 the clergy of the Roman Catholic Church in these islands 
 are trained; and it seemed to me that the difference 
 between these men and the comfortable champions of 
 Anglicanism and of Dissent, was comparable to the 
 difference between our gallant Volunteers and the 
 trained veterans of Napoleon's Old Guard. 
 
 The Catholic priest is trained to know his business, 
 and do it effectually. The professors of the college in 
 question, learned, zealous, and determined men, per- 
 mitted me to speak frankly with them. We talked like 
 outposts of opposed armies during a truce as friendly 
 enemies ; and when I ventured to point out the diffi- 
 culties their students would have to encounter from 
 scientific thought, they replied : " Our Church has lasted 
 many ages, and has passed safely through many storms, 
 The present is but a new gust of the old tempest, and 
 
62 JTag Sermons, (Essags, mttr Debutes. [iv. 
 
 we do not turn oat our young men less fitted to weather 
 it, than they, have been, in former times, to cope with 
 the difficulties of those times. The heresies of the day 
 are explained to them by their professors of philosophy 
 and science, and they are taught how those heresies are 
 to be met." 
 
 I heartily respect an organization which faces its 
 enemies in this way ; and I wish that all ecclesiastical 
 organizations were in as effective a condition. I think 
 it would be better, not only for them, but for us. The 
 army of liberal thought is, at present, in very loose 
 order; and many a spirited free-thinker makes use of 
 his freedom mainly to vent nonsense. We should be 
 the better for a vigorous and watchful enemy to hammer 
 us into cohesion and discipline ; and I, for one, lament 
 that the bench of Bishops cannot show a man of 
 the calibre of Butler of the "Analogy," who, if he 
 were alive, would make short work of much of the 
 current d priori " infidelity." 
 
 I hope you will consider that the arguments I have 
 now stcted, even if there were no better ones, con- 
 stitute a sufficient apology for urging the introduction 
 of science into schools. The next question to which 
 
 II have to address myself is, What sciences ought to be 
 thus taught 1 And this is one of the most important of 
 questions, because my side (I am afraid I am a terribly 
 candid friend) sometimes spoils its cause by going in 
 for too much. There are other forms of culture beside 
 physical science ; and I should be profoundly sorry to 
 see the fact forgotten, or even to observe a tendency to 
 starve, or cripple, literary, or aesthetic, culture for the sake 
 of science. Such a narrow view of the nature of educa- 
 tion has nothing to do with my firm conviction that 
 a comjdete and thorough scientific culture ought to bo 
 
Scientific (Siiwrathm. C3 
 
 introduced into all schools. By this, however, I do not 
 mean that every schoolboy should be taught everything 
 in science. That would be a very absurd thing to con- 
 ceive, and a very mischievous thing to attempt. What 
 I mean is, that no boy nor girl should leave school 
 without possessing a grasp of the general character of V 
 science, and without having been disciplined, more or 
 less, in the methods of all sciences ; so that, when 
 turned into the world to make their own way, they 
 shall be prepared to face scientific problems, not by 
 knowing at once the conditions of every problem, or 
 by being able at once to solve it ; but by being familiar I 
 with the general current of scientific thought, and by 
 being able to apply the methods of science in the 
 proper way, when they have acquainted themselves with 
 the conditions of the special problem. 
 
 That is what I understand by scientific education. 
 To furnish a boy with such an education, it is by no 
 means necessary that he should devote his whole school 
 existence to physical science : in fact, no one would 
 lament so one-sided a proceeding more than I. Nay 
 more, it is not necessary for him to give up more than a 
 moderate share of his time to such studies, if they be 
 properly selected and arranged, and if he be trained in 
 them in a fitting manner. 
 
 I conceive the proper course to be somewhat as 
 follows. To begin with, let every child be instructed in \ 
 those general views of the phenomena of Nature for ' 
 which we have no exact English name. The nearest 
 approximation to a name for what I mean, which we 
 possess, is " physical geography/' The Germans have a 
 better, " Erdkunde," ("earth. knowledge " or "geology" 
 in its etymological sense,) that is to say, a general know- 
 ledge of the earth, and what is on it, in it, and about it 
 If any one who has had experience of the ways of young 
 
64 !*ajr Sjernums, (SJssajjs, anfo gebhfes. [TV. 
 
 children will call to mind their questions, he will find 
 that so far as they can be put into any scientific category, 
 they come under this head of " Erdkunde." The child 
 asks, " What is the moon, and why does it shine '{ " 
 " What is this water, and where does it run ? " " What 
 is the wind?" " What makes the waves in the sea?" 
 " Where does this animal live, and what is the use of 
 that plant ? " And if not snubbed and stunted by being 
 told not to ask foolish questions, there is no limit to the 
 intellectual craving of a young child ; nor any bounds to 
 the slow, but solid, accretion of knowledge and develop- 
 ment of the thinking faculty in this way. To all such 
 questions, answers which are necessarily incomplete, 
 though true as far as they go, may be given by any 
 teacher whose ideas represent real knowledge and not 
 mere book learning ; and a panoramic view of Nature, 
 accompanied by a strong infusion of the scientific habit 
 of mind, may thus be placed within the reach of every 
 child of nine or ten. 
 
 After this preliminary opening of the eyes to the 
 great spectacle of the daily progress of Nature, as the 
 reasoning faculties of the child grow, and he becomes 
 familiar with the use of the tools of knowledge reading, 
 writing, and elementary mathematics he should pass 
 on to what is, in the more strict sense, physical science. 
 Now there are two kinds of physical science : the one 
 regards form and the relation of forms to one another ; 
 the other deals with causes and effects. In many of 
 what we term our -sciences, these two kinds are mixed 
 up together ; but systematic botany is a pure example 
 of the former kind, and physics of the latter kind, of 
 science. Every educational advantage which training 
 in physical science can give is obtainable from the proper 
 study of these two ; and I should be contented, for the 
 present, if they, added to our " Erdkunde." furnished 
 
iv. J jSdmfific (Education. 65 
 
 the whole of the scientific curriculum of school. Indeed, 
 I conceive it would be one of the greatest boons which 
 could be conferred upon England, if henceforward every 
 child in the country were instructed in the general 
 knowledge of the things about it, in the elements 
 of physics, and of botany. But I should be still 
 better pleased if there could be added somewhat of 
 chemistry, and an elementary acquaintance with human 
 physiology. 
 
 So far as school education is concerned, I want to go 
 no further just now ; and I believe that such instruction 
 would make an excellent introduction to that preparatory 
 scientific training which, as I have indicated, is so essen- 
 tial for the successful pursuit of our most important pro- 
 fessions. But this modicum of instruction must be so 
 given as to ensure reiJ knowledge and practical discipline. 
 If scientific education is to be dealt with as mere book- 
 work, it will be better not to attempt it, but to stick to 
 the Latin Grammar, which makes no pretence to be any- 
 thing but book work. 
 
 O 
 
 If the great benefits of scientific training are sought, 
 it is essential that such training .should be real : that is 
 to say, that the mind of the scholar should be brought 
 into direct relation with fact, that he should not merely 
 be told a thing, but made to see by the use of his own 
 intellect and ability that the thing is so and no otherwise. 
 The great peculiarity of scientific training, that in virtue 
 of which it cannot be replaced by any other discipline 
 whatsoever, is this bringing of the mind directly into 
 contact with fact, and practising the intellect in the 
 completest form of induction ; that is to say, in drawing 
 conclusions from particular facts made known by imme- 
 diate observation of Nature. 
 
 The othor studies which enter into ordinary education 
 do not discipline the mind in this way. Mathematical 
 
 F 
 
66 l^arr Ssrntcms, (Essags, mttr DLetoctes. L IV - 
 
 training is almost purely deductive. The mathematician 
 starts with a few simple propositions, the proof of which 
 is so obvious that they are called self-evident, and the 
 rest of his work consists of subtle deductions from them. 
 The teaching of languages, at any rate as ordinarily 
 practised, is of the same general nature, authority and 
 tradition furnish the data, and the mental operations of 
 the scholar are deductive. 
 
 Again : if history be the subject of study, the facts 
 are still taken upon the evidence of tradition and au- 
 thority. You cannot make a boy see the battle of 
 Thermopylae for himself, or know, of his own know- 
 ledge, that Cromwe]! once ruled England. There is no 
 getting into direct contact with natural fact by this 
 road ; there is no dispensing with authority, but rather a 
 resting upon it. 
 
 In all these respects, science differs from other edu- 
 cational discipline, and prepares the scholar for common 
 life. What have we to do in every-day life ? Most of 
 the business which demands our attention is matter of 
 fact, which needs, in the first place, to be accurately 
 observed or apprehended ; in the second, to be inter- 
 preted by inductive and deductive reasonings, which are 
 altogether similar in their nature to those employed in 
 science. In the one case, as in the other, whatever is 
 taken for granted is so taken at one's own peril ; fact 
 aud reason are the ultimate arbiters, and patience and 
 honesty are the great helpers out of difficulty. 
 
 But if scientific training is to yield its most eminent 
 results, it must, I repeat, be made practical. That is to 
 say, in explaining to a child the general phsenomena of 
 Nature, you must, as far as possible, give reality to your 
 teaching by object-lessons ; in teaching him botany, he 
 must handle the plants and dissect the flowers for him- 
 sen ; in teaching him physics and chemistry, you must 
 
iv. J Srimfifit (Ebitmifon. 67 
 
 not be solicitous to fill him with information, but you 
 must be careful that what he learns he knows of his own 
 knowledge. Don't be satisfied with telling him that a 
 magnet attracts iron. Let him see that it does ; let him 
 feel the pull of the one upon the other for himself. And, 
 especially, tell him that it is his duty to doubt until he 
 is compelled, by the absolute authority of Nature, to 
 believe that which is written in books. Pursue this 
 discipline carefully and conscientiously, and you may 
 make sure that, however scanty may be the measure of 
 information which you have poured into the boy's mind, 
 you have created an intellectual habit of priceless value 
 in practical life. 
 
 One is constantly asked, \Vhen should this scientific \ 
 education be commenced ? I should say with the dawn 
 of intelligence. As I have already said, a child seeks 
 for information about matters of physical science as 
 soon as it begins to talk. The first teaching it wants 
 is an object-lesson of one sort or another ; and as soon 
 as it is fit for systematic instruction of any kind, it is fit 
 for a modicum of science. 
 
 People talk of the difficulty of teaching young 
 children such matters, and in the same breath insist 
 upon their learning their Catechism, which contains 
 propositions far harder to comprehend than anything 
 in the educational course I have proposed. Again: I 
 am incessantly told that we, who advocate the intro- 
 duction of science into schools, make no allowance for 
 the stupidity of the average boy or girl ; but, in my 
 belief, that stupidity, in nine cases out of ten, "fit, non 
 nascitur" and is developed by a long process of parental 
 and pedagogic repression of the natural intellectual ap- 
 petites, accompanied by a persistent attempt to create 
 artificial ones for food which is not only tasteless, but 
 essentially indigestible. 
 
 F2 
 
[iv. 
 
 Those who urge the difficulty of instructing young 
 people in science are apt to forget another very im- 
 portant condition of success important in all kinds of 
 teaching, but most essential, I am disposed to think, 
 when >the scholars are very young. This condition is, 
 that the teacher should himself really and practically 
 know his subject. If he does, he will be able to speak 
 of it in the easy language, and with the completeness 
 of conviction, with which he talks of any ordinary 
 every -day matter. If he docs not, he will be afraid to 
 wander beyond the limits of the technical phraseology 
 which he has got up ; and a dead dogmatism, which 
 oppresses, or raises opposition, will take the place of 
 the lively confidence, born of personal conviction, which 
 cheers and encourages the eminently sympathetic mind 
 of childhood. 
 
 I have already hinted that such scientific training as 
 we seek for may be given without making any extra- 
 vagant claim upon the time now devoted to education. 
 We ask only for " a most favoured nation " clause in our 
 treaty with the schoolmaster ; we demand no more than 
 that science shall have as much time given to it as any 
 other single subject say four hours a week in each class 
 of an ordinary school. 
 
 For the present, I think men of science would be well 
 content with such an arrangement as this ; but speaking 
 for myself, I do not pretend to believe that such an 
 arrangement can be, or will be, permanent. In these 
 times the educational tree seems to me to have its roots 
 in the air, its leaves and flowers in the ground ; and, I 
 confess, I should very much like to turn it upside down, 
 so that its roots might be solidly embedded among the 
 facts of Mature, and draw thence a sound nutriment 
 for the foliage and fruit of literature and of art. No 
 educational system can have a claim to permanence, 
 
iv.J Scientific Cbrrratimt. 6!) 
 
 unless it recognizes the truth, that education Las two 
 great ends to which everything else must be subordinated. 
 The one of these is to increase knowledge ; the other is 
 to develop the love of right and the hatred of wrong. 
 
 With wisdom and uprightness a nation can make its 
 way worthily, and beauty will follow in the footsteps of 
 the two, even if she be not specially invited ; while there 
 is perhaps no sight in the whole world more saddening 
 and revolting than is offered by men sunk in ignorance 
 of everything but what other men have written ; seem- 
 ingly devoid of moral belief or guidance ; but with the 
 sense of beauty so keen, and the power of expression so 
 cultivated, that their sensual caterwauling may be almost 
 mistaken for the music of the spheres. 
 
 At present, education is almost entirely devoted to the 
 cultivation of the power of expression, and of the sense of 
 literary beauty. The matter of having anything to say, 
 beyond a hash of other people's opinions, or of possess- 
 ing any criterion of beauty, so that we may distinguish 
 between the Godlike and the devilish, is left aside as of 
 no moment. I think I do not err in saying that if 
 science were made the foundation of education, instead 
 of being, at most, stuck on as cornice to the edifice, this 
 state of things could not exist. 
 
 In advocating the introduction of physical science 
 as a leading element in education, I by no means refer 
 only to the higher schools. On the contrary, I believe 
 that such a change is even more imperatively called for 
 in those primary schools, in which the children of the 
 poor are expected to turn to the best account the little 
 time they can devote to the acquisition of knowledge. 
 A great step in this direction has already been made 
 by the establishment of science-classes under the De- 
 partment of Science and Art, a measure which came 
 into existence unnoticed, but which will, I believe, turn 
 
out to be of more importance to the welfare of the 
 people, than many political changes, over which the 
 noise of battle has rent the air. 
 
 Under the regulations to which I refer, a schoolmaster 
 can set up a class in one or more branches of science ; 
 his pupils will be examined, and the State will pay him, 
 at a certain rate, for all who succeed in passing. I 
 have acted as an examiner under this system from the 
 beginning of its establishment, and this year I expect 
 to have not fewer than a couple of thousand sets of 
 answers to questions in Physiology, mainly from young 
 people of the artisan class, who have been taught in 
 the schools which are now scattered all over Great 
 Britain and Ireland. Some of my colleagues, who have 
 to deal with subjects such as Geometry, for which the 
 present teaching power is better organized, I under- 
 stand are likely to have three or four times as man) 
 papers. So far as my own subjects are concerned, 1 can 
 undertake to say that a great deal of the teaching, the 
 results of which are before me in these examinations, is 
 very sound and good ; and I think it is in the power of 
 the examiners, not only to keep up the present standard, 
 but to cause an almost unlimited improvement. Now 
 what does this mean 1 It means that by holding out 
 a very moderate inducement, the masters of primary 
 schools in many parts of the country have been led to 
 convert them into little foci of scientific instruction ; and 
 that they and their pupils have contrived to find, or to 
 make, time enough to carry out this object with a very 
 considerable degree of efficiency. That efficiency will, 
 I doubt not, be very much increased as the system 
 becomes known and perfected, even with the very 
 limited leisure left to masters and teachers on week- 
 days. And this leads me to ask, Why should scientific 
 teaching be limited to week-days? 
 
Srnnfifu: ( 
 
 Ecclesiastically-minded persons are in the habit of 
 calling things they do not like by very hard names, and 
 I should not wonder if they brand the proposition I 
 am about to make as blasphemous, and worse. BIK.. 
 not minding this, I venture to ask, Would there really be 
 anything wrong in using part of Sunday for the purpose 
 of instructing those who have no other leisure, in a 
 knowledge of the phenomena of Nature, and of man's 
 relation to Nature ? 
 
 I should like to see a scientific Sunday-school in every 
 parish, not for the purpose of superseding any existing 
 means of teaching the people the things that are for 
 their good, but side by side with them. I cannot but 
 think that there is room for all of us to work in helping 
 to bridge over the great abyss of ignorance which lies 
 at our feet. 
 
 And if any of the ecclesiastical persons to whom I 
 have referred, object that they find it derogatory to the 
 honour of the God whom they worship, to awaken the 
 minds of the young to the infinite wonder and majesty 
 of the works which they proclaim His, and to teach 
 them those laws which must needs be His laws, and 
 therefore of all things needful for man to know I can 
 only recommend them to be let blood and put on low 
 diet. There must be something very wrong going on 
 in the instrument of logic, if it turns out such conclu- 
 sions from such premises. 
 
V. 
 
 ON THE EDUCATIONAL VALUE OF THE 
 NATURAL HISTORY SCIENCES. 
 
 THE subject to which I have to beg your attention 
 during the ensuing hour is " The Kelation of Physio- 
 logical Science to other branches of Knowledge." 
 
 Had circumstances permitted of the delivery, in 
 their strict logical order, of that series of discourses 
 of which the present lecture is a member, I should 
 have preceded my friend and colleague Mr. Henfrey, 
 who addressed you on Monday last ; but while, for 
 the sake of that order, I must beg you to suppose that 
 this discussion of the Educational bearings of Biology 
 in general does precede that of Special Zoology and 
 Botany, I am rejoiced to be able to take advantage of 
 the light thus already thrown upon the tendency and 
 methods of Physiological Science. 
 
 Eegarding Physiological Science, then, in its widest 
 sense as the equivalent of Biology the Science of 
 Individual Life we have to consider in succession : 
 
 1. Its position and scope as a branch of knowledge. 
 
 2. Its value as a means of mental discipline. 
 
 3. Its worth as practical information. 
 And lastly, 
 
 4. At what period it may best be made a branch of 
 Education. 
 
rrf ftaiural Jpbtorjr Sdentes. 
 
 Our conclusions on the first of these heads must 
 depend, of course, upon the nature of the subject- 
 matter of Biology ; and I think a few preliminary 
 considerations will place before you in a clear light 
 the vast difference which exists between the living 
 bodies with which Physiological science is concerned, and 
 the remainder of the universe ; between the phsenomena 
 of Number and Space, of Physical and of Chemical force, 
 on the one hand, and those of Life on the other. 
 
 The mathematician', the physicist, and the chemist 
 contemplate things in a condition of rest ; they look 
 upon a state of equilibrium as that to which all bodies 
 normally tend. 
 
 The mathematician does not suppose that a quantity 
 will alter, or that a given point in space will change 
 its direction with regard to another point, sponta- 
 neously. And it is the same with the physicist. When 
 Newton saw the apple fall, he concluded at once that 
 the act of falling was not the result of any power 
 inherent in the apple, but that it was the result of the 
 action of something else on the apple. In a similar 
 manner, all physical force is regarded as the disturbance 
 of an equilibrium to which things tended before its 
 exertion, to which they will tend again after its 
 cessation. 
 
 The chemist equally regards chemical change in a 
 body, as the effect of the action of something external 
 to the body changed. A chemical compound once formed 
 would persist for ever, if no alteration took place in 
 surrounding conditions. 
 
 But to the student of Life the aspect of Nature is 
 reversed. Here, incessant, and, so far as we know, 
 spontaneous change is the rule, rest the exception 
 the anomaly to be accounted for. Living things have 
 no inertia, and tend to no equilibrium, 
 
74 ^ag Sermons, (Sssags, mtb |3Ufaietos. [v. 
 
 Permit me, however, to give more force and clearness 
 to these somewhat abstract considerations, by an illustra- 
 tion or two. 
 
 Imagine a vessel full of water, at the ordinary tem- 
 perature, in an atmosphere saturated with vapour. The 
 quantity and the figure of that water will riot change, 
 so far as we know, for ever. 
 
 Suppose a lump of gold be thrown into the vessel 
 motion and disturbance of figure exactly proportional 
 to the momentum of the gold will take place. But after 
 a time the effects of this disturbance will subside 
 equilibrium will be restored, and the water will return 
 to its passive state. 
 
 Expose the water to cold it will solidify and in so 
 doing its particles will arrange themselves in definite 
 crystalline shapes. But once formed, these crystals 
 change no further. 
 
 Again, substitute for the lump of gold some substance 
 capable of entering into chemical relations with the 
 water : say, a mass of that substance which is called 
 " protein" the substance of flesh : a very considerable 
 disturbance of equilibrium will take place all sorts of 
 chemical compositions and decompositions will occur ; 
 but in the end, as before, the result will be the resump- 
 tion of a condition of rest. 
 
 Instead of such a mass of dead protein, however, 
 take a particle of living protein one of those minute 
 microscopic living things which throng our pools, and 
 are known as Infuroria such a creature, for instance, as 
 an Eugleria, and place it in our vessel of water. It is a 
 round mass provided with a long filament, and except 
 in this peculiarity of shape, presents no appreciable 
 physical or chemical difference whereby it might be 
 distinguished from the particle of dead protein. 
 
 But the, difference in the phenomena to which it 
 
v.] $ <thre 0f ftaiural JfTtstcrrjr Sciences. 75 
 
 will give rise is immense : in the first place it will 
 develop a vast quantity of physical force cleaving 
 the water in all directions with considerable rapidity 
 by means of the vibrations of the long filament or 
 cilium. 
 
 Nor is the amount of chemical energy which the little 
 creature possesses less striking. It is a perfect laboratory 
 in itself, and it will act and react upon the water and 
 the matters contained therein ; converting them into new 
 compounds resembling its own substance, and at the 
 same time giving up portions of its own substance which 
 have become effete. 
 
 Furthermore, the Euglena will increase in size ; but 
 this increase is by no means unlimited, as the increase 
 of a crystal might be. After it has grown to a certain 
 extent it divides, and each portion assumes the form of 
 the original, and proceeds to repeat the process of growth 
 and division. 
 
 Nor is this all. For after a series of such divisions 
 and subdivisions, these minute points assume a totally 
 new form, lose their long tails round themselves, and 
 secrete a sort of envelope or box, in which they remain 
 shut up for a time, eventually to resume, directly or 
 indirectly, their primitive mode of existence. 
 
 Now, so far as we know, there is no natural limit to 
 the existence of the Euglena, or of any other living germ. 
 A living species once launched into existence tends to 
 live for ever. 
 
 Consider how widely different this living particle is 
 from the dead atoms with which the physicist and 
 chemist have to do! 
 
 The particle of gold falls to the bottom and rests 
 the particle of dead protein decomposes and disappears 
 it also rests : but the living protein mass neither tends 
 to exhaustion of its forces nor to any permanency of 
 
76 |um Scrmaits, (Csstms, anb |lebicfos. In- 
 form, but is essentially distinguished as a disturber 
 of equilibrium so far as force is concerned, as under- 
 going continual metamorphosis and change, in point of 
 form. 
 
 Tendency to equilibrium of force and to permanency 
 of form, then, are the characters of that portion of the 
 universe which does not live the domain of the chemist 
 and physicist. 
 
 Tendency to disturb existing equilibrium to take on 
 forms which succeed one another in definite cycles is 
 the character of the living world. 
 
 What is the cause of this wonderful difference between 
 the dead particle and the living particle of matter 
 appearing in other respects identical I that difference 
 to which we give the name of Life ? 
 
 I, for one, cannot tell you. It may be that, by and 
 by, philosophers will discover some higher laws of which 
 the facts of life are particular cases very possibly they 
 will find out some bond between physico-chemical 
 phenomena on the one hand, and vital phenomena 
 oil the other. At present, however, we assuredly know 
 of none; and I think we shall exercise a wise humility 
 in confessing that, for us at least, this successive assump- 
 tion of different states (external conditions remaining 
 the same) this spontaneity of action if I may use 
 a term which implies more than I would be answerable 
 for which constitutes so vast and plain a practical 
 distinction between living bodies and those which do 
 not live, is an ultimate fact ; indicating as such, the 
 existence of a broad line of demarcation between the 
 subject-matter of Biological and that of all other sciences. 
 
 For I would have it understood that this simple 
 Euglena is the type of all living things, so far as the 
 distinction between these and inert matter is concerned. 
 That cycle of changes, which is constituted by perhaps 
 
v.] Halite of fjaiural I|isf0rjr Sriwces, >"? 
 
 not more than two or three steps in the Euglena, is 
 as clearly manifested in the multitudinous stages through 
 which the germ, of an oak or of a man passes. What- 
 ever forms the Living Being may take, on, whether 
 simple or complex, production, growth, reproduction, 
 are the phsenomena which distinguish it from that 
 which does not live. 
 
 If this be true, it is clear that the student, in passing 
 from the physico-chemical to the physiological sciences, 
 enters upon a totally new order of facts ; and it will 
 next be for us to consider how far these new facts 
 involve neiv methods, or require a modification of those 
 with which he is already acquainted. Now a great 
 deal is said about the peculiarity of the scientific method 
 in general, and of the different methods which are 
 pursued in the different sciences. The Mathematics 
 are said to have one special method; Physics another, 
 Biology a third, and so forth. For my own part, I 
 must confess that I do not understand this phraseology. 
 
 So far as I can arrive at any clear comprehension 
 of the matter, Science is not, as many would seem to 
 suppose, a modification of the Hack art, suited to the 
 tastes of the nineteenth century, and flourishing mainly 
 in consequence of the decay of the Inquisition. 
 
 Science is, I believe, nothing but trained and orga- 
 nized common sense, differing from the latter only as 
 a veteran may differ from a raw recruit : and its methods 
 differ from those of common sense only so far as the 
 guardsman's cut and thrust differ from the manner 
 in which a savage wields his club. The primary power 
 is the same in each case, and perhaps the untutored 
 savage has the more brawny arm of the two. TLe 
 real advantage lies in the point and polish of the 
 swordsman's weapon; in the trained eye qiick to spy 
 out the weakness of the adversary ; in the ready hand 
 
78 ^ag Swrmons, (Sssags, artir gefrietos. [ v - 
 
 prompt to follow it on the instant. But, after all, the 
 sword exercise is only the hewing and poking of the 
 clubman developed and perfected. 
 
 So, the vast results obtained by Science are won 
 by no mystical faculties, by no mental processes, other 
 than those which are practised by every one of us, 
 in the humblest and meanest affairs of life. A detective 
 policeman discovers a burglar from the marks made 
 by his shoe, by a mental process identical with that 
 by which Cuvier restored the extinct animals of Mont- 
 martre from fragments of their bones. Nor does that 
 process of induction and deduction by which a lady, 
 finding a stain of a peculiar kind upon her dress, con- 
 cludes that somebody has upset the inkstand thereon, 
 differ in any way, in kind, from that by which Adams 
 and Leverrier discovered a new planet. 
 
 The man of science, in fact, simply uses with scru- 
 pulous exactness, the methods which we all, habitually 
 and at every moment, use carelessly ; and the man 
 of business must as much avail himself of the scientific 
 method must be as truly a man of science a,s the 
 veriest bookworm of us all ; though I have no doubt 
 that the man of business will find himself out to be a 
 philosopher with as much surprise as M. Jourdain 
 exhibited, when he discovered that he had been all 
 his life talking prose. If, however, there be no real 
 difference between the methods of science and those 
 of common life, it would seem, on the face of the 
 matter, highly improbable that there should be any 
 difference between the methods of the different sciences ; 
 nevertheless, it is constantly taken for granted, that 
 there is a very wide difference between the Physiological 
 and other sciences in point of method. 
 
 In the first place, it is said and I take this point 
 first, because the imputation is too frequently admitted 
 
Cain* 0f lUiiiral Jpisfarg Srienas. 
 
 by Physiologists themselves that Biology differs from 
 the Physico-chemical and Mathematical sciences in 
 being "inexact/' 
 
 Now, this phrase " inexact " must refer either to the 
 methods or to the results of Physiological science. 
 
 It cannot be correct to apply it to the methods ; for, 
 as I hope to show yon by and by, these are iden- 
 tical in all sciences, and whatever is true of Physiological 
 method is true of Physical and Mathematical method. 
 
 Is it then the results of Biological science which are 
 " inexact " ? I think not. If I say that respiration is 
 performed by the lungs ; that digestion is effected in the 
 stomach ; that the eye is the organ of sight ; that the 
 jaws of a vertebrated animal never open sideways, but 
 always up and down ; while those of an annulose animal 
 always open sideways, and never up and down I am 
 enumerating propositions which are as exact as anything 
 in Euclid. How then has this notion of the inexactness 
 of Biological science come about ? I believe from two 
 causes : first, because, in consequence of the great com* 
 plexity of the science and the multitude of interfering 
 conditions, we are very often only enabled to predict 
 approximately what will occur under given circum- 
 stances ; and secondly, because, on account of the com- 
 parative youth of the Physiological sciences, a great 
 many of their laws are still imperfectly worked out. 
 But, in an educational point of view, it is most important 
 to distinguish between the essence of a science and 
 the accidents which surround it ; and essentially, the 
 methods and results of Physiology are as exact as those 
 of Physics or Mathematics. 
 
 It is said that the Physiological method is especially 
 comparative l ; and this dictum also finds favour in the 
 
 1 " In the third place, we have to review the method of Comparison, which 
 is so specially adapted to the study of living bodies, and by which, above all 
 
SO ^ag Smn0ns, (Sssags, anb |lebicfos. [v. 
 
 eyes of many. I should be sorry to suggest that the 
 speculators on scientific classification have been misled 
 by the accident of the name of one leading branch of 
 Biology Comparative Anatomy ; but I would ask 
 whether comparison, and that classification which is the 
 result of comparison, are not the essence of every science 
 whatsoever ? How is it possible to discover a relation of 
 cause and effect of any kind without comparing a series 
 of cases together in which the supposed cause and effect 
 , occur singly, or combined? So far from comparison 
 being in any way peculiar to Biological science, it is, 
 I think, the essence of every science. 
 
 A speculative philosopher again tells us that the 
 Biological sciences are distinguished by being sciences 
 of observation and not of experiment ! x 
 
 Of all the strange assertions into which speculation 
 without practical acquaintance with a subject may lead 
 even an able man, I think this is the very strangest 
 Physiology not an experimental science ! Why, there 
 
 others, that study must be advanced. In Astronomy, this method is neces- 
 sarily inapplicable ; and it is not till we arrive at Chemistry that this third 
 means of investigation can be used, and then only in subordination to the 
 two others. It is in the study, both statical and dynamical, of living bodies 
 that it first acquires its full development ; and its use elsewhere can be only 
 through its application here." COMTE'S Positive Philosophy, translated by 
 Miss Martineau. Vol. i. p. 372. 
 
 By what method does M. Comte suppose that the equality or inequality of 
 forces and quantities and the dissimilarity or similarity of forms points of 
 some slight importance not only in Astronomy and Physics, but eveu in 
 Mathematics are ascertained, if not by Comparison ? 
 
 1 "Proceeding to the second class of means, Experiment eannot but be 
 less and less decisive, in proportion to the complexity of the phenomena to be 
 explored ; and therefore we saw this resource to be less effectual in chemistry 
 than in physics : and we now find that it is eminently useful in chemistry in 
 comparison with physiology. In fact, the nature of the phenomena seems to 
 offer almost insurmountable impediments to any extensive and prolific applica- 
 tion of suck a procedure in biology" COMTE, vol. L p. 367. 
 
 M. Comte, as his manner is, contradicts himself two pages further on, but 
 that will hardly relieve him from the responsibility of such a paragraph as 
 tlio above. 
 
- T -] 0;ili of Itahtral JfJisioTgr jScienas. 
 
 is not a function of a single organ in the body which has 
 not been determined wholly and solely by experiment. 
 How did Harvey determine the nature of the circulation, 
 except by experiment ? How did Sir Charles Bell de- 
 termine the functions of the roots of the spinal nerves, 
 save by experiment ? How do we know the use of a 
 nerve at all, except by experiment ? Nay, how do you 
 know even that your eye is your seeing apparatus, unless 
 you make the experiment of shutting it ; or that your 
 ear is your hearing apparatus, unless you close it up and 
 thereby discover that you become deaf? 
 
 It would really be much more true to say that Phy- 
 siology is the experimental science par excellence of all 
 sciences ; that in which there is least to be learnt by 
 mere observation, and that which affords the. greatest 
 field for the exercise of those faculties which characterise 
 the experimental philosopher. I confess, if any one 
 were to ask me for a model application of the logic of 
 experiment, I should know no better work to put into 
 his hands than Bernard's late Eesearches on the Func- 
 tions of the Liver, 1 
 
 Not to give this lecture a too controversial tone, how- 
 ever, I must only advert to one more doctrine, held by a 
 thinker of our own age and country, whose opinions are 
 worthy of all respect. It is, that the Biological sciences 
 differ from all others, inasmuch as in them classification 
 takes place by type and not by definition. 2 
 
 1 "Nouvelle Fonction du Foie consider^ comme organe producteur de 
 matiere sucree chez 1'Homme et les Animaux," par M. Claude Bernard. 
 
 2 " Natural Groups given by Type, not by Definition ..... The class is 
 steadily fixed, though not precisely limited ; it is given, though not circum- 
 scribed ; it is determined, not by a boundary-line without, but by a central 
 point within ; not by what it strictly excludes, but what it eminently includes ; 
 by an example, not by a precept ; in short, instead of Definition we have a 
 Type for our director. A type is an example of any class, for instance, a 
 species of a genus, which is considered as eminently possessing the characters 
 of the class. All the species which have a greater affinity with this type- 
 
 G 
 
It is said, in short, that a natural-history class is not 
 capable of being defined that the class Rosacese, for 
 instance, or the class of Fishes, is not accurately and 
 absolutely definable, inasmuch as its members will pre- 
 sent exceptions to every possible definition ; and that 
 the members of the class are united together only by 
 the circumstance that they are all more like some 
 imaginary average rose or average fish, than they 
 resemble anything else. 
 
 But here, as before, I think the distinction has arisen 
 entirely from confusing a transitory imperfection with 
 an essential character. So long as our information con- 
 cerning them is imperfect, we class all objects together 
 according to resemblances which we feel, but cannot 
 define; we group them round types, in short. Thus, 
 if you ask an ordinary person what kinds of animals 
 there are, he will probably say, beasts, birds, reptiles, 
 fishes, insects, &c. Ask him to define a beast from a 
 reptile, and he cannot do it ; but he says, things like 
 a cow or a horse are beasts, and things like a frog or a 
 lizard are reptiles. You see lie does class by type, and 
 not by definition. But how does this classification differ 
 from that of the scientific Zoologist ? How does the 
 meaning of the scientific class-name of "Mammalia" 
 differ from the unscientific of "Beasts"? 
 
 Why, exactly because the former depends on a defi- 
 nition, the latter on a type. The class Mammalia is 
 scientifically defined as " all animals which have a ver- 
 tebra ted skeleton and suckle their young." Here is no 
 reference to type, but a definition rigorous enough for a 
 geometrician. And such is the character which every 
 scientific naturalist recognises as that to which his classes 
 
 species than with any others, form the {rcnus, and are ranged about it, 
 deviating from it in various directions and different decrees." WIIE 
 The Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, vol. L pp. 47(5, 477. 
 
v.] 0alu* rrf ftatural f isforg Stmttcs. S3 
 
 must aspire knowing, as he does, that classification by 
 type is simply an acknowledgment of ignorance and a 
 temporary device. 
 
 So much in the way of negative argument as against 
 the reputed differences between Biological and other 
 methods. No such differences, I believe, really exist. 
 The subject-matter of Biological science is different 
 from that of other sciences, but the methods of all are 
 identical ; and these methods are 
 
 1. Observation of facts including under this head 
 that artificial observation which is called experiment. 
 
 2. That process of tying up similar facts into bundles, 
 ticketed and ready for use, which is called Comparison 
 and Classification, the results of the process, the 
 ticketed bundles, being named General propositions. 
 
 3. Deduction, which takes us from the general pro- 
 position to facts again teaches us, if I may so say, to 
 anticipate from the ticket what is inside the bundle. 
 And finally 
 
 4. Verification, which is the process of ascertaining 
 whether, in point of fact, our anticipation is a correct 
 one. 
 
 Such are the methods of all science whatsoever ; but 
 perhaps you will permit me to give you an illustration 
 of their employment in the science of Life ; and I will 
 take as a special case, the establishment of the doctrine 
 of the Circulation of the Blood. 
 
 In this case, simple observation yields us a knowledge 
 of the existence of the blood from some accidental 
 haemorrhage, we will say : we may even grant that it 
 informs us of the localization of this blood in particular 
 vessels, the heart, &c., from some accidental cut or the 
 like. It teaches also the existence of a pulse m various 
 parts of the body, and acquaints us with the structure of 
 the heart and vessels. 
 
 c2 
 
84 ^au Snmems, (gssags, mtfc gciwtos. [ v - 
 
 Here, however, simple observation stops, and we 
 must have recourse to experiment. 
 
 You tie a vein, and you find that the blood accumu- 
 lates on the side of the ligature opposite the heart. You 
 tie an artery, and you find that the blood accumulates 
 on the side near the heart. Open the chest, and you 
 see the heart contracting with great force. Make open- 
 ings into its principal cavities, and you will find that 
 all the blood flows out, and no more pressure is exerted 
 on either side of the arterial or venous ligature. 
 
 Now all these facts, taken together, constitute the 
 evidence that the blood is propelled by the heart through 
 the arteries, and returns by the veins that, in short, the 
 blood circulates. 
 
 Suppose our experiments and observations have been 
 made on horses, then we group and ticket them into a 
 general proposition, thus : all horses have a circulation 
 of their blood. 
 
 Henceforward a horse is a sort of indication or label, 
 telling us where we shall find a peculiar series of phe- 
 nomena called the circulation of the blood. 
 
 Here is our general proposition, then. 
 
 How, and when, are we justified in making our next 
 step a deduction from it ? 
 
 Suppose our physiologist, whose experience is limited 
 to horses, meets with a zebra for the first time, will he 
 suppose that this generalization holds good for zebras 
 also? 
 
 That depends very much on his turn of mind. But 
 we will suppose him to be a bold man. He will say, 
 " The zebra is certainly not a horse, but it is very like 
 On6j so iifc e> that it must be the ' ticket ' or mark of a 
 blood-circulation also; and, I conclude that the zebra 
 has a circulation." 
 
 That is a deduction, a very fair deduction, but by no 
 
v.] JJatttje 0f Itttiural Uisftfrjr Scietifis. 85 
 
 means to be considered scientifically secure. This last 
 quality in fact can only be given by verification that 
 is, by making a zebra the subject of all the experiments 
 performed on the horse. Of course, in the present case, 
 the deduction would be confirmed by this process of 
 verification, and the result would be, not merely a 
 positive widening of knowledge, but a fair increase of 
 confidence in the truth of one's generalizations in other 
 cases. 
 
 Thus, having settled the point in the zebra and horse, 
 our philosopher would have great confidence in the ex- 
 istence of a circulation in the ass. Nay, I fancy most 
 persons would excuse him, if in this case he did not 
 take the trouble to go through the process of verification 
 at all ; and it would not be without a parallel in the 
 history of the human mind, if our imaginary physiologist 
 now maintained that he was acquainted with asinine 
 circulation d priori. 
 
 However, if I might impress any caution upon your 
 minds, it is, the utterly conditional nature of all our 
 knowledge, the danger of neglecting the process of 
 verification under any circumstances ; and the film upon 
 which we rest, the moment our deductions carry us 
 beyond the reach of this great process of verification. 
 There is no better instance of this than is afforded by 
 the history of our knowledge of the circulation of the 
 blood in the animal kingdom until the year 1824. In 
 every animal possessing a circulation at all, which had 
 been observed up to that time, the current of the blood 
 was known to take one definite and invariable direction. 
 Now, there is a class of animals called Ascidians, whicli 
 possess a heart and a circulation, and up to the period of 
 which I speak, no one would have dreamt of questioning 
 the propriety of the deduction, that these creatures. have 
 a circulation in one direction ; nor would any one have 
 
Sermons, (Essans, anb llebiefos. [v. 
 
 thought it worth while to verify the point. But, in that 
 year, M. von Hasselt, happening to examine a transparent 
 animal of this class, found, to his infinite surprise, that 
 after the heart had beat a certain number of times, it 
 stopped, and then began beating the opposite way so 
 as to reverse the course of the current, which returned 
 by and by to its original direction. 
 
 I have myself timed the heart of these little animals. 
 I found it as regular as possible in its periods of reversal : 
 and I know no spectacle in the animal kingdom more 
 wonderful than that which it presents all the more 
 wonderful that to this day it remains an unique fact, 
 peculiar to this class among the whole animated world. 
 At the same time I know of no more striking case of 
 the necessity of the verification of even those deduc- 
 tions which seeni founded on the widest and safest 
 inductions. 
 
 Such are the methods of Biology methods which are 
 obviously identical with those of all other sciences, and 
 therefore wholly incompetent to form the ground of any 
 distinction between it and them. 1 
 
 But I shall be asked at once, Do you mean to say 
 that there is no difference between the habit of mind 
 of a mathematician and that of a naturalist ? Do you 
 imagine that Laplace might have been put into the 
 Jardin des Plantes, and Cuvier into the Observatory, 
 with equal advantage to the progress of the sciences 
 they professed ? 
 
 To which I would reply, that nothing could be further 
 from my thoughts. But different habits and various 
 special tendencies of two sciences do not imply different 
 methods. The mountaineer and the man of the plains 
 have very different habits of progression, and each 
 
 1 Save for the pleasure of doing so, I need hardly point out my obligations 
 to Mr. J, S. Mill's "System of Logic," in this view of scientific method. 
 
.J gaitu 0f Uateal Pistonj Srbncm 
 
 would be at a loss in the other's place ; but the method 
 of progression, by putting one leg before the other, is 
 the same in each case. Every step of each is a combi- 
 nation of a lift and a push ; but the mountaineer lifts 
 more and the lowlander pushes more. And I think the 
 case of two sciences resembles this. 
 
 I do not question for a moment, that while the Mathe- 
 matician is busied with deductions from general pro- 
 positions, the Biologist is more especially occupied with 
 observation, comparison, and those processes which lead 
 to general propositions. All I wish to insist upon is, 
 that this difference depends not. on any fundamental 
 distinction in the sciences themselves, but on the ac- 
 cidents of their subject-matter, of their relative com- 
 plexity, and consequent relative perfection. 
 
 The Mathematician deals with two properties of 
 objects only, number and extension, and all the in- 
 ductions he wants have been formed and finished ages 
 ago. He is occupied now with nothing but deduction 
 and verification. 
 
 The Biologist deals with a vast number of properties 
 of objects, and his inductions will not be completed, I 
 fear, for ages to come ; but when they are, his science 
 will be as deductive and as exact as the Mathematics 
 themselves. 
 
 >6uch is the relation of Biology to those sciences which 
 deal with objects having fewer properties than itself. 
 But as the student, in reaching Biology, looks back upon 
 sciences of a less complex and therefore more perfect 
 nature ; so, on the other hand, does he look forward to 
 other more complex and less perfect branches of know- 
 ledge. Biology deals on]y with living beings as isolated 
 things treats only of the life of the individual : but 
 there is a higher division of science still, which considers 
 living beings as aggregates which deals with the rela- 
 
S3 jCag Sermons, (gssajrs, mttr Ecbictos, [v. 
 
 tion of living beings one to another the science which 
 observes men whose experiments are made by nations 
 one upon another, in battle-fields whose general propo- 
 sitions are embodied in history, morality, and religion 
 whose deductions lead to our happiness or our misery, 
 and whose verifications so oi'ten come too late, and 
 serve only 
 
 "To point a moral or adorn a tale" 
 
 I mean -the science of Society or Sociology. 
 
 I think it is one of the grandest features of Biology, 
 that it occupies this central position in human know- 
 ledge. There is no side of the human mind which 
 physiological study leaves uncultivated. Connected by 
 innumerable ties with abstract science, Physiology is yet 
 in the most intimate relation with humanity ; and by 
 teaching us that law and order, and a definite scheme 
 of development, regulate even the strangest and wildest 
 manifestations of individual life, she prepares the student 
 to look for a goal even amidst the erratic wanderings of 
 mankind, and to believe that history offers something 
 more than an entertaining chaos a journal of a toilsome, 
 tragi-comic march nowhither. 
 
 The preceding considerations have, I hope, served to 
 indicate the replies which befit the two first of the 
 questions which I set before you at starting, viz. what is 
 the range and position of Physiological Science as a 
 branch of knowledge, and what is its value as a means 
 of mental discipline. 
 
 Its subject-matter is a large moiety of the universe 
 its position is midway between the physico-chemical and 
 the social sciences. Its value as a branch of discipline 
 is partly that which it has in common with all sciences 
 the training and strengthening of common sense ; partly 
 that which is more peculiar to itself the great exercise 
 
r.J Sake 0f ICaiurrf fisforg SOOTHS. 89 
 
 which it affords to the faculties of observation and com- 
 parison ; and I may add, the exactness of knowledge 
 which it requires on the part of those among its votaries 
 who desire to extend its boundaries. 
 
 If what has been said as to the position and scope 
 of Biology be correct, our third question What is the 
 practical value of physiological instruction ] might, one 
 would think, be left to answer itself. 
 
 On other grounds even, were mankind deserving of 
 the title " rational," which they arrogate to themselves, 
 there can be no question that they would consider, as the 
 most necessary of all branches of instruction for them- 
 selves and for their children, that which professes to 
 acquaint them with the conditions of the existence they 
 prize so highly which teaches them how to avoid 
 disease and to cherish health, in themselves and those 
 who are dear to them. 
 
 I am addressing, I imagine, an audience of educated 
 persons ; and yet I dare venture to assert that, with the 
 exception of those of my hearers who may chance to 
 have received a medical education, there is not one who 
 could tell me what is the meaning and use of an act 
 which he performs a score of times every minute, and 
 whose suspension would involve his immediate death ; 
 I mean the act of breathing or who could state in 
 precise terms why it is that a confined atmosphere is 
 injurious to health. 
 
 The practical value of Physiological knowledge ! 
 Why is it that educated men can be found to maintain 
 that a slaughter-house in the midst of a great city is 
 rather a good thing than otherwise ? that mothers 
 persist in exposing the largest possible amount of surface 
 of their children to the cold, by the absurd style of dress 
 thpy adopt, and then marvel at the peculiar dispensation 
 of Providence, which removes their infants by bronchitis 
 
90 Tag Strnums, (EssaDS, aittr |Ubiefos. [v. 
 
 and gastric fever ? Why is it that quackery rides rara- 
 p vnt over the land ; and that not long ago, one of the 
 largest public rooms in this great city could be filled by 
 an audience gravely listening to the leverend expositor 
 of the doctrine that the simple physiological phenomena 
 known as spirit-rapping, table-turning, phreno-magnetism, 
 and by I know not what other absurd and inappropriate 
 names, are due to the direct and personal agency of Satan ? 
 
 Why is all this, except from the utter ignorance as to 
 the simplest laws of their own animal life, which prevails 
 among even the most highly educated persons in this 
 country ? 
 
 But there are other branches of Biological Science, 
 besides Physiology proper, whose practical influence, 
 though less obvious, is not, as I believe, less certain. I 
 have heard educated men speak with an ill-disguised 
 contempt of the studies of the naturalist, and ask, not 
 without a shrug, " What is the use of knowing all about 
 these miserable animals what bearing has it on human 
 life?" 
 
 I will endeavour to answer that question. I take it 
 that all will admit there is definite Government of this 
 universe that its pleasures and pains are not scattered 
 at random, but are distributed in accordance with orderly 
 and fixed laws, and that it is only in accordance with 
 all we know of the rest of the world, that there should 
 be an agreement between one portion of the sensitive 
 creation and another in these matters. 
 
 Surely then it interests us to know the lot of other 
 animal creatures however far below us, they are still 
 the sole created things which share with us the capability 
 of pleasure and the susceptibility to pain,. 
 
 I cannot but think that he who finds a certain pro- 
 portion of pain and evil inseparably woven up in the life 
 of the very worms, will bear his own share with more 
 
v.J JUalitt of Uafural Ipstorg Srimocs. 
 
 courage and submission ; and will, at any rate, view with 
 suspicion those weakly amiable theories of the Divine 
 government, which would have us believe pain to be an 
 oversight and a mistake, to be corrected by and by. 
 On the other hand, the predominance of happiness 
 among living things their lavish beauty the secret and 
 wonderful harmony which pervades them all, from the 
 highest to the lowest, are equally striking refutations of 
 that modern Manichean doctrine, which exhibits the 
 world as a slave-mill, worked with many tears, for mere 
 utilitarian ends. 
 
 There is yet another way in which natural history 
 may, I am convinced, take a profound hold upon practical 
 life, and that is, by its influence over our finer feelings, 
 as the greatest of all sources of that pleasure which is 
 derivable from beauty. I do not pretend that natural- 
 history knowledge, as such, can increase our sense of the 
 beautiful in natural objects. I do not suppose that the 
 dead soul of Peter Bell, of whom the great poet of nature 
 says, 
 
 A primrose by the river's "brim, 
 A yellow primrose was to him, 
 And it was nothing more, 
 
 would have been a whit roused from its apathy, by the 
 information that the primrose is a Dicotyledonous 
 Exogen, with a monopetalous corolla and central placen- 
 tation. But I advocate natural -history knowledge from 
 this point of view, because it would lead us to seek the 
 beauties of natural objects, instead of trusting to chance 
 to force them on our attention. To a person uninstructed 
 <n natural history, his country or sea-side stroll is a walk 
 through a gallery filled with wonderful works of art, 
 nine-tenths of which have their faces turned to the wall. 
 Teach him something of natural history, and you place 
 in his hands a catalogue of those which are worth 
 
92 ^Hg Strntcnts, (Essags, autr |lebietos. |~ v 
 
 turning round. Surely our innocent pleasures are not so 
 abundant in this life, that we can afford to despise this 
 or any other source of them. We should fear being 
 banished for our neglect to that limbo, where the great 
 Florentine tells us are those who, during this life, " wept 
 when they might be joyful/' 
 
 But I shall be trespassing unwarrantably on your 
 kindness, if I do not proceed at once to my last point 
 the time at which Physiological Science should first form 
 a part of the Curriculum of Education. 
 
 The distinction between the teaching of the facts of a 
 science as instruction, and the teaching it systematically 
 as knowledge, has already been placed before you in a 
 previous lecture : and it appears to me, that, as with 
 other sciences, the common facts of Biology the uses of 
 parts of the body the names and habits of the living 
 creatures which surround us may be taught with 
 advantage to the youngest child. Indeed, the avidity of 
 children for this kind of knowledge, and the comparative 
 ease with which they retain it, is something quite 
 marvellous. I doubt whether any toy would be so 
 acceptable to young children as a vivarium of the same 
 kind as, but of course on a smaller scale than those 
 admirable devices in the Zoological Gardens. 
 
 On the other hand, systematic teaching in Biology 
 cannot be attempted with success until the student has 
 attained to a certain knowledge of physics and chemistry : 
 for though the phsenomena of life are dependent neither 
 on physical nor on chemical, but on vital forces, yet they 
 result in all sorts of physical and chemical changes, 
 which can only be judged by their own laws. 
 
 And now to sum up in a few words the conclusions to 
 which I hope you see reason to follow me. 
 
 Biology needs no apologist when she demands a place 
 and a prominent place in any scheme of education 
 
v.] 0aluc of STufural fbtorg Snmas. 93 
 
 worthy of the name. Leave out the Physiological 
 sciences from your curriculum, and you launch the 
 student into the world, undisciplined in that science 
 whose subject-matter would best develop his powers of 
 observation ; ignorant of facts of the deepest importance 
 for his own and others' welfare ; blind to the richest 
 sources of beauty in God's creation ; and unprovided 
 with that belief in a living law, and an order manifesting 
 itself in and through endless change and variety, which 
 might serve to check and moderate that phase of despair 
 through which, if he take an earnest interest in social 
 problems, he will assuredly sooner or later pass. 
 
 Finally, one word for myself. I have not hesitated to 
 speak strongly where I have felt strongly ; and I am but 
 too conscious that the indicative and imperative moods 
 have too often taken the place of the more becoming 
 subjunctive and conditional. I feel, therefore, how 
 necessary it is to beg you to forget the personality of 
 him who has thus ventured to address you, and to con- 
 sider only the truth or error in what has been said. 
 
VI. 
 ON THE STUDY OF ZOOLOGY. 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY is the name familiarly applied to the 
 study of the properties of such natural bodies as mine- 
 rals, plants, and animals ; the sciences which embody 
 the knowledge man has acquired upon these subjects 
 are commonly termed Natural Sciences, in contradistinc- 
 tion to other so-called " physical " sciences ; and those 
 who devote themselves especially to the pursuit of 
 such sciences have been and are commonly termed 
 " Naturalists." 
 
 Linnaeus was a naturalist in this wide sense, and his 
 " Systema Naturae " was a work upon natural history, in 
 the broadest acceptation of the term ; in it, that great 
 methodizing spirit embodied all that was known in his 
 time of the distinctive characters of minerals, animals, 
 and plants. But the enormous stimulus which Linnaeus 
 gave to the investigation of nature soon rendered it 
 impossible that any one man should write another 
 " Systema Naturae," and extremely difficult for any one 
 to become a naturalist such as Linnaeus was. 
 
 Great as have been the advances made by all the three 
 branches of science, of old included under the title of 
 natural history, there can be no doubt that zoology and 
 botany have grown in an enormously greater ratio than 
 
vi.] it % Sfubg of g00I0gn. 95 
 
 mineralogy; .and hence, as I suppose, the name of 
 "natural history" has gradually become more and more 
 definitely attached to these prominent divisions of the 
 subject, and by "naturalist" people have meant more 
 and more distinctly to imply a student of the structure 
 and functions of living beings. 
 
 However this may be, it is certain that the advance of 
 knowledge has gradually widened the distance between 
 mineralogy and its old associates, while it has drawn 
 zoology and botany closer together ; so that of late years 
 it has been found convenient (and indeed necessary) to 
 associate the sciences which deal with vitality and all its 
 phenomena under the common head of "biology;" and 
 the biologists have come to repudiate any blood-relation- 
 ship with their foster-brothers, the mineralogists. 
 
 Certain broad laws have a general application through- 
 out both the animal and the vegetable worlds, but the 
 ground common to these kingdoms of nature is not of 
 very wide extent, and the multiplicity of details is so 
 great, that the student of living beings finds himself 
 obliged to devote his attention exclusively either to the 
 one or the other. If he elects to study plants, under 
 any aspect, we know at once what to call him. He is a 
 botanist, and his science is botany. But if the investi- 
 gation of animal life be his choice, the name generally 
 applied to him will vary according to the kind of 
 animals he studies, or the particular phenomena of 
 animal life to which he confines his attention. If the 
 study of man is his object, he is called an anatomist, or 
 a physiologist, or an ethnologist ; but if he dissects 
 animals, or examines into the mode in which their func- 
 tions are performed, he is a comparative anatomist or 
 comparative physiologist. If he turns his attention to 
 fossil animals, he is a paleontologist. If his mind is 
 more particularly directed to the description specific, 
 
Strmans, (Essays, antr gjMmtos. [vr. 
 
 discrimination, classification, and distribution of animals, 
 he is termed a zoologist 
 
 For the purposes of the present discourse, however, I 
 shall recognise none of these titles save the last, which I 
 shall employ as the equivalent of botanist, and I shall 
 use the term zoology -as denoting the whole doctrine 
 of animal life, in contradistinction to botany, which 
 signifies the whole doctrine of vegetable life. 
 
 Employed in this sense, zoology, like botany, is di- 
 visible into three great but subordinate sciences, mor- 
 phology, physiology, and distribution, each of which 
 may, to a very great extent, be studied independently 
 of the other. 
 
 Zoological morphology is the doctrine of animal form 
 or structure. Anatomy is one of its branches ; develop- 
 ment is another; while classification is the expression 
 of the relations which different animals bear to one 
 another, in respect of their anatomy and their develop- 
 ment. 
 
 Zoological distribution is the study of animals in 
 relation to the terrestrial conditions which obtain now, 
 or have obtained at any previous epoch of the earth's 
 history. 
 
 Zoological physiology, lastly, is the doctrine of the 
 functions or actions of animals. It regards animal bodies 
 as machines impelled by certain forces, and performing 
 an amount of work which can be expressed in terms of 
 the ordinary forces of nature. The final object of phy- 
 siology is to deduce the facts of morphology, on the one 
 hand, and those of distribution on the other, from the 
 laws of the molecular forces of matter. 
 
 Such is the scope of zoology. But if I were to con^nt 
 myself with the enunciation of these dry definitions, I 
 should ill exemplify that method of teaching this branch 
 of physical science, which it is my chief business to- 
 
txe Statm 0f 
 
 night to recommend. Let us turn away then from 
 abstract definitions. Let us take some concrete living 
 thing, some animal, the commoner the better, and let us 
 see how the application of common sense and common 
 logic to the obvious facts it presents, inevitably leads us 
 into all these branches of zoological science. 
 
 I have before me a lobster. When I examine it, what 
 appears to be the most striking character it presents? 
 Why, I observe that this part which we call the tail of 
 the lobster, is made up of six distinct hard rings and a 
 seventh terminal piece. If I separate one of the middle 
 rings, say the third, I find it carries upon its under sur- 
 face a pair of limbs or appendages, each of which con- 
 sists of a stalk and two terminal pieces. So that I can 
 represent a transverse section of the ring and its appen- 
 dages upon the diagram board in this way. 
 
 If I now take the fourth ring I find it has the same 
 structure, and so have the fifth and the second ; so that, 
 in each of these divisions of the tail, I find parts which 
 correspond with one another, a ring and two appendages ; 
 and in each appendage a stalk and two end pieces. 
 These corresponding parts are called, in the technical 
 language of anatomy, " homologous parts." The ring 
 of the third division is the " hornologue " of the ring 
 of the fifth, the appendage of the former is the homo- 
 logue of the appendage of the latter. And, as each 
 division exhibits corresponding parts in corresponding 
 places, we say that all the divisions are constructed upon 
 the same plan. But now let us consider the sixth di- 
 vision. It is similar to, and yet different from, the 
 others. The ring is essentially the same as in the other 
 divisions ; but the appendages look at first as if they 
 were very different ; and yet when we regard them 
 closely, what do we find ? A stalk and two terminal 
 divisions, exactly as in the others, but the stalk is very 
 
 n 
 
98 |^a;g j?HHHS, (Stesajjs, anir IJLebiefos. [n. 
 
 short and very thick, the terminal divisions are very 
 broad and fiat, and one of them is divided into two 
 pieces. 
 
 I may say, therefore, that the sixth segment is like the 
 others in plan, but that it is modified in its details. 
 
 The first segment is like the others, so far as its ring is 
 concerned, and though its appendages differ from any of 
 those yet examined in the simplicity of their structure, 
 parts corresponding with the stem and one of the divi- 
 sions of the appendages of the other segments can be 
 readily discerned in them. 
 
 Thus it appears that the lobster's tail is composed of 
 a series of segments which are fundamentally similar, 
 though each presents peculiar modifications of the plan 
 common to all. But when I turn to the fore part of the 
 body I see, at first, nothing but a great shield-like shell, 
 called technically the " carapace," ending in front in a 
 sharp spine, on either side of which are the curious com- 
 pound eyes, set upon the ends of stout moveable stalks. 
 Behind these, on the under side of the body, are two 
 pairs of long feelers, or antenna, followed by six pairs of 
 jaws, folded against one another over the mouth, and 
 five pairs of legs, the foremost of these being the great 
 pinchers, or claws, of the lobster. 
 
 It looks, at first, a little hopeless to attempt to find in 
 this complex mass a series of rings, each with its pair of 
 appendages, such as I have shown you in the abdomen, 
 and yet it is not difficult to demonstrate tHeir existence. 
 Strip off the legs, and you will find that each pair is 
 attached to a very definite segment of the under wall 
 of the body ; but these segments, instead of being the 
 lower parts of free rings, as in the tail, are such parts of 
 rings which are all solidly united and bound together ; 
 and the like is true of the jaws, the feelers, and the eye- 
 stalks, every pair of which is borne upon its own special 
 
vi. J <Dn % Sfutrg rf g00hrg, 
 
 segment. Thus the conclusion is gradually forced upon 
 us, that the body of the lobster is composed of as many 
 rings as there are pairs of appendages, namely, twenty 
 in all, but that the six hindmost rings remain free and 
 moveable, while the fourteen front rings become firmly 
 soldered together, their backs forming one continuous 
 shield the carapace. 
 
 Unity of plan, diversity in execution, is the lesson 
 taught by the study of the rings of the body, and the 
 same instruction is given still more emphatically by the 
 appendages. If I examine the outermost jaw I find it 
 consists of three distinct portions, an inner, a middle, 
 and an outer, mounted upon a common stem ; and if I 
 compare this jaw with the legs behind it, or the jaws in 
 front of it, I find it quite easy to see, that, in the legs, it 
 is the part of the appendage which corresponds with the 
 inner division, which becomes modified into what we 
 know familiarly as the '' leg," while the middle division 
 disappears, and the outer division is hidden under the 
 carapace. Nor is it more difficult to discern that, in the 
 appendages of the tail, the middle division appears 
 again and the outer vanishes ; while, on the other hand, 
 in the foremost jaw, the so-called mandible, the inner 
 division only is left ; and, in the same way, the parts of 
 the feelers and of the eye-stalks can be identified with 
 those of the legs and jaws. 
 
 But whither does all this tend ? To the very remark- 
 able conclusion that a unity of plan, of the same kind as 
 that discoverable in the tail or abdomen of the lobster, 
 pervades the whole organization of its skeleton, so that 
 I can return to the diagram representing any one of the 
 rings of the tail, which I drew upon the board, and by 
 adding a third division to each appendage, I can use it 
 as a sort of scheme or plan of any ring of the body. I 
 can give names to all the parts of that figure, and then 
 
 H 2 
 
100 gf^jr Skrnwus, (Essags, mtir Debutes. |_ VI - 
 
 if I take any segment of the body of the lobster, I can 
 point out to you exactly, what modification the general 
 plan has undergone in that particular segment; what 
 part has remained moveable, and what has become fixed 
 to another ; what has been excessively developed and 
 metamorphosed, and what has been suppressed. 
 
 But I imagine I hear the question, How is all this to 
 be tested ? No doubt it is a pretty and ingenious way 
 of looking at the structure of any animal, but is it any- 
 thing more ? Does Nature acknowledge, in any deeper 
 way, this unity of plan we seem to trace ? 
 
 The objection suggested by these questions is a very 
 valid and important one, and morphology was in an 
 unsound state, so long as it rested upon the mere percep- 
 tion of the analogies which obtain between fully formed 
 parts. The unchecked ingenuity of speculative anato- 
 mists proved itself fully competent to spin any number 
 of contradictory hypotheses out of the same facts, and 
 endless morphological dreams threatened to supplant 
 scientific theory. 
 
 Happily, however, there is a criterion of morpho- 
 logical truth, and a sure test of all homologies. Our 
 lobster has not always been what we see it ; it was once 
 an egg, a semifluid mass of yolk, not so big as a pin's 
 head, contained in a transparent membrane, and exhi- 
 biting not the least trace of any one of those organs, 
 whose multiplicity and complexity, in the adult, are so 
 surprising. After a time a delicate patch of cellular 
 membrane appeared upon one face of this yolk, and that 
 patch was the foundation of the whole creature, the clay 
 out of which it would be moulded. Gradually investing 
 the yolk, it became subdivided by transverse constric- 
 tions into segments, the forerunners of the rings of the 
 body. Upon the ventral surface of each of the rings 
 thus sketched out, a pair of bud-like prominences made 
 
Stitbg 0f &0oI0gjr. ioi 
 
 their appearance the rudiments of the appendages of 
 the ring. At first, all the appendages were alike, but, as 
 they grew, most of them became distinguished into a 
 stem and two terminal divisions, to which, in the middle 
 part of the body, was added a third outer: division ; atnd 
 it was only at a later period, that by ,the* modification; o'r 
 absorption, of certain of these primitive "consfaiueiitS) the-' 
 limbs acquired their perfect form. 
 
 Thus the study of development proves that the doc- 
 trine of unity of plan is not merely a fancy, that it is 
 not merely one w^ay of looking at the matter, but that it 
 is the expression of deep-seated natural facts. The legs 
 and jaws of the lobster may not merely be regarded as 
 modifications of a common type, in fact and in nature 
 they are so, the leg and the jaw of the young animal 
 being, at first, indistinguishable. 
 
 These are wonderful truths, the more so because the 
 zoologist finds them to be of universal application. The 
 investigation of a polype, of a snail, of a fish, of a horse, 
 or of a man, would have led us, though by a less easy 
 path, perhaps, to exactly the same point. Unity of plan 
 everywhere lies hidden under the mask of diversity of 
 structure the complex is everywhere evolved out of the 
 simple. Every animal has at first the form of an egg, 
 and every animal and every organic part, in reaching its 
 ddult state, passes through conditions common to other 
 animals and other adult parts; and this leads me to 
 another point. I have hitherto spoken as if the lobster 
 were alone in the world, but, as I need hardly remind 
 you, there are myriads of other animal organisms. Of 
 iiese, some, such as men, horses, birds, fishes, snails, 
 slugs, oysters, corals, and sponges, are not ill the least 
 ike the lobster. But other animals, though they may 
 differ a good deal from the lobster, are yet either very 
 ike it, or are like something that is like it. The cray 
 
102 ^ug Sermons, (Kssags, ant* |!Lebiefos. [71. 
 
 fish, the rock lobster, and the prawn, and the shrimp, for 
 example, however different, are yet so like lobsters, that 
 a child would group them as of the lobster kind, in con- 
 tradistinction to snails and slugs ; and these last again 
 would form a kind by themselves, in contradistinction to 
 CDWS, horses, and sheep, the cattle kind. 
 
 But tliLT spontaneous grouping into "kinds" is the 
 first essay of the human mind at classification, or the 
 calling by a common name of those things that are 
 alike, and the arranging them in such a manner as best 
 to suggest the sum of their likenesses and unlikenesses 
 to other things. 
 
 Those kinds which include no other subdivisions than 
 the sexes, or various breeds, are called, in technical 
 language, species. The English lobster is a species, 
 our cray fish is another, our prawn is another. In other 
 countries, however, there are lobsters, cray fish, and 
 prawns, very like ours, and yet presenting sufficient 
 differences to deserve distinction. Naturalists, therefore, 
 express this resemblance and this diversity by grouping 
 them as distinct species of the same " genus." But the 
 lobster and the cray-fish, though belonging to distinct 
 genera, have many features in common, and hence are 
 grouped together in an assemblage which is called a 
 family. More distant resemblances connect the lobster 
 with the prawn and the crab, which are expressed by 
 putting all these into the same order. Again, more 
 remote, but still very definite, resemblances unite the 
 lobster with the woodlouse, the king crab, the water- 
 flea, and the barnacle, and separate them from all other 
 animals ; whence they collectively constitute the larger 
 group, or class, Crustacea. But the Crustacea exhibit 
 many peculiar features in common with insects, spiders, 
 and centipedes, so th^t these are grouped into the still 
 larger assemblage or " province " Articulata ; and, finally, 
 
n.] &n % Stttbg of g00hrgg. 103 
 
 the relations which these have to worms and other lower 
 animals, are expressed by combining the whole vast 
 aggregate into the sub-kingdom of Annulosa. 
 
 If I had worked my way from a sponge instead of a 
 lobster, I should have found it associated, by like ties, 
 with a great number of other animals into the sub- 
 kingdom Protozoa; if I had selected a fresh-water 
 polype or a coral, the members of what naturalists 
 term the sub-kingdom Ccdenterata would have grouped 
 themselves around my type; had a snail been chosen, 
 the inhabitants of all univalve and bivalve, land and 
 water, shells, the lamp shells, the squids, and the sea- 
 mat would have gradually linked themselves on to it as 
 members of the same sub-kingdom of Mollusca ; and 
 finally, starting from man, I should have been compelled 
 to admit first, the ape, the rat, the horse, the dog, into 
 the same class ; and then the bird, the crocodile, the 
 turtle, the frog, and the fish, into the same sub-kingdom 
 of Vertebrata. 
 
 And if I had followed out all these various lines of 
 classification fully, I should discover in the end that 
 there was no animal, either recent or fossil, which did 
 not at once fall into one or other of these sub-kingdoms. 
 In other words, every animal is organized upon one or 
 other of the five, or more, plans, whose existence renders 
 our classification possible. * And so definitely and pre- 
 cisely marked is the structure of each animal, that, in 
 the present state of our knowledge, there is not the least 
 evidence to prove that a form, in the slightest degree 
 transitional between any of the two groups Vertebrata, 
 Annulosa, Mollusca, and Ccdenterata, either exists, or 
 has existed, during that period of the earth's history 
 which is recorded by the geologist. Nevertheless, you 
 must not for a, moment suppose, because no such 
 transitional forms are known, that the members of 
 
104 |Pajr jStnimns, (Sssags, mxtr JUbietua, [ vl - 
 
 the tub-kingdoms are disconnected from, or indepen- 
 dent of, one another. On the contrary, in their earliest 
 condition they are all alike, and the primordial germs 
 of a man, a dog, a bird, a fish, a beetle, a snail, and 
 a polype are, in no essential structural respects, dis- 
 tinguishable. 
 
 In this broad sense, it may with truth be said, that 
 all living animals, and all those dead creations which 
 geology reveals, are bound together by an all-pervading 
 unity of organization, of the same character, though not 
 equal in degree, to that which enables us to discern one 
 and the same plan amidst the twenty different segments 
 of a lobster's body. Truly it has been said, that to a 
 clear eye the smallest fact is a window through which 
 the Infinite may be seen. 
 
 Turning from these purely morphological considera- 
 tions, let us now examine into the manner in which the 
 attentive study of the lobster impels us into other lines 
 of research. 
 
 Lobsters are found in all the European seas ; but on 
 the opposite shores of the Atlantic and in the seas of 
 the southern hemisphere they do not exist. They are, 
 however, represented in these regions by very closely 
 allied, but distinct forms the Homarus Americanus 
 and the Ifomarus Capensis: so that we may say that 
 the European has one species of Ilomarus; the 
 American, another; the African, another; and thus 
 the remarkable facts of geographical distribution begin 
 to dawn upon us. 
 
 Again, if we examine the contents of the earth's crust, 
 we shall find in the latter of those deposits, which have 
 served as the great burying grounds of past ages, num- 
 berless lobster-like animals, but none so similar to our 
 living lobster as to make zoologists sure that they be- 
 longed even to the same genus. If we go still further 
 
vi.] n % Slubg jof i0.a.togg. 105 
 
 back in time, we discover, in the oldest rocks of all, the 
 remain s of animals, constructed on the same general 
 plan as the lobster, and belonging to the same great 
 group of Crustacea ; but for the most part totally 
 different from the lobster, and indeed from any other 
 living form of crustacean ; and thus we gain a notion of 
 that successive change of the animal population of the 
 globe, in past ages, which is the most striking fact 
 revealed by geology. 
 
 Consider, now, where our inquiries have led us. We 
 studied our type morphologically, when we determined 
 its anatomy and its .development, and when comparing 
 it, in these respects, with other animals, we made out its 
 place in a system of classification. If we were to 
 examine every animal in a similar manner, we should 
 establish a complete body of zoological morphology. 
 
 Again, we investigated the distribution of our type in 
 space and in time, and, if the like had been done with 
 every animal, the sciences of geographical and geological 
 distribution would have attained their limit. 
 
 But you will observe one remarkable circumstance, 
 that, up to this point, the question of the life of these 
 organisms has not come under consideration. Morpho- 
 logy and distribution might be studied almost as well, if 
 animals and plants were a peculiar kind of crystals, and 
 possessed none of those functions which distinguish living 
 beings so remarkably. But the facts of morphology and 
 distribution have to be accounted for, and' the science, 
 whose aim it is to account for them, is Physiology. 
 
 Let us return to our lobster once more. If we watched 
 the creature in its native element, we should see it climb- 
 ing actively the submerged rocks, among which it delights 
 to live, by means of its strong legs ; or swimming by 
 powerful strokes of its great tail, the appendages of 
 whose sixth joint are spread out into a broad fan -like 
 
fag Scrnums, (gssajs, antr gWjicfoa. [vi. 
 
 propeller : seize it, and it will show you that its great 
 claws are no mean weapons of offence ; suspe id a piece 
 of carrion among its haunts, and it will greedily devour 
 it, tearing and crushing the flesh by means of its multi- 
 tudinous jaws. 
 
 Suppose that we had known nothing of the lobster 
 but as an inert mass, an organic crystal, if I may use the 
 phrase, and that we could suddenly see it exerting all 
 these powers, what wonderful new ideas and new ques- 
 tions would arise in our minds 1 The great new question 
 would be, " How does all this take place ? " the chief new 
 idea would be, the idea of adaptation to purpose, the 
 notion, that the constituents of animal bodies are not 
 mere unconnected parts, but organs working together to 
 an end. Let us consider the tail of the lobster again 
 from this point of view. Morphology has taught us 
 that it is a series of segoaents composed of homologous 
 parts, which undergo various modifications beneath 
 and through which a common plan of formation is dis- 
 cernible. But if I look at the same part physiologically, 
 I see that it is a- most beautifully constructed organ of 
 locomotion, by means of which the animal can swiftly 
 propel itself either backwards or forwards. 
 
 But how is this remarkable propulsive machine made 
 to perform its functions ? If I were suddenly to kill one 
 of these animals and to take out all the soft parts, I 
 should find the shell to be perfectly inert, to have no 
 more power of moving itself than is possessed by the 
 machinery of a mill, when disconnected from its steam- 
 engine or water-wheel. But if I were to open it, and 
 take out the viscera only, leaving the white flesh, I 
 should perceive that the lobster could bend and extend 
 its tail as well as before. If I were to cut off the tail, J 
 should cease to find any spontaneous motion in it , uut 
 on pinching any portion of the flesh, I bhuuld observe 
 
VL] n % Sitrtm rrf fod0gg. 107 
 
 that it underwent a very curious change each fibre be- 
 coming shorter and thicker. By this act of contraction, 
 as it is termed, the parts to which the ends of the fibre 
 are attached are, of course, approximated ; and accord- 
 ing to the relations of their points of attachment to the 
 centres of motion of the different rings, the bending or 
 the extension of the tail results. Close observation of 
 the newly-opened lobster would soon show that all its 
 movements are due to the same cause the shortening 
 and thickening of these fleshy fibres, which are techni- 
 cally called muscles. 
 
 Here, then, is a capital fact. The movements of the 
 lobster are due to muscular contractility. But why does 
 a muscle contract at one time and not at another ? Why 
 does one whole group of muscles contract when the 
 lobster wishes to extend his tail, and another group 
 when he desires to bend it ? What is it originates, 
 directs, and controls the motive power ? 
 
 Experiment, the great instrument for the ascertain- 
 ment of truth in physical science, answers this question 
 for us. In the head of the lobster there lies a small 
 mass of that peculiar tissue which is known as nervous 
 substance. Cords of similar matter connect this brain 
 of the lobster, directly or indirectly, with the muscles. 
 Now, if these communicating cords are cut, the brain 
 remaining entire, the power of exerting what we call 
 voluntary motion in the parts below the section is de- 
 stroyed ; and on the other hand, if, the cords remaining 
 entire, the brain mass be destroyed, the same voluntary 
 mobility is equally lost. Whence the inevitable conclu- 
 sion is, that the power of originating these motions resides 
 in the brain, and is propagated along the nervous cords. 
 
 In the higher animals the phsenomena which attend 
 this transmission have been investigated, and the exer- 
 tion of the peculiar energy which resides in the nerves 
 
108 fag Stniictts, (Essays, sntr gcbictos. [vi. 
 
 has been found to be accompanied by a disturbance of 
 the electrical state of their molecules. 
 
 If we could exactly estimate the signification of this 
 disturbance ; if we could obtain the value of a given 
 exertion of nerve force by determining the quantity of 
 electricity, or of heat, of which it is the equivalent ; if 
 we could as certain upon what arrangement, or other 
 condition of the molecules of matter, the manifestation of 
 the nervous and muscular energies depends, (and doubt- 
 less science will some day or other ascertain these points,) 
 physiologists would have attained their ultimate goal in 
 this direction ; they would have determined the relation 
 of the motive force of animals to the other forms of force 
 found in nature ; and if the same process had been suc- 
 'cessfully performed for all the operations which are 
 carried on in, and by, the animal frame, physiology 
 would be perfect, and the facts of morphology and 
 distribution would be deducible from the laws which 
 physiologists had established, combined with those deter- 
 mining the condition of the surrounding universe. 
 
 There is not a fragment of the organism of this humble 
 animal, whose study would not lead us into regions of 
 thought as large as those which I have briefly opened 
 up to you ; but what I have been saying, I trust, has not 
 only enabled you to form a conception of the scope and 
 purport of zoology, but has given you an imperfect 
 example of the manner in which, in my opinion, that 
 science, or indeed any physical science, may be best 
 taught. The great matter is, to make teaching real and 
 practical, by fixing the attention of the student on par- 
 ticular facts ; but at the same time it should be rendered 
 broad and comprehensive, by constant reference to the 
 generalizations of which all particular facts are illustra- 
 tions. The lobster has served as a type of the whole 
 animal kingdom, and its anatomy and physiology have 
 
V T I.] @n fyt Stubg nf soaalacys. 109 
 
 illustrated for us some of the greatest truths of biology. 
 The student who has once seen for himself the facts 
 which I have described, has had their relations explained 
 to him, and has clearly comprehended them, has, so far, 
 a knowledge of zoology, which is real and genuine, how- 
 ever limited it may be, and which is worth more than all 
 the mere reading knowledge of the science he could ever 
 acquire. His zoological information is, so far, knowledge 
 and not mere hearsay. 
 
 And if it were my business to fit you for the certificate 
 in zoological science granted by this department, I 
 should pursue a course precisely similar in principle 
 to that which I have taken to-night. I should select a 
 fresh-water sponge, a fresh-water polype or a Cyancea, 
 a fresh-water mussel, a lobster, a fowl, as types of the 
 five primary divisions of the animal kingdom. I should 
 explain their structure very fully, and show how each 
 illustrated the great principles of zoology. Having 
 gone very carefully and fully over this ground, I should 
 feel that you had a safe foundation, and I should then 
 take you in the same way, but less minutely, over 
 similarly selected illustrative types of the classes ; and 
 then I should direct your attention to. the special forms 
 enumerated under the head of types, in this syllabus, 
 and to the other facts there mentioned. 
 
 That would, speaking generally, be my plan. But I 
 have undertaken to explain to you the best mode of 
 acquiring and communicating a knowledge of zoology, 
 and you may therefore fairly ask me for a more 
 detailed and precise account of the manner in which 
 1 should propose to furnish you with, the information I 
 refer to. 
 
 My own impression is, that the best model for all 
 kinds of training in physical science is that afforded 
 by the method of teaching anatomy, in use in the 
 
no fmr Sermons, (Sssags, mtfr Jtefaictos. [vi. 
 
 medical schools. This method consists of three elements 
 lectures, demonstrations, and examinations. 
 
 The object of lectures is, in the first place, to awaken 
 the attention and excite the enthusiasm of the student ; 
 and this, I am sure, may be effected to a far greater 
 extent by the oral discourse and by the personal influence 
 of a respected teacher than in any other way. Secondly, 
 lectures have the double use of guiding the student 
 to the salient points of a subject, and at the same 
 time forcing him to attend to the whole of it, and not 
 merely to that part which takes his fancy. And lastly, 
 lectures afford the student the opportunity of seeking 
 explanations of those difficulties which will, and indeed 
 ought to, arise in the course of his studies. 
 
 But for a student to derive the utmost possible value 
 from lectures, several precautions are needful. 
 
 I have a strong impression that the better a discourse 
 is, as an oration, the worse it is as a lecture. The flow 
 of the discourse carries you on without proper atten- 
 tion to its sense; you drop a word or a phrase, you 
 lose the exact meaning for a moment, and while you 
 strive to recover yourself, the speaker has passed on 
 to something else. 
 
 The practice I have adopted of late years, in lecturing 
 to students, is to condense the substance of the hour's 
 discourse into a few dry propositions, which are read 
 slowly and taken down from dictation ; the reading cf 
 each being followed by a free commentary, expanding 
 and illustrating the proposition, explaining terms, and 
 removing any difficulties that may be attackable in 
 that way, by diagrams made roughly, and seen to 
 grow under the lecturer's hand. In this manner you, 
 at any rate, insure the co-operation of the student to 
 a certain extent. He cannot leave the lecture-room 
 entirely empty if the taking of notes is enforced ; and 
 
<Dit f!je Sfuirg rrf 00(05.5. 
 
 a student must be preternaturally dull and mechanical, 
 if he can takes notes and hear them properly explained, 
 and yet learn nothing. 
 
 What books shall I read? is a question constantly 
 put ly the student to the teacher. My reply usually is, 
 " None : write your notes out carefully and fully ; strive 
 to understand them thoroughly; come to me for the 
 explanation of anything you cannot understand; and 
 I would rather you did not distract your mind by 
 reading." A properly composed course of lectures 
 ought to contain fully as much matter as a student 
 can assimilate in the time occupied by its delivery ; and , 
 the teacher should always recollect that his business is 
 to feed, and not to cram the intellect. Indeed, I believe 
 that a student who gains from a course of lectures 
 the simple habit of concentrating his attention upon 
 a definitely limited series of facts, until they are 
 thoroughly mastered, has made a step of immeasurable 
 importance. 
 
 But, however good lectures may be, and however 
 extensive the course of reading by which they are 
 followed up, they are but accessories to the great in- 
 strument of scientific teaching demonstration. If I 
 insist unweariedly, nay fanatically, upon the importance 
 of physical science as an educational agent, it is because 
 the study of any branch of science, if properly conducted, 
 appears to me to fill up a void left by all other means 
 of education. I have the greatest respect and love for 
 literature ; nothing would grieve me more than to see 
 literary training other than a very prominent branch of 
 education: indeed, I wish that real literary discipline 
 were far more attended to than it is ; but I cannot 
 shut my eyes to the fact, that there is a vast difference 
 between men who have had a purely literary, and those 
 who have had a sound scientific, training. 
 
112 ^ag Smn0ns, (ffsarms, mtb gLebhfos. [vi. 
 
 Seeking for the cause of this difference, I imagine I 
 can find it in the fact, that, in the world of letters, 
 learning and knowledge are one, and books are the 
 source of both; whereas in science, as in life, learning 
 and knowledge are distinct, and the study of things, 
 and not of books, is the source of the latter. 
 
 All that literature has to bestow may be obtained 
 by reading and by practical exercise in writing and 
 in speaking ; but I do not exaggerate when I say, that 
 none of the best gifts of science are to be won by these 
 means. On the contrary, the great benefit which a 
 scientific education bestows, whether as training or as 
 knowledge, is dependent upon the extent to which the 
 mind of the student is brought into immediate contact 
 with facts upon the degree to which he learns the 
 habit of appealing directly to Nature, and of acquiring 
 through his senses concrete images of those properties 
 of things, which are, and always will be, but approxi- 
 matively expressed in human language. Our way of 
 looking at Nature, and of speaking about her, varies 
 from year to year ; ,but a fact once seen, a relation of 
 cause and effect, once demonstratively apprehended, are 
 possessions which neither change nor pass away, but, 
 l>n the contrary, form fixed centres, about which other 
 truths aggregate by natural affinity. 
 
 Therefore, the great business of the scientific teacher 
 is, to imprint the fundamental, irrefragable facts of his 
 science, not only by words upon the mind, but by 
 sensible impressions upon the eye, and ear, and touch 
 of the student, in so complete a manner, that every 
 term used, or law enunciated, should afterwards call 
 up vivid images of the particular structural, or other, 
 facts which furnished the demonstration of the law, or 
 the illustration of the term. 
 
 Now this important operation can only be achieved 
 
VL] it % Siubjr xrf %aalas$- 113 
 
 by constant demonstration, which may take place to 
 a certain imperfect extent during a lecture, but which 
 ought also to be carried on independently, and which 
 should be addressed to each individual student, the 
 teacher endeavouring, not so much to show a thing to 
 the learner, as to make him see it for himself. 
 
 I am well aware that there are great practical difficul- 
 ties in the way of effectual zoological demonstrations. 
 The dissection of animals is not altogether pleasant, 
 and requires much time; nor is it easy to secure an 
 adequate supply of the needful specimens. The botanist 
 has here a great advantage ; his specimens are easily 
 obtained, are clean and wholesome, and can be dissected 
 in a private house as well as anywhere else ; and 
 hence, I believe, the fact, that botany is so much 
 more readily and better taught than its sister science. 
 But, be it difficult or be it easy, if zoological science 
 is to be properly studied, demonstration, and, con- 
 sequently, dissection, must be had. Without it, no 
 man can have a really sound knowledge of animal 
 organization. 
 
 A good deal may be done, however, without actual 
 dissection on the student's part, by demonstration upon 
 specimens and preparations ; and in all probability it 
 would not be very difficult, were the demand sufficient, 
 to organize collections of such objects, sufficient for all 
 the purposes of elementary teaching, at a comparatively 
 cheap rate. Even without these, much might be effected, 
 if the zoological collections, which are open to the 
 public, were arranged according to what has been 
 termed the "typical principle ;" that is to say, if the 
 specimens exposed to public view were so selected, that 
 the public could learn something from them, instead 
 of being, as at present, merely confused by their mul- 
 tiplicity. For example, the grand ornithological gallery 
 
 I 
 
114 ^ag Sjermmw, (Essap, anir gebicfos. [VL 
 
 at the British Museum contains between two and three 
 thousand species of birds, and sometimes five or six 
 specimens of a species. They are very pretty to look 
 at, and some of the cases are, indeed, splendid ; but 
 I will undertake to say, that no man but a professed 
 ornithologist has ever gathered much information from 
 the collection. Certainly, no one of the tens of thousands 
 of the general public who have walked through that 
 gallery ever knew more about the essential peculiarities 
 of birds when he left the gallery, than when he entered 
 it. But if, somewhere in that vast hall, there were a 
 few preparations, exemplifying the leading structural 
 peculiarities and the mode of development of a common 
 fowl ; if the types of the genera, the leading modifi- 
 cations in the skeleton, in the plumage at various ages, 
 in the mode of nidification, and the like, among birds, 
 were displayed; and if the other specimens were put 
 away in a place where the men of science, to whom 
 they are alone useful, could have free access to them, 
 I can conceive that this collection might become a 
 'great instrument of scientific education. 
 
 The last implement of the teacher to which I have 
 adverted is examination a means of education now so 
 thoroughly understood that I need hardly enlarge upon 
 it. I hold that both written and oral examinations 
 are indispensable, and, by requiring the description 
 of specimens, they may be made to supplement 
 demonstration. 
 
 Such is the .fullest reply the time at my disposal 
 will allow me to give to the question how may a know- 
 ledge of zoology be best acquired and communicated ? 
 
 But there is a previous question which may be moved, 
 and which, in fact, I know many are inclined to move. 
 It is the question, why should training masters be 
 encouraged to acquire a knowledge of this, or any other 
 
n: % Stutm 0f Sotrfogij. 
 
 branch of pliysical science ? What is the use, it is said, 
 of attempting to make physical science a branch of 
 primary education ? Is it not probable that teachers, 
 in pursuing such studies, will be led astray from the 
 acquirement of more important but less attractive 
 knowledge ? And, even if they can learn something 
 of science without prejudice to their usefulness, what 
 is the good of their attempting to instil that knowledge 
 into boys whose real business is the acquisition of 
 reading, writing, and arithmetic ? 
 
 These questions are, and will be, very commonly 
 asked, for they arise from that profound ignorance of 
 the value and true position of physical science, which 
 infests the minds of the most highly educated and 
 intelligent classes of the community. But if I did not 
 feel well assured that they are capable of being easily 
 and satisfactorily answered ; that they have been an- 
 swered over and over again; and that the time will 
 come when men of liberal education will blush to raise 
 such questions, I should be ashamed of my position 
 here to-night. Without doubt, it is your great and very 
 important function to carry out elementary education ; 
 without question, anything that should interfere with 
 the faithful fulfilment of that duty on your part would 
 be a great evil ; and if I thought that your acquirement 
 of the elements of physical science, and your communi- 
 cation of those elements to your pupils, involved any 
 sort of interference with your proper duties, I should 
 be the first person to protest against your being en- 
 couraged to do anything of the kind. 
 
 But is it true that the acquisition of such a know- 
 ledge of science as is proposed, and the communication 
 of that knowledge, are calculated to weaken your use- 
 fulness ? Or may I not rather ask, is it possible for you 
 to discharge your functions properly without these aids ? 
 
 12 
 
, (fssajrs, auto fjefriefas. L vl - 
 
 What is the purpose of primary intellectual educa- 
 tion ? I apprehend that its first object is to train the 
 young in the use of those tools wherewith men extract 
 knowledge from the ever-shifting succession of phseno- 
 inena which pass before their eyes ; and that its second 
 object is to inform them of the fundamental laws which 
 have been found by experience to govern the course of 
 things, so that they may not be turned out into the 
 world naked, defenceless, and a prey to the events they 
 might control. 
 
 A boy is taught to read his own and other languages, 
 in order that he may have access to infinitely wider 
 stores of knowledge than could ever be opened to him 
 by oral intercourse with his fellow men ; he learns to 
 write, that his means of communication with the rest of 
 mankind may be indefinitely enlarged, and that he may 
 record and store up the knowledge he acquires. He 
 is taught elementary mathematics, that he may under- 
 stand all those relations of number and form, upon 
 which the transactions of men, associated in complicated 
 societies, are built, and that he may have some practice 
 in deductive reasoning. 
 
 All these operations of reading, writing, and ciphering, 
 are intellectual tools, whose use should, before all things, 
 be learned, and learned thoroughly ; so that the youth 
 may be enabled to make his life that which it ought to 
 be, a continual progress in learning and in wisdom. 
 
 But, in addition, primary education endeavours to fit 
 a boy out with a certain equipment of positive know- 
 ledge. He is taught the great laws of morality; the 
 religion of his sect ; so much history and geography as 
 will tell him where the great countries of the world 
 are, what they are, and how they have become what 
 they are. 
 
 Without doubt all these are most fitting and ex- 
 
n % Sfartrg of 
 
 cellent things to teach a boy ; I should be very sorry 
 to omit any of them from any scheme of primary in- 
 tellectual education. The system is excellent, so far as 
 it goes. 
 
 But if I regard it closely, a curious reflection arises. 
 I suppose that, fifteen hundred years ago, the child of 
 any well-to-do Roman citizen was taught just these 
 same things ; reading and writing in his own, and, per- 
 haps, the Greek tongue ; the elements of mathematics ; 
 and the religion, morality, history, and geography cur- 
 rent in his time. Furthermore, I do not think I err^ 
 in affirming, that, if such a Christian Roman boy, who 
 had finished his education, could be transplanted into 
 one of our public schools, and pass through its course of 
 instruction, he would not meet with a single unfamiliar 
 line of thought; amidst all the new facts he would 
 have to learn, not one would suggest a different mode 
 of regarding the universe from that current in his 
 own time. 
 
 And yet surely there is some great difference between 
 the civilization of the fourth century and that of the 
 nineteenth, and still more between the intellectual habits 
 and tone of thought of that day and this \ 
 
 And what has made this difference 1 I answer fear- 
 lessly, The prodigious development of physical science 
 within the last two centuries. 
 
 Modern civilization rests upon physical science ; take 
 away her gifts to our own country, and our position 
 among the leading nations of the world is gone to- 
 morrow ; for it is physical science only, that makes 
 intelligence and moral energy stronger than brute force. / 
 
 The whole of modern thought is steeped in science ; it / 
 has made its way into the works of our best poets, and \ 
 even the mere man of letters, who affects to ignore and 
 despise science, is unconsciously impregnated with her 
 
-U3 Jury Serimnts, (Essmrs, snft |3ebtefas. [vi. 
 
 spirit, and indebted for his best products to her methods. 
 I believe that the greatest intellectual revolution man- 
 kind has yet seen is now slowly taking place by her 
 agency. She is teaching the world that the ultimate 
 court of appeal is observation and experiment, and not 
 authority ; she is teaching it to estimate the value of 
 evidence ; she is creating a firm and living faith in the 
 existence of immutable moral and physical laws, perfect 
 obedience to which is the highest possible aim of an 
 intelligent being. 
 
 But of all this your old stereotyped system of educa- 
 tion takes no note. Physical science, its methods, its 
 problems, and its difficulties, will meet the poorest boy 
 at every turn, and yet we educate him in sjich a manner 
 that he shall enter the world as ignorant of the existence 
 of the methods and facts of science as the day he was 
 born. The modern world is full of artillery; and we 
 turn out our children to do battle in it, equipped with 
 the shield and sword of an ancient gladiator. 
 
 Posterity will cry shame on us if we do not remedy 
 this deplorable state of things. Nay, if we live twenty 
 years longer, our own consciences will cry shame on us. 
 
 It is my firm conviction that the only way to remedy 
 it is, to make the elements of physical science an integral 
 part of primary education. I have endeavoured to show 
 you how that may be done for that branch of science 
 which it is my business to pursue ; and I can but add, 
 that I should look upok the day when every school- 
 master throughout this land was a centre of genuine, 
 however rudimentary, scientific knowledge, as an epoch 
 in the history of the country. 
 
 But let me entreat you to remember my last words. 
 Addressing myself to you, as teachers, I would say, mere 
 book learning in physical science is a sham and a 
 delusion what you teach, unless you wish to be impos- 
 
VT.] n % Siutm rrf gocrlcrmt, 119 
 
 tors, that you must first know; and real knowledge in 
 science means personal acquaintance with the facts, be 
 they few or many. 1 
 
 1 It has been suggested to me that theie words may be taken to imply 
 a discouragement on my part of any sort of scientific instruction which 
 does not give an acquaintance with the facts at first hand. But this is 
 not my meaning. The ideal of scientific teaching is, no doubt, a system 
 by which the scholar sees every fact for himself, and the teacher supplies 
 only the explanations. Circumstances, however, do not often allow of the 
 attainment of that ideal, and we must put up with the next best system 
 one in which the scholar takes a good deal on trust from a teacher, who, 
 knowing the facts by his own knowledge, can describe them with so much 
 vividness as to enable his audience to form competent ideas concerning 
 them. The system which I repudiate is that which allows teachers who 
 have not come into direct contact with the leading facts of a science to pass 
 their second-hand information on. The scientific virus, like vaccine lymph, 
 if passed through too long a succession of organisms, will lose all its effect 
 in protecting the young against the intellectual epidemics to which they are 
 
VIL 
 ON THE PHYSICAL BASIS OF LIFE. 1 
 
 IN order to make the title of this discourse generally 
 intelligible, I have translated the term "Protoplasm," 
 which is the scientific name of the substance of which I 
 am about to speak, by the words "the physical basis of 
 life." I suppose that, to many, the idea that there is 
 such a thing as a physical basis, or matter, of life may 
 be novel so widely spread is the conception of life as a 
 something which works through matter, but is independent 
 of it ; and even those who are aware that matter and 
 life are inseparably connected, may not be prepared for 
 the conclusion plainly suggested by the phrase, "the 
 physical basis or matter of life," that there is some one 
 kind of matter which is common to all living beings, 
 and that their endless diversities are bound together by 
 a physical, as well as an ideal, unity. In fact, when first 
 
 1 The substance or this paper was contained in a discourse which was 
 delivered in Edinburgh on the evening of Sunday, the 8th of November, 
 1868 being the first of a series of Sunday evening addresses upon non- 
 theological topics, instituted by the Rev. J. Cranbrook. Some phrases, which 
 could possess only a transitory and local interest, have been omitted ; 
 instead of the newspaper report of the Archbishop of York's address, his 
 Grace's subsequently-published pamphlet "On the Limits of Philosophical 
 Inquiry "is quoted; and I have, here and there, endeavoured to ex press my 
 meaning more fully and clearly than I seem to have done in speaking if I 
 may judge by sundry criticisms upon what I am supposed to have said, which 
 have appeared. But in substance, and, so far as my recollection serves, in 
 form, what is here written corresponds with what was there aaid. 
 
&n ttit rostral Itets rrf fife. 
 
 apprehended, such a doctrine as this appears almost 
 shocking to common sense. 
 
 What, truly, can seem to be more obviously different 
 from one another, in faculty, in form, and in substance, 
 than the various kinds of living beings ? What community 
 of faculty can there be between the brightly-coloured 
 lichen, which so nearly resembles a mere mineral in- 
 crustation of the bare rock on which it grows, and the 
 painter, to whom it is instinct with beauty, or the 
 botanist, whom it feeds with knowledge ? 
 
 Again, think of the microscopic fungus a mere infi- 
 nitesimal ovoid particle, which finds space and duration 
 enough to multiply into countless millions in the body 
 of a living fly ; and then of the wealth of foliage, the 
 luxuriance of flower and fruit, which lies between this 
 bald sketch of a plant and the giant pine of California, 
 towering to the dimensions of a cathedral spire, or the 
 Indian fig, which covers acres with its profound shadow, 
 and endures while nations and empires come and go 
 around its vast circumference. Or, turning to the other 
 half of the world of life, picture to yourselves the great 
 Finner whale, hugest of beasts that live, or have lived, 
 disporting his eighty or ninety feet of bone, muscle, and 
 blubber, with easy roll, among waves in which the 
 stoutest ship that ever left dockyard would founder 
 hopelessly; and contrast him with the invisible animal- 
 cules mere gelatinous specks, multitudes of which could, 
 in fact, dance upon the point of a needle with the same 
 ease as the angels of the Schoolmen could, in imagination. 
 With, these images before your minds, you may well ask, 
 what community of form, or structure, is there between 
 the animalcule and the whale ; or between the fungus and 
 the fig-tree? And, d fortiori, between all four? 
 
 Finally, if we regard substance, or material composi- 
 tion, what hidden bond can connect the flower which a 
 
122 ^ag Sermons, (gssmrs, mttr Srfmfos. [vn. 
 
 girl wears in her hair and the blood which courses 
 through her youthful veins ; or, what is there in common 
 between the dense and resisting mass of the oak, or the 
 strong fabric of the tortoise, and those broad disks of 
 glassy jelly which may be seen pulsating through the 
 waters of a calm sea, but which drain away to mere films 
 in the hand which raises them out of their element ? 
 
 Such objections as these must, I think, arise in the 
 mind of every one who ponders, for the first time, upon 
 the conception of a single physical basis of life under- 
 lying all the diversities of vital existence ; but I propose 
 to demonstrate to you that, notwithstanding these 
 apparent difficulties, a threefold unity namely, a unity 
 of power or faculty, a unity of form, and a unity of 
 substantial composition does pervade the whole living 
 world. 
 
 No very abstruse argumentation is needed, in the first 
 place, to prove that the powers, or faculties, of all kinds 
 of living matter, diverse as they may be in degree, are 
 substantially similar in kind. 
 
 Goethe has condensed a survey of all the powers of 
 mankind into the well-known epigram : 
 
 " Warum treibt sich das Volk so und schreit ? Es -will sich ernahren 
 Kinder zeugen, und die nahren so gut es vermag. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Weiter bringt es kein Mensch, stell' er sich wie er aucli will." 
 
 In physiological language this means, that all the 
 multifarious and complicated activities of man are 
 comprehensible under three categories. Either they are 
 immediately directed towards the maintenance and deve- 
 lopment of the body, or they effect transitory changes 
 in the relative positions of parts of the body, or they tend 
 towards the continuance of the species. Even those mani- 
 festations of intellect, of feeling, and of will, which we 
 
fjbijsrral gasis at fife. 
 
 rightly name the higher faculties, are not excluded from 
 this classification, inasmuch as to every one but the subject 
 of them, they are known only as transitory changes in 
 the relative positions of parts of the body. Speech, 
 gesture, and every other form of human action are, in 
 the long run, resolvable into muscular contraction, and 
 muscular contraction is but a transitory change in the 
 relative positions of the parts of a muscle. But the 
 scheme which is large enough to embrace the activities 
 of the highest form of life, covers all those of the lower 
 creatures. The lowest plant, or animalcule, feeds, grows, 
 and reproduces its kind. In addition, all animals manifest 
 those transitory changes of form which we class under 
 irritability and contractility ; and, it is more than 
 probable, that when the vegetable world is thoroughly 
 explored, we shall find all plants in possession of the 
 same powers, at one time or other of their existence. 
 I am not now alluding to such phsenomena, at once 
 rare and conspicuous, as those exhibited by the leaflets 
 of the sensitive plant, or the stamens of the barberry, 
 but to much more widely-spread, and, at the same time, 
 more subtle and hidden, manifestations of vegetable 
 contractility. You are doubtless aware that the common 
 nettle owes its stinging property to the innumerable stiff 
 and needle-like, though exquisitely delicate, hairs which 
 cover its surface. Each stinging-needle tapers from a 
 broad base to a slender summit, which, though rounded 
 at the end, is of such microscopic fineness that it readily 
 penetrates, and breaks off in, the skin. The whole hair 
 consists of a very delicate outer case of wood, closely 
 applied to the inner surface of which is a layer of semi- 
 fluid matter,, full of innumerable granules of extreme 
 minuteness. This semi-fluid lining is protoplasm, which 
 thus constitutes a kind of bag, full of a limpid liquid, 
 and roughly corresponding in form with the interior of 
 
124 Jfoj S^rmmts, (Ssssirs, mtir geimtos. [vn. 
 
 the hair which it fills. When viewed with a sufficiently 
 high magnifying power, the protoplasmic layer of the 
 nettle hair is seen to be in a condition of unceasing 
 activity. Local contractions of the whole thickness of 
 its substance pass slowly and gradually from point to 
 point, and give rise to the appearance of progressive 
 waves, just as the bending of successive stalks of corn by 
 a breeze produces the apparent billows of a corn-field 
 
 But, in addition to these movements, and independently 
 of them, the granules are driven, in relatively rapid 
 streams, through channels in the protoplasm which seem 
 to have a considerable amount of persistence. Most 
 commonly, the currents in adjacent parts of the proto- 
 plasm take similar directions ; and, thus, there is a 
 general stream up one side of the hair and down the 
 other. But this does not prevent the existence of partial 
 currents which take different routes ; and sometimes, 
 trains of granules may be seen coursing swiftly in 
 opposite directions, within a twenty-thousandth of an 
 inch of one another ; while, occasionally, opposite streams 
 come into direct collision, and, after a longer or shorter 
 struggle, one predominates. The cause of these currents 
 seems to lie in contractions of the protoplasm which 
 bounds the channels in which they flow, but which are 
 so minute that the best microscopes show only their 
 effects, and not themselves. 
 
 The spectacle afforded by the wonderful energies 
 prisoned within the compass of the microscopic hair 
 of a plant, which we commonly regard as a merely 
 passive organism, is not easily forgotten by one who has 
 watched its display, continued hour after hour, without 
 pause or sign of weakening. The possible complexity 
 of many other organic forms, seemingly as simple as 
 the protoplasm of the nettle, dawns upon one; and the 
 comparison of such a protoplasm to a body with an 
 
<9it % f frpral gasis rf fife. 125 
 
 internal circulation, which has been put forward by an 
 eminent physiologist, loses much of its startling character. 
 Currents similar to those of the hairs of the nettle have 
 been observed in a great multitude of very different 
 plants, and weighty authorities have suggested that they 
 probably occur, in more or less perfection, in all young 
 vegetable cells. If such be the case, the wonderful 
 noonday silence of a tropical forest is, after all, due only 
 to the dulness of our hearing ; and could our ears catch 
 the murmur of these tiny Maelstroms, as they whirl in 
 the innumerable myriads of living cells which constitute 
 each tree, we should be stunned, as with the roar of 
 a great city. 
 
 Among the lower plants, it is the rule rather than the 
 exception, that contractility should be still more openly 
 manifested at some periods of their e^stence. The 
 protoplasm of Algce and Fungi becomes, under many 
 circumstances, partially, or completely, freed from its 
 Woody case, and exhibits movements of its whole mass, 
 or is propelled by the contractility of one, or more, hair- 
 like prolongations of its body, which are called vibratile 
 cilia. And, so far as the conditions of the manifestation 
 of the phsenomena of contractility -have yet been studied, 
 they are the same for the plant as for the animal. Heat 
 and electric shocks influence both, and in the same way, 
 though it may be in different degrees. It is by no means 
 my intention to suggest that there is no difference in 
 faculty between the lowest plant and the highest, or 
 between plants and animals. But the difference between 
 'the powers of the lowest plant, or animal, and those' of 
 the highest, is one of degree, not of kind, and depends, 
 as Milne-Edwards long ago .so well pointed out, upon 
 the extent to which the principle of the division of 
 labour is carried out in the living economy. In the 
 lowest organism all parts are competent to perform all 
 
126 |ag Stmtm*, (Bssmjs, mtir JjU&bfas. [vn. 
 
 functions, and one and the same portion of proto- 
 plasm may successively take on the function of feeding, 
 moving, or reproducing apparatus. In the highest, on 
 the contrary, a great number of parts combine to pe*- 
 form each function, each part doing its allotted share of 
 the work with great accuracy and efficiency, but being 
 useless for any other purpose. 
 
 On the other hand, notwithstanding all the funda- 
 mental resemblances which exist between the powers of 
 the protoplasm in plants and in animals, they present 
 a striking difference (to which I shall advert more at 
 length presently), in the fact that plants can manufacture 
 fresh protoplasm out of mineral compounds, whereas 
 animals are obliged to procure it ready made, and hence, 
 in the long run, depend upon plants. Upon what con- 
 dition this difference in the powers of the two great- 
 divisions of the world of life depends, nothing is at 
 present known. 
 
 With such qualification as arises out of the last- 
 mentioned fact, it may be truly said that the acts of all 
 living things are fundamentally one. Is any such unity 
 predicable of their forms ? Let us seek in easily verified 
 facts for a reply to this question. If a drop of blood be 
 drawn by pricking one's finger, and viewed with proper 
 precautions and under a sufficiently high microscopic 
 power, there will be seen, among the innumerable mul- 
 titude of little, circular, discoidal bodies, or corpuscles, 
 which float in it and give it its colour, a comparatively 
 small number of colourless corpuscles, of somewhat larger 
 size and very irregular shape. If the drop of blood be 
 kept at the temperature of the body, these . colourless 
 corpuscles will be seen to exhibit a marvellous activity, 
 changing their forms with great rapidity, drawing iu 
 and thrusting out prolongations of their substance, and 
 creeping about as if they were independent organisms. 
 
VIL] n % $&scal gagxs at fife. 127 
 
 The substance which is thus active is a mass of proto- 
 plasm, and its activity differs in detail, rather than in 
 principle, from that of the protoplasm of the nettle. 
 Under sundry circumstances the corpuscle dies and 
 becomes distended into a round mass, in the midst of 
 which is seen a smaller spherical body, which existed, 
 but was more or less hidden, in the living corpuscle, and 
 is called its nucleus. Corpuscles of essentially similar 
 structure are to be found in the skin, in the lining of the 
 mouth, and scattered through the whole framework of 
 the body. Nay, more ; in the earliest condition of the 
 human organism, in that state in which it has but just 
 become distinguishable from the egg in which it arises, 
 it is nothing but an aggregation of such corpuscles, and 
 every organ of the body was, once, no more than such 
 an aggregation. 
 
 Thus a nucleated mass of protoplasm turns out to be 
 what may be termed the structural unit of the human 
 body. As a matter of fact, the body, in its earliest state, 
 is a, mere multiple of such units ; and, in its perfect con- 
 dition, it is a multiple of such units, variously modified. 
 
 But does the formula which expresses the essential 
 structural character of the highest animal cover all the 
 rest, as the statement of its powers and faculties covered 
 that of all others? Very nearly. Beast and fowl, 
 reptile and fish, mollusk, worm, and polype, are all com- 
 posed of structural units of the same character, namely, 
 masses of protoplasm with a nucleus. There are sundry 
 very low animals, each of which, structurally, is a mere 
 colourless blood-corpuscle, leading an independent life. 
 But, at the very bottom of the animal scale, even this 
 simplicity becomes simplified, and all the phenomena of 
 life are manifested by a particle of protoplasm without a 
 nucleus. Nor are such organisms insignificant by reason 
 of their want of complexity. It is a fair question 
 
128 STafl Sermons, (Esj-mns, anb Jijebictos. [VTT. 
 
 whether the protoplasm of those simplest forms of life, 
 which people an immense extent of the bottom of the 
 sea, would not outweigh that of all the higher living 
 beings which inhabit the land put together. And in 
 ancient times, no less than at the present day, such 
 living beings as these have been the greatest of rock 
 builders. 
 
 What has been said of the animal world is no less true 
 of plants. Imbedded in the protoplasm at the broad, or 
 attached, end of the nettle hair, there lies a spheroidal 
 nucleus. Careful, examination further proves that the 
 whole substance of the nettle is made up of a repetition 
 of such masses of nucleated protoplasm, each contained 
 in a wooden case, which is modified in 'form, sometimes 
 iuto a woody fibre, sometimes into a duct or spiral vessel, 
 sometimes into a pollen grain, or an ovule. Traced back 
 to its earliest state, the nettle arises as the man does, in 
 a particle of nucleated protoplasm. And in the lowest 
 plants, as in the lowest animals, a single mass of such 
 protoplasm may constitute the whole plant, or the proto- 
 plasm may exist without a nucleus. 
 
 Under these circumstances it may well be asked, how 
 is one mass of non-nucleated protoplasm to be distin- 
 guished from another ? why call one " plant " and the 
 other " animal" ? 
 
 The only reply is that, so far as form is concerned, 
 plants and animals are not separable, and that, in many 
 cases, it is a mere matter of convention whether we call 
 a given organism an animal or a plant. There is a living 
 body called jEtlialium septicum, which appears upon 
 decaying vegetable substances, and, in one of its forms, is 
 common upon the surfaces of tan-pits. In this condition 
 it is, to all intents and purposes, a fungus, and formerly 
 was always regarded as such ; but the remarkab]e in- 
 vestigations of De Bary have shown that, in another 
 
YIT.J it Igsral *%m of fife, 120 
 
 condition, the ^Ethalium is an actively locomotive crea- 
 ture, and takes in solid matters, upon which, apparently, 
 it feeds, thus exhibiting the most characteristic feature 
 of animality. Is this a plant ; or is it an animal ? Is 
 it both ; or is it neither ? Some decide in favour of the 
 last supposition, and establish an intermediate kingdom, 
 a sort of biological No Man's Land for all these ques- 
 tionable forms. But, as it is admittedly impossible to 
 draw any distinct boundary line between this no man's 
 land and the vegetable world on the one hand, or the 
 animal, on the other, it appears to me that this pro- 
 ceeding merely doubles the difficulty which, before, was 
 single. 
 
 Protoplasm, simple or nucleated, is the formal basis of 
 all life. It is the clay of the potter : which, bake it and 
 paint it as he will, remains clay, separated by artifice, 
 and not by nature, from the commonest brick or sun- 
 dried clod. 
 
 Thus it becomes clear that all living powers are 
 cognate, and that all living forms are fundamentally of 
 one character. The researches of the chemist have 
 revealed a no less striking uniformity of material com- 
 position in living matter. 
 
 In perfect strictness, it is true that chemical inves- 
 tigation can tell us little or nothing, directly, of the 
 composition of living matter, inasmuch as such matter 
 must needs die in the act of analysis, and upon this 
 very obvious ground, objections, which I confess seem to 
 me to be somewhat frivolous, have been raised to the 
 drawing of any conclusions whatever respecting the 
 composition of actually living matter, from that of the 
 dead matter of life, which alone is accessible to us. But 
 objectors of this class do not seem to reflect that it is 
 also, in strictness, true that we know nothing about the 
 composition. of any body whatever, as it is. The state- 
 
 IE; 
 
130 ^ag Sa fc m0tts, (Sssags, anir iJUfaietxrs. [VIL 
 
 ment that a crystal of calc-spar consists of carbonate of 
 lime, is quite true, if we only mean that, by appropriate 
 processes, it may be resolved into carbonic acid and 
 quicklime. If you pass the same carbonic acid over the 
 very quicklime thus obtained, you will obtain carbonate 
 of lime again ; but it will not be calc-spar, nor anything 
 like it. Can it, therefore, be said that chemical analysis 
 teaches nothing about the chemical composition of caic- 
 spar ? Such a statement would be absurd ; but it is 
 hardly more so than the talk one occasionally hears 
 about the uselessness of applying the results of chemical 
 analysis to the living bodies which have yielded them. 
 
 One fact, at any rate, is out of reach of such refine- 
 ments, and this is, that all the forms of protoplasm 
 which have yet been examined contain the four elements, 
 carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen, in very complex 
 union, and that they behave similarly towards several 
 reagents. To this complex combination, the nature of 
 which has never been determined with exactness, the 
 name of Protein has been applied. And if we use this 
 term with such caution as may properly arise out of our 
 cdmparative ignorance of the things for which it stands, 
 it may be truly said, that all protoplasm is proteinaceous , 
 or, as the white, or albumen, of an egg is one of the 
 commonest examples of a nearly pure proteine matter, 
 we may say that all living matter is more or less 
 albuminoid. 
 
 Perhaps it would not yet be safe to say that all forms 
 of protoplasm are affected by the direct action of electric 
 shocks ; and yet the number of cases in which the 
 contraction of protoplasm is shown to be effected by this 
 agency increases every day. 
 
 Nor can it be affirmed with perfect confidence, that all 
 forms of protoplasm are liable to undergo that peculiar 
 coagulation at a temperature of 40 50 centigrade,; 
 
VIL] n % )jf88:al gasift of fife. 131 
 
 which has been called " heat-stiffening," though Kuhne's 
 beautiful researches have proved this occurrence to take 
 place in so many and such diverse living beings, that it 
 is hardly rash to expect that the law holds good for all 
 
 Enough has, perhaps, been said to prove the existence 
 of a general uniformity in the character of the proto- 
 plasm, or physical basis, of life, in whatever group of 
 living beings it may be studied. But it will be under- 
 stood that this general uniformity by no means excludes 
 any amount of special modifications of the fundamental 
 substance. The mineral, carbonate of lime, assumes an 
 immense diversity of characters, though no one doubts 
 that, under all these Protean changes, it is one and the 
 same thing. 
 
 And now, what is the ultimate fate, and what the 
 origin, of the matter of life ? 
 
 Is it, as some of the older naturalists supposed, 
 diffused throughout the universe in molecules, which are 
 indestructible and unchangeable in themselves ; but, in 
 endless transmigration, unite in innumerable permu- 
 tations, into the diversified forms of life we know ? Or, 
 is the matter of life composed of ordinary matter, 
 differing from it only in the manner in which its atoms 
 are aggregated ? Is it built up of ordinary matter, and 
 again resolved into ordinary matter when its work is 
 done? 
 
 Modern science does not hesitate a moment between 
 these alternatives. Physiology writes over the portals of 
 life 
 
 "Debemur morti nos nostraque," 
 
 with a profounder meaning than the Eoman poet attached 
 to that melancholy line. Under whatever disguise it 
 takes refuge, whether fungus or oak, worm or man, the 
 
 K 2 
 
132 $Tag Sfernums, <s$ap, ant) ^Utotos, i_ vn 
 
 living protoplasm not only ultimately dies and is resolved 
 into its mineral and lifeless constituents, but is always 
 dying, and, strange as the paradox may sound, could not 
 live unless it died. 
 
 In the wonderful story of the "Peau de Chagrin,* 
 the hero becomes possessed of a magical wild ass' skin, 
 which yields him the means of gratifying all his wishes, 
 But its surface represents the duration of the proprietor's 
 life ; and for every satisfied desire the skin shrinks in 
 proportion to the intensity of fruition, until at length 
 life and the last handbreadth of the peau de chagrin 
 disappear with the gratification of a last wish. 
 
 Balzac's studies had led him over a wide range of 
 thought and speculation, and his shadowing forth of 
 physiological truth in this strange story may have been 
 intentional. At any rate, the matter of life is a veritable 
 peau de chagrin, and for every vital act it is somewhat 
 the smaller. All work implies waste, and the work of 
 life results, directly or indirectly, in the waste of pro- 
 toplasm. 
 
 Every word uttered by a speaker costs him some 
 physical loss ; and, in the strictest sense, he burns that 
 others may have light so much eloquence, so much of 
 his body resolved into carbonic acid, water, and urea. 
 It is clear that this process of expenditure cannot go on 
 for ever. But, happily, the protoplasmic peau de chagrin 
 differs from Balzac's in its capacity of being repaired, and 
 brought back to its full size, after every exertion. 
 
 For example, this present lecture, whatever its intel- 
 lectual worth to you, has a certain physical value to me, 
 which is, conceivably, expressible by the number of 
 grains of protoplasm and other bodily substance wasted 
 in maintaining my vital processes during its delivery. 
 My peau de chagrin will be distinctly smaller at the end 
 of the discourse than it was at the beginning. By and 
 
vii.J it % Ifeaical asis3 of fife. 133 
 
 by, I shall probably have recourse to the substance com- 
 monly called mutton, for the purpose of stretching it 
 back to its original size. Now this mutton was once 
 the living protoplasm, more or less modified, of another 
 animal a sheep. As I shall eat it, it is the same matter 
 altered, not only by death, but by exposure to sundry 
 artificial operations in the process of cooking. 
 
 But these changes, whatever be their extent, have not 
 rendered it incompetent to resume its old functions as 
 matter of life. A singular inward laboratory, which I 
 possess, will dissolve a certain portion of the modified 
 protoplasm ; the solution so formed will pass into my 
 veins ; and the subtle influences to which it will then be 
 subjected will convert the dead protoplasm into living 
 protoplasm, and transubstantiate cheep into man. 
 
 Nor is this all. If digestion were a thing to be trifled 
 with, I might sup upon lobster, and the matter of life of 
 the crustacean would undergo the same wonderful meta- 
 morphosis into humanity. And were I to return to my 
 own place by sea, and undergo shipwreck, the Crustacea 
 might, and probably would, return the compliment, and 
 demonstrate our common nature by turning my proto- 
 plasm into living lobster. Or, if nothing better were to 
 be had, I might supply my wants with mere bread, and 
 I should find the protoplasm of the wheat-plant to be 
 convertible into man, with no more trouble than that 
 of the sheep, and with far less, I fancy, than that of 
 the lobster. 
 
 Hence it appears to be a matter of no great moment 
 what animal, or what plant, I lay under contribution for 
 protoplasm, and the fact speaks volumes for the general 
 identity of that substance in all living beings* I share 
 this catholicity of assimilation with other animals, all of 
 which, so far as we know, could thrive equally well on 
 the protoplasm of any of their fellows, or of any plant ; 
 
i 
 
 134 fag Sjernurns, (gsssga, anfo gMmfos. [VH. 
 
 but here the assimilative powers of the animal world 
 cease. A solution of smelling-salts in water, with an 
 infinitesimal proportion of some other saline matters, 
 contains all the elementary bodies which enter into the 
 i composition of protoplasm ; but, as I need hardly say, a 
 hogshead of that fluid would not keep a hungry man from 
 starving, nor would it save any animal whatever from a 
 like fate. An animal cannot make protoplasm, but must 
 take it ready-made from some other animal, or some 
 plant the animal's highest feat of constructive chemistry 
 being to convert dead protoplasm into that living matter 
 of life which is appropriate to itself. * 
 
 Therefore, in seeking for the origin of protoplasm, we 
 must eventually turn to the vegetable world. The fluid 
 containing carbonic acid, water, and ammonia, which 
 offers such a Barmecide feast to the animal, is a table 
 richly spread to multitudes of plants; and, with a due 
 supply of only such materials, many a plant will not only 
 maintain itself in vigour, but grow and multiply until it 
 has increased a million-fold, or a million million-fold, the 
 quantity of protoplasm which it originally possessed ; in 
 this way building up the matter of life, to an indefinite 
 extent, from the common matter of the universe. 
 
 Thus, the animal can only raise the complex sub- 
 stance of dead protoplasm to the higher power, as one 
 may say, of living protoplasm ; while the plant can raise 
 the less complex substances carbonic acid, water, and 
 ammonia to the same stage of living protoplasm, if not 
 to the same level. But the plant also has its limitations. 
 Some of the fungi, for example, appear to need higher 
 compounds to start with ; and no known plant can live 
 upon the uncompounded elements of protoplasm. A 
 plant supplied with pure carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, 
 and nitrogen, phosphorus, sulphur, and the like, would 
 as infallibly die as the animal in his bath of smelling- 
 
VIL] n % Ijgsrtal ssh 0f fife. 135 
 
 salts, though it would be surrounded by all the consti- 
 tuents of protoplasm. Nor, indeed, need the process of 
 simplification of vegetable food be carried so far as this, 
 in order to arrive at the limit of the plant's thaumaturgy. 
 Let water, carbonic acid, and all the other needful con- 
 stituents be supplied with ammonia, and an ordinary 
 plant will still be unable to manufacture protoplasm. 
 
 Thus the matter of life, so far as we know it (and W T C 
 have no right to speculate on any other), breaks up, in 
 consequence of that continual death which is the con- 
 dition of its manifesting vitality, into carbonic acid, 
 water, and ammonia, which certainly possess no proper- 
 ties but those of ordinary matter. And out of these 
 same forms of ordinary matter, and from none which 
 are simpler, the vegetable world builds up all the proto- 
 plasm which keeps the animal world a-going. Plants are 
 the accumulators of the power which animals distribute 
 and disperse. 
 
 But it will be observed, that the existence of the 
 matter of life depends on the pre-existence of certain 
 compounds ; namely, carbonic acid, water, and ammonia. 
 Withdraw any one of these three from the world, and all 
 vital phenomena come to an end. They are related 
 to the protoplasm of the plant, as the protoplasm of the 
 plant is to that of the animal. Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, 
 and nitrogen are all lifeless bodies. Of these, carbon 
 and oxygen unite, in certain proportions and under 
 certain conditions, to give rise to carbonic acid ; 
 hydrogen and oxygen produce water; nitrogen and 
 hydrogen give rise to ammonia. These new compounds, 
 like the elementary bodies of which they are composed, 
 are lifeless. But when they are brought together, 
 under certain conditions they give rise to the still 
 more complex body, protoplasm, and this protoplasm , 
 exhibits the phenomena of life. 
 
i^ Ifog j&rmmts, (Sssap, Jtnb griiietos. [vn. 
 
 I see no break in this series of steps in molecular 
 complication, and I am unable to understand why the 
 language which is applicable to any one term of the 
 series may not be used to any of the others. We think 
 fit to call different kinds of matter carbon, oxygen, 
 hydrogen, and nitrogen, and to speak of the various 
 powers and activities of these substances as the pro- 
 perties of the matter of which they are composed. 
 
 When hydrogen and oxygen are mixed in a certain 
 proportion, and an electric spark is passed through them, 
 they disappear, and a quantity of water, equal in weight 
 to the sum of their weights, appears in their place. 
 There is not the slightest parity between the passive and 
 active powers of the waters and those of the oxygen and 
 hydrogen which have given rise to it. At 32 Fahrenheit, 
 and far below that temperature, oxygen and hydrogen 
 are elastic gaseous bodies, whose particles tend to rash 
 away from one another with great force. Water, at the 
 same temperature, is a strong though brittle solid, whose 
 particles tend to cohere into definite geometrical shapes, 
 and sometimes build up frosty imitations of the most 
 complex forms of vegetable foliage. 
 
 Nevertheless we call these, and many other strange 
 phaenomena, the properties of the water, and we do not 
 hesitate to believe that, in some way or another, they 
 result from the properties of the component elements of 
 the water. We do not assume that a something called 
 "aquosity" entered into and took possession of the oxide 
 of hydrogen as soon as it was formed, and then guided 
 the aqueous particles to their places in the facets of the 
 crystal, or amongst the leaflets of the hoar-frost. On the 
 contrary, we live in the hope and in the faith that, by 
 the advance of molecular physics, we shall by and by be 
 able to see our way as clearly from the constituents of 
 water to the properties of water, as we are now able to 
 
VIL] n % Ifessiral $* of fife. 137 
 
 deduce the operations of a watch from the form of its 
 parts and the manner in which they are put together. 
 
 Is the case in any way changed when carbonic acid, 
 water, and ammonia disappear, and in their place, under 
 the influence of pre-existing living protoplasm, an 
 equivalent weight of the matter of life makes its 
 appearance ? 
 
 It is true that there is no sort of parity between the 
 properties of the components and the properties of the 
 resultant, but neither was there in the case of the water. 
 It is also true that what I have spoken of as the in- 
 fluence of pre-existing living matter is something quite 
 unintelligible ; but does anybody quite comprehend the 
 modus operandi of an electric spark, which traverses a 
 mixture of oxygen and hydrogen ? 
 
 What justification is there, then, for the assumption of 
 the existence in the living matter of a something which 
 has no representative, or correlative, in the not living 
 matter which gave rise to it ? What better philosophical 
 status has ''vitality" than "aquosity"? And why 
 should " vitality" hope for a better fate than the other 
 " itys" which have disappeared since Martinus Scriblerus 
 accounted for the operation of the meat-jack by its 
 inherent "meat-roasting quality," and scorned the 
 " materialism" of those who explained the turning of the 
 spit by a certain mechanism worked by the draught of 
 the chimney ? 
 
 If scientific language is to possess a definite and 
 constant signification whenever it is employed, it seems 
 to me that we are logically bound to apply to the 
 protoplasm, or physical basis of life, the same concep- 
 tions as those which are held to be legitimate elsewhere. 
 If the phaenomena exhibited by water are its properties, 
 so are those presented by protoplasm, living or dead, its 
 properties. 
 
138 f^g j&ernums, (Sssags, mtir IJLefeiefos. [vn. 
 
 If the properties of water may be properly said to 
 result from the nature and disposition of its component 
 molecules, I can find no intelligible ground for refusing 
 to say that the properties of protoplasm result from the 
 nature and disposition of its molecules. 
 
 But I bid you beware that, in accepting these conclu- 
 sions, you are placing your feet on the first rung of a 
 ladder which, in most people's estimation, is the reverse 
 of Jacob's, and leads to the antipodes of heaven. It may 
 seem a small thing to admit that the dull vital actions 
 of a fungus, or a fpraminifer, are the properties of their 
 protoplasm, and are the direct results of the nature of the 
 matter of which they are composed. But if, as I have 
 endeavoured to prove to you, their protoplasm is essen- 
 tially identical with, and most readily converted into, 
 that of any' animal, I can discover no logical halting- 
 place between the admission that such is the case, and 
 the further concession that all vital action may, with 
 equal propriety, be said to be the result of the molecular 
 forces of the protoplasm which displays it. And if so, 
 it must be true, in the same sense and to the same 
 extent, that the thoughts to which I am now giving 
 utterance, and your thoughts regarding them, are the 
 expression of molecular changes in that matter of life 
 which is the source of our other vital phsenomena. 
 
 Past experience leads me to be tolerably certain that, 
 when the propositions I have just placed before you are 
 ; accessible to public comment and criticism, they will be 
 condemned by many zealous persons, and perhaps by 
 some few of the wise and thoughtful. I should not 
 wonder if "gross and brutal materialism" were the 
 mildest phrase applied to them in certain quarters. 
 And, most undoubtedly, the terms of the propositions are 
 distinctly materialistic. Nevertheless two things are 
 
viz.] dfa psirai asis 0f fife. 139 
 
 certain : the one, that I hold the statements to be sub- 
 stantially true; the other, that I, individually, am no 
 materialist, but, on the contrary, believe materialism to 
 involve grave philosophical error. 
 
 This union of materialistic terminology with the repu- 
 diation of materialistic philosophy I share with some of 
 the most thoughtful men with whom I am acquainted. 
 And, when I first undertook to deliver the present 
 discourse, it appeared to me to be a fitting opportunity 
 to explain how such a union is not only consistent with, 
 but necessitated by, sound logic. I purposed to lead you 
 through the territory of vital phsenomena to the material-; 
 istic slough in which you find yourselves now plunged, 
 and then to point out to you the sole path by which, in 
 my judgment, extrication is possible. 
 
 An occurrence of which I was unaware until my 
 arrival here last night renders this line of argument 
 singularly opportune. I found in your papers the 
 eloquent adolress "On the Limits of Philosophical 
 Inquiry ," which a distinguished prelate of the English 
 Church delivered before the members of the Philoso- 
 phical Institution on the previous day. My argument, 
 also, turns upon this very point of the limits of philo- 
 sophical inquiry ; and I cannot bring out my own views 
 better than by contrasting them with those so plainly 
 and, in the main, fairly stated by the Archbishop of 
 York. 
 
 But I may be permitted to make a preliminary con- 
 ment upon an occurrence that greatly astonished me. 
 Applying the name of the "New Philosophy" to that 
 estimate of the limits of philosophical inquiry which I, 
 in common with many other men of science, hold to be 
 just, the Archbishop opens his address by identifying 
 this "New Philosophy" with the Positive Philosophy of 
 M. Comte (of whom he speaks as its "founder"); and 
 
140 f^g Srnmms, (fesgs, mttr gebicfos. [VIL 
 
 then proceeds to attack that philosopher and his doctrines 
 vigorously. 
 
 Now, so far as I am concerned, the most reverend 
 prelate might dialectic ally hew M. Comte in pieces, as a 
 modern Agag, and I should not attempt to stay his 
 hand. In so far as my study of wha.t specially charac- 
 terises the Positive Philosophy has led me, I find therein 
 little or nothing of any scientific value, and a great deal 
 which is as thoroughly antagonistic to the very essence 
 of science as anything in ultramontane Catholicism. In 
 fact, M. Comte's philosophy in practice might be com- 
 pendiously described as Catholicism minus Christianity. 
 
 But what has Comtism to do with the " New Philo- 
 sophy," as the Archbishop defines it in the following 
 passage ? 
 
 " Let me briefly remind you of the leading principles of this new 
 philosophy. 
 
 " All knowledge is experience of facts acquired by the senses. The 
 traditions of older philosophies have obscured our experience by mixing 
 with it much that the senses cannot observe, and until these additions 
 are discarded our knowledge is impure. Thus metaphysics tell us that 
 one fact which we observe is a cause, and another is the etfect of that 
 cause; but, upon a rigid analysis, we find that our senses observe 
 nothing of cause or effect : they observe, first, that one fact succeeds 
 another, and, after some opportunity, that this fact has never failed to 
 follow that for cause and effect we should substitute invariable suc- 
 cession. An older philosophy teaches us to define an object by dis- 
 tinguishing its essential from its accidental qualities : but experience 
 knows nothing of essential and accidental ; she sees only that certain 
 marks attach to an object, and, after many observations, that some of 
 them attach invariably, whilst others may at times be absent ...... 
 
 As all knowledge is relative, the notion of anything being necessary 
 must be banished with other traditions." l 
 
 There is much here that expresses the spirit of the 
 " New Philosophy," if by that term be meant the spirit 
 of modern science; but I cannot but marvel that the 
 
 * "The Limits of Philosophical Inquiry," pp. 4 and 5. 
 
vn. J (fn % f jjssical ssts at fife. 141 
 
 assembled wisdom and learning of Edinburgh should 
 have uttered no sign of dissent, when Comte was 
 declared to be the founder of these doctrines. No one 
 will accuse Scotchmen of habitually forgetting their 
 great countrymen; but it was enough to make David 
 Hume turn in his grave, that here, almost within ear- 
 shot of his house, an instructed audience should have 
 listened, without a murmur, while his most characteristic 
 doctrines were attributed to a French writer of fifty 
 years later date, in whose dreary and verbose pages we 
 miss alike the vigour of thought and the exquisite clear- 
 ness of style of the man whom I make bold to term the 
 most acute thinker of the eighteenth century even 
 though that century produced Kant. 
 
 But I did not come to Scotland to vindicate the 
 honour of one of the greatest men she has ever produced. 
 My business is to point out to you that the only way of 
 escape out of the crass materialism in which we just 
 now landed, is the adoption and strict working-out of 
 the very principles which the Archbishop holds up to 
 reprobation. 
 
 Let us suppose that knowledge is absolute, and not 
 relative, and therefore, that our conception of ma,tter 
 represents that which it really is. Let us suppose, 
 further, that we do know more of cause and effect than 
 a certain definite order of succession among facts, and 
 that we have a knowledge of the necessity of that succes- 
 sion and hence, of necessary laws and I, for my part, 
 do not see what escape there is from utter materialism 
 and necessarianism. For it is obvious that our know- 
 ledge of what we call the material world is, to begin 
 with, at least as certain and definite as that of the 
 spiritual world, and that our acquaintance with law is of 
 as old a date as our knowledge of spontaneity. Further, 
 I take it to be demonstrable that it is utterly impossible 
 
142 ^ag Stnmms, (Essags, miir Wmtos, [ VIL 
 
 to prove that anything whatever may not be the effect 
 of a material and necessary cause, and that human logic 
 is equally incompetent to prove that any act is 
 really spontaneous. A really spontaneous act is one 
 which, by the assumption, has no cause ; and the attempt 
 to prove such a negative as this is, on the face of the 
 matter, absurd. And while it is thus a philosophical 
 impossibility to demonstrate that any given phenomenon 
 is not the effect of a material cause, any one who is 
 acquainted with the history of science will admit, that 
 its progress has, in all ages, meant, and now, more than 
 ever, means, the extension of the province of what we 
 call matter and causation, and the concomitant gradual 
 banishment from all regions of human thought of what 
 we call spirit and spontaneity. 
 
 I have endeavoured, in the first part of this discourse, 
 to give you a conception of the direction towards which 
 modern physiology is tending ; and I ask you, what is 
 the difference between the conception of life as the 
 product of a certain disposition of material molecules, 
 and the old notion of an Archseus governing and di- 
 recting blind matter within each living body, except 
 this that here, as elsewhere, matter and law have de- 
 voured spirit and spontaneity ? And as surely as every 
 future grows out of past and present, so will the phy- 
 siology of the future gradually extend the realm of 
 matter and law until it is co-extensive with knowledge, 
 with feeling, and with action. 
 
 The consciousness of this great truth weighs like a 
 nightmare, I believe, upon many of the best minds of 
 these days. They watch what they conceive to be the 
 progress of materialism, in such fear and powerless anger 
 as a savage feels, when, during an eclipse, the great 
 .shadow creeps over the face of the sun. The advancing 
 tide of matter threatens to drown their souls ; the tight- 
 
ra.] n % Dfesical $*6i8 at fife. 143 
 
 ening grasp of law impedes their freedom ; they are 
 alarmed lest man's moral nature be debased by the 
 increase of his wisdom. 
 
 If the "New Philosophy " be worthy of the repro- 
 bation with which it is visited, I confess their fears seem 
 to me to be well founded. While, on the contrary, 
 could David Hume be consulted, I think he would smile 
 at their perplexities, and chide them for doing even as 
 the heathen, and falling down in terror before the 
 hideous idols their own hands have raised. 
 
 For, after all, what do we know of this terrible 
 " matter," except as a name for the unknown and hypo- 
 thetical cause of states of our own consciousness ? And 
 what do we know of that " spirit" over whose threatened 
 extinction by matter a great lamentation is arising, like 
 that which was heard at the death of Pan, except that 
 it is also a name for an unknown and hypothetical cause, 
 or condition, of states of consciousness ? In other words, 
 matter and spirit are but names for the imaginary sub- 
 strata of groups of natural phsenomena. 
 
 And what is the dire necessity and " iron" law under 
 which men groan ? Truly, most gratuitously invented 
 bugbears. I suppose if there be an "iron" law, it is 
 that of gravitation ; and if there be a physical necessity, 
 it is that a stone, unsupported, must fall to the ground. 
 But what is all we really know, and can know, about the 
 latter phsenomenon? Simply, that, in all human ex- 
 perience, stones have fallen to the ground under these 
 conditions ; that we have not the smallest reason for 
 believing that any stone so circumstanced will not fall 
 to the ground ; and that we have, on the contrary, every 
 reason to believe that it will so fall. It is very con- 
 venient to indicate that all the conditions of belief have 
 been fulfilled in this case, by calling the statement that 
 unsupported stones will fall to the ground, " a law of 
 
144 Jfoij S*nn0n3, (Jssags, mtb Jj^wfas. L VIL 
 
 nature." But when, as commonly happens, we change 
 will into wms, we introduce an idea of necessity which 
 most assuredly does not lie in the observed facts, and 
 has no warranty that I can discover elsewhere. For my 
 part, I utterly repudiate and anathematize the intruder. 
 Fact I know ; and Law I know ; but what is this Ne- 
 cessity, save an empty shadow of my own minds 
 throwing ? 
 
 But, if it is certain that we can have no knowledge 
 of the nature of either matter or spirit, and that the 
 notion of necessity is something illegitimately thrust 
 into the perfectly legitimate conception of law, the 
 materialistic position that there is nothing in the world 
 but matter, force, and necessity, is as utterly devoid of 
 justification as the most baseless of theological dogmas. 
 The fundamental doctrines of materialism, like those of 
 spiritualism, and most other "isms," lie outside "the 
 limits of philosophical inquiry," and David Hume's great 
 service to humanity is his irrefragable demonstration of 
 what these limits are. Hume called himself a sceptic, 
 and therefore others cannot be blamed if they apply the 
 same title to him ; but that does not alter the fact that 
 the name, with its existing implications, does him gross 
 injustice. 
 
 If a man asks me what the politics of the inhabitants 
 of the moon are, and I reply that I do not know ; that 
 neither I, nor any one else, have any means of knowing ; 
 and that, under these circumstances, I decline to trouble 
 myself about the subject at all, I do not think he has 
 any right to call me a sceptic. On the contrary, in re- 
 plying thus, I conceive that I am simply honest and 
 truthful, and show a proper regard for the economy of 
 time. So Hume's strong and subtle intellect takes up 
 a great many problems about which we are naturally 
 curious, and shows us that they are essentially questions 
 
vn. J n % Hfcjsiral gaaia of fife. 145 
 
 of lunar politics, in their essence incapable of being 
 answered, and therefore not worth the attention of men 
 who have work to do in the world. And he thus ends 
 one of his essays : 
 
 " If we take in hand any volume of Divinity, or school metaphysics, 
 for instance, let us ask, Does it contain any abstract reasoning concerning 
 quantity or number 1 No. Does it contain any experimental reasoning 
 concerning matter of fact and existence ? No. Commit it then to the 
 flames ; for it can contain nothing but sophistry and illusion." l 
 
 Permit me to enforce this most wise advice. Why 
 trouble ourselves about matters of which, however im- 
 portant they may be, we do know nothing, and can 
 know nothing 1 We live in a world which is full of 
 misery and ignorance, and the plain duty of each and 
 all of us is to try to make the little corner he can in- 
 fluence somewhat less miserable and somewhat less 
 ignorant than it was before he entered it. To do this 
 effectually it is necessary to be fully possessed of only 
 two beliefs : the first, that the order of nature is ascer- 
 tainable by our faculties to an extent which is practically 
 unlimited ; the second, that our volition counts for some- 
 thing as a condition of the course of events. 
 
 Each of these beliefs can be verified experimentally, 
 as often as we like to try. Each, therefore, stands upon 
 the strongest foundation upon which any belief can rest, 
 and forms one of our highest truths. If we find that 
 the ascertainment of the order of nature is facilitated 
 by using one terminology, or one set of symbols, rather 
 than another, it is our clear duty to use the former ; and 
 no harm can accrue, so long as we bear in mind, that we 
 are dealing merely with terms and symbols. 
 
 In itself it is of little moment whether we express 
 the phenomena of matter in terms of spirit; or the 
 
 1 Hume's Essay "Of the Academical or Sceptical Philosophy/' in the 
 " Inquiry concerning the Human Understanding." 
 
 L 
 
Smwms, (Ssaags, anfo gtbicfas. [VIL 
 
 phenomena of spirit, in terms of matter : matter may 
 be regarded as a form of thought, thought may be re- 
 garded as a property of matter each statement has a 
 certain relative truth. But with a view to the progress 
 of science, the materialistic terminology is in every way 
 to be preferred. For it connects thought with the other 
 phenomena of the universe, and suggests inquiry into 
 the nature of those physical conditions, or concomitants 
 of thought, which are more or less accessible to us, and 
 a knowledge of which may, in future, help us to exercise 
 the same kind of control over the world of thought, as 
 we already possess in respect of the material world; 
 whereas, the alternative, or spiritualistic, terminology is 
 utterly barren, and leads to nothing but obscurity and 
 confusion of ideas. 
 
 Thus there can be little doubt, that the further science 
 advances, the more extensively and consistently will all 
 the phenomena of nature be represented by materialistic 
 forinulse and symbols. 
 
 But the man of science, who, forgetting the limits of 
 philosophical inquiry, slides from these formulae and 
 symbols into what is commonly understood by mate- 
 rialism, seems to me to place himself on a level with 
 the mathematician, who should mistake the x's and y's 
 with which he works his problems, for real entities and 
 with this further disadvantage, as compared with the 
 mathematician, that the blunders of the latter are of 
 no practical consequence, while the errors of systematic 
 materialism may paralyse the energies and destroy the 
 V beauty of a life. 
 
VIII. 
 THE SCIENTIFIC ASPECTS _ OF POSITIVISM. 
 
 IT is now some sixteen or seventeen years since I became 
 acquainted with the " Philosophic Positive," the " Dis- 
 cours sur TEnsemble du Positivisme," and the " Politique 
 Positive" of Auguste Comte. I was led to study these 
 works partly by the allusions to them in Mr. Mill's 
 "Logic/ 7 partly by the recommendation of a dis- 
 tinguished theologian, and partly by the urgency of a 
 valued friend, the late Professor Henfrey, who looked 
 upon M. Comte's bulky volumes as a mine of wisdom, 
 and lent them to me that I might dig and be rich. 
 After due perusal, I found myself in a position to echo 
 my friend's words, though I may have laid more stress 
 on the " mine" than on the " wisdom." For I found 
 the veins of ore few and far between, and the rock so 
 apt to run to mud, that one incurred the risk of being 
 intellectually smothered in the working. Still, as I 
 was glad to acknowledge, I did come to a nugget here 
 and there ; though not, so far as my experience went> 
 in the discussions on the philosophy of the physical 
 sciences, but in the chapters on speculative and practical 
 sociology. In these there was indeed much to arouse 
 the liveliest interest in one whose boat had broken away 
 from the old moorings, and who had been content " to 
 lay out an anchor by the stern" until daylight should 
 
 L 2 
 
148 fag S*rm0ns, <gssag8, mttr gebbtos. [vin. 
 
 break and the fog clear. Nothing could be more inter- 
 esting to a student of biology than to see the study 
 of the biological sciences laid down, as an essential part 
 of the prolegomena of a new view of social phenomena 
 Nothing could be more satisfactory to a worshipper of 
 the severe truthfulness of science than the attempt to 
 dispense with all beliefs, save such as could brave the 
 light, and seek, rather than fear, criticism ; while, to a 
 lover of courage and outspokenness, nothing could be 
 more touching than the placid announcement on the 
 title-page of the " Discours sur TEnsemble du Positi- 
 visme," that its author proposed 
 
 " Be"organiser, sans Dieu ni roi, 
 Par le culte systematique de rHumanite"," 
 
 the shattered frame of modern society. 
 
 In those days I knew my " Faust " pretty well, and, 
 after reading this word of might, I was minded to 
 chant the well-known stanzas of the " Geisterchor" 
 
 "Web! Web! 
 Die scbone welt. 
 Sie stiirzt, sie zerfallt 
 Wir tragen 
 
 Die Triimmern ins Mcbts hiniiber 
 Machtiger 
 Der Erdensobne 
 Pracbtiger, 
 Baue sie wieder 
 In deinem Busene baue sie auf." 
 
 Great, however, was my perplexity, not to say disap- 
 pointment, as I followed the progress of this "mighty 
 son of earth" in his work of reconstruction. Un- 
 doubtedly "Dieu" disappeared, but the "Nouveau 
 Grand-Etre Supreme," a gigantic fetish, turned out bran- 
 new by M. Comte's own hands, reigned in his stead. 
 "Hoi" also was not heard of; but, in his place, I found 
 
vm.] &t Scientific sacts 0f &$&mm< 149 
 
 a minutely-defined social organization, which, if it ever 
 came into practice, would exert a despotic authority 
 such as no sultan has rivalled, and no Puritan presbytery, 
 in its palmiest days, could hope to excel. While as for 
 the "culte systematique de THumanite," I, in my blind- 
 ness, could not distinguish it from sheer Popery, with 
 M. Comte in the chair of St. Peter, and the names of 
 most of the saints changed. To quote "Faust" again, 
 I found myself saying with Gretchen, 
 
 "Ungefahr sagt das der Pfarrer auch 
 Nur mit ein bischen andern Worten." 
 
 / 
 
 Eightly or wrongly, this was the impression which, all 
 those years ago, the study of J\L Comte 's works left on 
 my mind, combined with the conviction, which I shall 
 always be thankful to him for awakening in me, that 
 the organization of society upon a new and purely 
 scientific basis is not only practicable, but is the only 
 political object much worth fighting for. 
 . As I have said, that part of M. Comte's writings 
 which deals with the philosophy of physical science 
 appeared to me to possess singularly little value, and 
 to show that he had but the most superficial, and merely 
 second-hand, knowledge of most branches of what is 
 usually understood by science. I do not mean by this 
 merely to say that Comte was behind our present know- 
 ledge, or that he was unacquainted with the details of 
 the science of his own day. No one could justly make 
 such defects cause of complaint in a philosophical writer 
 of the past generation. What struck me was his want of 
 apprehension of the great features of science ; his strange 
 mistakes as to the merits of his scientific contemporaries ; 
 and his ludicrously erroneous notions about the part which 
 some of the scientific doctrines current in his time were 
 destined to play in the future. With these impressions 
 
150 ^ag Stnnmts, (Essajjs, ait;) ^jUbietos. [vm. 
 
 in my mind, no one will be surprised if I acknowledge 
 that, for these sixteen years, it has been a periodical 
 source of irritation to me to find M. Cornte put forward 
 as a representative of scientific thought ; and to. observe 
 that writers whose philosophy had its legitimate parent 
 in Hume, or in themselves, were labelled "Comtists" or 
 "Positivists" by public writers, even in spite of vehe- 
 ment protests to the contrary. It has cost Mr. Mill 
 hard rubbings to get that label off; and I watch Mr. 
 Spencer, as one regards a good man struggling with 
 adversity, still engaged in eluding its adhesiveness, and 
 ready to tear away skin and all, rather than let it stick. 
 My own turn might come next ; and therefore, when 
 an eminent prelate the other day gave currency and 
 authority to the popular confusion, I took an oppor- 
 tunity of incidentally revindicating Hume's property in 
 the so-called "New Philosophy," and, at the same time, 
 of repudiating Oomtism on my own behalf. 1 
 
 1 1 am glad to observe that Mr. Congreve, in the criticism with which he 
 has favoured me in the number of the Fortnightly Review for April 1869, does 
 not venture to challenge the justice of the claim I made for Hume. He merely 
 suggests that I have been wanting in candour in not mentioning Comte's high 
 opinion of Hume. After mature reflection I am unable to discern my fault. 
 If I had suggested that Comte had borrowed from Hume without acknowledg- 
 ment ; or if, instead of trying to express my own sense of Hume's merits with 
 the modesty which becomes a writer who has no authority in matters of philo- 
 sophy, I had affirmed that no one had properly appreciated him, Mr. Congreve*s 
 remarks would apply : but as I did neither of these things, they appear to 
 me to be irrevelant, if not unjustifiable. And even had it occurred to me to 
 quote M. Comte's expressions about Hume, I do not know that I should have 
 cited them, inasmuch as, on his own showing, M. Comte occasionally speaks 
 very decidedly touching^ writers of whose works he has not read a line. Thus, 
 in Tome VI. of the "Philosophic Positive," p. 619, M. Comte writes: "Le 
 plus grand des m6taphysiciens modernes, 1'ulustre Kant, a noblement me"rite" 
 une ternelle admiration en tentant, le premier, d'e"chapper directement a 
 1'absolu philosophique par sa celebre conception de la double re"alite", a la 
 foia objective et subjective, qui indique un si juste sentiment de la saine 
 philosophic," 
 
 But in the " Preface Personnelle" in the same volume, p. 35, M, Comte tells 
 us ; " Je n'ai jamaia lu, en aucune langue, ni Vico, ni Kant> ni Herder, DJ 
 
VIIL] &|xe Srimtifit ^gpetfa jof 0siiifaisnt 151 
 
 The few lines devoted to Comtisin in my paper on the 
 "Physical Basis of Life" were, in intention, strictly 
 limited to these two purposes. But they seem to have 
 given more umbrage than I intended they should, to the 
 followers of M. Comte in this country, for some of whom, 
 let me observe in passing I entertain a most unfeigned 
 respect ; and Mr. Congreve's recent article gives expres- 
 sion to the displeasure which I have excited among the 
 members of the Comtian body. 
 
 Mr. Congreve, in a peroration which seems especially 
 intended to catch the attention of his readers, indig- 
 nantly challenges me to admire M. Comte's life, "to 
 deny that it has a marked character of grandeur about 
 it ;" and he uses some very strong language because I 
 show no sign of veneration for his idol. I confess I do 
 not care to occupy myself with the denigration of a man 
 who, on the whole, deserves to be spoken of with respect. 
 Therefore, I shall enter into no statement of the reasons 
 which lead me unhesitatingly to accept Mr. Congreve's 
 challenge, and to refuse to recognise anything which de- 
 serves the name of grandeur of character in M. Comte, 
 unless it be his arrogance, which is undoubtedly sublime. 
 All I have to observe is, that if Mr. Congreve is justified 
 in saying that I speak with a tinge of contempt for his 
 spiritual father, the reason for such colouring of my 
 language is to be found in the fact, that, when I wrote, 
 I had but just arisen from the perusal of a work with 
 which he is doubtless well acquainted, M. Littre's 
 "Augusts Comte et la Philosophie Positive." 
 
 Though there are tolerably fixed standards of right 
 and wrong, and even of generosity and meanness, it 
 
 Hegel, &c. ; je ne connais leurs divers ouvrages que d'apres quelques relations 
 indirectes et certains extraits fort insuffisants." 
 
 Who knows but that the " &c." may include Hume ? And in that case 
 what is the value of M. Comte's praise of him? 
 
152 |Cag Sermons, Sssags, anir Lebieh)S. [vm. 
 
 may be said that the beauty, or grandeur, of a life is 
 more or less a matter of taste; and Mr. Congreve's 
 notions of literary excellence are so different from mine 
 that, it may be, we should diverge as widely in our 
 judgment of moral beauty or ugliness. Therefore, while 
 retaining my own notions, I do not presume to quarrel 
 with his. But when Mr. Congreve devotes a great deal 
 of laboriously guarded insinuation to the endeavour to 
 lead the public to believe that I have been guilty of the 
 dishonesty of having criticised Comte without having 
 read him, I must be permitted to remind him that he 
 has neglected the well-known maxim of a diplomatic 
 sage, "If you want to damage a man, you should say 
 what is probable, as well as what is true." 
 
 And when Mr. Congreve speaks of my having an ad- 
 vantage over him" in my introduction of "Christianity" 
 into the phrase that "M. Comte's philosophy, in practice, 
 might be described as Catholicism minus Christianity ;" 
 intending thereby to suggest that I have, by so doing, 
 desired to profit by an appeal to the odium theologicum, 
 he lays himself open to a very unpleasant retort. 
 
 What if I were to suggest that Mr. Congreve had not 
 read Comte's works ; and that the phrase "the context 
 shows that the view of the writer ranges however 
 superficially over the whole works. This is obvious 
 from the mention of Catholicism," demonstrates that 
 Mr. Congreve has no acquaintance with the "Philosophic 
 Positive"? I think the suggestion would be very unjust 
 and unmannerly, and I shall not make it. But the fact 
 remains, that this little epigram of mine, which has so 
 greatly provoked Mr. Congreve, is neither more nor less 
 than a condensed paraphrase of the following passage 
 which is to be found at page 344 of the fifth volume of 
 the "Philosophic Positive i" 1 
 
 1 Now and always I quote the second edition, by Littr<$. 
 
viii."] Cfj* Scientific Jlspwta 0f |)0sitibim* 153 
 
 "La seule solution possible de ce grand problems historique, qui n'a 
 jamais pu etre philosophiquement pose jusqu'ici, consiste a concevoir, 
 en sens radicalement inverse des notions habituelles, que ce qui devait 
 necessairement perir ainsi, dans le catholicisme, c'etait la doctrine, et non 
 F organisation, qui n'a ete passagerement ruinee que par suite de son 
 inevitable adherence elementaire a la philosophie th^ologique, destinee 
 k succomber graduellement sous 1'irr^sistible e*mancipaton de la raison 
 humaine; tandis qu'une telle constitution, convendblement reconstruite 
 sur des bases intellectuelles a la fois plus etenducs et plus stables, devra 
 frnalement presider a V indispensable reorganisation spirituelle des 
 societes modernes, sauf les differences essentielles spontanement corre- 
 spondantes a V extreme diversite des doctrines fondamentales ; a moins 
 de supposer, ce qui serait certainement contradictoire a 1'ensemble des 
 lois de notre nature, qiie les immenses efforts de tant de grands 
 homraes, secondes par la perseVerante sollicitude des nations civilisees, 
 dans la fondation seculaire de ce chef-d'ceuvre politique de la sagesse 
 humaine, doivent etre enfin irrevocablement perdus pour 1'elite de 
 1'humanit^ sauf les resultats, capitaux mais provisoires, qui s'y rap- 
 portaient imm^diatement. Cette explication generale, dejk ^videra- 
 ment motived par la suite des considerations propres a ce chapitre, 
 sera de plus en plus confirmee par tout le reste de notre operation 
 historique, dont elle constituera sponlanement la principals conclusion 
 politique" 
 
 Nothing can be clearer. Comte's ideal, as stated by 
 himself, is Catholic organization without Catholic doc- 
 trine, or, in other words, Catholicism minus Christianity. 
 Surely it is utterly unjustifiable to ascribe to me base 
 motives for stating a man's doctrines, as nearly as may 
 be, in his own words ! 
 
 My readers would hardly be interested were I to follow 
 Mr. Congreve any further, or I might point out that the 
 fact of his not having heard me lecture is hardly a safe 
 ground for his speculations as to what I do not teach. 
 Nor do I feel called upon to give any opinion as to 
 M. Comte's merits or demerits as regards sociology. 
 Mr. Mill (whose competence to speak on these matters 
 I suppose will not be questioned, even by Mr. Congreve) 
 has dealt with M. Comte's philosophy from this point of 
 view, with a vigour and authority to which I cannot for 
 
154 jfejj Sjermons, (Sssags, attir ISWmtxrs, [viu 
 
 a moment aspire ; and with, a severity, not unfrequently 
 amounting to contempt, which I have not* the wish, if I 
 had the power, to surpass. I, as a mere student in these 
 questions, am content to abide by Mr. Mill's judgment 
 until some one shows cause for its reversal, and I decline 
 to enter into a discussion which I have not provoked. 
 
 The sole obligation which lies upon me is to justify so 
 much as still remains without justification of what I 
 have written respecting Positivism namely, the opinion 
 expressed in tne following paragraph : 
 
 " In so far as my study of what specially characterises the Positive 
 Philosophy has led me, I find therein little or nothing of any scientific 
 value, and a great deal which is as thoroughly antagonistic to the very 
 essence of science as anything in ultramontane Catholicism/ 
 
 Here are two propositions: the first, that the "Phi- 
 losophic Positive" contains little or nothing of any 
 scientific value; the second, that Comtism is, in spirit, 
 anti-scientific. I shall endeavour to bring forward ample 
 evidence in support of both. 
 
 I. No one who possesses even a superficial acquaint- 
 ance with physical science can read Comte's "Legons" 
 without becoming aware that he was at once singularly 
 devoid of real knowledge on these subjects, and singu- 
 larly unlucky. What is to be thought of the contem- 
 porary of Young and of Fresnel, who never misses 
 an opportunity of casting scorn upon the hypothesis 
 of an ether the fundamental basis not only of the 
 undulatory theory of light, but of so much else in 
 modern physics and whose contempt for the intellects 
 of some of the strongest men of his generation was such, 
 that he puts forward the mere existence of night as a 
 refutation of the undulatory theory? 1 What a won- 
 derful gauge of his own value as a scientific critic does 
 he afford, by whom we are informed that phrenology is 
 
 1 "Philosophic Positive," ii. p. 440. 
 
Srimtifit td* 0f 0siiiM&im 155 
 
 a great science, and psychology a chimcera ; that Gall 
 was one of the great men of his age, and that Cuvier 
 was " brilliant but superficial " ! l How unlucky must 
 one consider the bold speculator who, just before the 
 dawn of modern histology which is simply the appli- 
 cation of the microscope to anatomy reproves what he 
 calls " the abuse of microscopic investigations," and " the 
 exaggerated credit*' attached to them ; who, when the 
 morphological uniformity of the tissues of the great 
 majority of plants and animals was on the eve of being 
 demonstrated, treated with ridicule those who attempt 
 to refer all tissues to a "tissu gene'rateur," formed by 
 "le chimerique et inintelligible assemblage d'une sorte 
 de monades organiques, qui seraient des lors les vrais 
 elements primordiaux de tout corps vivant ; " 2 and who 
 finally tefls us, that all the objections against a linear 
 arrangement of the species of living beings are in their 
 essence foolish, and that the order of the animal series is 
 " necessarily linear/' 8 when the exact contrary is one of 
 the best established and the most important truths of 
 zoology. Appeal to mathematicians, astronomers, physi- 
 cists, 4 chemists, biologists, about the " Philosophic Posi- 
 tive," and they all, with one consent, begin to make 
 protestation that, whatever M. Comte's other merits, he 
 has shed no light upon the philosophy of their particular 
 studies. 
 
 To be just, however, it must be admitted that even 
 M. Comte's most ardent disciples are content to be 
 judiciously silent about his knowledge or appreciation of 
 
 i "Le brill ant mais superficiel Cuvier." Philosophic Positive, vi. p. 383. 
 
 * "Philosophie Positive," iii. p. 369. a ibid. p. 387. 
 
 4 Hear the late Dr. Whewell, who calls Comte " a shallow pretender," so 
 far as all the modern sciences, except astronomy, are concerned, and tells us 
 that "his pretensions to discoveries are, as Sir John Herschel has shown, 
 absurdly fallacious." "Comte and Positivism," Macmillan't Magazine, 
 March 1866, 
 
156 |Jag Sinuons, (gssags, anfo $iebutas, [vin. 
 
 the sciences themselves, and prefer to base their master's 
 claims to scientific authority upon his "law of the 
 three states," and his "classification of the sciences." 
 But here, also, I must join issue with them as completely 
 as others notably Mr. Herbert Spencer have done 
 before me. A critical examination of what M. Comie 
 has to say about the " law of the three states " brings out 
 nothing but a series of more or less contradictory state- 
 ments of an imperfectly apprehended truth; and his " clas- 
 sification of the sciences," whether regarded historically 
 or logically, is, in my judgment, absolutely worthless. 
 
 Let us consider the law of "the three states" as it 
 is put before us in the opening of the first Le9on of 
 the " Philosophic Positive : " 
 
 " En 4tudiant ainsi le developpement total de Intelligence humaine 
 dans ses diverses spheres d'activite, depuis son premier essor le plus 
 simple jusqu'a nos jours, je crois avoir decouvert une grande loi 
 fondainentale, a laquelle il est assujetti par une necessite" invariable, et 
 qui me semble pouvoir etre solidement 6tablie, soit sur les preuves 
 rationelles fournies par la connaissance de notre organisation, soit sur 
 les verifications historiques resultant d'un exam en attentif du passe. 
 Cette loi consiste en ce que chacune de nos conceptions principales, 
 chaque branche de nos connaissances, passe successivement par trois 
 e"tats the"oriques diffe"rents ; l'e"tat theologique, ou fictif ; Tetat me'ta- 
 physique, ou abstrait ; I'&at scientifique, ou positif. En d'autres 
 termes, I'esprit humain, par sa nature, emploie successivement dans 
 chacune de ses recherches trois methodes de philosopher, dont le 
 caractere est cssentiellement different et meme radicalement oppos ; 
 d'abord la me'thode the"ologique, ensuite la me'thode mdtaphysique, et 
 enfin la methode positive. De la, trois sortes de philosophic, ou de 
 systemes gen^raux de conceptions sur 1'ensemble des phe'nomenes qui 
 s'excluent mutuellement ; la premiere est le point de depart necessaire de 
 ^intelligence humaine ; la troisieme, son e*tat fixe et definitif ; la seconde 
 est uniquement destinde a servir de transition." l 
 
 Nothing can be more precise than these statements, 
 which may be put into the following propositions : 
 (a) The human intellect is subjected to the law by 
 
 1 "Philosophic Positive," i. pp. 8, 9. 
 
VIIL] t Stuntifit !|spwte 0f )0sttiJbi$m. 157 
 
 an invariable necessity, which is demonstrable, d priori, 
 from the nature and constitution of the intellect ; 
 while, as a matter of historical fact, the human in- 
 tellect has been subjected to the law. 
 
 (6) Every branch of human knowledge passes through 
 the three states, necessarily beginning with the first 
 stage. 
 
 (c) The three states mutually exclude one another, 
 being essentially different, and even radically opposed. 
 
 Two questions present themselves. Is M. Comte 
 consistent with himself in making these assertions'? 
 And is he consistent with fact? I reply to both 
 questions in the negative ; and, as regards the first, 
 I bring forward as my witness a remarkable passage 
 which is to be found in the fourth volume of the 
 " Philosophie Positive" (p. 491), when M. Comte had 
 had time to think out, a little more fully, the notions 
 crudely stated in the first volume : 
 
 " A proprement parler, la philosophie theologique, meme dans notre 
 premiere enfance, individuelle ou sociale, n'a jamais pu etre rigoureuse- 
 ment universelle, c'est-a-dire que, pour les ordres quelconques de 
 phenomenes, les faits les plus simples et les plus communs ont toujours 
 ete regardes comme essentiellement assujettis a des lois naturelles, au lieu 
 d'etre attribute a Varlitraire volonte des agents surnaturels. L'illustre 
 Adam Smith, a, par exemple, tres-heureusement remarque dans sea 
 essais philosophiques, qu'on ne trouvait, en aucun temps ni en aucun 
 pays, un dieu pour la pesanteur. II en est ainsi, en general, meme a 
 Cegard des sujets les plus compliques, envers tous les phenomenes asset 
 elementaires et assez familiers pour que la parfaite invarialilite de 
 leurs relations effectives ait toujours dti, frapper spontanement Vobser- 
 vateur le moins prepare. Dans 1'ordre moral et social, qu'une vaine 
 opposition voudrait aujourd'hui syst^matiquement interdire a la phi- 
 losophie positive, il y a eu necessairement, en tout temps, la pense"e 
 des lois naturelles, relativement aux plus simples phenomenes de la 
 vie journaliere, comme 1'exige evidemment la conduite generale de 
 notre existence reelle, individuelle ou sociale, qui n'aurait pu jamais 
 comporter aucune prevoyance quelconque, si tous les phe^nomenes 
 humains avaient ete rigoureusement attribues a des agents surnaturel?, 
 puisque des lors la priere aurait logiquement constitu^ la seule res- 
 
158 |^ag Strnums, (Essags, mtb llofcrietos. [vin 
 
 source imaginable pour influer sur le cours habituel des actions 
 humaines. On doit meme remarquer, a ce sujet, que c'est, au contraire, 
 I'ebauche spontanee des premieres lois naturelles propres aux actes indi- 
 viduels ou sociaux qui, fictivement transportee a tons let phenomenes du 
 monde exterieur, ad'abordfourni, d'apresnos explications precedentes, le- 
 vrai principe fondamental de la philosophic iheologique. Ainsi, le germe 
 elementaire de la philosophic positive est certainement tout aussi primitif 
 au foud que celui de la philosophie iheologique elle-meme, quoi qiCil n'ait 
 pu se developper que beaucoup plus tard. Une telle notion importe 
 extremement a la parfaite rationalite de notre theorie sociologique, puis- 
 que la vie humaine ne pouvant jamais ofFrir aucune veritable creation 
 quelconque, mais toujours une simple Evolution graduelle, 1'essor final 
 de Tesprit positif deviendrait scientifiquement incomprehensible, si, 
 des 1'origine, on n'en concevait, a tous egards, les premiers rudiments 
 necessaires. Depuis cette situation primitive, & mesure que nos 
 observations se sont spontanement e"tendues et gen^ralisees, cet essor, 
 d'abord a peine appreciable, a constamment suivi, sans cesser long- 
 temps d'etre subalterne, une progression tres-lente, mais continue, la 
 philosophie th^ologique restant toujours r^servee pour les phenomena, 
 de moins en moins nombreux, dont les lois naturelles ne pouvaient 
 encore etre aucunement connues." 
 
 Compare tlie propositions implicitly laid down here 
 with those contained in the earlier volume, (a) As 
 a matter of fact, the human intellect has not been 
 invariably subjected to the law of the three states, 
 and therefore the necessity of the law cannot be 
 demonstrable d priori, (b) Much of our knowledge 
 of all kinds has not passed through the three states, 
 and more particularly, as M. Comte is careful to point 
 out, not through the first (c) The positive state has 
 more or less co-existed with the theological, from the 
 dawn of human intelligence. And, by way of com- 
 pleting the series of contradictions, the assertion that 
 the three states are "essentially different and even 
 radically opposed," is met a little lower on the same 
 page by the declaration that "the metaphysical state 
 is, at bottom, nothing but a simple general modification 
 of the first ;" while, in the fortieth Legon, as also in the 
 interesting early essay entitled " Considerations philo- 
 
Smntific s*tis 0f 0sitifaxsm 159 
 
 sophiques sur les Sciences et les Savants (1825)," the 
 three states are practically reduced to two. " Le ve'ri- 
 table esprit general de toute philosophie theologique 
 ou me'taphysique consiste a prendre pour principe, dans 
 Implication des phenomenes du monde exterieur, notre 
 sentiment immediat des phenomenes humaines ; tandis 
 que au contraire, la philosophie positive est toujours 
 caracte'risee, non moins profondement, par la subordina- 
 tion necessaire et rationnelle de la conception de Thomme 
 a celle du monde." 1 
 
 I leave M. Comte's disciples to settle which of these 
 contradictory statements expresses their master's real 
 meaning. All I beg leave to remark is, that men of 
 science are not in the habit of paying much attention 
 to " laws " stated in this fashion. 
 
 The second statement is undoubtedly far more rational 
 and consistent with fact than the first ; but I cannot 
 think it is a just or adequate account of the growth 
 of intelligence, either in the individual man, or in the 
 human species. Any one who will carefully watch the 
 development of the intellect of a child will perceive 
 that, from the first, its mind is mirroring nature in two 
 different ways. On the one hand, it is merely drinking 
 in sensations and building up associations, while it forms 
 conceptions of things and their relations which are more 
 thoroughly " positive," or devoid of entanglement with 
 hypotheses of any kind, than they will ever be in after- 
 life. No child has recourse to imaginary personifications 
 in order to account for the ordinary properties of objects 
 which are not alive, or do not represent living things. It 
 does not imagine that the taste of sugar is brought about 
 by a god of sweetness, or that a spirit of jumping causes 
 a ball to bound. Such phenomena, which form the basis 
 of a very large part of its ideas, are taken as matters 
 
 J "Philosophie Positive," iii. p. 188. 
 
IGO Tag Sermons, (Bssrrjrs, mitr J&cbufos. 
 
 of course as ultimate facts which suggest no difficulty 
 and need no explanation. So far as all these common, 
 though important, phsenomena are concerned, the child's 
 mind is in what M. Comte would call the "positive" 
 state. 
 
 But, side by side with this mental condition, there rises 
 another. The child becomes aware of itself as a source 
 of action and a subject of passion and of thought. The 
 acts which follow upon its own desires are among the 
 most interesting and prominent of surrounding occur- 
 rences ; and these acts, again, plainly arise either out of 
 affections caused by surrounding things or of other 
 changes in itself. Among these surrounding things, the 
 most interesting and important are mother and father, 
 brethren and nurses. The hypothesis that these won- 
 derful creatures are of like nature to itself is speedily 
 forced upon the child's mind ; and this primitive piece 
 of anthropomorphism turns out to be a highly successful 
 speculation, which finds its justification at every turn. 
 No wonder, then, that it is extended to other similarly 
 interesting objects which are not too unlike these to 
 the dog, the cat, and the canary, the doll, the toy, and 
 the picture-book that these are endowed with wills and 
 affections, and with capacities for being "good" and 
 " naughty." But surely it would be a mere perversion of 
 language to call this a " theological " state of mind, either 
 in the proper sense of the word " theological/' or as con- 
 trasted with " scientific " or " positive." The child does 
 not worship either father or mother, dog or doll. On 
 the contrary, nothing is more curious than the absolute 
 irreverence, if I may so say, of a kindly-treated young 
 child ; its tendency to believe in itself as the centre 
 of the universe, and its disposition to exercise despotic 
 tyranny over those who could crush it with a finger. 
 
 Still less is there anything unscientific, or anti- scientific, 
 
VIIL] Clxe Scientific l^ette of |)0sitifaism. 161 
 
 in tliis infantile anthropomorphism. The child observes 
 that many phenomena are the consequences of affections 
 of itself; it soon has excellent reasons for the belief 
 that many other phaenomena are consequences of the 
 affections of other beings, more or less like itself. And 
 imving thus good evidence for believing that many of 
 the most interesting occurrences about it are explicable 
 on the hypothesis that they are the work of intelligences 
 like itself having discovered a vera causa for many 
 phenomena why should the child limit the application 
 of so fruitful an hypothesis? The dog has a sort of 
 intelligence, so has the cat; why should not the doll 
 and the picture-book also have a share, proportioned 
 to their likeness to intelligent things ? 
 
 The only limit which does arise is exactly that which, 
 as a matter of science, should arise ; that is to say, the 
 anthropomorphic interpretation is applied only to those 
 phsenomena which, in their general nature, or their 
 apparent capriciousness, resemble those which the child 
 observes to be caused by itself, or by beings like itself. 
 All the rest are regarded as things which explain them- 
 selves, or are inexplicable. 
 
 It is only at a later stage of intellectual development 
 that the intelligence of man awakes to the apparent 
 conflict between the anthropomorphic, and what I may 
 call the physical, 1 aspect of nature, and either endeavours 
 to extend the anthropomorphic view over the whole of 
 nature. which is the tendency of theology ; or to give 
 the same exclusive predominance to the physical view 
 
 1 The word u positive " is ill every way objectionable. In one sense it 
 suggests that mental quality which was undoubtedly largely developed in 
 M. Comte, but can best be dispensed with in a philosopher ; in another, it is 
 unfortunate in its application to a system which starts with enormous nega- 
 tions ; in its third, and specially philosophical sense, as implying a system of 
 thought which assumes nothing beyond the content of observed facts, it 
 implies that which never did exist, and never will 
 
 M 
 
162 |^8 Smttrms, (Kssags, miir gtebiefaa. [vni. 
 
 which is the tendency of science ; or adopts a middle 
 course, and taking from the anthropomorphic view its 
 tendency to personify, and from the physical view its 
 tendency to exclude volition and affection, ends in what 
 M. Comte calls the "metaphysical" state "metaphy- 
 sical," in M. Comte's writings, being a general term of 
 abuse for anything he does not like. 
 
 What is true of the individual is, mutatis mutandis, 
 true of the intellectual development of the species. It 
 is absurd to say of men in a state of primitive savagery, 
 that all their conceptions are in a theological state. 
 Nine-tenths of them are eminently realistic, and as 
 "positive" as ignorance and narrowness can make them. 
 It no more occurs to a savage than it . does to a child, 
 to ask the why of the daily and ordinary occurrences 
 which form the greater part of his mental life. But 
 in regard to the more striking, or out-of-the-way, events, 
 which force him to speculate, he is highly anthropo- 
 morphic ; and, as compared with a child, his anthropo- 
 morphism is complicated by the intense impression 
 which the death of his own kind makes upon him, 
 as indeed it well may. The warrior, full of ferocious 
 energy, perhaps the despotic chief of his tribe, is 
 suddenly struck down. A child may insult the man 
 a moment before so awful ; a fly rests, undisturbed, on 
 the lips from which undisputed command issued. And 
 yet the bodily aspect of the man seems hardly more 
 altered than when he slept, and, sleeping, seemed to 
 himself to leave his body and wander through dream- 
 land. What then if that something, which is the essence 
 of the man, has really been made to wander by the 
 violence done to it, and is unable, or has forgotten, 
 to come back to its shell? Will it not retain some- 
 what of the powers it possessed during life ? May 
 it not help us if it be pleased, or (as seems to be 
 
viii.] ff^ Stun&Rt ;|sp*ris jof 0sitiirisnt, 163 
 
 by far the more general impression) hurt us if it be 
 angered? Will it not be well to do towards it those 
 things which would hare soothed the man and put 
 him in good humour during his life? It is impossible 
 to study trustworthy accounts of savage thought with- 
 out seeing that some such train of ideas as this lies at 
 the bottom of their speculative beliefs. 
 
 There are savages without God, in any proper sense 
 of the word, but none without ghosts, And the Fetish- 
 ism, Ancestor-worship, Hero-worship, and Demonology 
 of primitive savages, are all, I believe, different manners 
 of expression of their belief in ghosts, and of the 
 anthropomorphic interpretation of out-of-the-way events, 
 which is its concomitant. Witchcraft and sorcery are 
 the practical expressions of these beliefs; and they 
 stand in the same relation to religious worship as the 
 simple anthropomorphism of children, or savages, does 
 to theology. 
 
 In the progress of the species from savagery to 
 advanced civilization, anthropomorphism grows into 
 theology, while physicism (if I may so call it) develops 
 into science ; but the development of the two is con- 
 temporaneous, not successive. For each, there long 
 exists an assured province which is not invaded by 
 the other ; while, between the two, lies a debateable land, 
 ruled by a sort of bastards, who owe their complexion 
 to physicism and their substance to anthropomorphism, 
 and are M. Comte's particular aversions metaphysical 
 entities. L- 
 
 But, as the ages lengthen, the borders of Physicism 
 increase. The territories of the bastards are all annexed 
 to science ; and even Theology, in her purer forms, 
 has ceased to be anthropomorphic, however she may 
 talk. Anthropomorphism has taken Stand in its last 
 fortress man himself. But science closely invests the 
 
 M 2 
 
164 fag Sawn*, <$8sags, mtir liebietos, [VIIT. 
 
 walls ; and Philosophers gird themselves for battle 
 upon the last and greatest of all speculative problems 
 Does human nature possess any free, volitional, or truly 
 anthropomorphic element, or is it only the cuimingest 
 of all Nature's clocks? Some, among whom I count 
 myself, think that the battle will for ever remain a 
 drawn one, and that, for all practical purposes, this result 
 is as good as anthropomorphism winning the day. 
 
 The classification of the sciences, which, in the eyes 
 of M. Comte's adherents, constitutes his second great 
 claim to the dignity of a scientific philosopher, appears 
 to me to be open to just the same objections as the 
 law of the three states. It is inconsistent in itself, and 
 it is inconsistent with fact. -< Let us consider the main 
 points of this classification successively :- 
 
 "Ilfaut distinguer par rapport k tons les ordres des phenomenes, 
 deux genres de sciences naturelles ; les unes abstraites, generates, ont 
 pour objet la decouverte des lois qui regissent les diverses classes de 
 phenomenes, en considerant tous les cas qu'on peut concevoir; les 
 autres concretes, particulieres, descriptives, et qu'on designe quelquefois 
 sous le nom des sciences naturelles proprement dites, consistent dans 
 Implication de ces lois a I'histoirejeifective des difierents etres 
 exfistants." 1 
 
 The "abstract" sciences are subsequently said to be 
 mathematics, astronomy, physics, chemistry, physiology, 
 and social physics the titles of the two latter being 
 subsequently changed to biology and sociology. M. 
 Comte exemplifies the distinction between his abstract 
 and his concrete sciences as follows : 
 
 " On pourra d'abord 1'apercevoir tres-nettement en comparant, d'une 
 part, la physiologie gen6rale, et d'une autre part la zoologie et la 
 tootanique proprement dites. Ce sont e*videmment, en effet, deux 
 travail :c d'ua caractero fort distinct, que cl'etudier, en general, les lois 
 de la vie, ou de determiner le mode d'existence de chaque corps vivaijt. 
 en particular. Cette seconde 2tude t en outre* est nccessairanmt 
 svr la premitre"'?. 57. 
 
 * "ThilosopTiie Positive/' i. p. 56. 
 
vin. je Sxieniifir stte rrf 
 
 All the unreality and mere bookishness of M. Comte's 
 knowledge of physical sciende comes out in the passage 
 I have italicised.. " The special study of living beings 
 is based upon a general study of the laws of lifel" 
 i What little I know about the matter leads me to think 
 that, if M. Comte had possessed the slightest practical 
 acquaintance with biological science, he would have 
 turned his phraseology upside down, and have perceived 
 that we can have no knowledge of the general laws 
 of life, except that which is based upon the study of 
 particular living beings. 
 
 The illustration is surely unluckily chosen ; But the 
 language in which these so-called abstract sciences are 
 defined seems to me to be still more open to criticism. 
 With what propriety can astronomy, or physics, or 
 chemistry, or biology, be said to occupy themselves 
 with the consideration of "all conceivable cases" which 
 fall within their respective provinces ? Does the as- 
 tronomer occupy himself with any other system of the 
 universe than that which is visible to him ? Does he 
 speculate upon the possible movements of bodies which 
 may attract one another in the inverse proportion of the 
 cube of their distances, say? Does biology, whether 
 " abstract" or " concrete/' occupy itself with any other 
 form of life than those which exist, or have existed? 
 And, if the abstract sciences embrace all conceivable 
 cases of the operation of the laws with which* they 
 are concerned, would not they, necessarily, embrace the 
 subjects of the concrete sciences, which, inasmuch as 
 they exist, must needs be conceivable ? In fact, no such 
 distinction as that which ]\/[. Comte draws is tenable. 
 The first stage of his classification breaks by its own 
 weight. 
 
 But granting M. Comte his six abstract sciences, he 
 proceeds to arrange them according to what .he calls 
 
16G fag Snmoits, <ssngs, anir gcimtos. L vin 
 
 their natural order or hierarchy, their places in this 
 hierarchy being determined by the degree of generality 
 [and simplicity of the conceptions with which they 
 deal. Mathematics occupies the first, astronomy the 
 [second, physics the third, chemistry the fourth, biology 
 [the fifth, and sociology the sixth and last place in the 
 'series. M. Comte's arguments in favour of this classi- 
 fication are first 
 
 " Sa conform!^ essentielle avec la co-ordination, en quelque sorte 
 spontanee, qui se trouve en effet implicitement admise par les savants 
 livres a 1'etude des diverse branches de la philosophie naturelle." 
 
 But I absolutely deny the existence of this conformity. 
 If there is one thing clear about the progress of modern 
 science, it is the tendency to reduce all scientific 
 problems, except those which are purely mathematical, 
 to questions of molecular physics that is to say, to 
 the attractions, repulsions, motions, and co-ordination 
 of the ultimate particles of matter. Social phenomena 
 are the result of the interaction of the components of 
 society, or men, with one another and the surrounding 
 universe. But, in the language of physical science, 
 which, by the nature of the case, is materialistic, the 
 actions of men, so far as they are recognisable by 
 science, are the results of molecular changes in the 
 matter of which they are composed ; and, in the long 
 run, these must come into the hands of the physiciaL 
 A fortiori, the phenomena of biology and of chemistry 
 are, in their ultimate analysis, questions of molecular 
 physics. Indeed, the fact is acknowledged by all 
 chemists and biologists who look beyond their imme- 
 diate occupations. And it is to be observed, that the 
 phsenomena of biology are as directly and immediately con- 
 nected with molecular physics as are those of chemistry. 
 Molar physics, chemistry, and biology are not three 
 
VIIL] -Cjp j&imtific &pjerte xrf f) 0s5fibhmi. 167 
 
 successive steps in the ladder of knowledge, as M. 
 Comte would have us believe, but three branches 
 springing from the common stem of molecular physics. 
 
 As to astronomy, I am at a loss to understand how 
 any one who will give a moment's attention to the 
 nature of the science can fail to see that it consists of 
 two parts : first, of a description of the phenomena, 
 which is as much entitled as descriptive zoology, or 
 botany, is, to the name of natural history ; and, secondly, 
 of an explanation of the phsenomena, furnished by the 
 laws of a force gravitation the study of which is as 
 much a part of physics, as is that of heat, or electricity. 
 It would be just as reasonable to make the study of 
 the heat of the sun a science preliminary to the rest 
 of thermotics, as to place the study of the attraction of 
 the bodies, which compose the universe in general, 
 before that of the particular terrestrial bodies, which 
 alone we can experimentally know. Astronomy, in fact, 
 owes its perfection to the circumstance that it is the 
 only branch of natural history, the phsenomena of which 
 are largely expressible by mathematical conceptions, 
 and which can be, to a great extent, explained by the 
 application of very simple physical laws. 
 
 With regard to mathematics, it is to be observed, in 
 the first place, that M. Comte mixes up under that 
 head the pure relations of space and of quantity, which 
 are properly included under the name, with rational 
 mechanics and statics, which are mathematical deve- 
 lopments of the most general conceptions of physics, 
 namely, the notions of force and of motion. Eelegating 
 these to their proper place in physics, we have left pure 
 mathematics, which can stand neither at the head, nor 
 at the tail, of any hierarchy of the sciences, since, like 
 logic, it is equally related to all ; though the enormous 
 practical difficulty of applying mathematics to the more 
 
Sermmis, dKssagg, anfr H^mfas, [VIIL 
 
 complex phenomena of nature removes them, for the 
 present, out of its sphere. 
 
 On this subject pf mathematics, again, M. Comte 
 indulges in assertions which can only be accounted for 
 by his total ignorance of physical science practically. 
 As for example : 
 
 " C'est done par 1'etude des mathe'matiques, et settlement par elle, 
 que Ton peut se faire une ide juste et approfondie de ce que c'est 
 qu'une science. C'est la uniquement qu'on doit chercher a connaitre 
 avec precision la methode gene'rale que I 'esprit humain emploie constant- 
 ment dans toutes ses recherches positives, parce que nulle part ailleurs 
 les questions ne sont resolues q'une manie"re aussi complete et les 
 deductions prolongees aussi loin avec une seve"rite rigoureuse. C'est 
 la e~galement que notre entendement a donne les plus grandes preuves 
 de sa force, parce que les idees qu'il y considere sont du plus haut 
 degr6 d'abstraction possible dans Tordre positif. Toute education 
 sdentifigue qui ne commence point par une telle etude peche done neces- 
 sairement par sa base." l 
 
 That is to say, the only study which can confer "a just 
 and comprehensive idea of what is meant by science," 
 and, at the same time, furnish an exact conception of 
 the general method of scientific investigation, is that 
 which knows nothing of observation, nothing of experi- 
 ment, nothing of induction, nothing of causation ! And 
 education, the whole secret of which consists in proceed- 
 ing from the easy to the difficult, the concrete to the 
 abstract, ought to be turned the other way, and pass 
 from thte abstract to^the concrete. 
 
 M. Comte puts a second argument in favour of his 
 , hierarchy of the sciences thus : 
 
 a Un second caractere tres-essentiel de notre classification, c*est 
 d'etre nece'ssairement conforme a Tordre efiectif du developpement de 
 la philosophic naturelle.* C'est ce que ve'rifie tout ce qu'on sait de 
 1'histoire des sciences." a 
 
 feut Mr. Spencer has so thoroughly and completely 
 deinonstfated the absence of any correspondence between 
 
 "Philosophic Positive," i p. 99. * Ibid.,-1 p. 77. 
 
vm, J C{p Stimtific &ap*rfa 0f f oaitibiam. 169 
 
 the historical development of the sciences, and -their 
 position in the Comtean hierarchy, in his essay on the 
 "Genesis of Science," that I shall not waste time in 
 repeating his refutation, 
 
 A third proposition in support of the Comtean classi- 
 fication of the sciences stands as follows: 
 
 "En troisieme lieu cette classification prese,te la propriety tres- 
 remarquable de marquer exactement la perfection relative des diffe- 
 rentes sciences, laquelle consiste essentiellement dans le degre de 
 precision des connaissances et dans leur co-ordination plus ou moins 
 intime." 1 
 
 I am quite unable to understand the distinction which 
 M. Comte endeavours to draw in this passage in spite 
 of his amplifications further on. Every science must 
 consist of precise knowledge, and that knowledge must 
 be co-ordinated into general proportions, or it is not 
 science. When M. Comte, in exemplification of the 
 statement I have cited, says that "les phdnomenes 
 organiques ne comportent qu'une ^tude a la fois moins 
 exacte et moins syst^matique que les phenomenes 
 corps bruts," I am at a loss to comprehend what he 
 means. If I affirm that "when a motor nerve is irri- 
 tated, the muscle connected with it becomes simultane- 
 ously shorter and thicker, without changing its volume/' 
 it appears to me that the statement is as precise or exact 
 (and not merely as true) as that of the physicist who 
 should say, that "when a piece of iron is heated, it 
 becomes simultaneously longer and thicker and increases 
 in volume ;" nor can I discover any difference, in point 
 of precision, between the statement of the morphological 
 law that "animals which suckle their young have two 
 occipital condyles," and the enunciation of the physical 
 law that "water subjected to electrolysis is replaced by 
 an equal weight of the gases, oxygen and hydrogen." 
 
 1 "Philosophie Positive i p. 78. 
 
170 ^ag Skruums, (Essajs, ^ IJUhiefas, [vm 
 
 As for anatomical or physiological investigation being 
 less "systematic" than that of the physicist or chemist, 
 the assertion is simply unaccountable. The methods of 
 physical science are everywhere the same in principle, 
 and the physiological investigator who was not "sys- 
 tematic " would, on the whole, break down rather sooner 
 than the inquirer into simpler subjects. 
 
 Thus M. Comte's classification of the sciences, under 
 all its aspects, appears to me to be a complete failure. 
 It is impossible, in an article which is already too long, 
 to inquire how it may be replaced by a better ; and it is 
 the less necessary to do so, as a second edition of Mr. 
 Spencer's remarkable essay on this subject has just been 
 published. After wading through pages of the long- 
 winded confusion and second-hand information of the 
 "Philosophic Positive," at the risk of a crise cerebrale 
 it is as good as a shower-bath to turn to the "Classi- 
 fication of the Sciences," ^and refresh oneself with Mr. 
 Spencer's profound thought, precise knowledge, and clear 
 language. 
 
 II. The second proposition to which I have committed 
 myself, in the paper to which I have been obliged to 
 refer so often, is, that the "Positive Philosophy" contains 
 " a great deal which is as thoroughly antagonistic to the 
 very essence of science as is anything in ultramontane 
 Catholicism/' 
 
 What I refer to in these words, is, on the one hand 
 the dogmatism and narrowness which so often mark 
 M. Comte's discussion of doctrines which he does not 
 like, and reduce his expressions of opinion to mere 
 passionate puerilities; as, for example, when he is 
 arguing against the assumption of an ether, or when 
 he is talking (I cannot call it arguing) against pyscho- 
 logy, or political economy. On the other hand, I allude 
 to the spirit of meddling systematization and regulation 
 
VIIL] 
 
 which animates even the "Philosophic Positive," and 
 breaks out, in the latter volumes of that work, into no 
 uncertain foreshadowing of the anti-scientific monstro- 
 sities of Comte's later writings. 
 
 Those who try to draw a line of demarcation between 
 the spirit of the " Philosophic Positive/' and that of 
 the "Politique" and its successors, (if I may express 
 an opinion from fragmentary knowledge of these last,) 
 must have overlooked, or forgotten, what Comte himself 
 labours to show, and indeed succeeds in proving, in 
 the "Appendice General" of the "Politique Positive/' 
 "Des mon debut/' he writes, "je tentai de fonder le 
 nouveau pouvoir spirituel que j'institue aujourd'hui." 
 "Ma politique, loin d'etre aucunement opposee a ma 
 philosophie, en constitue tellement la suite naturelle 
 que celle-ci fut directement instituee pour servir de base 
 a celle-la comme le prouve cet appendice." l 
 
 This is quite true. In the remarkable essay entitled 
 "Considerations sur le Pouvoir spirituel," published in 
 March 1826, Comte advocates the establishment of a 
 " modern spiritual power," which, he anticipates, may 
 exercise an even greater influence over temporal affairs, 
 than did the Catholic clergy, at the height of their 
 vigour and independence, in the twelfth century. This 
 spiritual power is, in fact, to govern opinion, and to 
 have the supreme control over education, in each 
 nation of the West; and the spiritual powers of the 
 several European peoples are to be associated together 
 and placed under a common direction or " souverainet6 
 spirituelle." ^ 
 
 A system of "Catholicism minus Christianity" was 
 therefore completely organized in Comte's mind, four 
 years before the first volume of the "Philosophie 
 Positive " was written ; and, naturally, the papal spirit 
 
 i Loo. cit., Preface Sp^ciale, pp. i, it 
 
172 f^g Smtt0tts, sssgs, anb JjLebiefas. [vm 
 
 shows itself in that work, not only in .the ways I 
 have already mentioned, but, notably, in the attack 
 on liberty of conscience which breaks out in the fourth 
 volume : 
 
 "H n'y a point de liberte de- conscience en astronomie, enpnysiqne, 
 en chimie, en physiologie meme, en ce sens que chacun trouverait 
 absurde de ne pas croire de contiance aux principes dtablis dans les 
 sciences par les homines competents." 
 
 "Nothing in ultramontane Catholicism " can, in my 
 judgment, be more completely sacerdotal, more entirely 
 anti-scientific, than this dictum. All the great steps in 
 the advancement of science have been made by just 
 those men who have not hesitated to doubt the "prin- 
 ciples established in the sciences by competent persons ; " 
 and the great teaching of science the great use of it as 
 an instrument of mental discipline is its constant incul- 
 cation of the maxim, that the sole ground on which any 
 statement has a right to be believed is the impossibility 
 of refuting it. 
 
 Thus,, without travelling beyond the limits of the 
 "Philosophic Positive/' we find its author contempla- 
 ting the establishment of a system of society, in which 
 an organized spiritual power shall over-ride and direct 
 jbhe temporal power, as completely as the Innocents and 
 Gregorys tried to govern Europe in the middle ages ; and 
 repudiating 'the exercise of liberty of conscience against 
 the "homines competents," of whom, by the assump- 
 tion, the new priesthood would be composed. Was 
 Mr. Congreve as forgetful of this, as he seems to have 
 been of some other parts of the " Philosophic Positive," 
 when He wrote, that "in any limited, careful use of 
 the term, no candid man could say that the Positive 
 Philosophy contained a g$eat deal as thoroughly -anta- 
 
VIIL] 
 
 gonistic to [the very essence of 1 ] science as Catholi- 
 cism"? 
 
 M. Comte, it will have been observed, desires to retain 
 the whole of Catholic organization ; and the logical 
 practical result of this part of his doctrine would be 
 the establishment of something corresponding with that 
 eminently Catholic, but admittedly anti-scientific, insti- 
 tution the Holy Office. 
 
 I hope I have said enough to show that I wrote the few 
 lines I devoted to M. Comte and his philosophy, neither 
 unguardedly nor ignorantly, still less maliciously. I 
 shall be sorry if what I have now added, in my own 
 justification, should lead any to suppose that I think 
 M. Comte's works worthless; or that I do not heartily 
 respect, and sympathise with, those who have been im- 
 pelled by him to think deeply upon social problems, 
 and to strive nobly for social regeneration. It is the 
 virtue of that impulse, I believe, which will save 
 the name and fame of Auguste Comte from oblivion. 
 As for his philosophy, I part with it by quoting 
 his own words, reported to me by a quondam Comtist, 
 now an eminent member of the Institute of France, 
 M. Charles Eobin: 
 
 " La Philosophic est une tentative incessante de Pesprit humain pour 
 arriver au repos : mais elle se trouve incessamnent aussi derange"e par 
 les progres continus de la science. De la vient pour le philosophe 
 1'obligation de refaire chaque soir la synthese de ses conceptions; et 
 un jour viendra ou I'homme raisonnable ne fera plus d'autre priere 
 du soir." 
 
 1 Mr. Congreve leaves out these important words, which show that I refer 
 to the spirit, and not to the details of science, 
 
IX. 
 ON A PIECE OF CHALK, 
 
 A LECTURE TO WORKING MEN. 
 
 IP a well were to be sunk at our feet in the midst of 
 the city of Norwich, the diggers would very soon find 
 themselves at work in that white substance almost too 
 soft to be called rock, with which we are all familiar as 
 "chalk. 
 
 Not only here, but over the whole county of Norfolk, 
 the well-sinker might carry his shaft down many hundred 
 feet without coming to the end of the chalk ; and, on 
 the sea-coast, where the waves have pared away the 
 face of the land which breasts them, the scarped faces 
 of the high cliffs are often wholly formed of the same 
 material. Northward, the chalk may be followed as far 
 as Yorkshire ; on the south coast it appears abruptly 
 in the picturesque western bays of Dorset, and breaks, 
 into the Needles of the Isle of Wight; while on the 
 shores of Kent it supplies that long line of white cliffs 
 to which England owes her name of Albion. 
 
 "Were the thin soil which covers it all washed away, 
 a curved band of white chalk, here broader, and there 
 narrower, might be followed diagonally across England 
 from Lulworth in Dorset, to Flamborough Head in 
 
ix. J it a fim xrf Cfmlk, 175 
 
 Yorkshire a distance of over 280 miles as the crow 
 flies. 
 
 From this band to the North Sea, on the east, and the 
 Channel, on the south, the chalk is largely hidden by 
 other deposits; but, except in the "Weald of Kent and 
 Sussex, it enters into the "very foundation of all the 
 south-eastern counties^ 
 
 Attaining, as it does in some places, a thickness of 
 more than a thousand feet, the English chalk must be 
 admitted to be a mass of considerable magnitude. 
 Nevertheless, it covers but an insignificant portion of 
 the whole area occupied by the chalk formation of the 
 globe, which has precisely the same general characters 
 as ours, and is found in detached patches, some less, 
 and others more extensive, than the English 
 
 Chalk occurs in north-west Ireland ; it stretches over 
 a large part of France, the chalk which underlies Paris 
 being, in fact, a continuation of that of the London 
 basin ; it runs through Denmark and Central Europe, and 
 extends southward to North Africa; while eastward, it 
 appears in the Crimea and in Syria, and may be traced 
 as far as the shores of the Sea of Aral, in Central Asia. 
 
 If all the points at which true chalk occurs were 
 circumscribed, they would lie within an irrregular oval 
 about 3,000 miles in long diameter the area of which 
 would be as great as that of Europe, and would many 
 times exceed that of the largest existing inland sea 
 the Mediterranean. 
 
 Thus the chalk is no unimportant element in the 
 masonry of the earth's crust, and it impresses a peculiar 
 stamp, varying with the conditions to which it is 
 exposed, on the scenery of the districts in which it 
 occurs. The undulating downs and rounded coombs, 
 covered with sweet-grassed turf, of our inland chalk 
 country, have a peacefully domestic and mutton- 
 
176 ^ag Smnicms, (Sssngs, rmtr |kbietos. [ix 
 
 suggesting prettiness, but can hardly be called either 
 grand or beautiful But on our southern coasts, the 
 wall-sided cliffs, many hundred feet high, with vast 
 needles and pinnacles standing out in the sea, sharp 
 and solitary enough to serve as perches for the wary 
 cormorant, confer a wonderful beauty and grandeur 
 upon the chalk headlands. And, in the East, chalk has 
 its share in the formation of some of the most venerable 
 of mountain ranges, such as the Lebanon. 
 
 What is this wide-spread component of the surface of 
 the earth ? and whence did it come ? 
 
 You may think this no very hopeful inquiry. You 
 may not unnaturally suppose that the attempt to solve 
 such problems as these can lead to no result, save that 
 of entangling the inquirer in vague speculations, in- 
 capable of refutation and of verification. 
 
 If such were really the case, I should have selected 
 some other subject than a "piece of chalk" for my 
 discourse. But, in truth, after much deliberation, I 
 have been unable to think of any topic which would so 
 well enable me to lead you to see how solid is the foun- 
 dation upon which some of the most startling conclusions 
 of physical science rest. 
 
 A great chapter of the history of the world is written 
 in the chalk. Few passages in the history of man can 
 be supported by such an overwhelming mass of direct 
 and indirect evidence as that which testifies to the truth 
 of the fragment of the history of the globe, which I hope 
 to enable you to read, with your own eyes, to-night. 
 
 Let me add, that few chapters of human history haye 
 a more profound significance for ourselves. I weign 
 my words well when I assert, that the man who should 
 know the true history of the bit of chalk which every 
 carpenter carries about in his breeches-pocket, though 
 
ix. J , <$n a f mt jof 
 
 ignorant of all other history, is likely, if he will think 
 his knowledge out to its ultimate results, to have a truer, 
 and therefore a better, conception of this wonderful 
 universe, and of man's relation to it, than the most 
 learned student who is deep-read in the records of 
 humanity and ignorant of those of Nature. 
 
 The language of the chalk is not hard to learn, not 
 nearly so hard as Latin, if you only want to get at the 
 broad features of the story it has to tell ; and I pro- 
 pose that we now set to work to spell that story out 
 together. 
 
 We all know that if we "burn" chalk the result 
 is quicklime. Chalk, in fact, is a compound of carbonic 
 acid gas, and lime, and when you make it very hot the 
 carbonic acid flies away and the lime is left. 
 
 By this method of procedure we see the lime, but we 
 do not see the carbonic acid. If, on the other hand, you 
 were to powder a little chalk and drop it into a good 
 deal of strong vinegar, there would be a great bubbling 
 and fizzing, and, finally, a clear liquid, in which no sign 
 of chalk would appear. Here you see the carbonic acid 
 in the bubbles; the lime, dissolved in the vinegar, 
 vanishes from sight. There are a great many other 
 ways of showing that chalk is essentially nothing but 
 carbonic acid and quicklime. Chemists enunciate the 
 result of all the experiments which prove this, by 
 stating that chalk is almost wholly composed of " car- 
 bonate of lime." 
 
 It is desirable for us to start from the knowledge of 
 this fact, though it may not seem to help us very far 
 towards what we seek. For carbonate of lime is a widely- 
 spread substance, and is met with under very various 
 conditions. All sorts of limestones are composed of 
 more or less pure carbonate of lime. The crust which 
 is often deposited by waters which have drained through 
 
 
178 yaj Smrams, (gssEtgs, antr gkbiefas. L IX - 
 
 limestone rocks, in the form of what are called stalag- 
 mites and stalactites, is carbonate of lime. Or, to take 
 a more familiar example, the fur on the inside of a tea- 
 kettle is carbonate of lime ; and, for anything chemistry 
 tells us to the contrary, the chalk might be a kind- of 
 gigantic fur upon the bottom of the earth-kettle, which 
 is kept pretty hot below. 
 
 Let us try another method of making the chalk tell 
 us its own history. To the unassisted eye chalk look? 
 simply like a very loose and open kind of stone. But 
 it is possible to grind a slice of chalk down so thin that 
 yon can see through it until it is thin enough, in fact, 
 to be examined with any magnifying power that may 
 be thought desirable. A thin slice of the fur of a 
 kettle might be made in the same way. If it were 
 examined microscopically, it would show itself to be 
 a more or less distinctly laminated mineral substance, 
 and nothing more. 
 
 But the slice of chalk presents a totally different 
 appearance when placed under the microscope. The 
 general mass of it is made up of very minute granules; 
 but, imbedded in this matrix, are innumerable bodies, 
 some smaller and some larger, but, on a rough average, 
 not more than a hundredth of an inch in diameter, 
 having a well-defined shape and structure. A cubic 
 inch of some specimens of chalk may contain hundreds 
 of thousands of these bodies, compacted together with 
 incalculable millions of the granules. 
 
 The examination of a transparent slice gives a good 
 notion of the manner in which the components of the 
 chalk are arranged, and of their relative proportions. 
 But, by rubbing up some chalk with a brush in wato 
 and then pouring off the milky fluid, so as to obtain 
 sediments of different degrees of fineness, the granules 
 and the minute rounded bodies m^y be prettj well 
 
ix.] <@n n fim of CjmlL 179 
 
 separated from one another, and submitted to micro- 
 scopic examination, either as opaque or as transparent, 
 objects. By combining the views obtained in these 
 various methods, each of the rounded bodies may be 
 proved to be a beautifully-constructed calcareous fabric, 
 made up of a number of chambers, communicating freely 
 with one another. The chambered bodies are of various 
 forms. One of the commonest is something like a 
 badly-grown raspberry, being formed of a number of 
 nearly globular chambers of different sizes congregated 
 together. It is called Globigerina, and some specimens 
 of chalk consist of little else than Globigerince and 
 granules. 
 
 Let us fix our attention upon the Globigerina. It is 
 the spoor of the game we are tracking. If we can learn 
 what it is and what are the conditions of its existence, 
 we shall see our way to the origin and past history of 
 the chalk. 
 
 A suggestion which may naturally enough present 
 itself is, that these curious bodies are the result of some 
 process of aggregation which has taken place in the 
 carbonate of lime ; that, just as in winter, the rime on 
 our windows simulates the most delicate and elegantly 
 arborescent foliage proving that the mere mineral water 
 may, under certain conditions, assume the outward form 
 of organic bodies so this mineral substance, carbonate 
 of lim.e, hidden away in the bowels of the earth, has 
 taken the shape of these chambered bodies. I am not 
 raising a merely fanciful and unreal objection. Very 
 learned men, in former days, have even entertained the 
 notion that all the formed things found in rocks are of 
 this nature ; and if no such conception is at present 
 held to be admissible, it is because long and varied 
 experience has now shown that mineral matter never 
 does assume the form and structure we find in fossils. 
 
 N2 
 
180 ^ag Sermmw, (Kssajs, antr Ij^bhfos. [ix. 
 
 If any one were to try to persuade you that an oyster- 
 shell (which is also chiefly composed of carbonate of 
 lime) "had crystallized out of sea- water, I suppose you 
 would laugh at the absurdity. Your laughter would 
 be justified by the fact that all experience tends to 
 show that oyster-shells are formed by the agency of 
 oysters, and in no other way. And if there were no 
 better reasons, we should be justified, on like grounds, 
 in believing that Globigerina is not the product of any- 
 thing but vital activity. 
 
 Happily, however, better evidence in proof of the 
 organic nature of the Globigerincs than that of analogy 
 is forthcoming. It so happens that calcareous skeletons, 
 exactly similar to the Globigerince of the chalk, are 
 being formed, at the present moment, by minute living 
 creatures, which flourish in multitudes, literally mor'e 
 numerous than the sands of the sea-shore, over a large 
 extent of that part of the earth's surface which is 
 covered by the ocean. 
 
 The v history of the discovery of these living Globi- 
 gerince, and of the part which they play in rock 
 building, is singular enough. It is a discovery which, 
 like others of no less scientific importance, has arisen, 
 incidentally, out of work devoted to very different and 
 exceedingly practical interests. 
 
 When men first took to the sea, they speedily learned 
 to ]ook out for shoals and rocks; and the more the 
 burthen of their ships increased, the more imperatively 
 necessary it became for sailors to ascertain with precision 
 the depth of the waters they traversed. Out of this 
 necessity grew the use of the lead and sounding line; 
 and, ultimately, marine-surveying, which is the recording 
 of the form of coasts and of the depth of the sea, as 
 ascertained by the sounding-lead, upon charts. 
 
 At the same time, it became desirable to ascertain 
 
ix.] <n a; |)ita 0f CfmIL 181 
 
 and to indicate the nature of the sea-bottom, since this 
 circumstance greatly affects its goodness as holding 
 ground for anchors. Some ingenious tar, whose name 
 deserves a better fate than the oblivion into which it 
 has fallen, attained this object by "arming " the bottom 
 of the lead with a lump of grease, to w^hich more or less 
 of the sand or mud, or broken shells, as the case might 
 be, adhered, and was brought to the surface. But, 
 however well adapted such an apparatus might be for 
 rough nautical purposes, scientific accuracy could not be 
 expected from the armed lead, and to remedy its defects 
 (especially when applied to sounding in great depths) 
 Lieut. Brooke, of the American Navy, some years ago 
 invented a most ingenious machine, by which a consider- 
 able portion of the superficial layer of the sea^-bottom 
 can be scooped out and brought up, from any depth to 
 which the lead descends. 
 
 In 1853, Lieut. Brooke obtained mud from the bottom 
 of the North Atlantic, between Newfoundland ,and the 
 Azores, at a depth of more than 10,000 feet, or two 
 miles, by the help of this sounding apparatus. The 
 specimens were sent for examination to Ehrenberg of 
 Berlin, and to Bailey of West Point, and those able 
 microscopists found that this deep-sea mud was 
 almost entirely composed of the skeletons of living 
 organisms the greater proportion of these being just 
 like the Globigerinm already known to occur in the 
 chalk. 
 
 Thus far, the work had been carried on simply in the 
 interests of science, but Lieut. Brooke's method of sound- 
 ing acquired a high commercial value, when the enter- 
 prise of laying down the telegraph-cable between this 
 country and the United States was undertaken. For 
 it became a matter of immense importance to kn6w, 
 not only the depth of the sea over the whole line along 
 
182 Jfag S*rm0ns, (Essajjs, aito l^imfos. [ix. 
 
 which the cable was to be laid, but the exact nature of 
 the bottom, so as to guard against chances of cutting or 
 fraying the strands of that costly rope. The Admiralty 
 consequently ordered Captain Dayman, an old friend and 
 shipmate of mine, to ascertain the depth over the whole 
 line of the cable, and to bring back specimens of the 
 bottom. In former days, such a command as this might 
 have sounded very much like one of the impossible things 
 which the young prince in the Fairy Tales is ordered to 
 do before he can obtain the hand of the Princess. How- 
 ever, in the months of June and July 1857, my friend 
 performed the task assigned to him with great expedition 
 and precision, without, so far as I know, having met with 
 any reward of that kind. The specimens of Atlantic 
 mud which he procured were sent to me to be examined 
 and reported upon. 1 
 
 The result of all these operations is, that we know the 
 contours and the nature of the surface-soil covered by 
 the North Atlantic, for a distance of 1,700 miles from 
 east to west, as well as we know that of any part of 
 the dry land. 
 
 It is a prodigious plain one of the widest and most 
 even plains in the world. If the sea were drained off, 
 you might drive a wagon all the way from Valentia, on 
 the west coast of Ireland, to Trinity Bay, in Newfound- 
 land. And, except upon one sharp incline about 200 
 miles from Valentia, I am not quite sure that it would 
 even be necessary to put the skid on, so gentle are the 
 ascents and descents upon that long route. From Valentia 
 
 1 See Appendix to Captain Dayman's " Deep-sea Soundings in the North 
 Atlantic Ocean, between Ireland and Newfoundland, made in H.M.S. 
 Cyclops. Published by order of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, 
 1858." They have since formed the subject of an elaborate Memoir by 
 Messrs. Parker and Jones, published in the Philosophical Transactions for 
 1865. 
 
0f <IL 183 
 
 the road would lie down-hill for about 200 miles to the 
 point at which the bottom is now covered by 1,700 
 fathoms of sea-water. Then would come the central 
 plain, more than a thousand miles wide, the inequalities 
 of the surface of which would be hardly perceptible^ 
 though the depth of water upon it now varies from* 
 10,000 to 15,000 feet; and there are places in which 
 Mont Blanc might be sunk without showing its peak 
 above water. Beyond this, the ascent on the American 
 side commences, and gradually leads, for about 300 
 miles, to the Newfoundland shore. 
 
 Almost the whole of the bottom of this central plain 
 (which extends for many hundred miles in a north and 
 south direction) is covered by a fine mud, which, when 
 brought to the surface, dries into a greyish-white friable 
 substance. You can write with this on a blackboard, if 
 you are so inclined ; and, to the eye, it is quite like very 
 soft, greyish chalk. Examined chemically, it proves to 
 be composed almost wholly of carbonate of lime ; and if 
 you make a section of it, in the same way as that of the 
 piece of chalk was made, and view it with the micro- 
 scope, it presents innumerable Globigerince embedded 
 in a granular matrix. 
 
 Thus this deep-sea mud is substantially chalk. I say 
 substantially, because there are a good many minor dif- 
 ferences ; but as these have no bearing on the question 
 immediately before us, which is the nature of the 
 GlobigerincB of the chalk, it is unnecessary to speak 
 of them. 
 
 GlobigerincB of every size, from the smallest to the 
 largest, are associated together in the Atlantic mud, and 
 the chambers of many are filled by a soft animal matter. 
 This soft substance is, in fact, the remains of the creature 
 to which the Globigerina shell, or rather skeleton, owes 
 its existence and which is an animal of the simplest 
 
134 |^ag Sermons, (gssags, aitir Jjklmfos. [ix. 
 
 imaginable description. It is, in fact, a mere particle 
 of living jelly, without defined parts of any kind 
 without a mouth, nerves, muscles, or distinct organs, 
 and only manifesting its vitality to ordinary observation 
 by thrusting out and retracting from all parts of its 
 surface, long filamentous processes, which serve for arms 
 and legs. Yet this amorphous particle, devoid of every- 
 thing which, in the higher animals, we call organs, is 
 capable of feeding, growing, and multiplying; of sepa- 
 rating from the ocean the small proportion of carbonate 
 of lime which is dissolved in sea water; and of 
 building up that substance into -a skeleton for itself, 
 according to a pattern which can be imitated by no 
 other known agency. 
 
 The notion that animals can live and flourish in the 
 sea, at the vast depths from which apparently living 
 Globigerince have been brought up, does not agree very 
 well with our usual conceptions respecting the conditions 
 of animal life ; and it is not so absolutely impossible as 
 it might at first sight appear to be, that the Globigerince 
 of the Atlantic sea-bottom do not live and die where 
 they are found. 
 
 As I have mentioned, the soundings from the great 
 Atlantic plain are almost entirely made up of Globi- 
 gerince, with the granules which have been mentioned, 
 and some few other calcareous shells ; but a small per- 
 centage of the chalky mud perhaps at most some five 
 per cent, of it is of a different nature, and consists of 
 shells and skeletons composed of silex, or pure flint. These 
 silicious bodies belong partly to the lowly vegetable 
 organisms which are called Diatomacece, and partly to 
 the minute, and extremely simple, animals, termed 
 Radiolaria. It is quite 1 certain that these creatures 
 do not live at the bottom of the ocean, but at its 
 surface where they may be obtained in prodigious 
 
ix.J <$n a pm 0f CjmIL 185 
 
 numbers by tlie use of a properly constructed net. 
 Hence it follows that these silicious organisms, though 
 they are not heavier than the lightest dust, must have 
 fallen, in some cases, through fifteen thousand feet of 
 water, before they reached their final resting-place on 
 the ocean floor. And, considering how large a surface 
 these bodies expose in proportion to their weight, it 
 is probable that they occupy a great lerjgth of time 
 in making their burial journey from the surface of the 
 Atlantic to the bottom. 
 
 But if the Radiolaria and Diatoms are thus rained 
 upon the bottom of the sea, from the superficial layer 
 of its waters in which they pass their lives, it is ob- 
 viously possible that the Globigerince may be similarly 
 derived ; and if they were so, it would be much more 
 easy to understand how they obtain their supply of food 
 than it is at present. Nevertheless, the positive and 
 negative evidence all points the other way. The 
 skeletons of the full-grown, deep-sea Globigerince are 
 so remarkably solid and heavy in proportion to their 
 surface as to seem little fitted for floating; and, as a 
 matter of fact, they are not to be found along with the 
 Diatoms and Radiolaria, -in the uppermost stratum of 
 the open ocean. 
 
 It has been observed, again, that the abundance of 
 Globigerince, in proportion to other organisms, of like 
 kind, increases with the depth .of the sea; and that 
 deep-water Globigerince are larger than those which live 
 in shallower parts of the sea ; and such facts negative 
 the supposition that these organisms have been swept by 
 currents from the shallows into the deeps of the Atlantic. 
 
 It therefore seems to be hardly doubtful that these 
 wonderful creatures live and die at the depths in which 
 they are found. 1 
 
 * During the cruise of H.M.S. Bull-dog, commanded by Sir Leopold 
 
186 |^ajr Sermmw* (Essays, mtir |3Ufaiefos. [ix. 
 
 However, tlie important points for us are, that the 
 living Globigerince are exclusively marine animals, the 
 skeletons of which abound at the bottom of deep seas ; 
 and that there is not a shadow of reason for believing 
 that the habits of the Globigerince of the chalk differed 
 from those of the existing species. But if this be true, 
 there is no escaping the conclusion that the chalk itself 
 is the dried mud of an ancient deep sea. 
 
 In working over the soundings collected by Captain 
 Dayman, I was surprised to find that many of what 
 I have called the " granules " of that mud, were not, as 
 one might have been tempted to think at first, the mere 
 powder and waste of Globigerince, but that they had a 
 definite form and size. I termed these bodies " cocco- 
 liths" and doubted their organic nature. Dr. Wallich 
 verified my observation, and added the interesting 
 discovery that, not unfrequently, bodies similar to these 
 "coccoliths" were aggregated together into spheroids, 
 which he termed " coccospheres" So far as we knew, 
 these bodies, the nature of which is extremely puzzling 
 and problematical, were peculiar to the Atlantic 
 soundings. 
 
 But, a few years ago, Mr. Sorby, in making a careful 
 examination of the chalk by means of thin sections and 
 otherwise, observed, as Ehrenberg had done before him, 
 that much of its granular basis possesses a definite form. 
 Comparing these formed particles with those in the 
 
 M'Clintock, in 1860, living star-fish were brought up, clinging to the lowest 
 part of the sounding-line, from a depth of 1,260 fathoms, midway between 
 Cape Farewell, in Greenland, and the Eockall banks. Dr. Wallich ascertained 
 that the sea-bottom at this point consisted of the ordinary Globigerina ooze, 
 and that the stomachs of the star-fishes were full of Globigerince. This 
 discovery removes all objections to the existence of living Globigenince at 
 great depths, which are based upon the supposed difficulty of maintaining 
 animal life under such conditions ; and it throws the burden of proof upon 
 those who object to the supposition that the Globigerina live and die where 
 they are found. .*** 
 
ix.] it a $ua of ff&aBu 187 
 
 Atlantic soundings, he found the two to be identical ; 
 and thus proved that the chalk, like the soundings, 
 contains these mysterious coccoliths and coccospheres. 
 Here was a further and a most interesting confirmation, 
 from internal evidence, of the essential identity of the 
 chalk with modern deep-sea mud. Globigerince, cocco- 
 liths, and coccospheres are found as the chief constituents 
 of both, and testify to the general similarity of the con- 
 ditions under which both have been formed. 1 
 
 The evidence furnished by the hewing, facing, and 
 superposition of the stones of the Pyramids, that these 
 structures were built by men, has no greater weight 
 than the evidence that the chalk was built by Globi- 
 gerincB ; and the belief that those ancient pyramid - 
 builders were terrestrial and air-breathing creatures like 
 ourselves, is it not better based than the conviction that 
 the chalk-makers lived in the sea. 
 
 But as our belief in the building of the Pyramids by 
 men is not only grounded on the internal evidence 
 afforded by these structures, but gathers strength from 
 multitudinous collateral proofs, and is clinched by the 
 total absence of any reason for a contrary belief ; so the 
 evidence drawn from the Globerigince that the chalk is 
 an ancient sea-bottom, is fortified by innumerable inde- 
 pendent lines of evidence ; and our belief in the truth 
 of the conclusion to which all positive testimony tends, 
 receives the like negative justification from the fact that 
 no other hypothesis has a shadow of foundation. 
 
 It may be worth while briefly to consider a few of 
 these collateral proofs that the chalk was deposited at 
 the bottom of the sea. 
 
 1 I have recently traced out the development of the "coccoliths" from a 
 diameter of T^njth of an inch up to their largest size (which is aboutj^j^th), 
 and no longer doubt that they are produced by independent organisms, which, 
 like the Globigerince, live and die at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 
188 f^g Simons, (Sfcsajs, nttir Urfriefas. [ix. 
 
 The great mass of the chalk is composed as we have 
 seen, of the skeletons of Globigerince, and other simple 
 organisms, imbedded in granular matter. Here and 
 there, however, this hardened mud of the ancient sea 
 reveals the remains of higher animals which have lived 
 and died, and left their hard parts in the mud, just as 
 the oysters die and leave their shells behind them, in the 
 mud of the present seas. 
 
 There are, at the present day, certain groups of animals 
 which are never found in fresh waters, being unable to 
 live anywhere but in the sea. Such are the corals ; those 
 corallines which are called Polyzoa', those creatures 
 which fabricate the lamp-shells, and are called Brachio- 
 poda ; the pearly Nautilus, and all animals allied to 
 it ; and all the forms of sea-urchins and star-fishes. 
 
 Not only are all these creatures confined to salt water 
 at the present day ; but, so far as our records of the past 
 go, the conditions of their existence have been the same : 
 hence, their occurrence in any deposit is as strong 
 evidence as can be obtained, that that deposit was 
 formed in the sea. Now the remains of animals of all 
 the kinds which have been enumerated, occur in the 
 chalk, in greater or less abundance ; while not one of 
 those forms of shell-fish which are characteristic of fresh 
 water has yet been observed in it. 
 
 . When we consider that the remains of more than three 
 thousand distinct species of aquatic animals have been 
 discovered among the fossils of the chalk, that the great 
 majority of them are of such forms as are now met with 
 only in the sea, and that there is no reason to believe 
 that any one of them inhabited fresh water the collateral 
 evidence that the chalk represents an ancient sea-bottom 
 acquires as great force as the proof derived from the 
 nature of the chalk itself. I think you will now allow 
 that I did not overstate my case when I asserted that 
 
rx.] it a f wt 0f CjjalL 189 
 
 we have as strong grounds for believing that all the vast 
 area of dry land, at present occupied by the chalk, was 
 once at the bottom of the sea, as we have for any matter 
 of history whatever ; while there is no justification for 
 any other belief. 
 
 No less certain it is that the time during which 
 the countries we now call south-east England, France, 
 Germany, Poland, Eussia, Egypt, Arabia, Syria, were 
 more or less completely covered by a deep sea, was of 
 considerable duration. 
 
 We have already seen that the chalk is, in places, 
 more than a thousand feet thick. I think you will 
 agree with me, that it must have taken some time for 
 the skeletons of animalcules of a hundredth of an inch in 
 diameter to heap up such a mass as that. I have said 
 that throughout the thickness of the chalk the remains 
 of other animals are scattered. These remains are often 
 in the most exquisite state of preservation.. The valves 
 of the shell-fishes are commonly adherent ; the long 
 spines of some of the sea-urchins, which would be de- 
 tached by the smallest jar, often remain in their places. 
 In a word, it is certain that these animals have lived 
 and died when the place which they now occupy was 
 the surface of as much of the chalk as had then been 
 deposited ; and that each has been covered up by the 
 layer of Globigerina mud, upon which the creatures 
 imbedded a little higher up have, in like manner, lived 
 and died. But some of these remains prove the existence 
 of reptiles of vast size in the chalk sea. These lived 
 their time, and had their ancestors and descendants, 
 which assuredly implies time, reptiles being of slow 
 growth. 
 
 There is more curious evidence, again, that the process 
 of covering up, or, in other words, the deposit of Globi- 
 gerina skeletons, did not go on very fast. It is demon- 
 
190 UTag Sjcrntmts, (Essags, antr Itattefas. [ix. 
 
 strable that an animal of the cretaceous sea might die, 
 that its skeleton might lie uncovered upon the sea-bottom 
 long enough to lose all its outward coverings and appen- 
 dages by putrefaction ; and that, after this had happened, 
 another animal might attach itself to the dead and naked 
 skeleton, might grow to maturity, and might itself die 
 before the calcareous mud had buried the whole. 
 
 Cases of this kind are admirably described by Sir 
 Charles Lyell. He speaks of the frequency with which 
 geologists find in the chalk a fossilized sea-urchin, to 
 which is attached the lower valve of a Crania. This 
 is a kind of shell-fish, with a shell composed of two 
 pieces, of which, as in the oyster, one is fixed and the 
 other free. 
 
 "The upper valve is almost invariably wanting, 
 though occasionally found in a perfect state of pre- 
 servation in the white chalk at some distance. In this 
 case, we see clearly that the sea-urchin first lived from 
 youth to age, then died and lost its spines, which were 
 carried away. Then the young Crania adhered to the 
 bared shell, grew and perished in its turn ; after which, 
 the upper valve was separated from the lower, before 
 the Echinus became enveloped in chalky mud." 1 
 
 A specimen in the Museum of Practical Geology, in 
 London, still further prolongs the period which must have 
 elapsed between the death of the sea-urchin, and its burial 
 by the Globigerince. For the outward face of the valve of 
 a Crania, which is attached to a sea-urchin (Micraster), 
 is itself overrun by an incrusting coralline, which spreads 
 thence over more or less of the surface of the sea-urchin. 
 It follows that, after the upper valve of the Crania fell 
 off, the surface of the attached valve must have remained 
 exposed long enough to allow of the growth of the whole 
 coralline, since corallines do not live imbedded in mud. 
 
 1 " Elements of Geology," by Sir Cliarles Lyell, Bart. F.R.S., p. 23. 
 
ix.] it a fbt* 0f CfmlR. 191 
 
 The progress of knowledge may, one day, enable us 
 to deduce from such facts as these the maximum rate 
 at which the chalk can have accumulated, and thus to 
 arrive at the minimum duration of the chalk period. 
 Suppose that the valve of the Crania upon which a 
 coralline has fixed itself in the way just described, is so 
 attached to the sea-urchin that no part of it is more than 
 an inch above the face upon which the sea-urchin rests. 
 Then, as the coralline could not have fixed itself, if the 
 Crania had been covered up with chalk mud, and 
 could not have lived had itself been so covered, it follows, 
 that an inch of chalk mud could not have accumulated 
 within the time between the death and decay of the soft 
 parts of the sea-urchin and the growth of the coralline to 
 the full size which it has attained. Off the dejca^oftibe 
 soft parts of the sea-urchin ; the attachmentTgrowthTx 
 maturity, and decay of the Crania ; and the subsequent 
 attachment and growth of the coralline, took a year 
 (which is a low estimate enough), the accumulation of 
 the inch of chalk must have taken more than a year: 
 and the deposit of a thousand feet of chalk must, 
 consequently, have taken more than twelve thousand 
 years. 
 
 The foundation of all this calculation is, of course, a 
 knowledge of the length of time the Crania and the 
 coralline needed to attain their full size; and, on this 
 head, precise knowledge is at present wanting. But 
 there are circumstances which tend to show, that nothing 
 like an inch of chalk has accumulated during the life of 
 a Crania ; and, on any probable estimate of the length 
 of that life, the chalk period must have had a much 
 longer duration than that thus roughly assigned to it. 
 
 Thus, not only is it certain that the~chalk is the mud of 
 an ancient sea-bottom ; but it. is no less certain, that the ' 
 
192 Jfaj S*rm0its, (Essays, anir gtbbtos. [ix. 
 
 chalk sea existed during an extremely long period, though 
 we may not be prepared to give a precise estimate of the 
 length of that period in years. The relative duration is 
 clear, though the absolute duration may not be definable. 
 The attempt to affix any precise date to the period at 
 which the chalk sea began, or ended, its existence, is 
 baffled by difficulties of the same kind. But the rela- 
 tive age of the cretaceous epoch may be determined 
 with as great ease and certainty as the long duration 
 of that epoch. 
 
 You will have heard of the interesting discoveries 
 recently made, in various parts of Western Europe, of 
 flint implements, obviously worked into shape by human 
 hands, under circumstances which show conclusively that 
 man is a very ancient denizen of these regions. 
 
 It has been proved that the old populations of Europe, 
 whose existence has been revealed to us in this way, con- 
 sisted of savages, such as the Esquimaux are now ; that, 
 in the country which is now France, they hunted the 
 reindeer, and were familiar with the ways of the mam- 
 moth and the bison. The physical geography of France 
 was in those days different from what it is now the 
 river Somme, for instance, having cut its bed a hundred 
 feet deeper between that time and this ; and, it is pro- 
 bable, that the climate was more like that of Canada 
 or Siberia, than that of Western Europe. 
 
 The existence of these people is forgotten even in the 
 traditions of the oldest historical nations. The name 
 and fame of them had utterly vanished until a few 
 years back ; and the amount of physical change which 
 has been effected since their day, renders it more than 
 probable that, venerable as are some of the historical 
 nations, the workers of the chipped flints of Hoxne or 
 of Amiens are to them, as they are to us, in point of 
 antiquity. 
 
a f ucz of Cfcalh. 193 
 
 But, if we assign to these hoar relics of long- vanished 
 generations of men the greatest age that can possibly be 
 claimed for them, they are not older than the drift, or 
 boulder clay, which, in comparison with the chalk, is 
 but a very juvenile deposit. You need go no further 
 than your own sea-board for evidence of this fact. At 
 one of the most charming spots on the coast of Norfolk, 
 Cromer, you will see the boulder clay forming a vast 
 mass, which lies upon the chalk, and must consequently 
 have come into existence after it. Huge boulders of 
 chalk are, in fact, included in the clay, and have evi- 
 dently been brought to the position they now occupy, 
 by the same agency as that which has planted blocks of 
 syenite from Norway side by side with them. 
 
 The chalk, then, is certainly older than the boulder 
 clay. If you ask how much, I will again take you no 
 further than the same spot upon your own coasts for 
 evidence. I have spoken of the boulder clay and drift 
 as resting upon the chalk. That is not strictly true. 
 Interposed between the chalk and the drift is a compa- 
 ratively insignificant layer, containing vegetable matter. 
 But that layer tells a wonderful history. It is full of 
 stumps of trees standing as they grew. Fir-trees are 
 there with their cones, and hazel-bushes with their nuts ; 
 there stand the stools of oak and yew trees, beeches and 
 alders. Hence this stratum is appropriately called the 
 "forest-bed." 
 
 It is obvious that the chalk must have been upheaved 
 and converted into dry land, before the timber trees 
 could grow upon it. As the bolls of some of these trees 
 are from two to three feet in diameter, it is no less clear 
 that the dry land thus formed remained in the same 
 condition for long ages. And not only do the remains 
 of stately oaks and well-grown firs testify to the duration 
 of this condition of things, but additional evidence to 
 
 o 
 
194 |foj S*rm0rxs, (gssags, mtir iJUfaufas. [ix. 
 
 the same effect is afforded by the abundant remains of 
 elephants, rhinoceroses, hippopotamuses, and other great 
 wild beasts, which it has yielded to the zealous search of 
 such men as the Kev. Mr. Gunn. 
 
 When you look at such a collection as he has formed, 
 and bethink you that these elephantine bones did veritably 
 carry their owners about, and these great grinders crunch, 
 in the dark woods of which the forest-bed is now the 
 only trace, it is impossible not to feel that they are as 
 good evidence of the lapse of time as the annual rings 
 of the tree-stumps. "f^^A^SST 
 
 Thus there is a writing upon the wall of cliffs at 
 Cromer, and whoso runs may read it. It tells us, with 
 an authority which cannot be impeached, that the 
 ancient sea-bed of the chalk sea was raised up, and 
 remained dry land, until it was covered with forest, 
 stocked with the great game whose spoils have rejoiced 
 your geologists. How long it remained in that condition 
 cannot be said ; but " the whirligig of time brought its 
 revenges" in those days as in these. That dry land, 
 with the bones and teeth of generations of long-lived 
 elephants, hidden away among the gnarled roots and dry 
 leaves of its ancient trees, sank gradually to the bottom 
 of the icy sea, which covered it with huge masses of 
 drift and boulder clay. Sea-beasts, such as the walrus, 
 now restricted to the extreme north, paddled about where 
 birds had twittered among the topmost twigs of the fir- 
 trees. How long this state of things endured we know 
 not, but at length it came to an end. The upheaved 
 
 flacial mud hardened into the soil of modern Norfolk, 
 orests grew once more, the wolf and the beaver re- 
 placed the reindeer and the elephant ; and at length 
 what we call the history of England dawned. 
 
 Thus you have, within the limits of your own county, 
 proof that the chalk can justly claim a very much 
 
ix.] n a |)im rrf CjmlL 195 
 
 greater antiquity tlian even the oldest physical traces of 
 mankind. But we may go further and demonstrate, by 
 evidence of the same authority as that which testifies to 
 the existence of the father of men, that the chalk is 
 vastly older than Adam himself. 
 
 The Book of Genesis informs us that Adam, immediately 
 upon his creation, and before the appearance of Eve, was 
 placed in the Garden of Eden. The problem of the 
 geographical position of Eden has greatly vexed the 
 spirits of the learned in such matters, but there is one 
 point respecting which, so far as I know, no commentator 
 has ever raised a doubt. This is, that of the four rivers 
 which are said to run out of it, ^uphrates and Hiddekel 
 are identical with the rivers now known by the names of 
 Euphrates and Tigris. 
 
 But the whole country In which these mighty rivers 
 take their origin, and through which they run, is 
 composed of rocks which are either of the same age as 
 the chalk, or of later date. So that the chalk must ijiot 
 only have been formed, but, after its formation, the 
 required for the deposit of these later rocks, and for 
 upheaval into dry land, must have elapsed, before 
 smallest brook which feeds the swift stream of "the 
 great river, the river of Babylon/' began to flow. 
 
 Thus, evidence which cannot be rebutted, and which 
 need not be strengthened, though if time permitted 
 I might indefinitely increase its quantity, compels you 
 to believe that the earth, from the time of the chalk 
 to the present day, has been the theatre of a series of 
 changes as vast in their amount, as they were slow in 
 their progress. ' The area on which we stand has been 
 first sea and then land, for at least four alternations ; 
 and has remained in each of these conditions for a 
 period of great length. 
 
 o 2 
 
196 |fog S*rm0ns, (Essags, attb iJUimtos. [ix. 
 
 Nor have these wonderful metamorphoses of sea into 
 land, and of land into sea, been confined to one corner 
 of England. During the chalk period, or "cretaceous 
 epoch," not one of the present great physical features of 
 the globe was in existence. Our great mountain ranges, 
 Pyrenees, Alps, Himalayas, Andes, have all been up- 
 heaved since the chalk was deposited, and the cretaceous 
 sea flowed over the sites of Sinai and Ararat. 
 
 All this is certain, because rocks of cretaceous, or still 
 later, date have shared in the elevatory movements 
 which gave rise to these mountain chains ; and may 
 be found perched up, in some cases, many thousand 
 feet high upon their flanks. And evidence of equal 
 cogency demonstrates that, though, in Norfolk, the 
 forest-bed rests directly upon the chalk, yet it does so, 
 not because the period at which the forest grew imme- 
 diately followed that at which the chalk was formed, 
 but because an immense lapse of time, represented 
 elsewhere by thousands of feet of rock, is not indicated 
 at Cromer. 
 
 I must ask you to believe that there is no less con- 
 clusive proof that a still more prolonged succession of 
 similar changes occurred, before the chajk was deposited. 
 Nor have we any reason to think that the first term in 
 the series of these changes is known. The oldest sea- 
 beds preserved to us are sands, and mud, and pebbles, 
 the wear and tear of rocks which were formed in still 
 older oceans. 
 
 But, great as is the magnitude of these physical 
 changes of the world, they have been accompanied by 
 a no less striking series of modifications in its living 
 inhabitants. 
 
 All the great classes of animals, beasts of the field, 
 fowls of the air, creeping things, and things which dwell 
 in the waters, flourished upon the globe long ages before 
 
ix.] n a lea 0f ffjf-alh. 1J7 
 
 the chalk was deposited. Very few, however, if any, of 
 these ancient forms of animal life were identical with 
 those which now live. Certainly not one of the higher 
 animals was of the same species as any of those BOW in 
 existence. The beasts of the field, in the days before 
 the chalk, were not our beasts of the field, nor the fowls 
 of the air such as those which the eye of men has seen 
 flying, unless his antiquity dates infinitely further back 
 than we at present surmise. If we could be carried 
 back into those times, we should be as one suddenly 
 set down in Australia before it was colonized. We should 
 see mammals, birds, reptiles, fishes, insects, snails, and 
 the like, clearly recognisable as such, and yet not one 
 of them would be just the same as those with which we 
 are familiar, and many would be extremely different. 
 
 From that time to the present, the population of the 
 world has undergone slow and gradual, but incessant, 
 changes. There has been no grand catastrophe no 
 destroyer has swept away the forms of life of one 
 period, and replaced them by a totally new creation; 
 but one species has vanished and another has taken 
 its place ; creatures of one type of structure have 
 diminished, those of another have increased, as time 
 lias passed on. And thus, while the differences between 
 the living creatures of the time before the chalk and 
 those of the present day appear startling, if placed 
 side by side, we are led from one to the other by the 
 most gradual progress, if we follow the course of Nature 
 through the whole series of those relics of her operations 
 which she has left behind. 
 
 And it is by the population of the chalk sea that the 
 ancient and the modern inhabitants of the world are 
 most completely connected. The groups which are 
 dying out flourish, side by side, with the groups which 
 are now the dominant forms of life. 
 

 198 gfog S*rm0ns, (Stesags, mtb Jjkbiefas," [ix. 
 
 Thus the chalk contains remains of those strange 
 flying and swimming reptiles, the pterodactyl, the ich- 
 thyosaurus, and the plesiosaurus, which are found in no 
 later deposits, but abounded in preceding ages. The 
 chambered shells called ammonites and belemnites, 
 which are so characteristic of the period preceding the 
 cretaceous, in like manner die with it. 
 
 But, amongst these fading remainders of a previous 
 state of things, are some very modern forms of life, 
 looking like Yankee pedlars among a tribe of Eed 
 Indians. Crocodiles of modern type appear ; bony 
 fishes, many of them very similar to existing species, 
 v, almost supplant the forms of fish which predominate 
 in more ancient seas ; and many kinds of living shell- 
 fish first become known to us in the chalk. The vege- 
 tation acquires a modern aspect. A few living animals 
 are not even distinguishable as species, from those which 
 existed at that remote epoch. The Globigerina of the 
 present day, for example, is not different specifically 
 from that of the chalk; and the same may be said 
 of many other Foraminifera. I think it probable that 
 critical and unprejudiced examination will show that 
 more than ohe species of much higher animals have had 
 a similar longevity ; but the only example which I can 
 at present give confidently is the snake's-head lamp- 
 shell (Terebrfttulina caput serpentis), which lives in 
 our English seas and abounded (as Terebratulina striata 
 d/authors) in the chalk. 
 
 """TireHxragest line of human ancestry must hide its 
 diminished head before the pedigree of this insignificant 
 shell-fish. We Englishmen are proud to have an ancestor 
 who was present at the Battle of Hastings. The an- 
 j^ cestors of Terebratulina caput serpentis may have been 
 present at a battle of Ichthyosauria in that part of the 
 sea which, when the chalk was forming, flowed over the 
 
 $ 
 
ix.] @n a f \m 0f CfmIL 19.9 
 
 site of Hastings. While all around has changed, this 
 Terebratulina has peacefully propagated its species from 
 generation to generation, and stands to this day, as a 
 living testimony to the continuity of the present with 
 the past history of the globe. 
 
 Up to this moment I have stated, so far as I know, 
 nothing but well-authenticated facts, and the immediate 
 conclusions which they force upon the mind. 
 
 But the mind is so constituted that it does not 
 willingly rest in facts and immediate causes, but seeks 
 always after a knowledge of the remoter links in the 
 chain of causation. 
 
 Taking the many changes of any given spot of the 
 earth's surface, from sea to land and from land to sea, 
 as an established fact, we cannot refrain from asking 
 ourselves how these changes have occurred. And when 
 we have explained them as they must be explained 
 by the alternate slow movements of elevation 
 and depression which have affected the crust of the 
 earth, we go still further back, and ask, Why these 
 movements ? 
 
 I am not certain that any one can give you a satis- 
 factory answer to that question. Assuredly I cannot. 
 All that can be said, for certain, is, that such movements 
 are part of the ordinary course of nature, inasmuch as 
 they are going on at the present time. Direct proof 
 may be given, that some parts of the land of the 
 northern hemisphere are at this moment insensibly rising 
 and others insensibly sinking ; and there is indirect, but 
 perfectly satisfactory, proof, that an enormous area now 
 covered by the Pacific has been deepened thousands of 
 feet, since the present inhabitants of that sea came into 
 existence. 
 
 Thus there is not a shadow of a reason for believing 
 
200 3ajj Strmmw, (SssaBS, antr $kbfos. [ix. 
 
 that the physical changes of the globe, in past times, 
 have been effected by other than natural causes. 
 
 Is there any more reason for believing that the concomi- 
 tant modifications in the forms of the living inhabitants 
 of the globe have been brought about in other ways ? 
 
 Before attempting to answer this question, let us try 
 to form a distinct mental picture of what has happened, 
 in some special case. 
 
 The crocodiles are animals which, as a group, have a 
 very vast antiquity. They abounded ages before the 
 chalk was deposited ; they throng the rivers in warm 
 climates, at the present day. There is a difference in 
 the form of the joints of the back-bone, and in some 
 minor particulars, between the crocodiles of the present 
 epoch and those which lived before the chalk ; but, in 
 the cretaceous epoch, as I have already mentioned, the 
 crocodiles had assumed the modern type of structure. 
 Notwithstanding this, the crocodiles of the chalk are 
 not identically the same as those which lived in the 
 times called "older tertiary," which succeeded the cre- 
 taceous epoch ; and the crocodiles of the older tertiaries 
 are not identical with those of the newer tertiaries, nor 
 are these identical with existing forms. I leave open 
 the question whether particular species may have lived 
 on from epoch to epoch. But each epoch has had its 
 peculiar crocodiles; though all, since the chalk, have 
 belonged to the modern type, and differ simply in their 
 proportions, and in such structural particulars as are 
 discernible only to trained eyes. 
 
 How is the existence of this long succession of dif- 
 ferent species of crocodiles to be accounted for ? 
 
 Only two suppositions seem to be open to us Either 
 each species of crocodile has been specially created, or it 
 has arisen out of some pre-existing form by the opera- 
 tion of natural causes. 
 
ix.] n a fim jof Cjjalh. 201 
 
 Choose your hypothesis ; I have chosen mine. T can 
 find no warranty for believing in the distinct creation of 
 a score of successive species of crocodiles in the course of 
 countless ages of time. Science gives no countenance 
 to such a wild fancy ; nor can even the perverse 
 ingenuity of a commentator pretend to discover this 
 sense, in the simple words in which the writer of 
 Genesis records the proceedings of the fifth and sixth 
 days of the Creation. 
 
 On the other hand, I see no good reason for doubting 
 the necessary alternative, that a]! these varied species 
 have been evolved from pre-existing crocodilian forms, 
 by the operation of causes as completely a part of the 
 common order of nature, as those which have effected 
 the changes of the inorganic world. 
 
 Few will venture to affirm that the reasoning which 
 applies to crocodiles loses its force among other animals, 
 or among plants. If one series of species has come into 
 existence by the operation of natural causes, it seems 
 folly to deny that all may have arisen in the same way. 
 
 A small beginning has led us to a great ending. If I 
 were to put the bit of chalk with which we started into 
 the hot but obscure flame of burning hydrogen, it would 
 presently shine like the sun. It seems to me that this 
 physical metamorphosis is no false image of what has 
 been the result of our subjecting it to a jet of fervent, 
 though nowise brilliant, thought to-night. It has become 
 luminous, and its clear rays, penetrating the abyss of 
 the remote past, have brought within our ken some stages 
 of the evolution of the earth. And in the shifting " with- 
 out haste, but without rest" of the land and sea, as in the 
 endless variation of the forms assumed by living beings, 
 we have observed nothing but the natural product of the 
 forces originally possessed by the substance of the universe. 
 
GEOLOGICAL CONTEMPORANEITY AND 
 PEESISTENT TYPES OF LIFE. 
 
 MERCHANTS occasionally go through a wholesome, though 
 troublesome and not always satisfactory, process which 
 they term "taking stock." After all the excitement of 
 speculation, the pleasure of gain, and the pain of loss, 
 the trader makes up his mind to face facts and to 
 learn the exact quantity and quality of his solid and 
 reliable possessions. 
 
 The man of science does well sometimes to imitate 
 this procedure ; and, forgetting for the time the import- 
 ance of his own small winnings, to re-examine the 
 common stock in trade, so that he may make sure how 
 far the stock of bullion in the cellar on the faith of 
 whose existence so much paper has been circulating 
 is really the solid gold of truth. 
 
 The Anniversary Meeting of the Geological Society 
 seems to be an occasion well suited for an undertaking 
 of this kind for an inquiry, in fact, into the nature and 
 value of the present results of palseontological investi- 
 gation; and the more so, as all those who have paid 
 close attention to the late multitudinous discussions 
 in which palaeontology is implicated, must have felt 
 the urgent necessity of some such scrutiny. 
 
x.] (Swlogical C0itimp0rmwfjr. 203 
 
 First in order, as the most definite and unquestionable 
 of all the results of palaeontology, must be mentioned 
 the immense extension and impulse given to botany, 
 zoology, and comparative anatomy, by the investigation 
 of fossil remains. Indeed, the mass of biological facts 
 has been so greatly increased, and the range of biological 
 speculation has been so vastly widened, by the researches 
 of the geologist and palaeontologist, that it is to be feared 
 there are naturalists in existence who look upon geology 
 as Brindley regarded rivers. "Kivers," said the great 
 engineer, " were made to feed canals ; " and geology, 
 some seem to think, was solely created to advance com- 
 parative anatomy. 
 
 Were such a thought justifiable, it could hardly expect 
 to be received with favour by this assembly. But it 
 is not justifiable. Your favourite science has her own 
 great aims independent of all others; and if, notwith- 
 standing her steady devotion to her own progress, she 
 can scatter such rich alms among her sisters, it should 
 be remembered that her charity is of the sort that 
 does not impoverish, but "blesseth him that gives and 
 him that takes." 
 
 Eegard the matter as we will, however, the facts 
 remain. Nearly 40,000 species of animals and plants 
 have been added to the Sy sterna Naturae by palaeonto- 
 logical research. This is a living population equivalent 
 to that of a new continent in mere number ; equivalent 
 to that of a new hemisphere, if we take into account the 
 small population of insects as yet found fossil, and the 
 large proportion and peculiar organization of many of 
 the Vertebrata. 
 
 But, beyond this, it is perhaps not too much to say 
 that, except for the necessity of interpreting palaeonto- 
 logical facts, the laws of distribution would have received 
 less careful study; while few comparative anatomists 
 
204 fag Strmons, (ffssags, attir Jjtowtoa. [x. 
 
 (and those not of the first order) would have been 
 induced by mere love of detail, as such, to study the 
 minutiae of osteology, were it not that in such minutiae 
 lie the only keys to the most interesting riddles offered 
 by the extinct animal world. 
 
 These assuredly are great and solid gains. Surely it 
 is matter for no small congratulation that in half a cen- 
 tury (for palaeontology, though it dawned earlier, came 
 into full day only with Cuvier) a subordinate branch of 
 biology should have doubled the value and the interest 
 of the whole group of sciences to which it belongs. 
 
 But this is not all. Allied with geology, palaeon- 
 tology has established two laws of inestimable import- 
 ance : the first, that one and the same area of the earth's 
 surface has been successively occupied by very different 
 kinds of living beings; the second, that the order of 
 succession established in one locality holds good, approxi- 
 mately, in all. 
 
 The first of these laws is universal and irreversible ; 
 the second is an induction from a vast number of 
 observations, though it may possibly, and even pro- 
 bably, have to admit of exceptions. As a consequence 
 of. the second law, it follows that a peculiar relation 
 frequently subsists between series of strata, containing 
 organic remains, in different localities. The series 
 resemble one another, not only in virtue of a general 
 resemblance of the organic remains in the two, but also 
 in virtue of a resemblance in the order and character 
 of the serial succession in each. There is a resemblance 
 of arrangement ; so that the separate terms of each series, 
 as well as the whole series, exhibit a correspondence. 
 
 Succession implies time ; the lower members of a 
 series of sedimentary rocks are certainly older than 
 the upper ; and when the notion of age was once 
 introduced as the equivalent of succession, it was no 
 
205 
 
 wonder that correspondence in succession came to be 
 looked upon as correspondence in age, or " contem- 
 .poraneity." And, indeed, so long as relative age only 
 is spoken of, correspondence in succession is correspon- 
 dence in age ; it is relative contemporaneity. 
 
 But it would have been very much better for geology 
 if so loose and ambiguous a word as " contemporaneous " 
 had been excluded from her terminology, and if, in its 
 stead, some term expressing similarity of serial relation, 
 and excluding the notion of time altogether, had been 
 employed to denote correspondence in position in two 
 or more series of strata. 
 
 In anatomy, where such correspondence of position 
 has constantly to be spoken of, it is denoted by the 
 word " homology " and its derivatives ; and for Geology 
 (which after all is only the anatomy and physiology 
 of the earth) it might be well to invent some single 
 word, such as " homo taxis " (similarity of order), in 
 order to express an essentially similar idea. This, how- 
 ever, has not been done, and most probably the inquiry 
 will at once be made To what end burden science with 
 a new and strange term in place of one old, familiar, 
 and part of our common language ? , 
 
 The reply to this question will become obvious as 
 the inquiry into the results of palaeontology is pushed 
 further. 
 
 Those whose business it is to acquaint themselves 
 specially with the works of palaeontologists, .in fact, 
 will be fully aware that very few, if any,, would rest 
 satisfied with such a statement of the .conclusions of 
 their branch of biology as that which - has just been 
 given. 
 
 Our standard repertories of palaeontology profess to 
 teach us far higher things to disclose the entire sue- 
 
206 ^ag Sermons, (gssags, aitb Jiurfwfos. [x. 
 
 cession of living forms upon the surface of the globe ; 
 to tell us of a wholly different distribution of climatic 
 conditions in ancient times; to reveal the character 
 of the first of all living existences; and to trace out 
 the law of progress from them to us. 
 
 It may not be unprofitable to bestow on these pro- 
 fessions a somewhat more critical examination than 
 they have hitherto received, in order to ascertain how 
 far they rest on an irrefragable basis ; or whether, after 
 all, it might not be well for palaeontologists to learn 
 a little more carefully that scientific " ars artium," the 
 art of saying "I don't know." And to this end let 
 us define somewhat more exactly the extent of these 
 pretensions of palaeontology. 
 
 Every one is aware that Professor Bronn's "Unter- 
 suchungen" and Professor Pictet's "Traite de Paleon- 
 tologie" are works of standard authority, familiarly 
 consulted by every working palaeontologist. It is desir- 
 able to speak of these excellent books, and of their 
 distinguished authors, with the utmost respect, and in 
 a tone as far as possible removed from carping criticism ; 
 indeed, if they are specially cited in this place, it is 
 merely in justification of the assertion that the follow- 
 ing propositions, which may be found implicitly, or 
 explicitly, in the works in question, are regarded by 
 the mass of palaeontologists and geologists, not only 
 on the Continent but in this country, as expressing 
 some of the best-established results of palaeontology. 
 Thus : 
 
 Animals and plants began their existence together, 
 not long after the commencement of the deposition of 
 the sedimentary rocks ; and then succeeded one another, 
 in such a manner, that totally distinct faunae and florae 
 occupied the whole surface of the earth, one after the 
 other, and during distinct epochs of time. 
 
207 
 
 A geological formation is the sum of all tlie strata 
 deposited over the whole surface of the earth during 
 one of these epochs : a geological fauna or flora is the 
 sum of all the species of animals or plants which 
 occupied the whole surface of the globe, during one 
 of these epochs. 
 
 The population of the earth's surface was at first 
 very similar in all parts, and only from the middle of 
 the Tertiary epoch onwards, began to show a distinct 
 distribution in zones. 
 
 The constitution of the original population, as well 
 as the numerical proportions of its members, indicates 
 a warmer and, on the whole, somewhat tropical climate, 
 which remained tolerably equable throughout the year. 
 The subsequent distribution of living beings in zones 
 is the result of a gradual lowering of the general 
 temperature, which first began to be felt at the 
 poles. 
 
 It is not now proposed to inquire whether these 
 doctrines are true or false ; but to direct your atten- 
 tion to a much simpler though very essential preliminary 
 question What is their logical basis ? what are the 
 fundamental assumptions upon which they all logically 
 depend? and what is the evidence on which those 
 fundamental propositions demand our assent? 
 
 These assumptions are two : the first, that the com- 
 mencement of the geological record is coeval with the 
 commencement of fife on the globe ; the second, that 
 geological contemporaneity is the same thing as chrono- 
 logical synchrony. Without the first of these assump- 
 tions there would of course be no ground for any 
 statement respecting the commencement of life ; with- 
 out the second, all the other statements cited, every 
 one of which implies a knowledge of the state of 
 
208 ^ag S*rm0ns, (Sssags, anfr JUbufos. [x. 
 
 different parts of the earth at one and the same time, 
 will be no less devoid of demonstration. 
 
 The first assumption obviously rests entirely on 
 negative evidence. This is, of course, the only evidence 
 that ever can be available to prove the commencement 
 of any series of phenomena; but, at the same time, 
 it must be recollected that the value of negative 
 evidence depends entirely on the amount of positive 
 corrpboration it receives. If A. B. wishes to prove an 
 alibi, it is of no use for him to get a thousand witnesses 
 simply to swear that they did not see him in such 
 and such a place, unless the witnesses are prepared 
 to prove that they must have seen him had he been 
 there. But the evidence that animal life commenced 
 with the Lingula-flags, e.g., would seem to be exactly 
 of this unsatisfactory uncorroborated sort. The Cam- 
 brian witnesses simply swear they "haven't seen any- 
 body their way;" upon which the counsel for the 
 other side immediately puts in ten or twelve thousand 
 feet of Devonian sandstones to make oath they never 
 saw a fish or a mollusk, though all the world knows 
 there were plenty in their time. 
 
 But then it is urged that, though the Devonian 
 rocks in one part of the world exhibit no fossils, in 
 another they do, while the lower Cambrian rocks no- 
 where exhibit fossils, and hence no living being could 
 have existed in their epoch. 
 
 To this there are two replies : the first, that the 
 observational basis of the assertion that the lowest 
 rocks are nowhere fossiliferous is an amazingly small 
 one, seeing how very small an area, in comparison to 
 that of the whole world, has yet been fully searched ; 
 the second, that the argument is good for nothing unless 
 the unfossiliferous rocks in question were not only 
 contemporaneous in the geological sense, but synchronous 
 
x. I (^ologiral (&vnhm$Qxmu%i$. 209 
 
 in the chronological sense. To use the alibi illustration 
 again. If a man wishes to prove he was in neither 
 of two places, A and B, on a given day, his witnesses 
 for each place must be prepared to answer for the 
 whole day. If they can only prove that he was not 
 at A in the morning, and not at B in the afternoon, 
 the evidence of his absence from both is nil, because 
 he might have been at B in the morning and at A in 
 the afternoon. 
 
 Thus everything depends upon the validity of the 
 second assumption. And we must proceed to inquire 
 what is the real meaning of the word "contemporaneous" 
 as employed by geologists. To this end a concrete 
 example may be taken. 
 
 The Lias of England and the Lias of Germany, the 
 Cretaceous rocks of Britain and the Cretaceous rocks 
 of Southern India, are termed by geologists "contem- 
 poraneous" formations; but whenever any thoughtful 
 geologist is asked whether he means to say that they 
 were deposited synchronously, he says, "No, only 
 within the same great epoch/' And if, in pursuing 
 the inquiry, he is asked what may be the approximate 
 value in time of a " great epoch " whether it means 
 a hundred years, or a thousand, or a million, or ten 
 million years his reply is, "I cannot tell." 
 
 If the further question be put, whether physical 
 geology is in possession of any method by which the 
 actual synchrony (or the reverse) of any two distant 
 deposits can be ascertained, no such method can be 
 heard of; it being admitted by all the best authorities 
 that neither similarity of mineral composition, nor of 
 physical character, nor even direct continuity of stratum, 
 are absolute proofs of the synchronism of even approxi- 
 mated sedimentary strata : while, for distant deposits, 
 there seems to be no kind of physical evidence attain* 
 
 P 
 
210 ^tag jforrnmw, (Siasajjs, mtir gtbufas. [x. 
 
 able of a nature competent to decide whether such 
 deposits were formed simultaneously, or whether they 
 possess any given difference of antiquity. To return 
 to an example already given. All competent authorities 
 will probably assent to the proposition that physical 
 geology does not enable us in any way to reply to 
 this question Were the British Cretaceous rocks depo- 
 sited at the same time as those of India, or are they a 
 million of years younger or a million of years older ? 
 
 Is palaeontology able to . succeed where physical 
 geology fails ? Standard writers on palaeontology, as 
 has been seen, assume that she can. They take it for 
 granted, that deposits containing similar organic remains 
 are synchronous- at. any rate in a broad sense; and 
 yet, those who will study the eleventh and twelfth 
 chapters of Sir Henry De la Beche's remarkable "Ke- 
 searches in. Theoretical Geology," published now nearly 
 thirty years ago, and will carry out the arguments 
 there most luminously stated, to their logical conse- 
 qences, may very easily convince themselves that 
 even absolute identity of organic contents is no proof 
 of the synchrony of deposits, while absolute diversity 
 is no proof of difference of date. Sir Henry De la 
 Beche goes even further, and adduces conclusive evidence 
 to show that the different parts of one and the same 
 stratum, having a similar composition throughout, con- 
 taining the same organic remains, and having similar 
 beds above and below it, may yet differ to any con- 
 ceivable extent in age. 
 
 Edward Forbes was in the habit of asserting that 
 the similarity of the organic contents of distant forma- 
 tions was primd facie evidence, not of their similarity, 
 but of their difference of age ; and holding as he did 
 the doctrine of single specific centres, the conclusion 
 was as legitimate as any other; for the two districts 
 
x.] (Swrlojjixal C0tttemp0ramtlg, 211 
 
 must have been occupied by migration from one of the 
 two, or from an intermediate spot, and the chances 
 against exact coincidence of migration and of imbedding 
 are infinite. 
 
 In point of fact, however, whether the hypothesis 
 of single or of multiple specific centres be adopted, 
 similarity of organic contents cannot possibly afford 
 any proof of the synchrony of the deposits which 
 contain them ; on the contrary, it is demonstrably 
 compatible with the lapse of the most prodigious 
 intervals of time, and with interposition of vast changes 
 in the organic and inorganic worlds, between the epochs 
 in which such deposits were formed. 
 
 On what amount of similarity of their faunse is the 
 doctrine of the contemporaneity of the European and 
 of the North American Silurians based ? In the last 
 edition of Sir Charles LyelTs "Elementary Geology" 
 it is stated, on the authority of a former President of 
 this Society, the late Daniel Sharpe, that between 
 30 and 40 per cent, of the species of Silurian Mollusca 
 are common to both sides of the Atlantic. By way 
 of due allowance for further discovery, let us double 
 the lesser number and suppose that 60 per cent, of 
 the species are common to the North American and 
 the British Silurians. Sixty per cent, of species in 
 common is, then, proof of contemporaneity. 
 
 Now suppose that, a million or two of years hence, 
 when Britian has made another dip beneath the sea 
 and has come up again, some geologist applies this 
 doctrine, in comparing the strata laid bare by the 
 upheaval of the bottom, say, of St. George's Channel 
 with what may then remain of the Suffolk Crag. 
 Reasoning in the same way, he will at once decide 
 the Suffolk Crag and the St. George's Channel beds 
 to be contemporaneous ; although we happen to know 
 
 P2 
 
212 ^ag <krm0ns, (Essags, anir HUfaictos. [x. 
 
 that a vast period (even in the geological sense) of 
 time, and physical changes of almost unprecedented 
 extent, separate the two. 
 
 But if it be a demonstrable fact that strata con- 
 taining more than 60 or 70 per cent, of species of 
 Mollusca in common, and comparatively close together, 
 may yet be separated by an amount of geological time 
 sufficient to allow of some of the greatest physical 
 changes the world has seen, what becomes of that 
 sort of contemporaneity the sole evidence of which 
 is a similarity of facies, or the identity of half a dozen 
 species, or of a good many genera \ 
 
 And yet there is no better evidence for the contem- 
 poraneity assumed by all who adopt the hypotheses 
 of universal faunae and florae, of a universally uniform 
 climate, and of a sensible cooling of the globe during 
 geological time. 
 
 There seems, then, no escape from the admission that 
 neither physical geology, nor palaeontology, possesses 
 any method by which the absolute synchronism of two 
 strata can be demonstrated. All that geology can 
 prove is local order of succession. It is mathematically 
 certain that, in any given vertical linear section of an 
 undisturbed series of sedimentary deposits, the bed 
 which lies lowest is the oldest. In any other vertical 
 linear section of the same series, of course, corresponding 
 beds will occur in a similar order ; but, however great 
 may be the probability, no man can say with absolute 
 certainty that the beds in the two sections were syn- 
 chronously deposited. For areas of moderate extent, 
 it is doubtless true that no practical evil is likely to 
 result from assuming the corresponding beds to be 
 synchronous or strictly contemporaneous; and there 
 are multitudes of accessory circumstances which may 
 fully justify the assumption of such synchrony. But 
 
x.] <St0l0gkal <ff0nf*mp0ratmig, 213 
 
 the moment the geologist has to deal with large areas, 
 or with completely separated deposits, the mischief 
 of confounding that "homotaxis" or '" similarity of 
 arrangement," which can be demonstrated, with "syn- 
 chrony" or "identity of date," for which there is not 
 a shadow of proof, under the one common term of 
 "contemporaneity" becomes incalculable, and proves 
 the constant source of gratuitous speculations. 
 
 For anything that geology or palaeontology are able 
 to show to the contrary, a Devonian fauna and flora 
 in the British Islands may have been contemporaneous 
 with Silurian life in North America, and with a Car- 
 boniferous fauna and flora in Africa. Geographical pro- 
 vinces and zones may have been as distinctly marked in 
 the Palaeozoic epoch as at present, and those seemingly 
 sudden appearances of new genera and species, which we 
 ascribe to new creation, may be simple results of migration. 
 
 It may be so ; it may be otherwise. In the present 
 condition of our -knowledge and of our methods, one 
 verdict "not proven, and not proveable" must be 
 recorded against all the grand hypotheses of the palaeon- 
 tologist respecting the general succession of life on the 
 globe. The order and nature of terrestrial life, as a 
 whole, are open questions. Geology at present provides 
 us with most valuable topographical records, but she 
 has not the means of working them into a universal 
 history. Is such a universal history, then, to be regarded 
 as unattainable ? Are all the grandest and most in- 
 teresting problems which offer themselves to the 
 geological student essentially insoluble ? Is he in the 
 position of a scientific Tantalus doomed always to 
 thirst for a knowledge which he cannot obtain? The 
 reverse is to be hoped ; nay, it may not be impossible 
 to indicate the source whence help will come. 
 
 In commencing these remarks, mention was made of 
 
214 |fog Smn0tts, (Essans, anir JjLrfwtos. [_ x - 
 
 the great obligations under which the naturalist lies to 
 the geologist and palaeontologist. Assuredly the time 
 will come when these obligations will be repaid tenfold, 
 and when the maze of the world's past history, through 
 which the pure geologist and the pure palaeontologist 
 find no guidance, will be securely threadeid by the clue 
 furnished by the naturalist 
 
 All who are competent to express an opinion on the 
 subject are, at present, agreed that the manifold varieties 
 of animal and vegetable form have not either come into 
 existence by chance, nor result from capricious exertions 
 of creative power; but that they have taken place in a 
 definite order, the statement of which order is what 
 men of science term a natural law. Whether such a 
 law is to be regarded as an expression of the mode of 
 operation of natural forces, or whether it is simply a 
 statement of the manner in which a supernatural power 
 has thought fit to act, is a secondary question, so long 
 as the existence of the law and the possibility of its 
 discovery by the human intellect are granted. But he 
 must be a half-hearted philosopher who, believing in 
 that possibility, and having watched the gigantic strides 
 of the biological sciences during the last twenty years, 
 doubts that science will sooner or later make this further 
 step, so as to become possessed of the law of evolution 
 of organic forms of the unvarying order of that great 
 chain of causes and effects of which all organic forms, 
 ancient and modern, are the links. And then, if ever, 
 \ve shall be able to begin to discuss, with profit, the 
 questions respecting the commencement of life, and the 
 nature of the successive populations of the globe, which 
 so many seem to think are already answered. 
 
 The preceding arguments make no particular claim to 
 novelty ; indeed they have been floating more or less 
 
215 
 
 distinctly before the minds of geologists, for the last 
 thirty years ; and if, at the present time, it has seemed 
 desirable to give them more definite and systematic 
 expression, it is because palaeontology is every day 
 assuming a greater importance, and now requires to 
 rest on a basis the firmness of which is thoroughly well 
 assured. Among its fundamental conceptions, there 
 must be no confusion between what is certain and 
 what is more or less probable. 1 But, pending the 
 construction of a surer foundation than palaeontology 
 now possesses, it may be instructive, assuming for the 
 nonce the general correctness of the ordinary hypothesis 
 of geological contemporaneity, to consider whether the 
 deductions which are ordinarily drawn from the whole 
 body of palceontological facts are justifiable. 
 
 The evidence on which such conclusions are based is 
 of two kinds, negative and positive. The value of 
 negative evidence, in connexion with this inquiry, has 
 been so fully and clearly discussed in an address from 
 the chair of this Society, 2 which none of us have 
 forgotten, that nothing need at present be said about 
 it ; the more, as the considerations which have been 
 laid before you have certainly not tended to increase 
 your estimation of such evidence. It will be preferable 
 to turn to the positive facts of palaeontology, and to 
 inquire what they tell us. 
 
 We are all accustomed to speak of the number and 
 the extent of the changes in the living population of 
 the globe during geological time as something enormous : 
 and indeed they are so, if we regard only the negative 
 differences which separate the older rocks from the 
 more modern, and if we hrk upon specific and generic 
 
 1 " Le plus grand service qu'on puisse rendre & la science est d'y faire place 
 nette avant d'y rien construire." CUVIEB. 
 
 2 Anniversary Address for 1851, Quart. Jonra. Geol. Soc. voL vii. 
 
216 |fojr S*rm0ns, (Eassp, attfc SJLebhtos. L x 
 
 changes as great changes, which from one point of view 
 they truly are. But leaving the negative differences 
 out of consideration, and looking only at the positive 
 data furnished by the fossil world from a broader point 
 of view from that of the comparative anatomist who 
 has made the study of the greater modifications of 
 animal form his chief business a surprise of another 
 kind dawns upon the mind ; and under this aspect the 
 smallness of the total change becomes as astonishing as 
 was its greatness under the other. 
 
 There are two hundred known orders of plants ; oi 
 these not one is certainly known to exist exclusively 
 in the fossil state, The whole lapse of geological time 
 has as yet yielded not a single new ordinal type of 
 vegetable structure. 1 
 
 The positive change in passing from the recent to the 
 ancient animal world is greater, but still singularly 
 small. No fossil animal is so distinct from those now 
 living as to require to be arranged even in a separate 
 class from those which contain existing forms. It is 
 only when we come to tbe orders, which may be 
 roughly estimated at about a hundred and thirty, that 
 we meet with fossil animals so distinct from those now 
 living as to require orders for themselves ; arid these do 
 not amount, on the most liberal estimate, to more than 
 about 10 per cent, of the whole. 
 
 There is no certainly known extinct order of Protozoa ; 
 there is but one among the Ccelenterata that of the 
 rugose corals ; there is none among the Mollusca ; there 
 are three, the Cystidea, Blastoidea, and Edrioasterida, 
 among the Echinoderms ; and two, the Trilobita and 
 Eurypterida, among the Crustacea; making altogether 
 five for the great sub-kingdom of Annulosa. Among 
 
 1 See Hooker's " Introductory Essay to the Flora of Tasmania," 
 p. xxiii. 
 
x..J ftroisient ffjrpw rf IT*. 217 
 
 Vertebrates there is no ordinally distinct fossil fish: 
 there is only one extinct order of Amphibia the Laby- 
 rinthodonts ; but there are at least four distinct orders 
 of Eeptilia, viz. the Ichthyosauria, Plesiosauria, Ptero- 
 sauria, Dinosauria, and perhaps another or two. There 
 is no known extinct order of Birds, and no certainly 
 known extinct order of Mammals, the ordinal distinct- 
 ness of the " Toxodontia " being doubtful. 
 
 The objection that broad statements of this kind, after 
 all, rest large]y on negative evidence is obvious, but it 
 has less force than may at first be .supposed ; for, as 
 might be expected from the circumstances of the case, 
 we possess more abundant positive evidence regarding 
 Fishes and marine Mollusks than respecting any other 
 forms of animal life ; and yet these offer us, through the 
 whole range of geological time, no species ordinarily 
 distinct from those now living; while the far less 
 numerous class of Echinoderms presents three, and the 
 Crustacea two, such orders, though none of these come 
 down later than the Palaeozoic age. Lastly, the Eeptilia 
 present the extraordinary and exceptional phenomenon 
 of as many extinct as existing orders, if not more ; the 
 four mentioned maintaining their existence from the 
 Lias to the Chalk inclusive. 
 
 Some years ago one of your Secretaries pointed out 
 another kind of positive palseontological evidence tend- 
 ing towards the same conclusion afforded by the 
 existence of what he termed " persistent types " of vege- 
 table and of animal life. 1 He stated, on the authority 
 of Dr. Hooker, that there are Carboniferous plants which 
 appear to be generically identical with some now living ; 
 that the cone of the Oolitic Araucaria is hardly distin- 
 
 1 See the abstract of a Lecture " On the Persistent Types of Animal Life, 
 in the " Notices of the Meetings of the Koyal Institution of Great Britain," 
 June 3, 1859, vol. iii. p. 151.' 
 
218 |tag S*rm0ns, (Ssjrngs, attir 
 
 guishable from that of an existing species ; that a true 
 Pinus appears in the Purbecks, and a Juglans in the 
 Chalk; while, from the Bagshofc Sands, a Banksia, the 
 wood of which is not distinguishable from that of species 
 now living in Australia, had been obtained. 
 
 Turning to the animal kingdom, he affirmed the tabu- 
 late corals of the Silurian rocks to be wonderfully like 
 those which now exist ; while even the families of the 
 Aporosa were all represented in the older Mesozoic 
 rocks. 
 
 Among the Mollusca similar facts were adduced. 
 Let it be borne in mind that Avicula, My tails, Chiton, 
 Natica, Patella, Trochus, Distinct, Orbicula, Lingula, 
 Rhynchonella, and Nautilus, all of which are existing 
 genera, are given without a doubt as Silurian in the 
 last edition of "Siluria;" while the highest forms of 
 the highest Cephalopods are represented in the Lias by 
 a genus, Belemnoteuthis, which presents the closest rela- 
 tion to the existing Loligo. 
 
 The two highest groups of the Annulosa,, the Insecta 
 and the Arachnida, are represented in the Coal, either 
 by existing genera, or by forms differing from existing 
 genera in quite minor peculiarities. 
 
 Turning to the Vertebrata, the only palaeozoic Elas- 
 mobranch Fish of which we have any complete know- 
 ledge is the Devonian and Carboniferous Pleuracanthus, 
 which differs no more from existing Sharks than these 
 do from one another. 
 
 Again, vast as is the number of undoubtedly Ganoid 
 fossil Fishes, and great as is their range in time, a large 
 mass of evidence has recently been adduced to show that 
 almost all those respecting which we possess sufficient 
 information, are referable to the same sub-ordinal groups 
 as the existing Lepidosteus, Polypterus, and Sturgeon ; 
 
 and that a singular relation obtains between the older 
 
 
x.] jeraiatmt Cgp** 0f fife. 219 
 
 and the younger Fishes; the former, the Devonian 
 Ganoids, being almost all members of the same sub-order 
 as Polypterus, while the Mesozoic Ganoids are almost 
 all similarly allied to Lepidosteus. 1 
 
 Again, what can be more remarkable than the singular 
 constancy of structure preserved throughout a vast period 
 of time by the family of the Pycnodonts and by that 
 of the true Ccelacanths : the former persisting, with but 
 insignificant modifications, from the Carboniferous to the 
 Tertiary rocks, inclusive ; the latter existing, with still 
 less change, from the Carboniferous rocks to the Chalk 
 inclusive ? 
 
 Among Eeptiles, the highest living group, that of the 
 Crocodilia, is represented, at the early part of the Mesozoic 
 epoch, by species identical in the essential characters of 
 their organization with those now living, and differing 
 from the latter only in such matters as the form of the 
 articular facets of the vertebral centra, in the extent 
 to which the nasal passages are separated from the 
 cavity of the mouth by bone, and in the proportions 
 of the limbs. 
 
 And even as regards the Mammalia, the scanty 
 remains of Triassic and Oolitic species afford no founda- 
 tion for the supposition that the organization of the 
 oldest forms differed nearly so much from some of those 
 which now live as these differ from one another. 
 
 It is needless to multiply these instances ; enough has 
 been said to justify the statement that, in view of the 
 immense diversity of known animal and vegetable forms, 
 and the enormous lapse of time indicated by the accumu- 
 lation of fossiliferous strata, the only circumstance to be 
 wondered at is, not that the changes of life, as exhibited 
 
 1 " Memoirs of the Geological Survey of the United Kingdom. Decade x. 
 Preliminary Essay upon the Systematic Arrangement of the Fishes of the 
 De\ onian Epoch." 
 
220 $Tag Sermons, (Sssaga, anir gjebictos. [* 
 
 by positive evidence, have been so great, but that they 
 have been so smalL 
 
 Be they great or small, however, it is desirable to 
 attempt to estimate them. Let us, therefore, take each 
 great division of the animal world in succession, and, 
 whenever an order or a family can be shown to have 
 had a prolonged existence, let us endeavour to ascertain 
 how far the later members of the group differ from the 
 earlier ones. If these later members, in all or in many 
 cases, exhibit a certain amount of modification, the fact 
 is, so far, evidence in favour of a general law of change ; 
 and, in a rough way, the rapidity of that change will be 
 measured by the demonstrable amount of modification. 
 On the other hand, it must be recollected that the 
 absence of any modification, while it may leave the 
 doctrine of the existence of a law of change without 
 positive support, cannot possibly disprove all forms of 
 that doctrine, though it may afford a sufficient refuta- 
 tion of many of them. 
 
 The PROTOZOA. The Protozoa are represented through- 
 out the whole range of geological series, from the Lower 
 Silurian formation to the present day. The most 
 ancient forms recently made known by Ehrenberg are 
 exceedingly like those which now exist : no one has ever 
 pretended that the difference between any ancient and 
 any modern Foraminifera is of more than generic value 
 nor are the oldest Foraminifera either simpler, more 
 embryonic, or less differentiated, than the existing forms. 
 
 The CCELENTERATA. The Tabulate Corals have existed 
 from the Silurian epoch to the present day, but I am not 
 aware that the ancient Heliolites possesses a single mark 
 of a more embryonic or less differentiated character, or 
 less high organization, than the existing Heliopora. As 
 for the Aporose Corals, in what respect is the Silurian 
 
ffgpes of fife. 221 
 
 Palceocyclus less highly organized or more embryonic 
 than the modern Fungia, or the Liassic Aporosa than 
 the existing members of the same families ? 
 
 The Mollusca. In what sense is the living Wald- 
 keimia less embryonic, or more specialized, than the 
 palaeozoic Spirifer ; or the existing Rhynclionellce, Cra- 
 nice, Discince, Lingulce, than the Silurian species of the 
 same genera ? In what sense can Loligo or Spirula 
 be said to be more specialized, or less embryonic, than 
 Belemnites ; or the modern species of Lamellibranch and 
 Gasteropod genera, than the Silurian species of the samo 
 genera ? 
 
 THE ANNULOSA. The Carboniferous Insecta and Arch- 
 nida are neither less specialized, nor more embryonic, 
 than these that now live, nor are the Liassic Cirripedia 
 and Macrura ; while several of the Brachyura, which 
 appear in the Chalk, belong to existing genera ; and 
 none exhibit either an intermediate, or an embryonic, 
 character. 
 
 The VEKTEBRATA. Among fishes I have referred to 
 the Ccelacanthini (comprising the genera Ccelacanthus, 
 Holophagus, Undina, and Macropoma) as affording an 
 example of a persistent type ; and it is most remarkable 
 to note the smallness of the differences between any of 
 these fishes (affecting at most the proportions of the 
 body and fins, and the character and sculpture of the 
 scales), notwithstanding their enormous range in time 
 In all the essentials of its very peculiar structure, the 
 Macropoma of the Chalk is identical with the Ccdacan- 
 thus of the Coal. Look at the genus Lepidotus, again, 
 persisting without a modification of importance from the 
 Liassic to the Eocene formations inclusive. 
 
 Or among the Teleostei in what respect is the Beryx 
 of the Chalk more embryonic, or less differentiated, than 
 Beryx lineatus of King George's Sound I - 
 
222 |fojr Sermons, (Sssags, mttr |tebiefos. [x. 
 
 Or to turn to the higher Vertebrata in what sense 
 are the Liassic Chelonia inferior to those which now 
 exist ? How are the Cretaceous Ichthyosauria, Plesio- 
 sauria, or Pterosauria less embryonic, or more differ- 
 entiated, species than those of the Lias ? 
 
 Or lastly, in what circumstance is the Phascolotherium 
 more embryonic, or of a more generalized type, than the 
 modern Opossum ; or a Lophiodon, or a Palceotherium, 
 than a modern Tapirus or Hyrax ? 
 
 These examples might be almost indefinitely multi- 
 plied, but surely they are sufficient to prove that the 
 only safe and unquestionable testimony we can procure 
 positive evidence fails to demonstrate any sort of 
 progressive modification towards a less embryonic, or less 
 generalized, type in a great many groups of animals of 
 long-continued geological existence. In these groups 
 there is abundant evidence of variation none of what 
 is ordinarily understood as progression ; and, if the 
 known geological record is to be regarded as even any 
 considerable fragment of the whole, it is inconceivable 
 that any theory of a necessarily progressive development 
 can stand, for the numerous orders and families cited 
 afford no trace of such a process. 
 
 But it is a most 'remarkable fact, that, while the 
 groups which have been mentioned, and many besides, 
 exhibit no sign of progressive modification, there are 
 others, co-existing with them, under the same conditions, 
 in which more or less distinct indications of such a 
 process seem to be traceable. Among such indications 
 I may remind you of the predominance of Holostome 
 Gasteropoda in the older rocks as compared with that of 
 Siphonostome Gasteropoda in the later. A case less open 
 to the objection of negative evidence, however, is that 
 afforded by the Tetrabranchiate Cephalopoda, the forms 
 of the shells and of the septal sutures exhibiting a 
 
x.] |j wmimi Cgp*s of fife. 223 
 
 certain increase of complexity in the newer genera. 
 Here, however, one is met at once with the occurrence 
 of Ortkoceras and Baculites at the two ends of the 
 series, and of the fact that one of the simplest genera, 
 Nautilus, is that which now exists. 
 
 The Crinoidea, in the abundance of stalked forms in 
 the ancient formations as compared with their present 
 rarity, seem to present us with a fair case of modification 
 from a more embryonic towards a less embryonic con- 
 dition. But then, on careful consideration of the facts, 
 the objection arises that the stalk, calyx, and arms of 
 the palaeozoic Crinoid are exceedingly different from the 
 corresponding organs of a larval Comatula ; and it might 
 with perfect justice be argued that Actinocrinus and 
 Eucalyptocrinus, for example, depart to the full as 
 widely, in one direction, from the stalked embryo of 
 Comatula, as Comatula itself does in the other. 
 
 The Echinidea, again, are frequently quoted as ex- 
 hibiting a gradual passage from a more generalized to a 
 more specialized type, seeing that the elongated, or oval, 
 Spatangoids appear after the spheroidal Echmoids. But 
 here it might be argued, on the other hand, that the 
 spheroidal Echinoids, in reality, depart further from the 
 general plan and from the embryonic form than the 
 elongated Spatangoids do ; and that the peculiar dental 
 apparatus and the pedicellarise of the former are marks 
 of at least as great differentiation as the petaloid ambu- 
 lacra and semit86'of the latter. 
 
 Once more, the prevalence of Macrurous before Bra- 
 chyurous Podophthalmia is, apparently, a fair piece of 
 evidence in favour of progressive modification in the 
 same order of Crustacea ; and yet the case will not 
 stand much sifting, seeing that the Macrurous Podoph- 
 thalmia depart as far in one direction from the common 
 type of Podophthalmia, or from any embryonic condition 
 
224 ^ag Sermons, ssags, m\b HUbbhu. [x. 
 
 of the Brachyura, as the Brachyura do in the other ; 
 and that the middle terms between Macrura and 
 Brachyura the Anomura are little better represented 
 in the older Mesozoic rocks than the Brachyura are. 
 
 None of the cases of progressive modification which 
 are cited from among the Invertebrata appear to me to 
 have a foundation less open to criticism than these ; and 
 if this be so, no careful reasoner would, I think, be in- 
 clined to lay very great stress upon them. Among the 
 Vertebrata, however, there are a few examples which 
 appear to be far less open to objection. 
 
 It is, in fact, true of several groups of Vertebrata 
 which have lived through a considerable range of time, 
 that the endoskeleton (more particularly the spinal 
 column) of the older genera presents a less ossified, and, 
 so far, less differentiated, condition than that of the 
 younger genera. Thus the Devonian Ganoids, though 
 almost all members of the same sub-order as Polypterus, 
 and presenting numerous important resemblances to the 
 existing genus, which possesses biconcave vertebrae, are, 
 for the most part, wholly devoid of ossified vertebral 
 centra. The Mesozoic Lepidosteidae, again, have, at most, 
 biconcave vertebrae, while the existing Lepidosteus has 
 Salamandroid, opisthocoelous, vertebrae. So, none of the 
 Palaeozoic Sharks have shown themselves to be possessed 
 of ossified vertebrae, while the majority of modern 
 Sharks possess such vertebrae. Again, the more ancient 
 Crocodilia and Lacertilia have vertebras with the articular 
 facets of their centra flattened or biconcave, while 
 the modern members of the same group have them 
 proco3lous. But the most remarkable examples of 
 progressive modification of the vertebral column, in cor- 
 respondence with geological age, are those afforded by 
 the Pycnodonts among fish, and the Labyrinthodonts 
 among Amphibia. 
 
x.] Jjeraisimt &gs 0f fife, 225 
 
 The late able ichthyologist Heckel pointed out the 
 fact, that, while the Pyenodonts never possess true ver- 
 tebral centra, they differ in the degree of expansion and 
 extension of the ends of the bony arches of the vertebrae 
 upon the sheath of the notochord ; the Carboniferous 
 forms exhibiting hardly any such expansion, while the 
 Mesozoic genera present a greater and greater develop- 
 ment, until, in the Tertiary forms, the expanded ends 
 become suturally united so as to form a sort of false ver- 
 tebra. Hermann von Meyer, again, to whose luminous 
 researches we are indebted for our present large know- 
 ledge of the organization of the older Labyrinthodonts, 
 has proved that the Carboniferous Archegosaurus had 
 very imperfectly developed vertebral centra, while the 
 Triassic Mastodonsaurus had the same parts completely 
 ossified. 1 
 
 The regularity and evenness of the dentition of the 
 Anoplotlierium, as contrasted with that of existing 
 Artiodactyles, and the assumed nearer approach of the 
 dentition of certain ancient Carnivores to the typical 
 arrangement, have also been cited as exemplifications of 
 a law of progressive development, but I know of no 
 other cases based on positive evidence which are worthy 
 of particular notice. 
 
 What then does an impartial survey of the positively 
 ascertained truths of palaeontology testify in relation to 
 the common doctrines of progressive modification, which 
 suppose that modification to have taken place by a ne- 
 cessary progress from more to less embryonic forms, or 
 from more to less generalized types, within the limits of 
 the period represented by the fossiliferous rocks ? 
 
 It negatives those doctrines ; for it either shows us no 
 
 1 As this Address is passing through the press (March 7, 1862), evidence 
 lies before me of the existence of a new Labyrinthodont (Pholidogastcr), 
 from the Edinburgh coal-field, with well-ossified vertebral centra. 
 
 Q 
 
226 f^g Sfermons, $ssap, mtir |]tomfas. [x. 
 
 evidence of any such modification, or demonstrates it to 
 have been very slight; and as to the nature of that 
 modification, it yields no evidence whatsoever that the 
 earlier members of any long-continued group were more 
 generalized in structure than the later ones. To a certain 
 extent, indeed, it may be said that imperfect ossification 
 of the vertebral column is an embryonic character; 
 but, on the other hand, it would be extremely incor- 
 rect to suppose that the vertebral columns of the older 
 Vertebrata are in any sense embryonic in their whole 
 structure. 
 
 Obviously, if the earliest fossiliferous rocks now known 
 are coeval with the commencement of life, and if their 
 contents give us any just conception of the nature and 
 the extent of the earliest fauna and flora, the insig- 
 nificant amount of modification which can be demon- 
 strated to have taken place in any one group of animals, 
 or plants, is quite incompatible with the hypothesis that 
 all living forms are the results of a necessary process of 
 progressive development, entirely comprised within the 
 time represented by the fossiliferous rocks. 
 
 Contrariwise, any admissible hypfchesis of progressive 
 modification must be compatible with persistence with- 
 out progression, through indefinite periods. And should 
 such an hypothesis eventually be proved to be true, in 
 the only way in which it can be demonstrated, viz. by 
 observation and experiment upon the existing forms of 
 life, the conclusion will inevitably present itself, that the 
 Palaeozoic, Mesozoic, and Cainozoic faunae and florae, 
 taken together, bear somewhat the same proportion to 
 the whole series of living beings which have occupied 
 this globe, as the existing fauna and flora do to them. 
 
 Such are the results of palaeontology as they appear, 
 and have for some years appeared, to the mind of an 
 inquirer who regards that study simply as one of the 
 
x -] f tmximt ffjfpw of fife. 227 
 
 applications of the great biological sciences, and who 
 desires to see it placed upon the same sound basis as 
 other branches of physical inquiry. If the arguments 
 which have been brought forward are valid, probably no 
 one, in view of the present state of opinion, will be 
 inclined to think the time wasted which has been spent 
 upon their elaboration. 
 
XI. 
 GEOLOGICAL REFOKM. 
 
 "A great reform in geological speculation seems now to have become 
 necessary." 
 
 "It is quite certain that a great mistake has been made, that British 
 popular geology at the present time is in direct opposition to the principles 
 of Natural Philosophy." 1 
 
 IN reviewing the course of geological thought during 
 the past year, for the purpose of discovering those 
 matters to which I might most fitly direct your attention 
 in the Address which it now becomes my duty to deliver 
 from the Presidential Chair, the two somewhat alarming 
 sentences which I have just read, and which occur in 
 an able and interesting essay by an eminent natural 
 philosopher, rose into such prominence before my mind 
 that they eclipsed everything else. 
 
 It surely is a matter of paramount importance for the 
 British geologists (some of them very popular geologists 
 too) here in solemn annual session assembled, to inquire 
 whether the severe judgment thus passed upon them by 
 so high an authority as Sir William Thomson is one to 
 which they must plead guilty sans phrase, or whether 
 they are prepared to say " not guilty ," and appeal for a 
 
 4 
 
 i On Geological Time. By Sir W. Thomson, LL.D. Transactions of the 
 Geological Society of Glasgow, roL iii. 
 
XL] <8*0I0giraI $Uf0rnr. 229 
 
 reversal of the sentence to that higher court of educated 
 scientific opinion to which we are all amenable. 
 
 As your attorney-general for the time being, I thought 
 I could not do better than get up the case with a view 
 of advising you. It is true that the charges brought 
 forward by the other side involve the consideration of 
 matters quite foreign to the pursuits with which I am 
 ordinarily occupied ; but, in that respect, I am only in 
 the position which is, nine times out of ten, occupied by 
 counsel, who nevertheless contrive to gain their causes, 
 mainly by force of mother- wit and common sense, aided 
 by some training in other intellectual exercises. 
 
 Nerved by such precedents, I proceed to put my 
 pleading before you. 
 
 And the first question with which I propose to deal 
 is, What is it to which Sir W. Thomson refers when he 
 speaks of " geological speculation " and " British popular 
 geology"? 
 
 I find three, more or less contradictory, systems of 
 geological thought, each of which might fairly enoug} 
 claim these appellations, standing side by side in Britain. 
 I shall call one of them CATASTROPHISM, another UNI- 
 FORMITARIANISM, the third EVOLUTIONISM ; and I shall 
 try briefly to sketeh the characters of each, that you may 
 say whether the classification is, or is not, exhaustive. 
 | By CATASTROPHISM, I mean any form of geological 
 " 7 speculation which, in order to account for the phenomena 
 of geology, supposes the operation of forces different in 
 their nature, or immeasurably different in power, from 
 those which we at present see in action in the universe. 
 
 The Mosaic cosmogony is, in this sense, catastrophic, 
 because it assumes the operation of extra-natural power. 
 The doctrine of violent upheavals, debddes, and cata- 
 clysms in general, is catastrophic, so far as it assumes 
 that these were brought about by causes which have 
 
230 ^ag S*rm0ns, dEssags, mtb |Ufaufos, [xi. 
 
 now no parallel There was a time when catastrophism 
 might, pre-eminently, have claimed the title of " British 
 popular geology ; " and assuredly it has yet many ad- 
 herents, and reckons among its supporters some of the 
 most honoured members of this Society, 
 
 By UNIFOKMITARIANISM, I mean especially, the teach- 
 ing of Hutton and of Lyell. 
 
 That great though incomplete work, " The Theory of 
 the Earth, seems to me to be one of the most remarkable 
 contributions to geology which is recorded in the annals 
 of the science. So far as the not-living world is con- 
 cerned, uniformitarianism lies there, not only in germ, 
 but in blossom and fruit. 
 
 If one asks how it is that Hutton was led to entertain 
 views so far in advance of those prevalent in his time, in 
 some respects ; while, in others, they seem almost curi- 
 ously limited, the answer appears to me to be plain. 
 
 Hutton was in advance of the geological speculation 
 of his time, because, in the first place, he had amassed a 
 vast store of knowledge of the facts of geology, gathered 
 by personal observation in travels of considerable extent ; 
 and because, in the second place, he was thoroughly 
 trained in the physical and chemical science of his day, 
 and thus possessed, as much as any one in his time 
 could possess it, the knowledge which is requisite for 
 the just interpretation of geological phenomena, and 
 the habit of thought which fits a man for scientific 
 inquiry. 
 
 It is to this thorough scientific training, that I ascribe 
 Button's steady and persistent refusal to look to other 
 causes than those now in operation, for the explanation 
 of geological phenomena. 
 
 Thus he writes : " I do not pretend, as he [M. de Luc] 
 does in his theory, to describe the beginning of things. 
 I take things such as I find them at present ; and 
 
XL] (SKrtoigkal |Uf0rm, 231 
 
 from these I reason with regard to that which must' 
 have been." l 
 
 And again : "A theory of the earth, which has for 
 object truth, can have no retrospect to that which had 
 preceded the present order of the world ; for this order 
 alone is what we have to reason upon ; and to reason 
 without data is nothing but delusion. A theory, there- 
 fore, which is limited to the actual constitution of this 
 earth cannot be allowed to proceed one step beyond the 
 present order of things." 2 
 
 And so clear is he, that no causes beside such as are 
 now in operation are needed to account for the character 
 and disposition of the components of the crust of the 
 earth, that he says, broadly and boldly :^ " . . . There 
 is no part of the earth which has not had the same 
 origin, so far as this consists in that earth being collected 
 at the bottom of the sea, and afterwards produced, 
 as land, along with masses of melted substances, by the 
 operation of mineral causes." 3 
 
 But other influences were at work upon Hutton beside 
 those of a mind logical by Nature, and scientific by 
 sound training ; and the peculiar turn which his specu- 
 lations took seems to me to be unintelligible, unless these 
 be taken into account. The arguments of the French 
 astronomers and mathematicians, which, at the end of 
 the last century, were held to demonstrate the existence 
 of a compensating arrangement among the celestial 
 bodies, whereby all perturbations eventually reduced 
 themselves to oscillations on each side of a mean po- 
 sition, and the stability of the solar system was secured, 
 had evidently taken strong hold of Button's mind. 
 
 In those oddly constructed periods which seem to have 
 prejudiced many persons against reading his works, but 
 
 1 The Theory of the Earth, vol. i p. 173, note. .Ibid. p. 281, 
 
 8 Ibid. p. 371. 
 
2:32 Jfag Sternum*, ssaBS, antr gjLebwfos. [XL 
 
 which are full of that peculiar, if unattractive, eloquence 
 which flows from mastery of the subject, Hutton says : 
 
 " We have now got to the end of our reasoning ; we 
 have no data further to conclude immediately from that 
 which actually is. But we have got enough; we have 
 the satisfaction to find, that in Nature there is wisdom, 
 system, and consistency. For having, in the natural 
 history of this earth, seen a succession of worlds, we 
 may from this conclude that there is a system in Nature ; 
 in like manner as, from seeing revolutions of the planets, 
 it is concluded, that there is a system by which they are 
 intended to continue those revolutions. But if the suc- 
 cession of worlds is established in the system of Nature, 
 it is in vain to look for anything higher in the origin of 
 the earth. The result, therefore, of this physical inquiry 
 is, that we find no vestige of a beginning, no prospect 
 of an end." 1 
 
 Yet another influence worked strongly upon Hutton. 
 Like most philosophers of his age, he coquetted with 
 those final causes which have been named barren virgins, 
 but which might be more fitly termed the hetairce of 
 philosophy, so constantly have they led men astray. 
 The final cause of the existence of the world is, for 
 Hutton, the production of life and intelligence. 
 
 "We have now considered the globe of this earth 
 as a machine, constructed upon chemical as well as 
 mechanical principles, by which its different parts are all 
 adapted, in form, in quality, and in quantity, to a certain 
 end ; an end attained with certainty or success ; and an 
 end from which we may perceive wisdom, in contem- 
 plating the means employed. 
 
 " But is this world to be considered thus merely as a 
 machine, to last no longer than its parts retain their 
 present position, their proper forms and qualities? Or 
 
 The Theory of the Earth, vol. i p. 200. 
 
XL] (tolcrgkal grfxnrm. 233 
 
 may it not be also considered as an organized body ? 
 such as has a constitution in which the necessary decay 
 of the machine is naturally repaired, in the exertion of 
 those productive powers by which it had been formed. 
 
 " This is the view in which we are now to examine 
 the globe ; to see if there be, in the constitution of this 
 world, a reproductive operation, by which a ruined con- 
 stitution may be again repaired, and a duration or 
 stability thus procured to the machine, considered as a 
 world sustaining plants and animals." 1 
 
 Kirwan, and the other Philistines of the day, accused 
 Hutton of declaring that his theory implied that the 
 world never had a beginning, and never differed in 
 condition from its present state. Nothing could be more 
 grossly unjust, as he expressly guards himself against 
 any such conclusion in the following terms: 
 
 "But in thus tracing back the natural operations 
 which have succeeded each other, and mark to us the 
 course of time past, we come to a period in which wo 
 cannot see any farther. This, however, is not the 
 beginning of the operations which proceed in time and 
 according to the wise economy of this world ; nor is it 
 the establishing of that which, in the course of time, 
 had no beginning ; it is only the limit of our retrospec- 
 tive view of those operations which have come to pass 
 in time, and have been conducted by supreme intel- 
 
 .igence." 2 
 
 I have spoken of Uniformitarianism as the doctrine of 
 Hutton and of Lyell. If I have quoted the older writer 
 rather than the newer, it is because his works 'are little 
 known, and his claims on our veneration too frequently 
 forgotten, not because I desire to dim the fame of his 
 eminent successor. Few of the present generation of geo- 
 logists have read Playf air's " Illustrations/' fewer still the 
 
 1 The Theory of the Earth, vol. i pp. 16, 17. a Ibid. p. 223. 
 
234 ^ag j&erm0rts, (Essags, anb |jUbiefos. [xi. 
 
 original " Theory of the Earth ; " the more is the pity ; 
 but which of us has not thumbed every page of the 
 " Principles of Geology " ? I think that he who writes 
 fairly the history of his own progress in geological 
 thought, will not be able to separate his debt to Hutton 
 from his obligations to Lyell ; and the history of the 
 progress of individual geologists is the history of geology. 
 No one can doubt that the influence of uniformitarian 
 views has been enormous, and, in the main, most 
 beneficial and favourable to the progress of sound 
 geology. 
 
 Nor can it be questioned that Uniformitarianism has 
 even a stronger title than Catastrophism to call itself the 
 geological speculation of Britain, or, if you will, British 
 popular geology. For it is eminently a British doctrine, 
 and has even now made comparatively little progress 
 on the continent of Europe. Nevertheless it seems to 
 me to be open to serious criticism upon one of its 
 aspects. 
 
 I have shown how unjust was the insinuation that 
 Hutton denied a beginning to the world. But it would 
 not be unjust to say that he persistently, in practice, 
 shut his eyes to the existence of that prior and different 
 state of things which, in theory, he admitted ;. and, lin 
 this aversion to look beyond the veil of stratified rocks, 
 Lyell follows him. 
 
 Hutton and Lyell alike agree in their indisposition 
 to carry their speculations a step beyond the period 
 recorded in the most ancient strata now open to obser- 
 vation in the crust of the earth. This is, for Hutton, 
 " the point in which we cannot see any farther ; " while 
 Lyell tells us, 
 
 " The astronomer may find good reasons for ascribing 
 the earth's form to the original fluidity of the mass, in 
 times long antecedent to the first introduction of living 
 
XL] <*oI05kaI Inform. 235 
 
 beings into the planet ; but the geologist must be content 
 to regard the earliest monuments which it is his task to 
 interpret, as belonging to a period when the crust had 
 already acquired great solidity and thickness, probably 
 .as great as it now possesses, and when volcanic rocks, 
 not essentially differing from those now produced, were 
 formed from time to time, the intensity of volcanic heat 
 being neither greater nor less than it is now/' l 
 
 And again, " As geologists, we learn that it is not only 
 the present condition of the globe which has been suited 
 to the accommodation of myriads of living creatures, but 
 that many former states also have been adapted to the 
 organization and habits of prior races of beings. The 
 disposition of the seas, continents and islands, and the 
 climates, have varied ; the species likewise have been 
 changed; and yet they have all been so- modelled, on 
 types analogous to those of existing plants and animals, 
 as to indicate, throughout, a perfect harmony of design 
 and unity of purpose. To assume that the evidence of 
 the beginning, or end, of so vast a scheme lies within 
 the reach of our philosophical inquiries, or even of our 
 speculations, appears to be inconsistent with a just 
 estimate of the relations which subsist between the finite 
 powers of man and the attributes of an infinite and 
 eternal Being." 2 
 
 The limitations implied in these passages appear to 
 me to constitute the weakness and the logical defect of 
 uniformitarianism. No one will impute blame to Hutton 
 that, in face of the imperfect condition, in his day, of 
 those physical sciences which furnish the keys to the 
 riddles of geology, he should have thought it practical 
 wisdom to limit his theory to an attempt to account for 
 " the present order of things ; " but I am at a loss to com- 
 prehend why, for all time, the geologist must be content 
 
 1 Principles of Geology, rol. ii. p. 211. 2 Ibid. p. 613. 
 
236 |Pajr S*rm0tt$, (Sissajjss, anb fjtobiefos. [XL 
 
 to regard the oldest fossiliferous rocks as the ultima 
 Thule of his science ; or what there is inconsistent with 
 the relations between the finite and the infinite mind, in 
 the assumption, that we may discern somewhat of the 
 beginning, or of the end, of this speck in space we call 
 our earth. The finite mind is certainly competent to 
 trace out the development of the fowl within the egg ; 
 and I know not on what ground it should find more 
 difficulty in unravelling the complexities of the develop- 
 ment of the earth. In fact, as Kant has well remarked, l 
 the cosmical process is really simpler than the biological. 
 
 This attempt to limit, at a particular point, the progress 
 of inductive and deductive reasoning from the things 
 which are, to those which were this faithlessness to its 
 own logic, seems to me to have cost Uniformitarianism 
 the place, as the permanent form of geological specula- 
 tion, which it might otherwise have held. 
 
 It remains that I should put before you what I 
 understand to be the third phase of geological specula- 
 tion namely, EVOLUTIONISM. . 
 
 I shall not make what I have to say on this head 
 clear, unless I diverge, or seem to diverge, for a while, 
 from the direct path of my discourse, so far as to explain 
 what I take to be the scope of geology itself. I conceive 
 geology to be the history of the earth, in precisely the 
 same sense as biology is the history of living beings ; 
 and I trust you will not think that I am overpowered by 
 the influence of a dominant pursuit if I say that I trace 
 a close analogy between these two histories. 
 
 If I study a living being, under what heads does the 
 
 1 " Man darf es sich also nicht befremden lassen, wenn ich mich unterstehe 
 zu sagen, dass eher die Bildung aller Himmelskorper, die Ursache ihrer 
 Bewegungen, kurz der Ursprung der ganzen gegenwartigen Verfassung des 
 Weltbaues werden konnen eingesehen werden, ehe die Erzeugung eines 
 einzigen Krautes oder einer Raupe aus mechanischen Griinden, deutlich und 
 vollsttindig kund werden wird." KANT'S Sdmmtliehe Werke, Bd. I. p. 220. 
 
XL] <Sje0I0jjital Inform. 237 
 
 knowledge I obtain fall? I can learn its structure, or 
 what we call its ANATOMY ; and its DEVELOPMENT, or 
 the series of changes which it passes through to acquire 
 its complete structure. Then I find that the living 
 being has certain powers resulting from its own acti^ 
 vities, and the interaction of these with the activities of 
 other things the knowledge of which is PHYSIOLOGY. 
 Beyond this the living being has a position in space and 
 time, which is its DISTRIBUTION. All these form the 
 body of ascertainable facts which constitute the status 
 quo of the living creature. But these facts have their 
 causes ; and the ascertainment of these causes is the 
 doctrine of 4?TIOLOGY. 
 
 If we consider what is knowable about the earth, we 
 shall find that such earth-knowledge if I may so trans- 
 late the word geology falls into the same categories. 
 
 What is termed stratigraphical geology is neither more 
 nor less than the anatomy of the earth ; and the history 
 of the succession of the formations is the history of a 
 succession of such anatomies, or corresponds with deve- 
 lopment, as distinct from generation. 
 
 The internal heat of the earth, the elevation and 
 depression of its crust, its belchings forth of vapours, 
 ashes, and lava, are its activities, in as strict a sense, as are 
 warmth and the movements and products of respiration 
 the activities of an animal. The phsenomena of the 
 seasons, of the trade winds, of the Gulf-stream, are as 
 much the results of the reaction between these inner 
 activities and outward forces, as are the budding of the 
 leaves in spring and their falling in autumn the effects 
 of the interaction between the organization of a plant 
 and the solar light and heat. And, as the study of the 
 activities of the living being is called its physiology^ so 
 are these phsenomena the subject-matter oian^nalogous 
 telluric physiology, to -which we sometimes give the 
 
233 fag Sjermmw, (toags, mrtr gebhtos, [XL 
 
 name of meteorology, sometimes that of physical geo- 
 graphy, sometimes that of geology. Again, the earth 
 has a place in space and in time, and relations to other 
 bodies in both these respects, which constitute its distai- 
 N bution. This subject is usually left to the astronomer ; 
 ^But a knowledge of its broad outlines seems to me to be 
 an essential constituent of the stock of geological ideas. 
 
 All that can be ascertained concerning the structure, 
 succession of conditions, actions, and position in space of 
 the earth, is the matter of fact of its natural history. 
 But, as in biology, there remains the matter of reasoning 
 from these facts to their causes, which is just as much 
 science as the other, and indeed more ; and this consti- 
 tutes geological aetiology. 
 
 Having regard to this general scheme of geological 
 knowledge and thought, it is obvious that geological 
 speculation may be, so to speak, anatomical and develop- 
 mental speculation, so far as it relates to points of strati- 
 graphical arrangement which are out of reach of direct 
 observation; or, it may be physiological speculation, so 
 far as it relates to undetermined problems relative to the 
 activities of the earth ; or, it may be distributional specu- 
 lation, if it deals with modifications of the earth's place 
 in space ; or, finally, it will -be aetiological speculation, if 
 it attempts to deduce the history of the world, as a 
 whole, from the known properties of the matter of the 
 earth, in the conditions in which the earth has been placed. 
 
 For the purposes of the present discourse I may take 
 this last to be what is meant by " geological speculation/' 
 
 Now uniformitarianism, as we have seen, tends to ; 
 ignore geological speculation in this sense altogether. 
 
 The one point the catastrophists and the uniformi- 
 tarians agreed upon, when this Society was founded, was 
 to ignore it. And you will find, if you look back into 
 our records, that our revered fathers in geology plumed 
 
XL] <M0gkaI grfbrm. 239 
 
 themselves a good deal upon the practical sense and 
 wisdom of this proceeding. As a temporary measure, I 
 do not presume to challenge its wisdom; but in all 
 organized bodies temporary changes are apt to produce 
 permanent effects ; and as time has slipped by, altering 
 all the conditions which may have made such mortifica- 
 tion of the scientific flesh desirable, I think the effect of 
 the stream of cold water which has steadily flowed over 
 geological speculation within these walls has been of 
 doubtful beneficence. 
 
 The sort of geological speculation to 'which I am now 
 referring (geological aetiology, in short) was created, as 
 a science, by that famous philosopher Tmmanuel Kant, 
 when, in 1755, he wrote his " General Natural History 
 and Theory of the Celestial Bodies ; or an Attempt to 
 account for the Constitution and the Mechanical Origin 
 of the Universe upon Newtonian principles." 1 
 
 In this very remarkable but seemingly little-known 
 treatise, 2 Kant expounds a complete cosmogony, in the 
 shape of a theory of the causes which have led to the deve- 
 lopment of the universe from diffused atoms of matter 
 endowed with simple attractive and repulsive forces. 
 
 " Give me matter/' says Kant, " and I will build the 
 world;" and he proceeds to deduce from the simple 
 data from which he starts, a doctrine in all essential re- 
 spects similar to the well-known " Nebular Hypothesis" 
 of Laplace. 3 He accounts for the relation of the masse$ 
 and the densities of the planets to their distances from 
 the sun, for the eccentricities of their orbits, for their 
 rotations, for their satellites, for the general agreement 
 
 1 Grant (" History of Physical Astronomy," p. 574) makes but the briefest 
 reference to Kant. 
 
 * " Allgemeine Natnrgeschichte tmd Theorie des Himmels ; oder Versuch 
 von der Verfassung und dein mechanischen Ursprunge des ganzen Weltge- 
 biiuded nach Newton'schen Grundsatzen abgehandelt." KANT'S tiammtliche 
 Werke, Bd. i. p. 207. 
 
 s Systeme du Monde, tome ii. chap. 6. 
 
240 ^ag S*rm0ns, (Essags, anfr Uebietos. [xi. 
 
 in the direction of rotation among the celestial bodies, 
 for Saturn's ring, and for the zodiacal light. He finds 
 in each system of worlds, indications that the attractive 
 force of the central mass will eventually destroy its orga- 
 nization, by concentrating upon itself the matter of the 
 whole system ; but, as the result of this concentration, 
 he argues for the development of an amount of heat 
 which will dissipate the mass once more into a molecular 
 chaos such as that in which it began. 
 
 Kant pictures to himself the universe as once an 
 infinite expansion of formless and diffused matter. At 
 one point of this he supposes a single centre of attraction 
 set up ; and, by strict deductions from admitted dynamical 
 principles, shows how this must result in the development 
 of a prodigious central body, surrounded by systems of 
 solar and planetary worlds in all stages of development. 
 In vivid language he depicts the great world-maelstrom, 
 widening the margins of its prodigious eddy in the slow 
 progress of millions of ages, gradually reclaiming more 
 and more of the molecular waste, and converting chaos 
 into cosmos. But what is gained at the margin is lost 
 in the centre ; the attractions of the central systems 
 bring their constituents together, which then, by the heat 
 evolved, are converted once more into molecular chaos. 
 Thus the worlds that are, lie between the ruins of the 
 worlds that have been and the chaotic materials of the 
 worlds that shall be ; and in spite of all waste and 
 destruction, Cosmos -is extending his borders at the 
 expense of Chaos. 
 
 Kant's further application of his views to the earth 
 itself is to be found in his " Treatise on Physical Geo- 
 graphy" 1 (a term under which the then unknown science 
 of geology was included), a subject which he had studied 
 with very great care and on which he lectured for many 
 
 1 Kant's "Sammtliche Werke," Bd. viii. p. 145. 
 
XT.] (tologksl |]Le&rm. 241 
 
 years. The fourth section of the first part of this 
 Treatise is called " History of the great Changes which 
 the Earth has formerly undergone and is still undergoing," 
 and is, in fact, a brief and pregnant essay upon the prin- 
 ciples of geology. Kant gives an account first "of the 
 gradual changes which are now taking place " under 
 the heads of such as are caused by earthquakes, such 
 as are brought about by rain and rivers, such as are 
 effected by the sea, such as are produced by winds 
 and frost; and, finally, such as result from the opera- 
 tions of man. 
 
 The second part is devoted to the " Memorials of the 
 Changes which the Earth has undergone in remote an- 
 tiquity/' These are enumerated as : A. Proofs that 
 the sea formerly covered the whole earth. B. Proofs 
 that the sea has often been changed into dry land and 
 then again into sea. C. A discussion of the various 
 theories of the earth put forward by Scheuchzer, Moro, 
 Bonnet, Woodward, White, Leibnitz, Linnaeus, and 
 Buffon. 
 
 The third part contains an "Attempt to give a sound 
 explanation of the ancient history of the earth/' 
 
 I suppose that it would be very easy to pick holes in 
 the details of Kant's speculations, whether cosmological, 
 or specially telluric, in their application. But, for all 
 that, he seems to me to have been the first person to 
 frame a complete system of geological speculation by 
 founding the doctrine of evolution. 
 
 With as much truth as Button, Kant could say, "I 
 take things just as I find them at present, and, from 
 these, I reason with regard to that which must have 
 been/' Like Button, he is never tired of pointing 
 out that " in Nature there is wisdom, system, and con- 
 sistency." And, as in these great principles, so in believ- 
 ing that the cosmos has a reproductive operation "by 
 
 B 
 
242 Uajr Smtt0rts, (Essmrs, anb |IWwtos. [xi. 
 
 which a ruined constitution may be repaired," he fore- 
 stalls Hutton ; while, on the other hand, Kant is true to 
 science. He knows no bounds to geological speculation 
 but those of the intellect. He reasons back to a begin- 
 ning of the present state of things ; he admits the possi- 
 bility of an end. 
 
 I have said that the three schools of geological specu- 
 lation which I have termed Catastrophism, Uniformi- 
 tarianism, and Evolutionism .are commonly supposed to 
 be antagonistic to one another ; and I presume it will 
 have become obvious that, in my belief, the last is 
 destined to swallow up the other two. But it is proper 
 to remark that each of the latter has kept alive the tra- 
 dition of precious truths. 
 
 CATASTROPHISM has insisted upon the existence of a 
 practically unlimited bank of force, on which the theorist 
 might draw; and it has cherished the idea of the de- 
 velopment of the earth from a state in which its form, 
 and the forces which it exerted, were very different from 
 those we now know. That such difference of form and 
 power once existed is a necessary part of the doctrine of 
 evolution. 
 
 UNIFORMITAEIANISM, on the other hand, has with 
 equal justice insisted upon a practically unlimited bank 
 of time, ready to discount any quantity of hypothetical 
 paper. It has kept before our eyes the power of the 
 infinitely little, time being granted, and has compelled us 
 to exhaust known causes, before flying to the unknown. 
 1 - To my mind there appears to be no sort of necessary 
 theoretical antagonism between Catastrophism and Uni- 
 forimtarianisni. On the contrary, it is very conceivable 
 that catastrophes may be part and parcel of uniformity. 
 Let me illustrate my case by analogy. The working of 
 a clock is a model of uniform action ; good time-keeping 
 means uniformity of action. But the striking of the 
 
XL] faologM grfbrra. 243 
 
 clock is essentially a catastrophe ; the hammer might be 
 made to blow up a barrel of gunpowder, or turn on a 
 deluge of water ; and, by proper arrangement, the clock, 
 instead of marking the hours, might strike at all sorts of 
 irregular periods, never twice alike, in the intervals, 
 force, or number of its blows. Nevertheless, all these 
 irregular, and apparently lawless, catastrophes would be 
 the result of an absolutely uniformitarian action; and 
 we might have two schools of clock-theorists, one 
 studying the hammer and the other the pendulum. 
 
 Still less is there any necessary antagonism between \ 
 either of these doctrines and that of Evolution, which 
 embraces all that is sound in both Catastrophism and 
 Uniformitarianism, while it rejects the arbitrary assump- 
 tions of the one and the, as arbitrary, limitations of the 
 other. Nor is the value of the doctrine of Evolution to the 
 philosophic thinker diminished by the fact that it applies 
 the same method to the living and the not-living world ; 
 and embraces, in one stupendous analogy, the growth 
 of a solar system from molecular chaos, the shaping 
 of the earth from the nebulous cubhood of its youth, 
 through innumerable changes and immeasurable ages, 
 to its present form; and the development of a living 
 being from the shapeless mass of protoplasm we term a 
 germ. 
 
 I do not know whether Evolutionism can claim that 
 amount of currency which would entitle it to be called 
 British popular geology ; but, more or less vaguely, it is 
 assuredly present in the minds of most geologists. 
 
 Such being the three phases of geological speculation, 
 we are now in position to inquire which of these it is 
 that Sir William Thomson calls upon us to reform in 
 the passages which I have cited. Y 
 
 It is obviously Uniformitarianism which the dis- 
 
 B 2 
 
244 ^ag J5n k m0ns, ssags, antr JUbiefes. [xi. 
 
 tinguished physicist takes to be the representative of 
 geological speculation in general. And thus a first 
 issue is raised, inasmuch as many persons (and those 
 not the least thoughtful among the younger geologists) 
 do not accept strict Uniformitarianism as the final form 
 of geological speculation. We should say, if Huttoy 
 and Playfair declare the course of the world to have 
 been always the same, point out the fallacy by all means ; 
 but, in so doing, do not imagine that you are proving 
 modern geology to be in opposition to natural phi- 
 losophy. I do not suppose that, at the present day 
 any geologist would be found to maintain absolute 
 Uniformitarianism, to deny that the rapidity of the 
 rotation of the earth may be diminishing, that the sun 
 may be waxing dim, or that the earth itself may be 
 cooling. Most of us, I suspect, are Gallios, " who care 
 for none of these things/' being of opinion that, true 
 or fictitious, they have made no practical difference to 
 the earth, during the period of which a record is pre- 
 served in stratified deposits. 
 
 The accusation that we have been running counter to 
 the principles of natural philosophy, therefore, is devoid 
 of foundation. The only question which can arise is 
 whether we have, or have not, been tacitly making 
 assumptions which are in opposition to certain con- 
 clusions which may be drawn from those principles. 
 And this question subdivides itself into two : the first, 
 are we really contravening such conclusions ? the second, 
 if we are, are those conclusions so firmly based that we 
 may not contravene them ? I reply in the negative to 
 both these questions, and I will give you my reasons 
 for so doing. Sir William Thomson believes that he 
 is able to prove, by physical reasonings, "that the 
 existing state of things on the earth, life on the earth 
 all geological history showing continuity of life 
 
xi.J (Mogkal |k&rrm. 245 
 
 must be limited within some sucli period of time as one 
 hundred million years" (loc. cit. p. 25). 
 
 The first inquiry which arises plainly is, has it ever 
 been denied that this period may be enough for the 
 purposes of geology? 
 
 The discussion of this question is greatly embarrassed 
 by the vagueness with which the assumed limit is, I 
 will not say defined, but indicated, "some such period 
 of past time as one hundred million years." Now 
 does this mean that it may have been two, or three, or 
 four hundred million years ? Because this really makes 
 all the difference. 1 
 
 I presume that 100,000 feet may be taken as a full 
 allowance for the total thickness of stratified rocks con- 
 taining traces of life ; 100,000 divided by 100,000,000 
 =0'001. Consequently, the deposit of 100,000 feet of 
 stratified rock in 100,000,000 years means that the 
 deposit has taken place at the rate of y^Vo of a foot, or, 
 say, -rar of an inch, per annum. 
 
 Well, I do not know that any one is prepared to main- 
 tain that, even making all needful allowances, the 
 stratified rocks may not have been formed, on the 
 average, at the rate of ^V of an inch per annum. 
 I suppose that if such could be shown to be the 
 limit of world-growth, we could put up with the 
 allowance without feeling that our speculations had 
 undergone any revolution. And perhaps, after all, the 
 qualifying phrase " some such period " may not neces- 
 sitate the assumption of more than -ri* or rf-g- or -5?? of 
 an inch of deposit per year, which, of course, would 
 give us still more ease and comfort. 
 
 But, it may be said, that it is biology, and not geology, 
 
 1 Sir William Thomson implies (loc. cit. p. 16), that the precise time is of 
 no consequence : " the principle is the same ;" but, as the principle is 
 admitted, the whole discussion turns on its practical results. 
 
246 ^ai| Sermons, (Sssags, Hnir gebrcfos. [xr. 
 
 which asks for so much time that the succession of 
 life demands vast intervals ; but this appears to me to 
 be reasoning in a circle. Biology takes her time from 
 geology. The only reason we have for believing in the 
 slow rate of the change in living forms is the fact that 
 they persist through a series of deposits which, geology 
 informs us, have taken a long while to make. If the 
 geological clock is wrong, all the naturalist will have to 
 do is to modify his notions of the rapidity of change 
 accordingly. And I venture to point out that, when we 
 are told that the limitation of the period during which 
 living beings have inhabited this planet to one, two, or 
 three hundred million years requires a complete revolu- 
 tion in geological speculation, the onus probandi rests 
 on the maker of the assertion, who brings forward not 
 a shadow of evidence in its support. 
 
 Thus, if we accept the limitation of time placed before 
 us by Sir W. Thomson, it is not obvious, on the face 
 of the matter, that we shall have to alter, or reform, 
 our ways in any appreciable degree ; and we may there- 
 fore proceed with much calmness, and indeed much 
 indifference, as to the result, to inquire whether that 
 limitation is justified by the arguments employed in its 
 support. 
 
 These arguments are three in number : 
 
 I. The first is based upon the undoubted fact that the 
 tides tend to retard the rate of the earth's rotation upon 
 its axis. That this must be so is obvious, if one con- 
 siders, roughly, that the tides result from the pull which 
 the sun and the moon exert upon the sea, causing it to 
 act as a sort of break upon the rotating solid earth. 
 
 Kant, who was by no means a mere " abstract philo- 
 sopher," but a good mathematician and well versed in 
 the physical science of his time, not only proved this in 
 an essay of exquisite clearness and intelligibility, now 
 
XL] (gmUrgral Inform. 247 
 
 more than a century old, 1 but deduced from it some of 
 its more important consequences, such as the constant 
 turning of one face of the moon towards the earth. 
 
 But there is a long step from the demonstration of a 
 tendency to the estimation of the practical value of that 
 tendency, which is all with which we are at present 
 concerned. The facts bearing on this point appear to 
 stand as follow : 
 
 It is a matter of observation that the moon's mean 
 motion is (and has for the last 3,000 years been) under- 
 going an acceleration, relatively to the rotation of the 
 earth. Of course this may result from one of two 
 causes : the moon may really have been moving more 
 swiftly in its orbit; or the earth may have been rotating 
 more slowly on its axis. 
 
 Laplace believed he had accounted for this phseno- 
 menon by the fact that the eccentricity of the earth's 
 orb it has been diminishing throughout these 3,000 years. 
 This would produce a diminution of the mean attraction 
 of the sun on the moon ; or, in other words, an increase 
 in the attraction of the earth on the moon ; and, con- 
 sequently, an increase in the rapidity of the orbital 
 motion of the latter body. Laplace, therefore, laid the 
 responsibility of the acceleration upon the moon, and 
 if his views were correct, the tidal retardation must 
 either be insignificant in amount, or be counteracted by 
 some other agency. 
 
 Our great astronomer, Adams, however, appears to 
 have found a flaw in Laplace's calculation, and to have 
 shown that only half the observed retardation could be 
 accounted for in the way he had suggested. There 
 
 1 " Untersuchung der Frage ob die Erde in ihrer Umdrehung um die 
 Achse, wodruch sie die Abwechselung des Tages und der Nacht hervorbringt, 
 einige Veranderang seit den ersten Zeiten ihres Ursprunges erlitten habe, 
 fcc." KANT'S tiammtliche Wtrke, Bd. i. p. 178. 
 
248 Sag Strmons, (Egsags, antr Ijtobitfos. [XT. 
 
 romains, therefore, the other half to be accounted for ; 
 and here, in the absence of all positive knowledge, three 
 sets of hypotheses have been suggested. 
 
 (a.) M. Delaunay suggests tfrat the earth is at fault, in 
 consequence of the tidal retardation. Messrs. Adams, 
 Thomson, and Tait work out this suggestion, and, " on 
 a certain assumption as to the proportion of retardations 
 due to the sun and moon/' find the earth may lose 
 twenty-two seconds of time in a century from this cause. 1 
 
 (b.) But M. Dufour suggests that the retardation of the 
 earth (which is hypothetically assumed to exist) may be 
 due in part, or wholly, to the increase of the moment 
 of inertia of the earth by meteors falling upon its surface. 
 This suggestion also meets with the entire approval of 
 Sir W. Thomson, who shows that meteor-dust, accumu- 
 lating at the rate of one foot in 4,000 years, would 
 account for the remainder of retardation. 2 
 
 (c.) Thirdly, Sir W. Thomson brings forward an hypo- 
 thesis of his own with respect to the cause of the hypo- 
 thetical retardation of the earth's rotation : 
 
 "Let us suppose ice to melt from the polar regions 
 (20 round each pole, we may say) to the extent of 
 something more than a foot thick, enough to give 1*1 
 foot of water over those areas, or 0*006 of a foot of 
 water if spread over the whole globe, which would, in 
 reality, raise the sea-level by only some such undiscover- 
 able difference as three-fourths of an inch or an inch. 
 This, or the reverse, which we believe might happen any 
 year, and could certainly not be detected without far 
 more accurate observations and calculations for the mean 
 sea-level than any hitherto made, would slacken or 
 quicken the earth's rate as a timekeeper by one-tenth of 
 a second per year." * 
 
 I do not presume to throw the slightest doubt upon 
 
 1 Sir W. Thomson, loc. tit., p. 14. Loc. cit., p. 27. * Ibid. 
 
XL] <&eoixjghal |W0rm. 249 
 
 the accuracy of any of the calculations made by such 
 distinguished mathematicians as those who have made 
 the suggestions I have cited. On the contrary, it is 
 necessary to my argument to assume that they are all 
 correct. But I desire to point out that this seems to be 
 one of the many cases in which the admitted accuracy of 
 mathematical process is allowed to throw a wholly 
 inadmissible appearance of authority over the results 
 obtained by them. Mathematics may be compared to a 
 mill of exquisite workmanship, which grinds you stuff of 
 any degree of fineness ; but, nevertheless, what you get 
 out depends upon what you put in ; and as the grandest 
 mill in the world will not extract wheat-flour from 
 peascods, so pages of formulae will not get a definite 
 result out of loose data. 
 
 In the present instance it appears to be admitted : 
 
 1. That it is not absolutely certain, after all, whether 
 the moon's mean motion is undergoing acceleration, or 
 the earth's rotation retardation. 1 And yet this is the 
 key of the whole position. 
 
 2. If the rapidity of the earth's rotation is diminishing, 
 it is not certain how much of that retardation is due to 
 tidal friction, how much to meteors, how much to 
 possible excess of melting over accumulation of polar 
 ice, during the period covered by observation, which 
 amounts, at the outside, to not more than 2,600 years. 
 
 3. The effect of a different distribution of land and 
 water in modifying the retardation caused by tidal 
 friction, and of reducing it, under some circumstances, 
 to a minimum, does not appear to be taken into 
 account. 
 
 4. During the Miocene epoch the polar ice was cer- 
 tainly many feet thinner than it has been during, or 
 
 1 It will be understood that I do not wish to deny that the earth's rotation 
 may be undergoing retardation. 
 
250 <f ajr <S-erm0ns, (Jssaja, antr |Ufabtos, [XL 
 
 since, the Glacial epoch. Sir W. Thomson tells us that 
 the accumulation of something more than a foot of 
 ice around the poles (which implies the withdrawal of, 
 say, an inch of water from the general surface of the 
 sea) will cause the earth to rotate quicker by one-tenth 
 of a second per annum. It would appear, therefore, 
 that the earth may have been rotating, throughout the 
 whole period which has elapsed from the commencement 
 of the Glacial epoch down to the present time, one, or 
 more, seconds per annum quicker than it rotated during 
 the Miocene epoch. 
 
 But, acording to Sir "W. Thomson's calculation, tidal 
 retardation will only account for a retardation of 22" in 
 a century, or iw (say -|) of a second per annum. 
 
 Thus, assuming that the accumulation of polar ice 
 since the Miocene epoch has only been sufficient to 
 produce ten times the effect of a coat of ice one foot 
 thick, we shall have an accelerating cause which covers 
 all the loss from tidal action, and leaves a balance 
 of i a second per annum in the way of acceleration. 
 
 If tidal retardation can be thus checked and over- 
 thrown by other temporary conditions, what becomes 
 of the confident assertion, based upon the assumed uni- 
 formity of tidal retardation, that ten thousand million 
 years ago the earth must have been rotating more than 
 twice as fast as at present, and, therefore, that we 
 geologists are "in direct opposition to the principles 
 of Natural Philosophy" if we spread geological history 
 over that time ? 
 
 II. The second argument is thus stated by Sir W. 
 Thomson : "An article, by myself, published in 'Mac- 
 millan's Magazine* for March 1862, on the age of the 
 sun's heat, explains results of investigation into various 
 questions as to possibilities regarding the amount of heat 
 that the sun could have, dealing with it as you would 
 
XL] geological ||Uf0rm, 251 
 
 with a stone, or a piece of matter, only taking into 
 account the sun's dimensions, which showed it to be 
 possible that the sun may have already illuminated the 
 earth for as many as one hundred million years, but at 
 the same time rendered it almost certain that he had not 
 illuminated the earth for five hundred millions of years. 
 The estimates here are necessarily very vague ; but yet, 
 vague as they are, I do not know that it is possible, upon 
 any reasonable estimate founded on known properties 
 of matter, to say that we can believe the sun has really 
 illuminated the earth for five hundred million years." 1 
 
 I do not wish to " Hansardize " Sir William Thomson 
 by laying much stress on the fact that, only fifteen years 
 ago, he entertained a totally different view of the origin 
 of the sun's heat, and believed that the energy radiated 
 from year to year was supplied from year to year 
 a doctrine which would have suited Hutton perfectly. 
 But the fact that so eminent a physical philosopher has, 
 thus recently, held views opposite to those which he now 
 entertains, and that he confesses his own estimates to 
 be "very vague," justly entitles us to disregard those 
 estimates, if any distinct facts on our side go against 
 them. However, I am not aware that ,such facts exist. 
 As I have already said, for anything I know, one, two, 
 or three hundred millions of years may serve the needs 
 of geologists perfectly well. 
 
 III. The third line of argument is based upon the 
 temperature of the interior of the earth. Sir W. 
 Thomson refers to certain investigations which prove 
 that the present thermal condition of the interior of 
 the earth implies either a heating of the earth within the 
 last 20,000 years of as much as 100 F., or a greater 
 heating all over the surface at some time further back 
 than 20,000 years, and then proceeds thus : 
 
 1 Loc. cit., p. 20. 
 
252 ^ag S.erm0tts, ssap, antr |Ubietos. [XL 
 
 "Now, are geologists prepared to admit that, at somo 
 time within the last 20,000 years, there has been all 
 over the earth so high a temperature as that ? I pre- 
 sume not ; no geologist no modern geologist would 
 for a moment admit the hypothesis that the present 
 state of underground heat is due to a heating of the 
 surface at so late a period as 20,000 years ago. If that 
 is not admitted, we are driven to a greater heat at some 
 time more than 20,000 years ago. A greater heating 
 all' over the surface than 100 Fahrenheit would kill 
 nearly all existing plants and animals, I may safely say. 
 Are modern geologists prepared to say that all life was 
 killed off the earth 50,000, 100,000, or 200,000 years 
 ago ? For the uniformity theory, the further back the 
 time of high surface-temperature is put the better; 
 but the further back the time of heating, the hotter it 
 must have been. The best for those who draw most 
 largely on time is that which puts it furthest back ; 
 and that is the theory that the heating was enough 
 to melt the whole. But even if it was enough to 
 melt the whole, we must still admit some limit, such as 
 fifty million years, one hundred million years, or two 
 or three hundred million years ago. Beyond that we 
 cannot go." l 
 
 It will be observed that the "limit" is once again 
 of the vaguest, ranging from 50,000,000 years to 
 300,000,000. And the reply is, once more, that, for 
 anything that can be proved to the contrary, one or 
 two hundred million years might serve the purpose, 
 even of a through-going Huttonian uniformitarian, 
 very well. 
 
 But if, on the other hand, the 100,000,000 or 
 200,000,000 years appear to be insufficient for geo- 
 logical purposes, we must closely criticise the method 
 
 1 Loc. cit., p. 24. 
 
253 
 
 by which the limit is reached. The argument is simple 
 enough. Assuming the earth to be nothing but a cool- 
 ing mass, the quantity of heat lost per year, supposing 
 the rate of cooling to have been uniform, multiplied 
 by any given number of years, will be given the mini- 
 mum temperature that number of years ago. 
 
 But is the earth nothing but a cooling mass, "like 
 a hot- water jar such as is used in carriages/ 7 or " a globe 
 of sandstone," and has its cooling been uniform \ An 
 affirmative answer to both these questions seems to be 
 necessary to the validity of the calculations on which 
 Sir W. Thomson lays so much stress. 
 
 Nevertheless it surely may be urged that such affirma- 
 tive answers are purely hypothetical, and that other 
 suppositions have an equal right to consideration. 
 
 For example, it it not possible that, at the prodigious 
 temperature which would seem to exist at 100 miles 
 below the surface, all the metallic bases may behave as 
 mercury does at a red heat, when it refuses to combine 
 with oxygen ; while, nearer the surface, and therefore at 
 a lower temperature, they may enter into combination (as 
 mercury does with oxygen a few degrees below its boiling- 
 point) and so give rise to a heat totally distinct from 
 that which they possess as cooling bodies ? And has 
 it not also been proved by recent researches that the 
 quality of the atmosphere may immensely affect its 
 permeability to heat; and, consequently, profoundly 
 modify the rate of cooling the globe as a whole ? 
 
 I do not think it can be denied that such conditions 
 may exist, and may so greatly affect the supply, and the 
 loss, of terrestrial heat as to destroy the value of any 
 calculations which leave them out of sight. 
 
 My functions as your advocate are at an end. I 
 speak with more than the sincerity of a mere advocate 
 
254 ^ag Sermons, (Essags, anb IMruios. [xi 
 
 when I express the belief that the case against us has 
 entirely broken down. The cry for reform which has 
 been raised without, is superfluous, inasmuch as we 
 have long been reforming from within, with all needful 
 speed. And the critical examination of the grounds 
 upon which the very grave charge of opposition to 
 the principles of Natural Philosophy has been brought 
 against us, rather shows that we have exercised a wise 
 discrimination in declining, for the present, to meddle 
 with our foundations. 
 
XII. 
 THE OKIGIN OF SPECIES. 
 
 ME. DARWIN'S long-standing and well-earned scientific 
 eminence probably renders him indifferent to that social 
 notoriety which passes by the name of success ; but if 
 the calm spirit of the philosopher have not yet wholly 
 superseded the ambition and the vanity of the carnal 
 man within him, he must be well satisfied with the 
 results of his venture in publishing the " Origin of 
 Species/' Overflowing the narrow bounds of purely 
 scientific circles, the " species question " divides with 
 Italy and the Volunteers the attention of general society. 
 Everybody has read Mr. Darwin's book, or, at least, has 
 given an opinion upon its merits or demerits; pietists, 
 whether lay or ecclesiastic, decry it with the mild 
 railing which sounds so charitable ; bigots denounce it 
 with ignorant invective; old ladies of both sexes 
 consider it a decidedly dangerous book, and even 
 savans, who have no better mud to throw, quote anti- 
 quated writers to show that its author is no better than 
 an ape himself; while every philosophical thinker 
 hails it as a veritable Whitworth gun in the armoury of 
 liberalism ; and all competent naturalists and physio- 
 logists, whatever their opinions as to the ultimate fate 
 of the doctrines put forth, acknowledge that the work in 
 which they are embodied is a solid contribution to know- 
 ledge and inaugurates a new epoch in natural history. 
 
256 $& Sn*m0ns, $ssags, antr grfmfas. [xu. 
 
 Nor has the discussion of the subject been restrained 
 within the limits of conversation. When the public is 
 eager and interested, reviewers must minister to its 
 wants ; and the genuino litterateur is too much in the 
 habit of acquiring his knowledge from the book he 
 judges as the Abyssinian is said to provide himself 
 with steaks from the ox which carries him to be with- 
 held from criticism of a profound scientific work by the 
 mere want of the requisite preliminary scientific acquire- 
 ment ; while, on the other hand, the men of science who 
 wish well to the new views, no less than those who 
 dispute their validity, have naturally sought oppor- 
 tunities of expressing their opinions. Hence it is not 
 surprising that almost all the critical journals have 
 noticed Mr. Darwin's work at greater or less length ; 
 and so many disquisitions, of every degree of excellence, 
 from the poor product of ignorance, too often stimulated 
 by prejudice, to the fair and thoughtful essay of the 
 candid student of Nature, have appeared, that it seems 
 an almost helpless task to attempt to say anything new 
 upon the question. 
 
 But it may be doubted if the knowledge and acumen 
 of prejudged scientific opponents, or the subtlety of 
 orthodox special pleaders, have yet exerted their full 
 force in mystifying the real issues of the great contro- 
 versy which has been set afoot, and whose end is hardly 
 likely to be seen by this generation ; so that at this 
 eleventh hour, and even failing anything new, it may be 
 useful to state afresh that which is true, and to put the 
 fundamental positions advocated by Mr. Darwin in such 
 a form that they may be grasped by those whose special 
 studies lie in other directions. And the adoption of this 
 course may be the more advisable, because notwith- 
 standing its great deserts, and indeed partly on account 
 of them, the " Origin of Species " is by no means an easy 
 
XTI.] be right jof Spcries. 257 
 
 book to read if by reading is implied the full com- 
 prehension of an author's meaning. 
 
 We do not speak jestingly in saying that it is Mr. 
 Darwin's misfortune to know more about the question he 
 has taken up than any man living. Personally and 
 practically exercised in zoology, in minute anatomy, in 
 geology ; a student of geographical distribution, not on 
 maps and in museums only, but by long voyages and 
 laborious collection ; having largely advanced each of 
 these branches of science, and having spent many years 
 in. gathering and sifting materials for his present work, 
 the store of accurately registered facts upon which the 
 author of the " Origin of Species " is able to draw at 
 will is prodigious. 
 
 But this very superabundance of matter must have 
 been embarrassing to a writer who, for the present, can 
 only put forward an abstract of his views ; and thence it 
 arises, perhaps, that notwithstanding the clearness of the 
 style, those who attempt fairly to digest the book find 
 much of it a sort of intellectual pemmican a mass of 
 facts crushed and pounded into shape, rather than held 
 together by the ordinary medium of an obvious logical 
 bond : due attention will, without doubt, discover this 
 bond, but it is often hard to find. 
 
 Again, from sheer want of room, much has to be 
 taken for granted which might readily enough be proved ; 
 and hence, while the adept, who can supply the missing 
 links in the evidence from his own knowledge, discovers 
 fresh proof of the singular thoroughness with which all 
 difficulties have been considered and all unjustifiable 
 suppositions avoided, at every reperusal of Mr. Darwin's 
 pregnant paragraphs, the novice in biology is apt to 
 complain of the frequency of what he fancies is gra- 
 tuitous assumption. 
 
 Thus while it may be doubted if, for some years, any 
 
 8 
 
258 i^ag Sermons, (feaga, anfa JjWmfos. [xn. 
 
 one is likely to be competent to pronounce judgment on 
 all the issues raised by Mr. Darwin, there is assuredly 
 abundant room for him, who, assuming the humbler, 
 though perhaps as useful, office of an interpreter between 
 the " Origin of Species " and the public, contents himself 
 with endeavouring to point out. the nature of the 
 problems which it discusses; to distinguish between 
 the ascertained facts and the theoretical views which it 
 contains ; and finally,, to show the extent to which the 
 explanation it offers satisfies the requirements of scientific 
 logic. At any rate, it is this office which we purpose to 
 undertake in the following pages. 
 
 It may be safely assumed that our readers have a 
 general conception of the nature of the objects to which 
 the word " species " is applied; but it has, perhaps, 
 occurred to a few, even to those who are naturalists ex 
 professo, to reflect, that, as commonly employed, the 
 term has a double sense and denotes two very different 
 orders of relations. When we call a group of animals, 
 or of plants, a species, we may imply thereby, either 
 that all these animals or plants have some common 
 peculiarity of form or structure ; or, we may mean that 
 they possess some common functional character. That 
 part of biological science which deals with form and 
 structure is called Morphology that which concerns 
 itself with function, Physiologyso that we may con- 
 veniently speak of these two senses, or aspects, of 
 "species" the one as morphological, the other as phy- 
 siological. Eegarded from the former point of view, a 
 species is nothing more than a kind of animal or plant, 
 which is distinctly definable from all others, by certain 
 constant, and not merely sexual, morphological peculiar- 
 ities. Thus horses form a species, because the group of 
 animals to which that name is applied is distinguished 
 from all others in the world by the following constantly 
 
xn.J Cf}* right jof S>gttm. 259 
 
 associated characters. They have 1. A vertebral column ; 
 2. Mammae ; 3. A placental embryo ; 4. Four legs ; 5. A 
 single, well-developed toe in each foot provided with a 
 hoof ; 6. A bushy tail ; and 7. Callosities on the inner 
 sides of both the fore and the hind legs. The asses, 
 again, form a distinct species, because, with the same 
 characters, as far as the fifth in the above list, all asses 
 have tufted tails, and have callosities only on the inner 
 side of the fore legs. If animals were discovered having 
 the general characters of the horse, but sometimes with 
 callosities only on the fore legs, and more or less tufted 
 tails; or animals having the general characters of the 
 ass, but with more or less bushy tails, and sometimes 
 with callosities on both pairs of legs, besides being inter- 
 mediate in other respects the two species would have 
 to be merged into one. They could no longer be 
 regarded as morphologically distinct species, for they 
 would not be distinctly definable one from the other. 
 
 However bare and simple this definition of species 
 may appear to be, we confidently appeal to all practical 
 naturalists, whether zoologists, botanists, or palaeonto- 
 logists, to say if, in the vast majority of cases, they 
 know, or mean to affirm, anything more of the group of 
 animals or plants they so denominate than what has just 
 been stated. Even the most decided advocates of the 
 received doctrines respecting species admit this. 
 
 a I apprehend," says Professor Owen, 1 "that few naturalists now- 
 a-days, in describing and proposing a name for what they call * a new 
 species? use that term to signify what was meant by it twenty or thirty 
 years ago ; that is, an originally distinct creation, maintaining its 
 primitive distinction by obstructive generative peculiarities. The pro- 
 poser of the new species now intends to state no more than he 
 actually knows; as, for example, that the differences on which he 
 
 1 On the Osteology of the Chimpanzees and Orangs : Transactions of the 
 Zoological Society, 1858. 
 
 82 
 
260 3aj Stornums, Ssaags, rmtr Jiebictos. [xn. 
 
 founds the specific character are constant in individuals of both sexes, 
 so far as observation has reached ; and that they are not due to 
 domestication or to artificially superinduced external circumstances, or 
 to any outward influence within his cognizance ; that the species is 
 ffild, or is such as it appears by Nature." 
 
 If we Consider, in fact, that by far the largest pro- 
 portion of recorded existing species are known only by 
 the study of their skins, or bones, or other lifeless 
 exuvia ; that we are acquainted with none, or next to 
 none, of their physiological peculiarities, beyond those 
 which can be deduced from their structure, or are open 
 to cursory observation; and that we cannot hope to 
 learn more of any of those extinct forms of life which 
 now constitute no inconsiderable proportion of the known 
 Flora and Fauna of the world : it is obvious that the 
 definitions of these species can be only of a purely 
 structural or morphological character. It is probable 
 that naturalists would have avoided much confusion of 
 ideas if they had more frequently borne the necessary 
 limitations of our knowledge in mind. But while it 
 may safely be admitted that we are acquainted with 
 only the morphological characters of the vast majority 
 of species the functional, or physiological, peculiarities 
 of a few have been carefully investigated, and the result 
 of that study forms a large and most interesting portion 
 of the physiology of reproduction. 
 
 The student of -Nature wonders the more and is as- 
 tonished the less, the more conversant he becomes with 
 her operations ; but of all the perennial miracles she 
 offers to his inspection, perhaps the most worthy of 
 admiration is the development of a plant or of an animal 
 from its embryo. Examine the recently laid egg of 
 some common animal, such as a salamander or a newt. 
 It is a minute spheroid in which the best microscope 
 will reveal nothing but a structureless sac, enclosing a 
 
xii.] foj)* Origin 0f Species. 261 
 
 glairy fluid, holding granules in suspension. But strange 
 possibilities lie dormant in that semi-fluid globule. Let 
 a moderate supply of warmth reach its watery cradle, 
 and the plastic matter undergoes changes so rapid and 
 yet so steady and purposelike in their succession, that 
 one can only compare them to those operated by a 
 skilled modeller upon a formless lump of clay. As 
 with an invisible trowel, the mass is divided and sub- 
 divided into smaller and smaller portions, until it is 
 reduced to an aggregation of granules not too large to 
 build withal the finest fabrics of the nascent organism. 
 And, then, it is as if a delicate finger traced out the line 
 to be occupied by the spinal column, and moulded the 
 contour of the body ; pinching up the head at one end, 
 the tail at the other, and fashioning flank and limb into 
 due salamandrine proportions, in so artistic a way, that, 
 after watching the process hour by hour, one is almost 
 involuntarily possessed by the notion, that some more 
 subtle aid to vision than an achromatic, would show the 
 hidden artist, with his plan before him, striving with 
 skilful manipulation to perfect his work. 
 
 As life advances, and the young amphibian ranges the 
 waters, the terror of his insect contemporaries, not only 
 are the nutritious particles supplied by its prey, by the 
 addition of which to its frame growth takes place, laid 
 down, each in its proper spot, and in such due proportion 
 to the rest, as to reproduce the form, the colour, and the 
 size, characteristic of the parental stock ; but even the 
 wonderful powers of reproducing lost parts possessed by 
 these animals are controlled by the same governing 
 tendency. Cut off the legs, the tail, the jaws, separately 
 or all together, and, as Spallanzani showed long ago, 
 these parts not only grow again, but the redintegrated 
 limb is formed on the same type as those which were 
 lost. The new jaw, or leg, is a newt's, and never by any 
 
252 
 
 accident more like that of a frog. What is true of the 
 newt is true of every animal and of every plant ; the 
 acorn tends to build itself up again into a woodland 
 giant such as that from whose twig it fell ; the spore of 
 the humblest lichen reproduces the green or brown 
 incrustation which gave it birth ; and at the other end 
 of the scale of life, the child that resembled neither the 
 paternal nor the maternal side of the house would be 
 regarded as a kind of monster. 
 
 So that the one end to which, in all living beings, the 
 formative impulse is tending the one scheme which the 
 Archseus of the old speculators strives to carry out, 
 seems to be to mould the offspring into the likeness of 
 the parent. It is the first great law of reproduction, 
 that the offspring tends to resemble its parent or parents, 
 more closely than anything else. 
 
 Science will some day show us how this law is a 
 necessary consequence of the more general laws which 
 govern matter ; but, for the present, more can hardly be 
 said than that it appears to be in harmony with them. 
 We know that the phaenomena of vitality are not some- 
 thing apart from other physical phenomena, but one 
 with them ; and matter and force are the two names of 
 the one artist who fashions the living as well as the life- 
 less. Hence living bodies should obey the same great 
 laws as other matter nor, throughout Nature, is there a 
 law of wider application than this, that a body impelled 
 by two forces takes the direction of their resultant. But 
 living bodies may be regarded as nothing but extremely 
 complex bundles of forces held in a mass of matter, as 
 the complex forces of a magnet are held in the steel by 
 its coercive force ; and, since the differences of sex are 
 comparatively slight, or, in other words, the sum of the 
 forces in each has a very similar tendency, their re- 
 sultant, the offspring, may reasonably be expected to 
 
XIL] Cjj* right 0f <%mS. 263 
 
 deviate but little from a course parallel to either, or 
 to both. 
 
 Eepresent the reason of the law to ourselves by what 
 physical metaphor or analogy we will, however, the 
 great matter is to apprehend its existence and the im- 
 portance of the consequences deducible from it. Foi 
 things which are like to the same are like to one another, 
 and if , in a great series of generations, every offspring is 
 like its parent, it follows that all the offspring and all 
 the parents must be like one another; and that, given 
 an original parental stock, with the opportunity of un- 
 disturbed multiplication, the law in question necessitates 
 the production, in course of time, of an indefinitely large 
 group, the whole of whose members are at once very 
 similar and are blood relations, having descended from 
 the same parent, or pair of parents. The proof that all 
 the members of any given group of animals, or plants, 
 had thus descended, would be ordinarily considered 
 sufficient to entitle them to the rank of physiological 
 species, for most physiologists consider species to be de- 
 finable as " the offspring of a single primitive stock." 
 
 But though it is quite true that all those groups we 
 call species may, according to the known laws of re- 
 production, have descended from a single stock, and 
 though it is very likely they really have done so, yet 
 this conclusion rests on deduction and can hardly hope 
 to establish itself upon a basis of observation. And the 
 primitiveness of the supposed single stock, which, after 
 all, is the essential part of the matter, is not only a 
 hypothesis, but one which has not a shadow of founda- 
 tion, if by " primitive " be meant " independent of any 
 other living being." A scientific definition, of which an 
 unwarrantable hypothesis forms an essential part, carries 
 its condemnation within itself; but even supposing such 
 a definition were, in form, tenable, the physiologist who 
 
264 ^ag &enrum, <ssaj)S, anb Ij^hwfag. [xn. 
 
 should attempt to apply it in Nature would soon find 
 himself involved in great, if not inextricable, difficulties. 
 As we have said, it is indubitable that offspring tend to 
 resemble the parental organism, but it is equally true 
 that the similarity attained never amounts to identity, 
 either in form or in structure. There is always a certain 
 amount of deviation, not only from the precise characters 
 of a single parent, but when, as in most animals and 
 many plants, the sexes are lodged in distinct individuals, 
 from an exact mean between the two parents. And 
 indeed, on general principles, this slight deviation seems 
 as intelligible as the general similarity, if we reflect how 
 complex the co-operating "bundles of forces" are, and 
 how improbable it is that, in any case, their true re- 
 sultant shall coincide with any mean between the more 
 obvious characters of the two parents. Whatever be 
 its cause, however, the co-existence of this tendency to 
 minor variation with the tendency to general similarity, 
 is of vast importance in its bearing on the question of 
 the origin of species. 
 
 As a general rule, the extent to which an offspring 
 differs from its parent is slight enough ; but, occasionally, 
 the amount of difference is much more strongly marked, 
 and then the divergent offspring receives the name of a 
 Variety. Multitudes, of what there is every reason to 
 believe are such varieties, are known, but the origin of 
 very few has been accurately recorded, and of these we 
 will select two as more especially illustrative of the main 
 features of variation. The first of them is that of the 
 " Ancon," or " Otter" sheep, of which a careful account 
 is given by Colonel David Humphreys, F.K.S., in a letter 
 to Sir Joseph Banks, published in the Philosophical 
 Transactions for 1813. It appears that one Seth Wright, 
 the proprietor of a farm on the banks of the Charles 
 River, in Massachusetts, possessed a flock of fifteen ewes 
 
iin 0f mes. 265 
 
 and a ram of the ordinary kind. In the year 1791, one 
 of the ewes presented her owner with a male lamb, 
 differing, for no assignable reason, from its parents by a 
 proportionally long body and short bandy legs, whence 
 it was unable to emulate its relatives in those sportive 
 leaps over the neighbours' fences, in which they were 
 in the habit of indulging, .much to the good farmer's 
 vexation. 
 
 The second case is that detailed by a no less unex- 
 ceptionable authority than Keaumur, in his " Art de faire 
 eclore les Poulets." A Maltese couple, named Kelleia, 
 whose hands and feet were constructed upon the ordinary 
 human model, had born to them a son, Gratio, who pos- 
 sessed six perfectly moveable fingers on each hand and 
 six toes, not quite so well formed, on each foot. No 
 cause could be assigned for the appearance of this un- 
 usual variety of the human species. 
 
 Two circumstances are well worthy of remark in both 
 these cases. In each, the variety appears to have arisen 
 in full force, and, as it were, per saltum ; a wide and 
 definite difference appearing, at once, between the Ancon 
 ram and the ordinary sheep ; between the six-fingered 
 and six-toed Gratio Kelleia and ordinary men. In 
 neither case is it possible to point out any obvious reason 
 for the appearance of the variety. Doubtless there were 
 determining causes for these as for all other phenomena ; 
 but they do not appear, and we can be tolerably cer- 
 tain that what are ordinarily understood as changes in 
 physical conditions, as in climate, in food, or the like, 
 did not take place and had nothing to do with the 
 matter. It was no case of what is commonly called 
 adaptation to circumstances ; but, to use a conveniently 
 erroneous phrase, the variations arose spontaneously. 
 The fruitless search after final causes leads their pursuers 
 a long way ; but even those hardy teleologists, who are 
 
Sermons, (Sssajrs, anfr |Ubiefos. |_ XIL 
 
 ready to break through all the laws of physics in chase 
 of their favourite will-o'-the-wisp, may be puzzled to 
 discover what purpose could be attained by the stunted 
 legs of Seth Wright's ram or the hexadactyle members 
 of Gratio Kelleia. 
 
 Varieties then arise we know not why ; and it is more 
 than probable that the majority of varieties have arisen 
 in this " spontaneous" manner, though we are, of course, 
 far from denying that they may be traced, in some cases, 
 to distinct external influences ; which are assuredly com- 
 petent to alter the character of the tegumentary cover- 
 ing, to change colour, to increase or diminish the size of 
 muscles, to modify constitution, and, among plants, to 
 give rise to the metamorphosis of stamens into petals, 
 and so forth. But however they may have arisen, what 
 especially interests us at present is, to remark that, once 
 in existence, varieties obey the fundamental law of re- 
 production that like tends to produce like, and their 
 offspring exemplify it by tending to exhibit the same 
 deviation from the parental stock as themselves. Indeed, 
 there seems to be, in many instances, a pre-potent in- 
 fluence about a newly-arisen variety which gives it 
 what one may call an unfair advantage over the normal 
 descendants from the same stock. This is strikingly 
 exemplified by the case of Gratio Kelleia, who married 
 a woman with the ordinary pentadactyle extremities, 
 and had by her four children, Salvator, George, Andr, 
 and Marie. Of these children Salvator, the eldest boy, 
 had six fingers and six toes, like his father ; the second 
 and third, also boys, had five fingers and five toes, like 
 their mother, though the hands and feet of George 
 were slightly deformed ; the last, a girl, had five fingers 
 and five toes, but the thumbs were slightly deformed. 
 The variety thus reproduced itself purely in the eldest, 
 while the normal type reproduced itself purely in the 
 
xii.] gtjre right rrf Specie. 267 
 
 third, and almost purely in the second and last : so 
 that it would seem, at first, as if the normal type 
 were more powerful than the variety. But all these 
 children grew up and intermarried with normal wives 
 and husband, and then, note what took place : Sal- 
 vator had four children, three of whom exhibited the 
 hexadactyle members of their grandfather and father, 
 while the youngest had the pentadactyle limbs of the 
 mother and grandmother ; so that here, notwithstanding 
 a double pentadactyle dilution of the blood, the hexa- 
 dactyle variety had the best of it. The same pre-potency 
 of the variety was still more markedly exemplified in 
 the progeny of two of the other children, Marie and 
 George. Marie (whose thumbs only were deformed) 
 gave birth to a boy with six toes, and three other 
 normally formed children ; but George, who was not 
 quite so pure a pentadactyle, begot, first, two girls, each 
 of whom had six fingers and toes ; then a girl with six 
 fingers on each hand and six toes on the right foot, but 
 only five toes on the left ; and lastly, a boy with only 
 five fingers and toes. In these instances, therefore, the 
 variety, as it were, leaped over one generation to re- 
 produce itself in full force in the next. Finally, the 
 purely pentadactyle Andre* was the father of many 
 children, not one of whom departed from the normal 
 parental type. 
 
 If a variation which approaches the nature of a mon- 
 strosity can strive thus forcibly to reproduce itself, it is 
 not wonderful that less aberrant modifications should 
 tend to be preserved even more strongly ; and the history 
 of the Ancon sheep is, in this respect, particularly in- 
 structive. With the "'cuteness" characteristic of their 
 nation, the neighbours of the Massachusets farmer 
 imagined it would be an excellent thing if all his sheep 
 were imbued with the stay-at-home tendencies enforced 
 
2G8 ^ag Sermons, (Essags, mtir IJUfaiefos. |_ X1L 
 
 by Nature upon the newly-arrived ram ; and they advised 
 Wright to kill the old patriarch of his fold, and install 
 the Ancon ram in his place. The result justified their 
 sagacious anticipations, and coincided very nearly with 
 what occurred to the progeny of Gratio Kelleia. The 
 young lambs were almost always either pure Ancons, or 
 pure ordinary sheep. 1 But when sufficient Ancon sheep 
 were obtained to interbreed with one another, it was 
 found that the offspring was always pure Ancon. Colonel 
 Humphreys, in fact, states that he was acquainted with 
 only "one questionable ease of a contrary nature. " 
 Here, then, is a remarkable and well-established instance, 
 not only of a very distinct race being established per 
 saltum, but of that race breeding " true " at once, and 
 showing no mixed forms, even when crossed with another 
 breed. 
 
 By taking care to select Ancons of both sexes, for 
 breeding from, it thus became easy to establish an ex- 
 tremely well-marked race ; so peculiar that, even when 
 herded with other sheep, it was noted that the Ancons 
 kept together. And there is every reason to believe that 
 the existence of this breed might have been indefinitely 
 protracted ; but the introduction of the Merino sheep, 
 which were not only very superior to the Ancons in wool 
 and meat, but quite as quiet and orderly, led to the com- 
 plete neglect of the new breed, so that, in 1813, Colonel 
 Humphreys found it difficult to obtain the specimen, 
 
 1 Colonel Humphreys* statements are exceedingly explicit on this point : 
 "When an Ancon ewe is impregnated by a common ram, the increase 
 resembles wholly either the ewe or the ram. The increase of the common 
 ewe impregnated by an Ancon ram follows entirely the one or the other, 
 without blending any of the distinguishing and essential peculiarities of both. 
 Frequent instances have happened where common ewes have had twins by 
 Ancon rams, when one exhibited the complete marks and features of the 
 ewe, the other of the ram. The contrast has been rendered singularly 
 striking, when one short-legged and one long-legged lamb, produced at a 
 birth, have been seen sucking the dam at the same time." Philosophical 
 Transactions, 1813, Pt. I., pp. 89, 90. 
 
right xrf Sptths. 2G9 
 
 whose skeleton was presented to Sir Joseph Banks. We 
 believe that, for many years, no remnant of it has existed 
 in the United States. 
 
 Gratio Kelleia was not the progenitor of a race of six- 
 fingered men, as Seth Wright's ram became a nation of 
 Ancon sheep, though the tendency of the variety to 
 perpetutate itself appears to have been fully as strong, in 
 the one case as in the other. And the reason of the 
 difference is not far to seek. Seth Wright took care not 
 to weaken the Ancon blood by matching his Ancon ewes 
 with any but males of the same variety, while Gratio 
 Kelleia's sons were too far removed from the patriarchal 
 times to intermarry with their sisters ; and his grand- 
 children seem not to have been attracted by their six- 
 fingered cousins. In other words, in the one example a 
 race was produced, because, for several generations, care 
 was taken to select both parents of the breeding stock 
 from animals exhibiting a tendency to vary in the Isame 
 direction ; while, in the other, no race was evolved, because 
 no such selection was exercised. A race is a propagated 
 variety; and as, by the laws of reproduction, offspring 
 tend to assume the parental forms, they will be more 
 likely to propagate a variation exhibited by both parents 
 than that possessed by only one. 
 
 There is no organ of the body of an animal which 
 may not, and does not, occasionally, vary more or less 
 from the normal type; and there is no variation which 
 may not be transmitted, and which, if selectively trans- 
 mitted, may not become the foundation of a race. This 
 | great truth, sometimes forgotten by philosophers, has 
 long been familiar to practical agriculturists and breeders ; 
 and upon it rest all the methods of improving the breeds 
 of domestic animals, which, for the last century, have 
 been followed with so much success in England. Colour, 
 form, size, texture of hair or wool, proportions of various 
 
270 f^g Sermnns, ssrrjis, mib |Ubwto3. 
 
 parts, strength or weakness of constitution, tendency to 
 fatten or to remain lean, to give much or little milk, 
 speed, strength, temper, intelligence, special instincts; 
 there is not one of these characters whose transmission 
 is not an every-day occurrence within the experience 
 of cattle-breeders, stock-farmers, horse-dealers, and 
 dog and poultry fanciers. Nay, it is only the other 
 day that an eminent physiologist, Dr. Brown-Sequard, 
 communicated to the Eoyal Society his discovery 
 that epilepsy, artificially produced in guinea-pigs, by a 
 means which he has discovered, is transmitted to their 
 offspring. 
 
 But a race, once produced, is no more a fixed and 
 immutable entity than the stock whence it sprang ; 
 variations arise among its members, and as these varia- 
 tions are transmitted like any others, new races may be 
 developed out of the pre-existing one ad infinitum, or, 
 at least, within any limit at present determined. Given 
 sufficient time and sufficiently careful selection, and the 
 multitude of races which may arise from a common 
 stock is as astonishing as are the extreme structural 
 differences which they may present. A remarkable 
 example of this is to be found in the rock-pigeon, which 
 Mr. Darwin has, in our opinion, satisfactorily demon- 
 strated to be the progenitor of all our domestic pigeons, 
 of which there are certainly more than a hundred well- 
 marked races. The most noteworthy of these races are, 
 the four great stocks known to the " fancy " as tumblers, 
 pouters, carriers, and fantails ; birds which not only differ 
 most singularly in size, colour, and habits, but in the 
 form of the beak and of the skull : in the proportions of 
 the beak to the skull ; in the number of tail-feathers ; in 
 the absolute and relative size of the feet ; in the presence 
 or absence of the uropygial gland ; in the number of 
 vertebrae in the back ; in short, in .precisely those cha- 
 
xii.] C{}* riflht 0f Specks. 271 
 
 racters in which the genera and species of birds differ 
 from one another. 
 
 And it is most remarkable and instructive to observe, 
 that none of these races can be shown to have been 
 originated by the action of changes in what are com- 
 monly called external circumstances, upon the wild rock- 
 pigeon. On the contrary, from time immemorial, pigeon 
 fanciers have had essentially similar methods of treating 
 their pets, which have been housed, fed, protected and 
 cared for in much the same way in all pigeonries. In 
 fact, there is no case better adapted than that of the 
 pigeons to refute the doctrine which one sees put forth 
 on high authority, that "no other characters than those 
 founded on the development of bone for the attachment 
 of muscles" are capable of variation. In precise con- 
 tradiction of this hasty assertion, Mr. Darwin's researches 
 prove that the skeleton of the wings in domestic pigeons 
 has hardly varied at all from that of the wild type; 
 while, on the other hand, it is in exactly those respects, 
 such as the relative length of the beak and skull, the 
 number of the vertebrae, and the number of the tail- 
 feathers, in which muscular exertion can have no im- 
 portant influence, that the utmost amount of variation 
 has taken place. 
 
 We have said that the following out of the properties 
 exhibited by physiological species would lead us into 
 difficulties, and at this point they begin to be obvious ; 
 for, if, as the result of spontaneous variation and of 
 selective breeding, the progeny of a common stock may 
 become separated into groups distinguished from one 
 another by constant, not sexual, morphological characters, 
 it is clear that the physiological definition of species is 
 likely to clash with the morphological definition. No 
 one would hesitate to describe the pouter and the 
 
272 ^ag S*rm0ns, feags, mtir fUbittos. [xn. 
 
 tumbler as distinct species, if they were found fossil, or 
 if their skins and skeletons were imported, as those of 
 exotic wild birds commonly are and, without doubt, if 
 considered alone, they are good and distinct morpho- 
 logical species. On the other hand, they are not physio- 
 logical species, for they are descended from a common 
 stock, the rock-pigeon. 
 
 Under these circumstances, as it is admitted on all 
 sides that races occur in Nature, how are we to know 
 whether any apparently distinct animals are really of 
 different physiological species, or not, seeing that the 
 amount of morphological difference is no safe guide? 
 Is there any test of a physiological species ? The usual 
 answer of physiologists is in the affirmative. It is said 
 that such a test is to be found in the phenomena of 
 hybridization in the results of crossing races, as com- 
 pared with the results of crossing species. 
 
 So far as the evidence goes at present, individuals, of 
 what are certainly known to be mere races produced by 
 selection, however distinct they may appear to be, not 
 only breed freely together, but the offspring of such 
 crossed races are only perfectly fertile with one another. 
 Thus, the spaniel and the greyhound, the dray-horse and 
 the Arab, the pouter and the tumbler, breed together 
 with perfect freedom, and their mongrels, if matched 
 with other mongrels of the same kind, are equally fertile. 
 
 On the other hand, there can be no doubt that the 
 individuals of many natural species are either absolutely 
 infertile, if crossed with individuals of other species, or, 
 if they give rise to hybrid offspring, the hybrids so 
 produced are infertile when paired together, the horse 
 and the ass, for instance, if so crossed, give rise to the 
 mule, and there is no certain evidence of offspring ever 
 having been produced by a male and female mule. The 
 unions of the rock-pigeon and the ring-pigeon appear to 
 
XIT.] Cfr* rigiir 0f Species. 273 
 
 be equally barren of result. Here, then, says the phy- 
 siologist, we have a means f distinguishing any two 
 true species from any two varieties. If a male and a 
 female, selected from each group, produce offspring, and 
 that offspring is fertile with others produced in the same 
 way, the groups are races and not species. If, on the 
 other hand, no result ensues, or if the offspring are 
 infertile with others produced in the same way, they are 
 true physiological species. The test would be an admir- 
 able one, if, in the first place, it were always practicable 
 to apply it, and if, in the second, it always yielded 
 results susceptible of a definite interpretation. Unfor- 
 tunately, in the great majority of eases, this touchstone 
 for species is wholly inapplicable. 
 
 The constitution of many wild animals is so altered 
 by confinement that they will not breed even with their 
 own females, so that the negative results obtained from 
 crosses are of no value ; and the antipathy of wild animals 
 of different species for one another, or even of wild and 
 tame members of the same species, is ordinarily so great, 
 that it is hopeless to look for such unions in Nature. 
 The hermaphrodism of most plants, the difficulty in the 
 way of ensuring the absence of their own, or the proper 
 working of other pollen, are obstacles of no less magni- 
 tude in applying the test to them. And in both animals 
 and plants is superadded the further difficulty, that 
 experiments must be continued over a long time for the 
 purpose of ascertaining the fertility of the mongrel or 
 hybrid progeny, as well as of the first crosses from 
 which they spring. 
 
 Not only do these great practical difficulties lie in the 
 way of applying the hybridization test, but even when 
 this oracle can be questioned, its replies are sometimes 
 as doubtful as those of Delphi. For example, cases are 
 cited by Mr. Darwin, of plants which are more fertile, 
 
 T 
 
274 ^aj Sjerntcrns, (Stesmgs, atifo 
 
 with the pollen of another species than with their own ; 
 and there are others, such as certain fuel, whose male 
 element will fertilize the ovule of a plant of distinct spe- 
 cies, while the males of the latter species are ineffective 
 with the females of the first. So that, in the last-named 
 instance, a physiologist, who should cross the two species 
 in one way, would decide that they were true species ; 
 while another, who should cross them in the reverse 
 way, would, with equal justice, according to the rule, 
 pronounce them to be mere races. Several plants, which 
 there is great reason to believe are mere varieties, are 
 almost sterile when crossed ; while both animals and 
 plants, which have always been regarded by naturalists 
 as of distinct species, turn out, when the test is applied, 
 to be perfectly fertile. Again, the sterility or fertility 
 of crosses seems to bear no relation to the structural 
 resemblances or differences of the members of any two 
 groups. 
 
 Mr. Darwin has discussed this question with singular 
 ability and circumspection, and his conclusions are 
 summed up as follow, at page 276 of his work : 
 
 " First crosses between forms sufficiently distinct to be ranked as 
 species, and their hybrids, are very generally, but not universally, 
 sterile. The sterility is of all degrees, and is often so slight that the 
 two most careful experimentalists who have ever lived have come to 
 diametrically opposite conclusions in ranking forms by this test. The 
 sterility is innately variable in individuals of the same species, and is 
 eminently susceptible of favourable and unfavourable conditions. The 
 degree of sterility does not strictly follow systematic affinity, but is 
 .governed by several curious and complex laws. It is generally dif- 
 ferent, and sometimes widely different, in reciprocal crosses between 
 the same two species. It is not always equal in degree in a first cross, 
 and in the hybrid produced from this cross. 
 
 "In the same manner as in grafting trees, the capacity of one 
 species or variety to take on another is incidental on generally 
 unknown differences in their ^vegetative systems ; so in crossing, the 
 greater or lesy facility of one species to unite with another is inci- 
 dental on unknown differences in their reproductive systems. There 
 
XIL] &|xe right rrf >yttu$. 275 
 
 is no more reason to think that species have been specially endowed 
 with various degrees of sterility to prevent them crossing and breeding 
 in Nature, than to think that trees have been specially endowed with 
 various and somewhat analogous degrees of difficulty in being grafted 
 together, in order to prevent them becoming inarched in our forests. 
 
 "The sterility of first crosses between pure species, which have 
 their reproductive systems perfect, seems to depend on several circum- 
 stances j in some cases largely on the early death of the embryo. The 
 sterility of hybrids which have their reproductive systems imperfect, 
 and which have had this system and their whole organization dis- 
 turbed by being compounded of two distinct species, seems closely 
 allied to that sterility which so frequently affects pure species when 
 their natural conditions of life have been disturbed. This view is 
 supported by a parallelism of another kind ; namely, that the crossing 
 of forms, only slightly different, is favourable to the vigour and fertility 
 of the offspring ; and that slight changes in the conditions of life are 
 apparently favourable to the vigour and fertility of all organic beings. 
 It is not surprising that the degree of difficulty in uniting two species 
 and the degree of sterility of their hybrid offspring, should generally 
 correspond, though due to distinct causes ; for both depend on the 
 amount of difference of some kind between the species which are 
 crossed. Nor is it surprising that the facility of effecting a first cross, 
 the fertility of hybrids produced from it, and the capacity of being 
 grafted together though this latter capacity evidently depends on 
 widely different circumstances should all run to a certain extent 
 parallel with the systematic affinity of the forms which are subjected 
 to experiment ; for systematic affinity attempts to express all kinds of 
 resemblance between all species. 
 
 " First crosses between forms known to be varieties, or sufficiently 
 alike to be considered as varieties, and their mongrel offspring, are 
 very generally, but not quite universally, fertile. Nor is this nearly 
 general and perfect fertility surprising, when we remember how liable 
 we are to argue in a circle with respect to varieties in a state of 
 Nature ; and when we remember that the greater number of varieties 
 have been produced under domestication by the selection of mere 
 external differences, and not of differences in the reproductive system. 
 In all other respects, excluding fertility, there is a close general 
 resemblance between hybrids and mongrels." Pp. 276-8. 
 
 We fully agree with the general tenor of this weighty 
 passage; but forcible as are these arguments, and little as 
 the value of fertility or infertility as a test of species may 
 be, it must not be forgotten that the really important 
 
 T 2 
 
276 UTajy S*rm0ns, (feags, mtb |3Ufabfos. [XIL 
 
 fact, so far as the inquiry into the origin of species 
 goes, is, that there are such things in Nature as groups 
 of animals and of plants, whose members are incapable 
 of fertile union with those of other groups; and that 
 there are such things as hybrids, which are absolutely 
 sterile when crossed with other hybrids. For if such 
 phsenomena as these were exhibited by only two of those 
 assemblages of living objects, to which the name of 
 species (whether it be used in its physiological or in 
 its morphological sense) is given, it would have to be 
 accounted for by any theory of the origin of species, and 
 every theory which could not account for it would be, so 
 far, imperfect. 
 
 Up to this point we have been dealing with matters of 
 fact, and the statements which we have laid before the 
 reader would, to the best of our knowledge, be admitted 
 to contain a fair exposition of what is at present known 
 respecting the essential properties of species, by all who 
 have studied the question. And whatever may be his theo- 
 retical views, no naturalist will probably be disposed to 
 demur to the following summary of that exposition : 
 
 Living beings, whether animals or plants, are divisible 
 into multitudes of distinctly definable kinds, which are 
 morphological species. They are also divisible into 
 groups of individuals, which breed freely together, tend- 
 ing to reproduce their like, and are physiological species. 
 Normally resembling their parents, the offspring of 
 members of these species are still liable to vary, and the 
 variation may be perpetuated by selection, as a race, 
 which race, in many cases, presents all the characteristics 
 of a morphological species. But it is not as yet proved 
 that a race ever exhibits, when crossed with another race 
 of the same species, those phenomena of hybridization 
 which are exhibited by many species when crossed withi 
 other species. On the other hand, not only is it not 
 
XIL] &{j* right xrf Spw*s, 277 
 
 proved that all species give rise to hybrids infertile 
 inter se, but there is much reason to believe that, in 
 crossing, species exhibit every gradation from perfect 
 sterility to perfect fertility. 
 
 Such are the most essential characteristics of species. 
 Even were man not one of them a member of the same 
 system and subject to the same laws the question of 
 their origin, their causal connexion, that is, with the 
 other phsenomena of the universe, must have attracted 
 his attention, as soon as his intelligence had raised itself 
 above the level of his daily wants. 
 
 Indeed history relates that such was the case, and 
 has embalmed for us the speculations upon the origin 
 of living beings, which were among the earliest products 
 of the dawning intellectual activity of man. In those 
 early days positive knowledge was not to be had, but the 
 craving after it needed, at all hazards, to be satisfied, and 
 according to the country, or the turn of thought of the 
 speculator, the suggestion that all living things arose 
 from the mud of the Nile, from a primeval egg, or from 
 some more anthropomorphic agency, afforded a sufficient 
 resting-place for his curiosity. The myths of Paganism 
 are as dead as Osiris or Zeus, and the man who should 
 revive them, in opposition to the knowledge of our time, 
 would be justly laughed to scorn ; but the coeval imagi- 
 nations current among the rude inhabitants of Palestine, 
 recorded by writers whose very name and age are 
 admitted by every scholar to be unknown, have unfor- 
 tunately not yet shared their fate, but, even at this day, 
 are regarded by nine-tenths of the civilized world as the 
 authoritative standard of fact and the criterion of the 
 justice of scientific conclusions, in all that relates to the 
 origin of things, and, among them, of species. In this 
 nineteenth century, as at the dawn of modern physical 
 
278 |fojr Smn0ns, (Stesajrs, attir |Ubicfos. [xn. 
 
 science, the cosmogony of the semi-barbarous Hebrew is 
 the incubus of the philosopher and the opprobrium of the 
 orthodox. Who shall number the patient and earnest 
 seekers after truth, from the days of Galileo until now, 
 whose lives have been embittered and their good name 
 blasted by the mistaken zeal of Bibliolaters ? Who 
 shall count the host of weaker men whose sense of 
 truth has been destroyed in the effort to harmonize 
 impossibilities whose life has been wasted in the 
 attempt to force the generous new wine of Science 
 into the old bottles of Judaism, compelled by the outcry 
 of the same strong party? 
 
 It is true that if philosophers have suffered, their 
 cause has been amply avenged. Extinguished theolo- 
 gians lie about the cradle of every science as the 
 strangled snakes beside that of Hercules; and history 
 records that whenever science and orthodoxy have been 
 fairly opposed, the latter has been forced to retire from 
 the lists, bleeding and crushed, if not annihilated ; 
 scotched, if not slain. But orthodoxy is the Bourbon 
 of the world of thought. It learns not, neither can it 
 forget ; and though, at present, bewildered and afraid 
 to move, it is as willing as ever to insist that the first 
 chapter of Genesis contains the beginning and the end 
 of sound science ; and to visit, with such petty thunder- 
 bolts as its half-paralysed hands can hurl, those who 
 refuse to degrade Nature to the level of primitive 
 Judaism. 
 
 Philosophers, on the other hand, have no such aggres- 
 sive tendencies. With eyes fixed on the noble goal to 
 which " per aspera et ardua " they tend, they may, now 
 and then, be stirred to momentary wrath by the unneces- 
 sary obstacles with which the ignorant, or the malicious, 
 encumber, if they cannot bar, the difficult path ; but 
 why should their souls be deeply vexed ] The majesty 
 
XIL] &jtt right 0f S>$wm. 279 
 
 of Fact is on their side, and the elemental forces of 
 Nature are working for them. Not a star comes to the 
 meridian at its calculated time but testifies to the justice 
 of their methods their beliefs are " one with the falling 
 rain and with the growing corn." By doubt they are 
 established, and open inquiry is their bosom friend. 
 Such men have no fear of traditions however venerable, 
 and no respect for them when they become mischievous 
 and obstructive ; but they have better than mere anti- 
 quarian business in hand, and if dogmas, which ought to 
 be fossil but are not, are not forced upon their notice, 
 they are too happy to treat them as non-existent. 
 
 The hypotheses respecting the origin of species which 
 profess to stand upon a scientific basis, and, as -such, 
 alone demand serious attention, are of two kinds. The 
 one, the " special creation " hypothesis, presumes every 
 species to have originated from one or more stocks, 
 these not being the result of the modification of any 
 other form of living matter or arising by natural 
 agencies but being produced, as such, by a super- 
 natural creative act. 
 
 The other, the so-called "transmutation" hypothesis, 
 considers that all existing species are the result of the 
 modification of pre-existing species, and those of their 
 predecessors, by agencies similar to those which at the 
 present day produce varieties and races, and therefore in 
 an altogether natural way ; and it is a probable, though 
 not a necessary consequence of this hypothesis, that all 
 living beings have arisen from a single stock. With 
 respect to the origin of this primitive stock, or stocks, 
 the doctrine of the origin of species is obviously not 
 necessarily concerned. The transmutation hypothesis, 
 for example, is perfectly consistent either with the con- 
 ception of a special creation of the primitive germ, or 
 
fag S*rm0trs, (toajrs, anir gebittos. [xif. 
 
 with the supposition of its having arisen, as a modifi- 
 cation of inorganic matter, by natural causes. 
 
 The doctrine of special creation owes its existence 
 very largely to the supposed necessity of making science 
 accord with the Hebrew cosmogony ; but it is curious 
 to observe that, as the doctrine is at present maintained 
 by men of science, it is as hopelessly inconsistent with 
 the Hebrew view as any other hypothesis. 
 
 If there be any result which has come more clearly 
 out .of geological investigation than another, it is, that 
 the vast series of extinct animals and plants is not 
 divisible, as it was once supposed to be, into distinct 
 groups, separated by sharply-marked boundaries. There 
 are no great gulfs between epochs and formations no 
 successive periods marked by the appearance of plants, 
 of water animals, and of land animals, en masse. Every 
 year adds to the list of links between what the older- 
 geologists supposed to be widely separated epochs : 
 witness the crags linking the drift with the older ter- 
 tiaries ; the Maestricht beds linking the tertiaries with 
 the chalk ; the St. Cassian beds exhibiting an abundant 
 fauna of mixed mesozoic and palaeozoic types, in rocks 
 of an epoch once supposed to be eminently poor in life ; 
 witness, lastly, the incessant disputes as to whether a 
 given stratum shall be reckoned devonian or carbon- 
 iferous, silurian or devonian, cambrian or silurian. 
 
 "This truth is further illustrated in a most interesting 
 manner by the impartial and highly competent testimony 
 of M. Pictet, from whose calculations of what percentage 
 of the genera of animals, existing in any formation, lived 
 during the preceding formation, it results that in no 
 case is the proportion less than one-third, or 33 per 
 cent. It is the triassic formation, or the commencement 
 of the mesozoic epoch, which has received this smallest 
 inheritance from preceding ages. The other formations 
 
XIL] |}je (frighi of %mes. 281 
 
 not uncommonly exhibit 60, 80, or even 94 per cent, 
 of genera in common with those whose remains are 
 imbedded in their predecessor. Not only is this true, 
 but the subdivisions of each formation exhibit new 
 species characteristic of, and found only in, them ; and, 
 in many cases, as in the lias for example, the separate 
 beds of these subdivisions are distinguished by well- 
 marked and peculiar forms of life. A section, a hundred 
 feet thick, will exhibit, at different heights, a dozen 
 species of ammonite, none of which passes beyond its 
 particular zone -of limestone, or clay, into the zone below 
 it or into that above it ; so that those who adopt the 
 doctrine of special creation must be prepared to admit, 
 that at intervals of time, corresponding with the thickness 
 of these beds, the Creator thought fit to interfere with 
 the natural course of events for the purpose of making 
 a new ammonite. It is not easy to transplant oneself 
 into the frame of mind of those who can accept such a 
 conclusion as this, on any evidence short of absolute 
 demonstration ; and it is difficult to see what is to be 
 gained by so doing, since, as we have said, it is obvious 
 that such a view of the origin of living beings is utterly 
 opposed to the Hebrew cosmogony. Deserving no aid 
 from the powerful arm of bibliolatry, then, does the 
 received form of the hypothesis of special creation derive 
 any support from science or sound, logic 1 Assuredly 
 not much. The arguments brought forward in its favour 
 all take one form : If species were not supernaturally 
 created, we cannot understand the facts x, or y, or z; 
 we cannot understand the structure of animals or plants, 
 unless we suppose they were contrived for special ends ; 
 we cannot understand the structure of the eye, except 
 by supposing it to have been made to see with ; we 
 cannot understand instincts, unless we suppose animals 
 to have been miraculously endowed with them. 
 
282 ffojr Smn0ns, (Ssssrrs, anb gcbiefos. [xn. 
 
 As a question of dialectics, it must be admitted that 
 this sort of reasoning is not very formidable to those 
 who are not to be frightened by consequences. It is an 
 argumentum ad ignorantiam take this explanation or 
 be ignorant. But suppose we prefer to admit our igDO- 
 ranee rather than adopt a hypothesis at variance with 
 all the teachings of Nature ? Or, suppose for a moment 
 we admit the explanation, and then seriously ask our- 
 selves how much the wiser are we ; what does the 
 explanation explain? Is it any more than a grandilo- 
 quent way of announcing the fact, that we really know 
 nothing about the matter ? A phenomenon is explained 
 when it is shown to be a case of some general law of 
 Nature ; but the supernatural interposition of the Creator 
 can, by the nature of the case, exemplify no law. and if 
 species have really arisen in this way, it is absurd to 
 attempt to discuss their origin. 
 
 Or, lastly, let us ask ourselves whether any amount 
 of evidence which the nature of our faculties permits us 
 to attain, can justify us in asserting that any pheno- 
 menon is out of the reach of natural causation. To this 
 end it is obviously necessary that we should know all 
 the consequences to which all possible combinations, 
 continued through unlimited time, can give rise. If we 
 knew these, and found none competent to originate 
 species, we should have good ground for denying their 
 origin by natural causation. Till we know them, any 
 hypothesis is better than one which involves us in such 
 miserable presumption. 
 
 But the hypothesis of special creation is not only a 
 mere specious mask for our ignorance; its existence in 
 Biology marks the youth and imperfection of the science. 
 For what is the history of every science but the his- 
 tory of the elimination of the notion of creative, or 
 other interferences, with the natural order of the phseno- 
 
XIL] &{xe right 0f Sptcbs. 283 
 
 mena which are the subject-matter of that science? 
 When Astronomy was young "the morning stars sang 
 together for joy," an'd the planets were guided in their 
 courses by celestial hands. Now, the harmony of the 
 stars has resolved itself into gravitation according to 
 the inverse squares of the distances, and the orbits of 
 the planets are deducible from the laws of the forces 
 which allow a schoolboy's stone to break a window. 
 The lightning was the angel of the Lord ; but it has 
 pleased Providence, in these modern times, that science 
 should make it the humble messenger of man, and we 
 know that every flash that shimmers about the horizon 
 on a summer's evening is determined by ascertain able 
 conditions, and that its direction and brightness might, 
 if our knowledge of these were great enough, have been 
 calculated. 
 
 The solvency of great mercantile companies rests on 
 the validity of the laws which have been ascertained 
 to govern the seeming irregularity of that human life 
 which the moralist bewails as the most uncertain of 
 things ; plague, pestilence, and famine are admitted, by 
 all but fools, to be the natural result of causes for the 
 most part fully within human control, and not the 
 unavoidable tortures inflicted by wrathful Omnipotence 
 upon his helpless handiwork. 
 
 Harmonious order governing eternally continuous 
 progress the web and woof of matter and force inter- 
 weaving by slow degrees, without a broken thread, that 
 veil which lies between us and the Infinite that 
 universe which alone we know or can know ; such is 
 the picture which science draws of the world, and in 
 proportion as any part of that picture is in unison with 
 the rest, so may we feel sure that it is rightly painted. 
 Shall Biology alone remain out of harmony with her 
 sister sciences? 
 
284 |ag Smnons, (Essap, an& gjebietos. [xn. 
 
 Such arguments against the hypothesis of the direct 
 creation of species as these are plainly enough deducible 
 from general considerations ; but there are, in addition, 
 phaenomena exhibited by species themselves, and yet 
 not so much a part of their very essence as to have 
 required earlier mention, which are in the highest degree 
 perplexing, if we adopt the popularly accepted hypo- 
 thesis. Such are the facts of distribution in space and 
 in time ; the singular phsenomena brought to light by 
 the study of development; the structural relations of 
 species upon which our systems of classification are 
 founded ; the great doctrines of philosophical anatomy, 
 such as that of homology, or of the community of 
 structural plan exhibited by large groups of species 
 differing very widely in their habits and functions. 
 
 The species of animals which inhabit the sea on 
 opposite sides of the isthmus of Panama are wholly 
 distinct; 1 the animals and plants which inhabit islands 
 are commonly distinct from those of the neighbouring 
 mainlands, and yet have a similarity of aspect. The 
 mammals of the latest tertiary epoch in the Old and 
 New Worlds belong to the same genera, or family 
 groups, as those which now inhabit the same great 
 geographical area. The crocodilian reptiles which existed 
 in the earliest secondary epoch were similar in general 
 structure to those now living, but exhibit slight differ- 
 ences in their vertebrae, nasal passages, and one or two 
 other points. The guinea-pig has teeth which are shed 
 before it is born, and hence can never subserve the 
 masticatory purpose for which they seem contrived, and, 
 in like manner, the female dugong has tusks which 
 never cut the gum. All the members of the same 
 great group run through similar conditions in their 
 
 i Eecent investigations tend to show that this statement is not strictly 
 accurate. 1870. 
 
xii.] fj* right 0f Spnhs. 285 
 
 development, and all their parts, in the adult state, are 
 arranged according to the same plan. Man is more like 
 a gorilla than a gorilla is like a lemur. Such are a few, 
 taken at random, among the multitudes of similar facts 
 which modern research has established ; but when the 
 student seeks for an explanation of them from the sup- 
 porters of the received hypothesis of the origin of species, 
 the reply he receives is, in substance, of Oriental sim- 
 plicity and brevity " MashalJah ! it so pleases God ! " 
 There are different species on opposite sides of the 
 isthmus of Panama, because they were created different 
 on the two sides. The pliocene mammals are like the 
 existing ones, because such was the plan of creation ; 
 and we find rudimental organs and similarity of plan, 
 because it has pleased the Creator to set before himself 
 a " divine exemplar or archetype," and to copy it in his 
 works; and somewhat ill, those who hold this view 
 imply, in some of them. That such verbal hocus-pocus 
 should be received as -science will one day be regarded 
 as evidence of the low state of intelligence in the nine- 
 teenth century, just as we amuse ourselves with the 
 phraseology about Nature's abhorrence of a vacuum, 
 wherewith Torricelli's compatriots were satisfied to 
 explain the rise of water in a pump. And be it recol- 
 lected that this sort of satisfaction works not only 
 negative but positive ill, by discouraging inquiry, and 
 so depriving man of the usufruct of one of the most 
 fertile fields of his great patrimony, Nature. 
 
 The objections to the doctrine of the origin of specie* 
 by special creation which have been detailed, must have 
 occurred, with more or less force, to the mind of every 
 one who has seriously and independently considered tho 
 subject. It is therefore no wonder that, from time to 
 time, this hypothesis should have been met by counter 
 hypotheses, all as well, and some better, founded than 
 
286 |ajr Smraims, (Cssags, anb flebictos. [xii 
 
 itself; and it is curious to remark that the inventors of 
 the opposing views seem to have been led into them 
 as much by their knowledge of geology, as by their 
 acquaintance with biology. In fact, when the mind has 
 once admitted the conception of the gradual production 
 of the present physical state of our globe, by natural 
 causes operating through long ages of time, it will be 
 little disposed to allow that living beings have made 
 their appearance in another way, and the speculations of 
 De Maillet and his successors are the natural complement 
 of Scilla's demonstration of the true nature of fossils. 
 
 A contemporary of Newton and of Leibnitz, sharing 
 therefore in the intellectual activity of the remarkable 
 age which witnessed the birth of modern physical 
 science, Benoit de Maillet spent a long life as a consular 
 agent of the French Government in various Mediter- 
 ranean ports. For sixteen years, in fact, he held the 
 office of Consul-General in Egypt, and the wonderful 
 phsenomena offered by the valley of the Nile appear to 
 have strongly impressed his mind, to have directed his 
 attention to all facts of a similar order which came within 
 his observation, and to have led him to speculate on the 
 origin of the present condition of our globe and of its 
 inhabitants. But, with all his ardour for science, De 
 Maillet seems to have hesitated to publish views which t 
 notwithstanding the ingenious attempts to reconcile 
 them with the Hebrew hypothesis contained in the 
 preface to " Telliamed," were hardly likely to be received 
 with favour by his contemporaries. 
 
 But a short time had elapsed since more than one of 
 the great anatomists and physicists of the Italian school 
 had paid dearly for their endeavours to dissipate some of 
 the prevalent errors ; and their illustrious pupil, Harvey, 
 the founder of modern physiology, had not fared so well, 
 in a country less oppressed by the benumbing influences 
 
XIL] ftjjrje right 0f Spmes. 287 
 
 of theology, as to tempt any man to follow his example. 
 Probably not uninfluenced by these considerations, his 
 Catholic majesty's Consul-General for Egypt kept his 
 theories to himself throughout a long life, for "Telli- 
 amed," the only scientific work which is known to have 
 proceeded from his pen, was not printed till 1735, when 
 its author had reached the ripe age of seventy-nine ; and 
 though De Maillet lived three years longer, his book was 
 not given to the world before 1748. Even then it was 
 anonymous to those who were not in the secret of the 
 anagramatic character of its title ; and the preface and 
 dedication are so worded as, in case of necessity, to give, 
 the printer a fair chance of falling back on the excuse 
 that the work was intended for a mere jeu d'esprit. 
 
 The speculations of the supposititious Indian sage, 
 though quite as sound as those of many a "Mosaic 
 Geology," which sells exceedingly well, have no great 
 value if we consider them by the light of modern 
 science. The waters are supposed to have originally 
 covered the whole globe ; to have deposited the rocky 
 masses which compose its mountains by processes com- 
 parable to those which are now forming mud, sand, and 
 shingle ; and then to have gradually lowered their level, 
 leaving the spoils of their animal and vegetable inhabi- 
 tants embedded in the strata. As the dry land appeared, 
 certain of the aquatic animals are supposed to have 
 taken to it, and to have become gradually adapted to 
 terrestrial and aerial modes of existence. But if we 
 regard the general tenor and style of the reasoning in 
 relation to the state of knowledge of the day, two 
 circumstances appear very well worthy of remark. The 
 first, that De Maillet had a notion of the modifiability of 
 living forms (though without any precise information on 
 the subject), and how such modifiability might account 
 for the origin of species; the second, that he very 
 
28 S fag S*rnwms, (Essays, an* gtfawfas. [XIL 
 
 clearly apprehended the great modern geological doc- 
 trine, so strongly insisted upon by Button, and so 
 ably and comprehensively expounded by Lyell, that we 
 must look to existing causes for the explanation of past 
 geological events. Indeed, the following passage of the 
 preface, in which De Maillet is supposed to speak of the 
 Indian philosopher Telliamed, his alter ego, might have 
 been written by the most philosophical uniformitarian of 
 the present day : 
 
 " Ce qu'il y a d'etonnant, est que pour arriver a ces connoissances 
 il semble avoir pervert! 1'ordre naturel, puisqu'au lieu de s'attacher 
 d'abord a rechercher 1'origine de notre globe il a commence par 
 travailler a s'instruire de la nature. Mais a 1'entendre, ce renverse- 
 ment de 1'ordre a e"te pour lui 1'effet d'un genie favorable qui 1'a 
 conduit pas a pas et comme par la main aux decouvertes les plus 
 sublimes. C'est en de"composant la substance de ce globe par une 
 anatomie exacte de toutes ses parties qu'il a premierement appris de 
 quelles matieres il etait compose et quels arrangemens ces memes 
 matieres observaienb entre elles. Ces lumieres jointes a 1' esprit de 
 comparaison toujours ne*cessaire a quiconque entreprend de percer les 
 voiles dont la nature aime a se cacher, ont servi de guide a uotre 
 philosophe pour parvenir a des connoissances plus inte'ressantes. Par 
 la matiere et 1'arrangement de ces compositions il pretend avoir 
 reconnu quelle est la veritable origine de ce globe que nous habitons, 
 comment et par qui il a ete forme." Pp. x,ix. xx. 
 
 But De Maillet was before his age, and as could 
 hardly fail to happen to one who speculated on a zoolo- 
 gical and botanical question before Linnaeus, and on a 
 physiological problem before Haller, he fell into great 
 errors here and there ; and hence, perhaps, the general 
 neglect of his work. Kobinet's speculations are rather 
 behind, than in advance of, those of De Maillet ; and 
 though Linnaeus may have played with the hypothesis 
 of transmutation, it obtained no serious support until 
 Lamarck adopted it, and advocated it with great ability 
 in his " Philosophic Zoologique." 
 
 Impelled towards the hypothesis of the transmutation 
 
xn.J Sff* rigitt jof Spwies. 289 
 
 of species, partly by Ms general cosmological and geolo- 
 gical views ; partly by the conception of a graduated, 
 though irregularly branching, scale of being, which had 
 arisen out of his profound study of plants and of the 
 lower forms of animal life, Lamarck, whose general line 
 of thought often closely resembles that of De Maillet, 
 made a great advance upon the crude and merely specu- 
 lative manner in which that writer deals with the ques- 
 tion of the origin of living beings, by endeavouring to 
 find physical causes competent to effect that change of 
 one species into another, which De Maillet had only 
 supposed to occur. And Lamarck conceived that he 
 had' found in Nature such causes, amply sufficient for the 
 purpose in view. It is a physiological fact, he says, that 
 organs are increased in size by action, atrophied by 
 inaction ; it is another physiological fact that modifica- 
 tions produced are transmissible to offspring. Change 
 the actions of an animal, therefore, and you will change 
 its structure, by increasing the development of the parts 
 newly brought into use and by the diminution of those 
 less used; but by altering the circumstances which 
 surround it you will alter its actions, and hence, in the 
 long run, change of circumstance must produce change 
 of organization. All the species of animals, therefore, 
 are, in Lamarck's view, the result of the indirect action 
 of changes of circumstance upon those primitive germs 
 which he considered to 'have originally arisen, by spon- 
 taneous generation, within the waters of the globe. It 
 is curious, however, that Lamarck should insist so 
 strongly 1 as he has done, that circumstances never in 
 any degree directly modify the form or the organization 
 of animals, but only operate by changing their wants 
 and consequently their actions ; for he thereby brings 
 upon himself the obvious question, how, then, do plants, 
 
 1 See Phil. Zoologique, vol. i. p. 222, et seq. 
 
 a 
 
290 ^5 Smn0ms, <ssmgs, atrtr gebufos. 
 
 which cannot be said to have wants or actions, become 
 modified'? To this he replies, that they are modified 
 by the changes in their nutritive processes, which are 
 effected by changing circumstances; and it does ^ not 
 seem to have occurred to him that such changes might 
 be as well supposed to take place among animals. 
 
 When we have said that Lamarck felt that mere 
 speculation was not the way to arrive at the origin of 
 species, but that it was necessary, in order to the estab- 
 lishment of any sound theory on the subject, to discover 
 by observation or otherwise, some vera causa, competent 
 to give rise to them ; that he affirmed the true order of 
 classification to coincide with the order of their develop- 
 ment one from another ; that he insisted on the necessity 
 of allowing sufficient time, very strongly ; and that all 
 the varieties of instinct and reason were traced back by 
 him to the same cause as that which has given rise to 
 species, we have enumerated his chief contributions to 
 the advance of the question. On the other hand, from 
 his .ignorance of any power in Nature competent to 
 modify the structure of animals, except the development 
 of parts, or atrophy of them, in consequence of a change 
 of needs, Lamarck was led to attach infinitely greater 
 weight than it deserves to this agency, and the absur- 
 dities into which he was led have met with deserved 
 condemnation. Of the struggle for existence, on which, 
 as, we shall see, Mr. Darwin lays such great stress, he had 
 no conception ; indeed, he doubts whether there realty 
 are such things as extinct species, unless they be such 
 large animals as may have met their death at the hands 
 of man ; and so little does he dream of there being any 
 other destructive causes at work, that, in discussing 
 the possible existence of fossil shells, he asks, " Pourquoi 
 d'ailleurs seroient-ils perdues des que rhomme n'a pu 
 operer leur destruction?" (Phil. Zool, voL i. p. 77.) 
 
xii. J Cftt right 0f Spmts. 291 
 
 Of the influence of selection Lamarck has as little 
 notion, and he makes no use of the wonderful phseno- 
 mena which are exhibited by domesticated animals, and 
 illustrate its powers. The vast influence of Cuvier was 
 employed against the Lamarckian views, and, as the 
 untenability of some of his conclusions was easily 
 shown, his doctrines sank under the opprobium of 
 scientific, as well as of theological, heterodoxy. Nor 
 have the efforts made of late years to revive them 
 tended to re-establish their credit in the minds of sound 
 thinkers acquainted with the facts of the case ; indeed 
 it may be doubted whether Lamarck has not suffered 
 more from his friends than from his foes. 
 
 Two years ago, in fact, though we venture to question 
 if even the strongest supporters of the special creation 
 hypothesis had not, now and then, an uneasy conscious- 
 ness that all was not right, their position seemed more 
 impregnable than ever, if not by its own inherent strength, 
 at any rate by the obvious failure of all the attempts 
 which had been made to carry it. On the other hand, 
 however much the few, who thought deeply on the 
 question of species, might be repelled by the generally 
 received dogmas, they saw no way of escaping from 
 them, save by the adoption of suppositions, so little jus- 
 tified by experiment or by observation, as to be at least 
 equally distasteful. 
 
 The choice lay between two absurdities and a middle 
 condition of uneasy scepticism ; which last, however 
 unpleasant and unsatisfactory, was obviously the only 
 justifiable state of mind under the circumstances. 
 
 Such being the general ferment in the minds of 
 naturalists, it is no wonder that they mustered strong in 
 the rooms of the Linnaean Society, on the 1st of July of 
 the year 1858, to hear two papers by authors living 
 on opposite sides of the globe, working out their results 
 
 a 2 
 
292 ^aj S*rm0ns, (Stesags, anb |ltimfos. [xn. 
 
 independently, and yet professing to have discovered one 
 and the same solution of all the problems connected with 
 species. The one of these authors was an able naturalist, 
 Mr. Wallace, who had been employed for some years in 
 studying the productions of the islands of the Indian 
 Archipelago, and who had forwarded a memoir embody- 
 ing his views to Mr. Darwin, for communication to the 
 Linnsean Society. On perusing the essay, Mr. Darwin 
 was not a little surprised to find that it embodied some 
 of the leading ideas of a great work which he had been 
 preparing for twenty years, and parts of which, contain- 
 ing a development of the very same views, had been 
 perused by his private friends fifteen or sixteen years 
 before. Perplexed in what manner to do full justice 
 both to his friend and to himself, Mr. Darwin placed 
 the matter in the hands of Dr. Hooker and Sir Charles 
 Lyell, by whose advice he communicated a brief abstract 
 of his own views to the Linnsean Society, at the same 
 time that Mr. Wallace's paper was read. Of that abstract, 
 the work on the "Origin of Species" is an enlargement ; 
 but a complete statement of Mr. Darwin's doctrine is 
 .looked for in the large and well-illustrated work which 
 he is said to be preparing for publication. 
 
 The Darwinian hypothesis has the merit of being 
 eminently simple and comprehensible in principle, arid 
 its "'essential positions may be stated in a very few 
 words : all species have been produced by the develop- 
 ment of varieties from common stocks by the conversion 
 of these first into permanent races and then into new 
 species, by the process of natural selection, which 
 process is essentially identical with that artificial selec- 
 tion by which man has originated the races of domestic 
 animals the struggle for existence taking the pfoce 
 of man, and exerting, in the case of natural selection, 
 
XIT.] &ty @rigm 0f %m*s. 293 
 
 that selective action which he performs in artificial 
 selection. 
 
 The evidence brought forward by Mr. Darwin in 
 support of his hypothesis is of three kinds. First, he 
 endeavours to prove that species may be originated by 
 selection ; secondly, he attempts to show that natural 
 causes are competent to exert selection ; and thirdly, he 
 tries to prove that the most remarkable and apparently 
 anomalous phenomena exhibited by the distribution, de- 
 velopment, and mutual relations of species, can be shown 
 to be deducible from the general doctrine of their origin, 
 which he propounds, combined with the known facts of 
 geological change ; and that, even if all these phaenomena 
 are not at present explicable by it, none are necessarily 
 inconsistent with it. 
 
 There cannot be a doubt that the method of inquiry 
 which Mr. Darwin has adopted is not only rigorously in 
 accordance with the canons of scientific logic, but that it 
 is the only adequate method. Critics exclusively trained 
 in classics or in mathematics, who have never determined a 
 scientific fact in th.3ir lives by induction from experiment 
 or observation, prate learnedly about Mr. Darwin's 
 method, which is not inductive enough, not Baconian 
 enough, forsooth, for them. But even if practical ac- 
 quaintance with the process of scientific investigation is 
 denied them, they may learn, by the perusal of Mr. 
 Mill's admirable chapter " On the Deductive Method," 
 that there are multitudes of scientific inquiries, in which 
 the method of pure induction helps the investigator but 
 a very little way. 
 
 "The mode of investigation," says Mr. Mill, "which, from the 
 proved inapplicability of direct methods of observation and experi- 
 ment, remains to us as the main source of the knowledge we possess, 
 or can acquire, respecting the conditions and laws of recurrence of the 
 more complex phenomena, is called, in its most general expression, 
 
294 Ifojr j&erm0ns, (Sssags, mtb lUfaiefos. [xn. 
 
 the deductive method, and consists of three operations : the first, one 
 of direct induction; the second, of ratiocination; and the third, of 
 verification." 
 
 Now, the conditions which have determined the ex- 
 istence of species are not only exceedingly complex, 
 but, so far as the great majority of them are concerned, 
 are necessarily beyond our cognizance. But what Mr. 
 Darwin has attempted to do is in exact accordance with 
 the rule laid down by Mr. Mill ; he has endeavoured to 
 determine certain great facts inductively, by observation 
 and experiment ; he has then reasoned from the data 
 thus furnished ; and lastly, he has tested the validity of 
 his ratiocination by comparing his deductions with the 
 observed facts of Nature. Inductively, Mr. Darwin en- 
 deavours to prove that species arise in a given way. 
 Deductively, he desires to show that, if they arise in that 
 way, the facts of distribution, development, classification, 
 &c., may be accounted for, i.e. may be deduced from 
 their mode of origin, combined with admitted changes in 
 physical geography and climate, during an indefinite 
 period. And this explanation, or coincidence of observed 
 with deduced facts, is, so far as it extends, a verification 
 of the Darwinian view. 
 
 There is no fault to be found with Mr. Darwin's 
 method, then ; but it is another question whether he has 
 fulfilled all the conditions imposed by that method. Is 
 it satisfactorily proved, in fact, that species may be 
 originated by selection? that there is such a thing as 
 natural selection ? that none of the phsenomena exhibited 
 by species are inconsistent with the origin of species in this 
 way ? If these questions can be answered in the affirm- 
 ative, Mr. Darwin's view steps out of the ranks of hypo- 
 theses into those of proved theories ; but, so long as the 
 evidence at present adduced falls short of enforcing that 
 
xii.] &ty right 0f Specie*. 295 
 
 affirmation, so long, to our minds, must the new doctrine 
 be content to remain among the former an extremely 
 valuable, and in the highest degree probable, doctrine, 
 indeed the only extant hypothesis which is worth any- 
 thing in a scientific point of view ; but still a hypothesis, 
 and not yet the theory of species. 
 
 After much consideration, and with assuredly no bias 
 against Mr. Darwin's views, it is our clear conviction 
 that, as the evidence stands, it is not absolutely proven 
 that a group of animals, having all the characters exhi- 
 bited by species in Nature, has ever been originated by 
 selection, whether artificial or natural Groups having 
 the morphological character of species, distinct and per- 
 manent races in fact, have been so produced over and 
 over again ; but there is no positive evidence, at present, 
 that any group of animals has, by variation and selective 
 breeding, given rise to another group which was even in 
 the least degree infertile with the first. Mr. Darwin is 
 perfectly aware of this weak point, and brings forward a 
 multitude of ingenious and important arguments to di- 
 minish the force of the objection. We admit the value 
 of these arguments to their fullest extent ; nay, we will 
 go so far as to express our belief that experiments, con- 
 ducted by a skilful physiologist, would very probably 
 obtain the desired production of mutually more or less 
 infertile breeds from a common stock, in a comparatively 
 few years ; but still, as the case stands at present, this 
 "little rift within the lute" is not to be disguised nor 
 overlooked. 
 
 In the remainder of Mr. Darwin's argument our own 
 private ingenuity has not hitherto enabled us to pick 
 holes of any great importance ; and judging by what we 
 hear and read, other adventurers in the same field do not 
 seem to have been much more fortunate. It has been 
 urged, for instance, that in his chapters on the struggle 
 
296 jr a g Sn-ntcrns, (Sssap, mttr JUbictos. [xn. 
 
 for existence and on natural selection, Mr. Darwin does 
 not so much prove that natural selection does occur, as 
 that it must occur ; but, in fact, no other sort of demonstra- 
 tion is attainable. A race does not attract our attention 
 in Nature until it has, in all probability, existed for a 
 considerable time, and then it is too late to inquire into 
 the conditions of its origin. Again, it is said that there 
 is no real analogy between the selection which takes 
 place under domestication, by human influence, and any 
 operation which can be effected by Nature, for man inter- 
 feres intelligently. Reduced to its elements, this argu- 
 ment implies that an effect produced with trouble by an 
 intelligent agent must, d fortiori, be more troublesome, if 
 not impossible, to an unintelligent agent. Even putting 
 aside the question whether Nature, acting as she does 
 according to definite and invariable laws, can be rightly 
 called an unintelligent agent, such a position as this is 
 wholly untenable. Mix salt and sand, and it shall puzzle 
 the wisest of men, with his mere natural appliances, to 
 separate all the grains of sand from all the grains of salt ; 
 but a shower of rain will effect the same object in ten 
 minutes. And so, while man may find it tax all his in- 
 telligence to separate any variety which arises, and to 
 breed selectively from it, the destructive agencies inces- 
 santly at work in Nature, if they find one variety to be 
 more soluble in circumstances than the other, will inevit- 
 ably, in the long run, eliminate it. 
 
 A frequent and a just objection to the Lamarckian 
 hypothesis of the transmutation of species is based upon 
 the absence of transitional forms between many species. 
 But against the Darwinian hypothesis this argument has 
 no force. Indeed, one of the most valuable and sugges- 
 tive parts of Mr. Darwin's work is that in which he 
 proves, that the frequent absence of transitions is a ne- 
 cessary consequence of his doctrine, and that the stock 
 
XIL] JCjft Origin of S#m*s. 297 
 
 whence two or more species have sprung, need in no 
 respect be intermediate between these species. If any 
 two species have arisen from a common stock in the same 
 way as the carrier and the pouter, say, have arisen from 
 the rock-pigeon, then the common stock of these two 
 species need be no more intermediate between the two 
 than the rock-pigeon is between the carrier and pouter. 
 Clearly appreciate the force of this analogy, and all the 
 arguments against the origin of species by selection, based 
 on the absence of transitional forms, fall to the ground. 
 And Mr. Darwin's position might, we think, have been 
 even stronger than it is if he had not embarrassed himself 
 with the aphorism, " Natura non facit saltum," which 
 turns up so often in his pages. We believe, as we have 
 said above, that Nature does make jumps now and then, 
 and a recognition 6f the fact is of no small importance 
 in disposing of many minor objections to the doctrine 
 of transmutation. 
 
 But we must pause. The discussion of Mr. Darwin's 
 arguments in detail would lead us far beyond the limits 
 within which we proposed, at starting, to confine this 
 article. Our object has been attained if we have given 
 an intelligible, however brief, account of the established 
 facts connected with species, and of the relation of the 
 explanation of those facts offered by Mr. Darwin to the 
 theoretical views held by his predecessors and his con- 
 temporaries, and, above all, to the requirements of scien- 
 tific logic. We have ventured to point out that it does 
 not, as yet, satisfy all those requirements ; but we do not 
 hesitate to assert that it is as superior to any preceding 
 or contemporary hypothesis, in the extent of observational 
 and experimental basis on which it rests, in its rigorously 
 scientific method, and in its power of explaining biolo- 
 gical phsenomena, as was the hypothesis of Copernicus to 
 the speculations of Ptolemy. But the planetary orbits 
 
mtir $rfri;etos. [xn. 
 
 turned out to be not quite circular after all, and, grand 
 as was the service Copernicus rendered to science, Kepler 
 and Newton had to come after him. What if the orbit 
 of Darwinism should be a little too circular ? What if 
 species should offer residual phaenomena, here and there, 
 not explicable by natural selection 1 Twenty years hence 
 naturalists may be in a position to say whether this is, or 
 is not, the case ; but in either event they will owe the 
 author of "The Origin of Species" an immense debt of 
 gratitude. We should leave a very wrong impression on 
 the reader's mind if we permitted him to suppose that 
 the value of that work depends wholly on the ultimate 
 justification of the theoretical views which it contains. 
 On the contrary, if they were disproved to-morrow, the 
 book would still be the best of its kind the most com- 
 pendious statement of well-sifted facts bearing on the 
 doctrine of species that has ever appeared. The chapters 
 on Variation, on the Struggle for Existence, on Instinct, 
 on Hybridism, on the Imperfection of the Geological 
 Record, on Geographical Distribution, have not only no 
 equals, but, so far as our knowledge goes, no competitors, 
 within the range of biological literature. And viewed as 
 a whole, we do not believe that, since the publication of 
 Von Baer's Researches on Development, thirty years ago, 
 any work has appeared calculated to exert so large an 
 influence, not only on the future of Biology, but in ex- 
 tending the domination of Science over regions of thought 
 Into which she has, as yet, hardly penetrated. 
 
xm. 
 
 CRITICISMS ON " THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES." 
 
 1. UEBER DIE DARWIN'SCHE SCHOPFUNGSTHEORIE ; BIN VORTRAQ, VON 
 
 A. KOLLIKER. Leipzig, 1864. 
 
 2. EXAMINATION DU LIVRE DE M. DARWIN sun L'ORIGINE DES ESPECES. 
 
 Par P. FLOURENS. Paris, 1864. 
 
 IN the course of the present year [1864] several foreign 
 commentaries upon Mr. Darwin's great work have made 
 their appearance. Those who have perused that re- 
 markable chapter of the " Antiquity of Man," in which 
 Sir Charles Lyell draws a parallel between the develop- 
 ment of species and that of languages, will be glad to 
 hear that one of the most eminent philologers of Ger- 
 many, Professor Schleicher, has, independently, published 
 a most instructive and philosophical pamphlet (an excel- 
 lent notice of which is to be found in the Reader, 
 for February 27th of this year) supporting similar views 
 with all the weight of his special knowledge and 
 established authority as a linguist. Professor Haeckel, 
 to whom Schleicher addresses himself, previously took 
 occasion, in his splendid monograph on the Radiolaria? 
 
 1 " Die Radiolarien : eine Monographic," p. 231, 
 

 300 |a;g Sjcrmims, (toags, anb gtbiefos. [xra. 
 
 fco express his high appreciation of, and general concord- 
 ance with, Mr. Darwin's views. 
 
 But the most elaborate criticisms of the " Origin of 
 Species " which have appeared are two works of very 
 widely different merit, the one by Professor Kolliker, the 
 well-known anatomist and histologist of "Wiirzburg ; the 
 other by M.. Flourens, Perpetual Secretary of the French 
 Academy of Sciences. 
 
 Professor Kolliker's critical essay " Upon the Dar- 
 winian Theory " is, like all that proceeds from the pen 
 of that thoughtful and accomplished writer, worthy of 
 the most careful consideration. It comprises a brief but 
 clear sketch of Darwin's views, followed by an enume- 
 ration of the leading difficulties in the way of their 
 acceptance ; difficulties which would appear to be insur- 
 mountable to Professor Kolliker, inasmuch as he proposes 
 to replace Mr. Darwin's Theory by one which he terms 
 the " Theory of Heterogeneous Generation." "We shall 
 proceed to consider first the destructive, and secondly, 
 the constructive portion of the essay. 
 
 We regret to find ourselves compelled to dissent very 
 widely from many of Professor Kolliker's remarks ; and 
 from none more thoroughly than from those in which he 
 seeks to define what we may term the philosophical 
 position of Darwinism. 
 
 "Darwin," says Professor Kolliker, "is, in the fullest sense of the 
 word, a Teleologist. He says quite distinctly (First Edition, pp. 199, 
 200) that every particular in the structure of an animal has been 
 created for its benefit, and he regards the whole series of animal forms 
 only from this point of view." 
 
 And again : 
 
 " 7. The teleological general conception adopted by Darwin is a 
 mistaken one. 
 
 " Varieties arise irrespectively of the notion of purpose, or of utility, 
 according to general laws of Nature, and may be either useful, or 
 hurtful, or indifferent 
 
XIIL] Crifidsms 0n " &ty (fright rrf Specie/' 301 
 
 " The assumption that an organism exists only on account of some 
 definite end in view, and represents something more than the incor- 
 poration of a general idea, or law, implies a one-sided conception of 
 the universe. Assuredly, every organ has, and every organism fulfils, 
 its end, hut its purpose is not the condition of its existence. Every 
 organism is also sufficiently perfect for the purpose it serves, and in 
 that, at least, it is useless to seek for a cause of its improvement." 
 
 It is singular how differently one and the same book 
 will impress different minds. That which struck the 
 present writer most forcibly on his first perusal of the 
 " Origin of Species " was the conviction that Teleology, 
 as commonly understood, had received its deathblow at 
 Mr. Darwin's hands. For the teleological argument runs 
 thus : an organ or organism (A) is precisely fitted to 
 perform a function or purpose (B) ; therefore it was 
 specially constructed to perform that function. In 
 Paley's famous illustration, the adaptation of all the 
 parts of the watch to the function, or purpose, of show- 
 ing the time, is held to be evidence that the watch was 
 specially contrived to that end ; on the ground, that the 
 only cause we know of, competent to produce such an 
 effect as a watch which shall keep time, is a contriving 
 intelligence adapting the means directly to that end. 
 
 Suppose, however, that any one had been ab)e to show 
 that the watch had not been made directly by any 
 person, but that it was the result of the modification 
 of another watch which kept time but poorly ; and that 
 this again had proceeded from a structure which could 
 hardly be called a watch at all seeing that it had no 
 figures on the dial and the hands were rudimentary; 
 and that going back and back in time we came at last 
 to a revolving barrel as the earliest traceable rudiment 
 of the whole fabric. And imagine that it had been 
 possible to show that all these changes had resulted, first, 
 frpm' a tendency of the structure to vary indefinitely ; 
 and secondly, from something in the surrounding world 
 
302 g^j Smnmts, (Essap, mrtr |Uimfos. [xin. 
 
 which helped all variations in the direction of an accu- 
 rate time-keeper, and checked all those in other directions ; 
 then it is obvious that the force of Paley's argument 
 would be gone. For it would be demonstrated that an 
 apparatus thoroughly well adapted to a particular pur- 
 pose might be the result of a method of trial and error 
 worked by unintelligent agents, as well as of the direct 
 application of the means appropriate to that end, by an 
 intelligent agent. 
 
 Now it appears to us that what we have here, for illus- 
 tration's sake, supposed to be done with the watch, is 
 exactly what the establishment of Darwin's Theory will 
 do for the organic world. For the notion that every 
 organism has been created as it is and launched straight 
 at a purpose, Mr. Darwin substitutes the conception o: 
 something which may fairly be termed a method of tria 
 and error. Organisms vary incessantly ; of these varia- 
 tions the few meet with surrounding conditions which 
 suit them and thrive; the many are unsuited and be- 
 come extinguished. 
 
 According to Teleology, each organism is like a rifle 
 bullet fired straight at a mark; according to Darwin, 
 organisms are like grapeshot of which one hits some- 
 thing and the rest fall wide. 
 
 For the teleologist an organism exists because it was 
 made for the conditions in which it is found; for the 
 Darwinian an organism exists because, out of many oi 
 its kind, it is the only one which has been able to persist 
 in the conditions in which it is found. 
 
 Teleology implies that the organs of every organism 
 are perfect and cannot be improved ; the Darwinian 
 theory simply affirms that they work well enough to 
 enable the organism to hold its own against such com- 
 petitors as it has met with, but admits the possibility of 
 indefinite improvement. But an example may bring 
 
xin.] Criticisms 0tt "C|r* right 0f %mes." 303 
 
 into clearer light the profound opposition between the 
 ordinary teleological, and the Darwinian, conception. 
 
 Cats catch mice, small birds and the like, very well 
 Teleology tells us that they do so because they were 
 expressly constructed for so doing that they are perfect 
 mousing apparatuses, so perfect and so delicately ad- 
 justed that no one of their organs could be altered, 
 without the change involving the alteration of all the 
 rest. Darwinism affirms, on the contrary, that there 
 was no express construction concerned in the matter; 
 but that among the multitudinous variations of the 
 Feline stock, many of which died out from want of 
 power to resist opposing influences, some, the cats, were 
 better fitted to catch mice than others, whence they 
 throve and persisted, in proportion to the advantage 
 over their fellows thus offered to them. 
 
 Far from imagining that cats exist in order to catch 
 mice well, Darwinism supposes that cats exist because 
 they catch mice well mousing being not the end, but 
 the condition, of their existence. And if the cat-type 
 has long persisted as we know it, the interpretation of 
 the fact upon Darwinian principles would be, not that 
 the cats have remained invariable, but that such varieties 
 as have incessantly occurred have been, on the whole, 
 less fitted to get on in the world than the existing 
 stock 
 
 If we apprehend the spirit of the " Origin of Species " 
 rightly, then, nothing can be more entirely and abso- 
 lutely opposed to Teleology, as it is commonly under- 
 stood, than the Darwinian Theory. So far from being 
 a " Teleologist in the fullest sense of the word," we 
 should deny that he is a Teleologist in the ordinary 
 sense at all ; and we should say that, apart from his 
 merits as a naturalist, he has rendered a most remarkable 
 service to philosophical thought by enabling the student 
 
304 gajjr S*rm0tts, (gssags, anb gefaiifas. 
 
 of Nature to recognise, to their fullest extent, those adap- 
 tations to purpose which are so striking in the organic 
 world, and which Teleology has done good service in 
 keeping before our minds, without being false to the 
 fundamental principles of a scientific conception of the 
 universe. The apparently diverging teachings of the 
 Teleologist and of the Morphologist are reconciled by 
 the Darwinian hypothesis. 
 
 But leaving our own impressions of the " Origin of 
 Species," and turning to those passages specially cited by 
 Professor Kolliker, we cannot admit that they bear the 
 interpretation he puts upon them. Darwin, if we read 
 him rightly, does not affirm that every detail in the 
 structure of an animal has been created for its benefit. 
 His words are (p. 199) : 
 
 " The foregoing remarks lead me to say a few words on the protest 
 lately made by some naturalists against the utilitarian doctrine that 
 every detail of structure has been produced for the good of its possessor. 
 They believe that very many structures have been created for beauty 
 in the eyes of man, or for mere variety. This doctrine, if true, would 
 be absolutely fatal to my theory yet I fully admit that many struc- 
 tures are of no direct use to their possessor." 
 
 And after sundry illustrations and qualifications, he 
 concludes (p. 200) : 
 
 " Hence every detail of structure in every living creature (making 
 some little allowance for the direct action of physical conditions) may 
 be viewed either as having been of special use to some ancestral form, 
 or as being now of special use to the descendants of this form either 
 directly, or indirectly, through the complex laws of growth." 
 
 But it is one thing to say, Darwinically, that every 
 detail observed in an animal's structure is of use to it, 
 or has been of use to its ancestors ; and quite another 
 to affirm, teleologically, that every detail of an animal's 
 structure has been created for its benefit. On the former 
 hypothesis, for example, the teeth of the foetal Bal&na 
 have a meaning ; on the latter, none. So far as we are 
 
xui.1 Criticisms 0n " Cfj* (frigm jof Series." 305 
 
 aware, there is not a phrase in the " Origin of Species," 
 inconsistent with Professor Kolliker's position, that " va- 
 rieties arise irrespectively of the notion of purpose, or 
 of utility, according to general laws of Nature, and may 
 be either useful, or hurtful, or indifferent." 
 
 On the contrary, Mr. Darwin writes (Summary of 
 Chap. V.) : 
 
 " Our ignorance of the laws of variation is profound. Not in one 
 case out of a hundred can we pretend to assign any reason why this or 
 that part varies more or less from the same part in the parents. .... 
 The external conditions of life, a* climate and food, &c. seem to have 
 induced some slight modifications. Hahit, in producing onstitutional 
 differences, and use, in strengthening, and disuse, in weakening and 
 diminishing organs, seem to have been more potent in their effects." 
 
 And finally, as if to prevent all possible misconception, 
 Mr. Darwin concludes his Chapter on Variation with 
 these pregnant words: 
 
 " Whatever the cause may be of each slight difference in the offspring 
 from their parents and a cause for each must exist it is the steady 
 accumulation, through natural selection of such differences, when bene- 
 ficial to the individual, that gives rise to all the more important 
 modifications of structure, by which the innumerable beings on the 
 face of the earth are enabled to struggle with each other, and the best 
 adapted to survive." 
 
 We have dwelt at length upon this subject, because of 
 its great general importance, and because we believe that 
 Professor Kolliker's criticisms on this head are based 
 upon a misapprehension of Mr. Darwin's views sub- 
 stantially they appear to us to coincide with his own. 
 The other objections which Professor Kolliker enumerates 
 and discusses are the following i 1 
 
 " 1. No transitional forms between existing species are known; 
 and known varieties, whether selected or spontaneous, never go so 
 far as to establish new species." 
 
 1 Space vrill not allow us to give Professor Kolliker's arguments in detail ; 
 our readers will find a full and accurate rersion of them in the Readtr for 
 August 13th and 20th, 1864. 
 
306 fag Smtums, (JNsags, anfr JUfabtos. L XI1I 
 
 To this Professor Kolliker appears to attach some 
 weight He makes the suggestion that the short-faced 
 tumbler pigeon may be a pathological product. 
 
 "2. No transitional forms of animals are met with among the 
 organic remains of earlier epochs." 
 
 Upon this, Professor Kolliker remarks that the absence 
 of transitional forms in the fossil world, though not ne- 
 cessarily fatal to Darwin's views, weakens his case. 
 
 " 3. The struggle for existence does not take place." 
 
 To this objection, urged by Pelzeln, Kolliker, very 
 justly, attaches no weight. 
 
 " 4. A tendency of organisms to give rise to useful varieties, and 
 a natural selection, do not exist. 
 
 " The varieties which are found arise in consequence of manifold 
 external influences, and it is not obvious why they all, or partially, 
 should be particularly useful. Each animal suffices for its own ends, 
 is perfect of its kind, and needs no further development. Should, 
 however, a variety be useful and even maintain itself, there is no 
 obvious reason why it should change any further. The whole con- 
 ception of the imperfection of organisms and the necessity of their 
 becoming perfected is plainly the weakest side of Darwin's Theory, 
 and a pis alter (Nothbehelf) because Darwin could think of no other 
 principle by which to explain the metamorphoses which, as I also 
 believe, have occurred." 
 
 Here again we must venture to dissent completely 
 from Professor Kolliker's conception of Mr. Darwin's 
 hypothesis. It appears to us to be one of the many 
 peculiar merits of that hypothesis that it involves no 
 belief in a necessary and continual progress of organisms. 
 
 Again, ]\Ir. Darwin, if we read him aright, assumes 
 no special tendency of organisms to give rise to useful 
 varieties, and knows nothing of needs of development, 
 or necessity of perfection. What he says is, in sub- 
 stance : All organisms vary. It is in the highest degree 
 improbable that any given variety should have exactly 
 the same relations to surrounding conditions as 1 the 
 
xin.] Criticism* on " &jp rijht 0f %m*s/' 307 
 
 parent stock. In that case it is either better fitted 
 (when the variation may be called useful), or worse 
 fitted, to cope with them. If better, it will tend to 
 supplant the parent stock ; if worse, it will tend to be 
 extinguished by the parent stock 
 
 If (as is hardly conceivable) the new variety is so per- 
 fectly adapted to the conditions that no improvement upon 
 it is possible, it will persist, because, though it does 
 not cease to vary, the varieties will be inferior to itself. 
 
 If, as is more probable, the new variety is by no 
 means perfectly adapted to its conditions, but only 
 fairly well adapted to them, it will persist, so long as 
 none of the varieties which it throws off are better 
 adapted than itself. 
 
 On the other hand, as soon as it varies in a useful 
 way, i. e. when the variation is such as to adapt it more 
 perfectly to its conditions, the fresh variety will tend 
 to supplant the former. 
 
 So far from a gradual progress towards perfection 
 forming any necessary part of the Darwinian creed, it 
 appears to us that it is perfectly consistent with indefinite 
 persistence in one state, or with a gradual retrogression. 
 Suppose, for example, a return of the glacial epoch and 
 a spread of polar climatal conditions over the whole 
 globe. The operation of natural selection under these cir- 
 cumstances would tend, on the whole, to the weeding out 
 of the higher organisms and the cherishing of the lower 
 forms of life. Cryptogamic vegetation would have the 
 advantage over Phanerogamic ; Hydrozoa over Corals ; 
 Crustacea over Insecta, and Amphipoda and Isopoda 
 over the higher Crustacea; Cetaceans and Seals over 
 the Primates; the civilization of the Esquimaux over 
 that of the European. 
 
 "5. Pelzeln has also objected that if the later organisms have 
 proceeded from the earlier, the whole developmental series, from the 
 
 X 2 
 
308 f^ag Smwms, ifeags, mttr gdriefos. [XIIT. 
 
 simplest to the highest, could not now exist; in such a case th 
 simpler organisms must have disappeared." 
 
 To this Professor Kolliker replies, with perfect justice, 
 that the conclusion drawn by Pelzeln does not really 
 follow from Darwin's premises, and that, if we take the 
 facts of Palaeontology as they stand, they rather support 
 than oppose Darwin's theory. 
 
 " 6. Great weight must be attached to the objection brought forward 
 by Huxley, otherwise a warm supporter of Darwin's hypothesis, that 
 we know of no varieties which are sterile with one another, as is the 
 rule among sharply distinguished animal forms. 
 
 " If Darwin is right, it must be demonstrated that forms may be 
 produced by selection, which, like the present sharply distinguished 
 animal forms, are infertile when coupled with one another, and this, 
 has not been done." 
 
 The weight of this objection is obvious; but our 
 ignorance of the conditions of fertility and sterility, 
 the want of carefully conducted experiments extending 
 over long series of years, and the strange anomalies 
 presented by the results of the cross-fertilization of 
 many plants, should all, as Mr. Darwin has urged, be 
 taken into account in considering it. 
 
 The seventh objection is that we have already dis- 
 cussed (suprd, p. 329). 
 
 The eighth and last stands as follows: 
 
 "8. The developmental theory of Darwin is not needed to enable us 
 to understand the regular harmonious progress of the complete series i 
 of organic forms from the simpler to the more perfect. 
 
 "The existence of general laws of Nature explains this harmony, t 
 even if we assume that all beings have arisen separately and inde-l 
 pendent of one another. Darwin forgets that inorganic nature, in 
 which there can be no thought of a genetic connexion of forms, 
 exhibits the same regular plan, the same harmony, as the organic 
 world ; and that, to cite only one example, there is as much a natural 
 system of minerals as of plants and animals." 
 
 We do not feel quite sure that we seize Professor 
 Kolliker 's meaning here, but he appears to suggest that 
 
xin.] Criticisms on " S% right af Spews/' 309 
 
 the observation of the general order and harmony which 
 pervade inorganic nature, would lead us to anticipate a 
 similar order and harmony in the organic world. And 
 this is no doubt true, but it by no means follows that 
 the particular order and harmony observed among them 
 should be that which we see. Surely the stripes of dun 
 horses, and the teeth of the foetal Balcena, are not ex- 
 plained by the " existence of general laws of Nature." 
 Mr. Darwin endeavours to explain the exact order of 
 organic nature which exists; not the mere fact that 
 there is some order. 
 
 And with regard to the existence of a natural system 
 of minerals; the obvious reply is that there may be a 
 natural classification of any objects of stones on a sea- 
 beach, or of works of art ; a natural classification being 
 simply an assemblage of objects in groups, so as to 
 express their most important and fundamental re- 
 semblances and differences. No doubt Mr. Darwin be- 
 lieves that those resemblances and differences upon 
 which our natural systems or classifications of animals 
 and plants are basecC are resemblances and differences 
 which have been produced genetically, but we can dis- 
 cover no reason for supposing that he denies the existence 
 of natural classifications of other kinds. 
 
 And, after all, is it quite so certain thai; a genetic 
 relation may not underlie the classification of minerals \ 
 The inorganic world has not always been what we see 
 it. It has certainly had its metamorphoses, and, very 
 probably, a long " Entwickelungsgeschichte " out of a 
 nebular blastema. Who knows how far that amount 
 of likeness among sets of minerals, in virtue of which 
 they are now grouped into families and orders, may 
 not be the expression of the common conditions to 
 which that particular patch of nebulous fog, which may 
 have been constituted by their atoms, and of which 
 
310 y%% Smnorts, <s<ms, miir |icimtos. [XIIL 
 
 they may be, in the strictest sense, the descendants, was 
 subjected ? 
 
 It will be obvious from what has preceded, that we 
 do not agree with Professor Kolliker in thinking the 
 objections which he brings forward so weighty as to be 
 fatal to Darwin's view. But even if the case were other- 
 wise, we should be unable to accept the " Theory of 
 Heterogeneous Generation" which is offered as a sub- 
 stitute. That theory is thus stated: 
 
 " The fundamental conception of this hypothesis is, that, under the 
 influence of a general law of development, the germs of organisms 
 produce others different from themselves. This might happen (1) by 
 the fecundated ova passing, in the course of their development, under 
 particular circumstances, into higher forms ; (2) by the primitive and 
 later organisms producing other organisms without fecundation, out of 
 germs or eggs (Parthenogenesis)." 
 
 In favour of this hypothesis, Professor Kolliker ad- 
 duces the well-known facts of Agamogenesis, or " alter- 
 nate generation ; " the extreme dissimilarity of the 
 males and females of many animals ; and of the males, 
 females, and neuters of those insects which live in 
 colonies : and he defines its relations to the Darwinian 
 theory as follows : 
 
 " It is obvious that my hypothesis is apparently very similar to 
 Darwin's, inasmuch as I also consider that the various forms of 
 animals have proceeded directly from one another. My hypothesis of 
 the creation of organisms by heterogeneous generation, however, is 
 distinguished very essentially from Darwin's by the entire absence of 
 the principle of useful variations and their natural selection ; and my 
 fundamental conception is this, that a great plan of development lies 
 at the foundation of the origin of the whole organic world, impelling 
 the simpler forms to more and more complex developments. How 
 this law operates, what influences determine the development of the 
 eggs and germs, and impel them to assume constantly new forms, 1 
 naturally cannot pretend to say ; but I can at least adduce the great 
 analogy of the alternation of generations. If a Bipinnaria, a JSrachi- 
 alaria, a Pluteus, is competent to produce the Echinoderm, which is 
 BO widely different from it ; if a hydroid polype can produce the higher 
 
XIIL j Crifirisms mt "Cftf Engirt 0f Speri**. 
 
 Medusa; if the vermiform Trematode 'nurse* can develop within 
 itself the very unlike Cercaria, it will not appear impossible that tha 
 egg, or ciliated embryo, of a sponge, for once, under special conditions, 
 might become a hydroid polype, or the embryo of a Medusa, an 
 Echinoderm." 
 
 It is obvious, from these extracts, that Professor Kol- 
 liker's hypothesis is based upon the supposed existence 
 of a close analogy between the phsenomena of Agamo- 
 genesis and the production of new species from pre- 
 existing ones. But is the analogy a real one? We 
 think that it is not, and, by the hypothesis, cannot be. 
 
 For what are the phenomena of Agamogenesis, stated 
 generally? An impregnated egg develops into an 
 asexual form, A ; this gives rise, asexually, to a second 
 form or forms, B, more or less different from A. B may 
 multiply asexually again ; in the simpler cases, however, 
 it does not, but, acquiring sexual characters, produces 
 impregnated eggs from whence A once more arises. 
 
 No case of Agamogenesis is known in which, when A 
 differs widely from B, it is itself capable of sexual 
 propagation. No case whatever is known in which the 
 progeny of B, by sexual generation, is other than a 
 reproduction of A. 
 
 But if this be a true statement of the nature of the 
 process of Agamogenesis, how can it enable us to com- 
 prehend the production of new species from already 
 existing ones ? Let us suppose Hyaenas to have pre- 
 ceded Dogs, and to have produced the latter in this 
 rvvay. Then the Hyaena will represent A. and the Dog, 
 B. The first difficulty that presents itself is that the 
 Hysena must be asexual, or the process will be wholly 
 without analogy in the world of Agamogenesis. But 
 passing over this difficulty, and supposing a male and 
 female Dog to be produced at the same time from the 
 Hyeena stock, the progeny of the pair, if the analogy 
 
312 f^g j5*rm0tts, (gssap, mtb grfmfoa. 
 
 of the simpler kinds of Agamogenesis 1 is to be followed, 
 should be a litter, not of puppies, but of young Hyaenas. 
 For the Agamogenetic series is always, as we have seen, 
 A : B : A :^B, &c. ; whereas, for the production of a new 
 species, the series must be A : B : B : B, &c. The pro- 
 duction of new species, or genera, is the extreme perma- 
 nent divergence from the primitive stock. All known 
 Agamogenetic processes, on the other hand, end in a 
 complete return to the primitive stock. How then is 
 the production of new species to be rendered intelligible 
 by the analogy of Agamogenesis ? 
 
 The other alternative put by Professor Kolliker the 
 passage of fecundated ova in the course of their develop- 
 ment into higher forms would, if it occurred, be merely 
 an extreme case of variation in the Darwinian sense, 
 greater in degree than, but perfectly similar in kind to, 
 that which occurred when the well-known Ancon Earn 
 was developed from an ordinary Ewe's ovum. Indeed 
 we have always thought that Mr. Darwin has unneces- 
 sarily hampered himself by adhering so strictly to his 
 favourite "Natura non facit saltum." "We greatly 
 suspect that she does make considerable jumps in 
 the way of variation now and then, and that these 
 saltations give rise to some of the gaps which appear 
 to exist in the series of known forms. 
 
 Strongly and freely as we have ventured to disagree 
 
 * If, on the contrary, we follow the analogy of the more complex forms of 
 Agamogenesis, such as that exhibited by some Trematoda and by the Aphides, 
 the Hysena must produce, asexually, a brood of asexual Dogs, from which 
 other sexless Dogs must proceed. At the end of a certain number of terms 
 of the series, the Dogs would acquire sexes and generate young ; but these 
 young would be, not Dogs, but Hysenas. In fact, we have demonstrated, in 
 Agamogenetic pnsenomena,that inevitable recurrence to the original type, which 
 is asserted to be true of variations in general, by Mr. Darwin's opponents ; 
 and which, if the assertion could be changed into a demonstration, would, in 
 fact, be fatal to his hypothesis. 
 
XIIL] Criticisms an " C^ <3)rigm 0f Spmw." 313 
 
 with Professor Kolliker, we have always done so with 
 regret, and we trust without violating that respect which 
 is due, not only to his scientific eminence and to the 
 careful study which he has devoted to the subject, but 
 to the perfect fairness of his argumentation, and the 
 generous appreciation of the worth of Mr. Darwin's 
 labours which he always displays. It would be satisfac- 
 tory to be able to say as much for M. Flourens. 
 
 But the Perpetual Secretary of the French Academy 
 of Sciences deals with Mr. Darwin as the first Napoleon 
 would have treated an "ideologue;" and while dis- 
 playing a painful weakness of logic and shallowness of 
 information, assumes a tone of authority, which always 
 touches upon the ludicrous, and sometimes passes the 
 limits of good breeding. 
 
 For example (p. 56) : 
 
 M. Darwin continue : ' Aucune distinction absolue n'a ete et ne 
 pent etre Stabile entre les especes et les varie"teV Je vous ai deja dit 
 que vous vous trompiez ; une distinction absolue separe les variet&s 
 d'avec les especes." 
 
 " Je vous ai dejd dit ; moi, M. le Secretaire pcrpe'tuel 
 de TAcademie des Sciences : et vous 
 
 4 Qui n'etes rien, 
 Pas meme Academicien; * 
 
 what do you mean by asserting the contrary?" Being 
 devoid of the blessings of an Academy in England, we 
 are unaccustomed to see our ablest men treated in this 
 fashion even by a " Perpetual Secretary/' 
 
 Or again, considering that if there is any one quality 
 of Mr. Darwin's work to which friends and foes have 
 alike borne witness, it is his candour and fairness in 
 admitting and discussing objections, what is to be 
 thought of M. Flourens' assertion, that 
 
314 gPajr S^rmcrns, (Bssmp, atttr HUfaufos. [XIIL 
 
 a M. Darwin ne cite que lea auteurs qui partagent ses opinions." 
 (P. 40.) 
 
 Once more (p. 65) : 
 
 " Enfin 1'ouvrage de M. Darwin a paru. On ne peut qu'etre frapp6 
 du talent de 1'anteur. Mais que d'idees obscures, quo d'idees fausses ! 
 Quel jargon m6taphysique jete mal a propos dans 1'histoire naturelle, 
 qui tombe dans le galimatias des qu'elle sort des idees clairss, des 
 id^es justes ! Quel langage pretentieux et vide ! Quelles personi- 
 fications pueriles et surannees 1 O lucidit^ ! O solidite* de 1'esprit 
 Fran9ais, que devenez-vous 1" 
 
 "Obscure ideas/' " metaphysical jargon," "pretentious 
 and empty language," " puerile and superannuated per- 
 sonifications." Mr. Darwin has many and hot opponents 
 on this side of the Channel and in Germany, but we do 
 not recollect to have found precisely these sins in the 
 long catalogue of those hitherto laid to his charge. It is 
 worth while, therefore, to examine into these discoveries 
 effected solely by the aid of the " lucidity and solidity " 
 of the mind of M. Flourens. 
 
 According to M. Flourens, Mr. Darwin's great error is 
 that he has personified Nature (p. 10), and further that 
 he has 
 
 "imagined a natural selection: he imagines afterwards that this 
 power of selecting (pouvoir d'elire) which he givs to Nature is similar 
 to the power of man. These two suppositions admitted, nothing 
 stops him : he plays with Nature as he likes, and makes her do all 
 he pleases." (P. 6.) 
 
 And this is the way M. Flourens extinguishes natural 
 selection : 
 
 " Voyons done encore une fois, ce qu'il peut y avoir de fond6 dans 
 ce qu'on nomme election naturelle. 
 
 " Selection naturelle. n'est sous un autre nom que la nature. Pour 
 un etre organise", la nature n'est que 1'organisation, ni plus ni moins. 
 
 " II faudra done aussi personnifier V organisation, et dire que 
 V organisation choisit V organisation. Selection naturelle est cette 
 forme substantielle dont on jouait autrefois avec tant de facilite". 
 Aristote disait que * Si Tart de batir 6tait dans le hois, cet art agirait 
 
xin. j Crifmsmg on "8%e tight 0f %ww8." 315 
 
 comme la nature.' A la place de Hart de bdtir M. Darwin met 
 V election naturelle, et c'est tout un : Tun n'est pas plus chimenque 
 que 1'autre." (P. 31.) 
 
 And this is really all that M. Flourens can make of 
 Natural Selection. We have given the original, in fear 
 lest a translation should be regarded as a travesty ; but 
 with the original before the reader, we may try to 
 analyse the passage. " For an organized being, Nature 
 is only organization, neither more nor less." 
 
 Organized beings then have absolutely no relation to 
 inorganic nature: a plant does not depend on soil or 
 sunshine, climate, depth in the ocean, height above it ; 
 the quantity of saline matters in water have no influence 
 upon animal life ; the substitution of carbonic acid for 
 oxygen in our atmosphere would hurt nobody! That 
 these are absurdities no one should know better than 
 M. Flourens ; but they are logical deductions from the 
 assertion just quoted, and from the further statement 
 that natural selection means only that "organization 
 chooses and selects organization." 
 
 For if it be once admitted (what no sane man denies) 
 that the chances of life of any given organism are 
 increased by certain conditions (A) and diminished by 
 their opposites (B), then it is mathematically certain that 
 any change of conditions in the direction of (A) will 
 exercise a selective influence in favour of that organism, 
 tending to its increase and multiplication, while any 
 change in the direction of (B) will exercise a selective 
 influence against that organism, tending to its decrease 
 and extinction. 
 
 Or, on the other hand, conditions remaining the same, 
 let a given organism vary (and no one doubts that they 
 do vary) in two directions : into one form (a) better fitted 
 to cope with these conditions than the original stock, 
 and a second (b) less well adapted to them. Then it is 
 
316 ^ag Strmmrs, (Sssags, mttr JjWmfes. [xm. 
 
 no less certain that the conditions in question must 
 exercise a selective influence in favour of (a) and against 
 (6), so that (a) will tend to predominance, and (6) to 
 extirpation. 
 
 That M. Flourens should be unable to perceive the 
 logical necessity of these simple arguments, which lie at 
 the foundation of all Mr. Darwin's reasoning; that he 
 should confound an irrefragable deduction from the 
 observed relations of organisms to the conditions which 
 lie around them, with a metaphysical "forme substan- 
 tielle," or a chimerical personification of the powers 
 of Nature, would be incredible, were it not that other 
 passages of his work leave no room for doubt upon 
 the subject 
 
 " On imagine une Election naturelle qne, pour plus de management, 
 on me dit etre inconsciente, sans s'apercevoir que le contre-sens litte'ral 
 est pre"cisement la: Election inconsciente." (P. 52.) 
 
 "J'ai dej'a dit ce qu'il faut penser de Selection naturelle. Ou 
 Selection naturelle n'est rien, on c'est la nature : mais la nature doue"e 
 Selection, mais la nature personninee: deraiere -erreur du dernier 
 siecle: Le xix* ne fait plus de personnifications." (P. 63.) 
 
 M. Flourens cannot imagine an unconscious selection 
 it is for him a contradiction in terms. Did M. 
 Flourens ever visit one of the prettiest watering-places 
 of " la belle France," the Baie d'Arcachon ? If so, he 
 will probably have passed through the district of the 
 Landes, and will have had an opportunity of observing 
 the formation of " dunes " on a grand scale. What are 
 these " dunes V 9 The winds and waves of the Bay of 
 Biscay have not much consciousness, and yet they have 
 with great care "selected," from among an infinity of 
 masses of silex of all shapes and sizes, which have been 
 submitted to their action, all the grains of sand below a 
 certain size, and have heaped them by themselves over 
 a great area. This sand has been "unconsciously 
 selected " from amidst the gravel in which it first lay 
 
XIIL] Criitrisms on "Cjr* (Bright xrf Species/' 317 
 
 with as much precision as if man had * consciously 
 selected " it by the aid of a sieve. Physical Geology is 
 full of such selections of the picking out of the soft 
 from the hard, of the soluble from the insoluble, of the 
 fusible from the infusible, by natural agencies to which 
 we are certainly not in the habit of ascribing con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 But that which wind and sea are to a sandy beach, 
 the sum of influences, which we term the " conditions 
 of existence/' is to living organisms. The weak are 
 sifted out from the strong. A frosty night " selects " 
 the hardy plants in a plantation from among the tender 
 ones as effectually as if it were the wind, and they, the 
 sand and pebbles, of our illustration ; or, on the other 
 hand, as if the intelligence of a gardener had been 
 operative in cutting the weaker organisms down. The 
 thistle, which has spread over the Pampas, to the 
 destruction of native plants, has been more effectually 
 " selected" by the unconscious operation of natural con- 
 ditions than if a thousand agriculturists had spent their 
 time in sowing it. 
 
 It is one of Mr. Darwin's many great services to 
 Biological science that he has demonstrated the sig- 
 nificance of these facts. He has shown that given 
 variation and given change of conditions the inevitable 
 result is the exercise of such an influence upon organisms 
 that one is helped and another is impeded ; one tends 
 to predominate, another to disappear ; and thus the 
 living world bears within itself, and is surrounded by, 
 impulses towards incessant change. 
 
 But the truths just stated are as certain as any other 
 physical laws, quite independently of the truth, or false- 
 hood, of the hypothesis which Mr. Darwin has based 
 upon them ; and that M. Flourens, missing the substance 
 and grasping at a shadow should be blind to the admi- 
 
318 ^ag S-ermans, (Kssags, anb |iefmfos. [xm. 
 
 rable exposition of them, which Mr. Darwin has given, 
 and see nothing there but a " derniere erreur du dernier 
 siecle" a personification of Nature leads us indeed 
 to cry with him : "0 lucidite* ! solidite de 1'esprit 
 Fran$ais, que devenez-vous V 
 
 M. Flourens has, in fact, utterly failed to comprehend 
 the first principles of the doctrine which he assails so 
 rudely. His objections to details are of the old sort, so 
 battered and hackneyed on this side of the Channel, that 
 not even a Quarterly Eeviewer could be induced to 
 pick them up for the purpose of pelting Mr. Darwin 
 over again. We have Cuvier and the mummies ; M. 
 Roulin and the domesticated animals of America ; the 
 difficulties presented by hybridism and by Palaeontology ; 
 Darwinism a rifacciamento of De Maillet and Lamarck ; 
 Darwinism a system without a commencement, and its 
 author bound to believe in M. Pouchet, &c. &c. How 
 one knows it all by heart, and with what relief one reads 
 at p. 65 
 
 " Je laisse M. Darwin ! " 
 
 But we cannot leave M. Flourens without calling our 
 readers' attention to his wonderful tenth chapter, " De 
 la Prdexistence des Germes et de rEpigdnese/' which 
 opens thus : 
 
 "Spontaneous generation is only a chimsera. This point esta- 
 blished, two hypotheses remain : that of pre-existence and that of 
 epigenesis. The one of these hypotheses has as little foundation as 
 the other." (P. 163.) 
 
 " The doctrine of epigenesis is derived from Harvey : following by 
 ocular inspection the development of the new being in the Windsor 
 does, he saw each part appear successively, and taking the moment 
 of appearance for the moment of formation he imagined epigenesis" 
 (P. 165.) 
 
 On the contrary, says M. Flourens (p. 167), 
 
 " The new being is formed at a stroke (tout cCun coup), as a whole, 
 instantaneously ; it is not formed part by part, and at different times. 
 
xiii.] Crtfirama on " fr* <t right 0f %mjea." 319 
 
 It is formed at once ; it is formed at the single individual moment 
 at which the conjunction of the male and female elements takes 
 place." 
 
 It will be observed that M. Flourens uses language 
 which cannot be mistaken. For him, the labours of Von 
 Baer, of Eathke, of Coste, and their contemporaries and 
 successors in Germany, France, and England, are non- 
 existent i and, as Darwin "imagina" natural selection, so 
 Harvey "imagina" that doctrine which gives him an even 
 greater claim to the veneration of posterity than his 
 better known discovery of the circulation of the blood. 
 
 Language such as that we have quoted is, in fact, so 
 preposterous, so utterly incompatible with anything but 
 absolute ignorance of some of the best established facts, 
 that we should have passed it over in silence had it not 
 appeared to afford some clue to M. Flourens' unhesitating, 
 d priori, repudiation of all forms of the doctrine of the 
 progressive modification of living beings. He whose 
 mind remains uninfluenced by an acquaintance with the 
 phaenomena of development, must indeed lack one of the 
 chief motives towards the endeavour to trace a genetic 
 relation between the different existing forms of life. 
 Those who are ignorant of Geology, find no difficulty in 
 believing that the world was made as it is ; and the 
 chepherd, untutored in history, sees no reason to regard 
 the green mounds which indicate the site of a Eoman 
 camp, as aught but part and parcel of the primaeval 
 hill-side. So M. Flourens, who believes that embryos 
 are formed " tout d'un coup," naturally finds no difficulty 
 in conceiving that species came into existence in the 
 same -way. 
 
XIV 
 
 ON DESCARTES' "DISCOURSE TOUCHING' THE 
 METHOD OF USING ONE'S EEASON EIGHTLY 
 AND OF SEEKING SCIENTIFIC TRUTH." 
 
 IT has been well said that " all the thoughts of men, 
 from the beginning of the world until now, are linked 
 together into one great chain;" but the conception of 
 the intellectual filiation of mankind which is expressed 
 in these words may, perhaps, be more fitly shadowed 
 forth by a different metaphor. The thoughts of men 
 seem rather to be comparable to the leaves, flowers, and 
 fruit upon the innumerable branches of a few great stems, 
 fed by commingled and hidden roots. These stems bear 
 the names of the half-a-dozen men, endowed with intel- 
 lects of heroic force and clearness, to whom we are led, 
 at whatever point of the world of thought the attempt 
 to trace its history commences ; just as certainly as the 
 following up the small twigs of a tree to the branchlets 
 which bear them, and tracing the branchlets to their 
 supporting branches, brings us, sooner or later, to the 
 bole. 
 
 It seems to me that the thinker who, more than any 
 other, stands in the relation of such a stem towards the 
 philosophy and the science of the modern world is Rend 
 Descartes. I mean, that if you lay hold of any charac- 
 
it Sentries' " fflisnwra*." 321 
 
 ^^ Cx C3^ 
 
 teristic product of modern ways of thinking, either in 
 the region of philosophy, or in that of science, you find 
 the spirit of that thought, if not its form, to have been 
 present in the mind of the great Frenchman. 
 
 There are some men who are counted great because 
 they represent the actuality of their own age, and mirror 
 it as it is. Such an one was Voltaire, of whom it was 
 epigrammaticallysaid,"he expressed everybody's thoughts 
 better than anybody." 1 But there are other men who 
 attain greatness because they embody the potentiality of 
 their own day, and magically reflect the future. They 
 express the thoughts which will be everybody's two 
 or three centuries after them. Such an one was 
 Descartes. 
 
 Born, in 1596, nearly three hundred years ago, of a 
 noble family in Touraine, Bend Descartes grew up into a 
 sickly and diminutive child, whose keen wit soon gained 
 him that title of "the Philosopher/' which, in the mouths 
 of his noble kinsmen, was more than half a reproach. 
 The best schoolmasters of the day, the Jesuits, educated 
 him as well as a French boy of the seventeenth century 
 could be educated. And they must have done their 
 work honestly and well, for, before his schoolboy days 
 were over, he had discovered that the most of what he 
 had learned, except in mathematics, was devoid of solid 
 and real value. 
 
 " Therefore," says he, in that " Discourse " 2 which I have taken tor 
 my text, " as soon as I was old enough to be set free from the govern- 
 ment of my teachers, I entirely forsook the study of letters ; and 
 determining to seek no other knowledge than that which I could 
 discover within myself, or in the great book of the world, I spent the 
 remainder of my youth in travelling ; in seeing courts and armies ; in 
 the society of people of different humours and conditions; in gathering 
 
 1 1 forget who it was said of him : " II a plus que personne 1'esprit que tout 
 le monde a." 
 
 2 " Discours de la Me"thode pour bien conduire sa Eaison et chercher la 
 dans les Sciences. 
 
 y 
 
322 fag S*rm0ns, feajs, mrtr 
 
 varied experience ; in testing myself by the chances of fortune ; and 
 in always trying to profit by my reflections on what happened. . . . 
 And I always had an intense desire to learn how to distinguish truth 
 from falsehood, in order to be clear about my actions, and to walk 
 surefootedly in this life." 
 
 But "learn what is true, in order to do what is right," 
 is the summing up of the whole duty of man, for all 
 who are unable to satisfy their mental hunger with the 
 east wind of authority ; and to those of us moderns who 
 are in this position, it is one of Descartes' great claims to 
 our reverence as a spiritual ancestor, that, at three-and- 
 twenty, he saw clearly that this was his duty, and acted 
 up to his conviction. At two-and-thirty, in fact, finding 
 all other occupations incompatible with the search after 
 the knowledge which leads to action, and being possessed 
 of a modest competence, he withdrew into Holland ; 
 where he spent nine years in learning and thinking, in 
 such retirement that only one or two trusted friends 
 knew of his whereabouts. 
 
 In 1637 the firstfruits of these long meditations were 
 given to the world in the famous " Discourse touching 
 the Method of using Reason rightly and of seeking 
 scientific Truth/' which, at once an autobiography and a 
 philosophy, clothes the deepest thought in language of 
 exquisite harmony, simplicity, and clearness. 
 
 The central propositions of the whole " Discourse n are 
 these. There is a path that leads to truth so surely, that 
 any one who will follow it must needs reach the goal, 
 whether his capacity be great or small. And there is one 
 guiding rule by which a man may always find this path, 
 and keep himself from straying when he has found it. 
 This golden rule is give unqualified assent to no pro- 
 positions but those the truth of which is so clear and 
 distinct that they cannot be doubted. 
 
 The enunciation of this great first commandment of 
 
xiv.] <S)n gjeacartes' " gismtm." 323 
 
 science consecrated Doubt. It removed Doubt from the 
 seat of penance among the grievous sins to which it had 
 long been condemned, and enthroned it in that high place 
 among the primary duties, which is assigned to it by the 
 scientific conscience of these latter days. Descartes was 
 the first among the moderns to obey this commandment 
 deliberately ; and, as a matter of religious duty, to strip 
 off all his beliefs and reduce himself to a state of intel- 
 lectual nakedness, until such time as he could satisfy 
 himself which were fit to be worn. He thought a bare 
 skin healthier than the most respectable and well-cut 
 clothing of what might, possibly, be mere shoddy. 
 
 When I say that Descartes consecrated doubt, you must 
 remember that it was that sort of doubt which Goethe 
 has called "the active scepticism, whose whole aim is to 
 conquer itself ; J>1 and not that other sort which is born 
 of flippancy and ignorance, and whose aim is only to 
 perpetuate itself, as an excuse for idleness and indiffer- 
 ence. But it is impossible to define what is meant by 
 scientific doubt better than in Descartes' own words. 
 After describing the gradual progress of his negative 
 criticism, he tells us : 
 
 " For all that, I did not imitate the sceptics, "who doubt only for 
 doubting's sake, and pretend to be always undecided; on the contrary, 
 my whole intention was to arrive at certainty, and to dig away tho 
 drift and the sand until I reached the rock or the clay beneath." 
 
 And further, since no man of common sense, when 
 he pulls down his house for the purpose of rebuilding it, 
 fails to provide himself with some shelter while the work 
 is in progress ; so, before demolishing the spacious, if not 
 commodious, mansion of his old beliefs, Descartes thought 
 it wise to equip himself with what he calls " une morale 
 par provision" by which he resolved to govern his 
 
 1 " Eine thatige Skepsis ist die, welch e unablassig bemiiht ist sich Belbst 
 zu iibervrinden, und durch geregelte Erfahrung zu einer Art von bedingter 
 Zuverlassigkeit zu gelangen." Maximen und Reflexioiwn, 7 U Abtheilung. 
 
 Y 2 
 
324 fag Simons, $ssags, aitir llehictos. [xiv. 
 
 practical life until such time as he should be better 
 instructed. The laws of this " provisional self-govern- 
 ment " are embodied in four maxims, of which one binds 
 our philosopher to submit himself to the laws and religion 
 in which he was brought up ; another, to act, on all those 
 occasions which call for action, promptly and according 
 to the best of his judgment, and to abide, without 
 repining, by the result : a third rule is to seek happiness 
 in limiting his desires, rather than in attempting to satisfy 
 them ; while the last is to make the search after truth 
 the business of his life. 
 
 Thus prepared to go on living while he doubted, 
 Descartes proceeded to face his doubts like a man. One 
 thing was clear to him, he would not lie to himself 
 would, under no penalties, say, " I am sure " of that of 
 which he was not sure ; but would go on digging and 
 delving until he came to the solid adamant ; or, at worst, 
 made sure there was no adamant. As the record of his 
 progress tells us, he was obliged to confess that life is full 
 of delusions ; that authority may err ; that testimony 
 may be false or mistaken ; that reason lands us in end- 
 less fallacies ; that memory is often as little trustworthy 
 as hope ; that the evidence of the very senses may be 
 misunderstood ; that dreams are real as long as they last, 
 and that what we call reality may be a long and restless 
 dream. Nay, it is conceivable that some powerful and 
 malicious being may find his pleasure in deluding us, and 
 in making us believe the thing which is not, every moment 
 of our lives. What, then, is certain? What even, if 
 such a being exists, is beyond the reach of his powers of 
 delusion ? Why, the fact that the thought, the present 
 consciousness, exists. Our thoughts may be delusive, 
 but they cannot be fictitious. As thoughts, they are 
 real and existent, and the cleverest deceiver cannot 
 make them otherwise* 
 
gmarfea' "gismtrs*." 325 
 
 Thus, thought is existence. More than that, so far as 
 we are concerned, existence is thought, all our concep- 
 tions of existence being some kind or other of thought. 
 Do not for a moment suppose that these are mere 
 paradoxes or subtleties. A little reflection upon the 
 commonest facts proves them to be irrefragable truths. 
 For example, I take up a marble, and I find it to be 
 a red, round, hard, single body. We call the redness, 
 the roundness, the hardness, and the singleness, " quali- 
 ties " of the marble ; and it sounds, at first, the height of 
 absurdity to say that all these qualities are modes of our 
 own consciousness, which cannot even be conceived to 
 exist in the marble. But consider the redness, to begin 
 with. How does the sensation of redness arise? The 
 waves of a certain very attenuated matter, the particles 
 of which are vibrating with vast rapidity, but with very 
 different velocities, strike upon the marble, and those 
 which vibrate with one particular velocity are thrown off 
 from its surface in all directions. The optical apparatus 
 of the eye gathers some of these together, and gives them 
 such a course that they impinge upon the surface of the 
 retina, which is a singularly delicate apparatus, connected 
 with the termination of the fibres of the optic nerve. 
 The impulses of the attenuated matter, or ether, affect 
 this apparatus and the fibres of the optic nerve in a 
 certain way ; and the change in the fibres of the optic 
 nerve produces yet other changes in the brain ; and 
 these, in some fashion unknown to us, give rise to the 
 feeling, or consciousness, of redness. If the marble 
 could remain unchanged, and either the rate of vibration 
 of the ether, or the nature of the retina, could be altered, 
 the marble would seem not red, but some other colour. 
 There are many people who are what are called colour- 
 blind, being unable to distinguish one colour from 
 another. Such an one might declare our marble to be 
 
325 f^g Sermons, ssajrs, anir JUbietos. [xiv. 
 
 green ; and he would be quite as right in saying that it 
 is green, as we are in declaring it to be red. But then, 
 as the marble cannot, in itself, be both green and red, at 
 the same time, this shows that the quality "redness" 
 must be in our consciousness and not in the marble. 
 
 In like manner, it is easy to see that the roundness and 
 the hardness are forms of our consciousness, belonging 
 to the groups which we call sensations of sight and 
 touch. If the surface of the cornea were cylindrical, we 
 should have a very different notion of a round body 
 from that which we possess now ; and if the strength of 
 the fabric, and the force of the muscles, of the body were 
 increased a hundredfold, our marble would seem to be as 
 soft as a pellet of bread crumbs. 
 
 Not only is it obvious that all these qualities are in us, 
 but, if you will make the attempt, you will find it quite 
 impossible to conceive of " blueness," " roundness," and 
 " hardness " as existing without reference to some such 
 consciousness as our own. It may seem strange to say 
 that even the " singleness " of the marble is relative to us ; 
 but extremely simple experiments will show that such is 
 veritably the case, and that our two most trustworthy 
 senses may be made to contradict one another on this 
 very point. Hold the marble between the finger and 
 thumb, and look at it in the ordinary way. Sight and 
 touch agree that it is single. Now squint, and sight 
 tells you that there are two marbles, while touch asserts 
 that there is only one. Next, return the eyes to their 
 natural position, and, having crossed the forefinger and 
 the middle finger, put the marble between their tips. 
 Then touch will declare that there are two marbles, while 
 sight says that there is only one ; and touch claims our 
 belief, when we attend to it, just as imperatively as 
 sight does. 
 
 But it may be said, the marble takes up a certain 
 
xiv. J <ht $*stmte' " gisomm/' 327 
 
 space which could not be occupied, at the same time, by 
 anything else. In other words, the marble has the 
 primary quality of matter, extension. Surely this quality 
 must be in the thing, and not in our minds ? But the 
 reply must still be ; whatever may, or may not, exist in the 
 thing, all that we can know of these qualities is a state o 
 consciousness. What we call extension is a consciousness 
 of a relation between two, or more, affections of th& 
 sense of sight, or of touch. And it is wholly incon- 
 ceivable that what we call extension should exist inde- 
 pendently of such consciousness as our own. Whether, 
 notwithstanding this inconceivability, it does so exist, or 
 not, is a point on which I offer no opinion. 
 
 Thus, whatever our marble may be in itself, all that 
 we can know of it is under the shape of a bundle of our 
 own consciousnesses. 
 
 Nor is our knowledge of anything we know or feel 
 more, or less, than a knowledge of states of consciousness. 
 And our whole life is made up of such states. Some of 
 these states we refer to a cause we call " self ; " others to 
 a cause or causes which may be comprehended under 
 the title of "not-self." But neither of the existence of 
 1 self," nor of that of " not-self," have we, or can we by 
 any possibility have, any such unquestionable and im- 
 mediate certainty as we have of the states of conscious- 
 ness which we consider to be their effects. They are not 
 immediately observed facts, but results of the application 
 of the law of causation to those facts. Strictly speaking, 
 the existence of a " self" and of a "not-self" are hypo- 
 theses by which we account for the facts of consciousness. 
 They stand upon the same footing as the belief in the 
 general trustworthiness of memory, and in the general 
 constancy of the order of nature as hypothetical 
 assumptions which cannot be proved, or known with 
 that highest degree of certainty which is given by im- 
 
328 f^ag Sermons, (Kssaijs, anir IJLefabfas* [xiv. 
 
 mediate consciousness ; but which, nevertheless, are of 
 the highest practical value, inasmuch as the conclu- 
 sions logically drawn from them are always verified 
 by experience. 
 
 This, in my judgment, is the ultimate issue of Descartes' 
 argument ; but it is proper for me to point out that we 
 have left Descartes himself some way behind us. He 
 stopped at the famous formula, " I think, therefore I am/' 
 But a little consideration will show this formula to be 
 full of snares and verbal entanglements. In the first 
 place, the "therefore" has no business there. The "I 
 am" is assumed in the " I think," which is simply another 
 way of saying "I am thinking." And, in the second 
 place, " I think " is not one simple proposition, but three 
 distinct assertions rolled into one. The first of these is, 
 " something called I exists ;" the second is, " something 
 called thought exists;" and the third is, " the thought is 
 the result of the action of the I" 
 
 Now, it will be obvious to you, that the only one of 
 these three propositions which can stand the Cartesian 
 test of certainty is the second. It cannot be doubted, 
 for the very doubt is an existent thought. But the first 
 and third, whether true or not, may be doubted, and 
 have been doubted. For the assertor may be asked, 
 How do you know that thought is not self-existent ; or 
 that a given thought is not the effect of its antecedent 
 thought, or of some external power 1 And a diversity of 
 other questions, much more easily put than answered. 
 Descartes, determined as he was to strip off all the gar- 
 ments which the intellect weaves for itself, forgot this 
 gossamer shirt of the "self;" to the great detriment. 
 and indeed ruin, of his toilet when he began to clothe 
 himself again. 
 
 But it is beside my purpose to dwell upon the minor 
 peculiarities of the Cartesian philosophy. All I wish to 
 
xiv.] it gtsrartes' " Biztavnc&z." 329 
 
 put clearly before your minds thus far, is that Descartes, 
 having commenced by declaring doubt to be a duty, 
 found certainty in consciousness alone ; and that the 
 necessary outcome of his views is what may properly be 
 termed Idealism; namely, the doctrine that, whatever 
 the universe may be, all we can know of it is the picture 
 presented to us by consciousness. This picture may be 
 a true likeness though how this can be is inconceiv- 
 able ; or it may have no more resemblance to its cause 
 than one of Bach's fugues has to the person who is 
 playing it ; or than a piece of poetry has to the mouth 
 and lips of, a reciter. It is enough for all the practical 
 purposes of human existence if we find that our trust in 
 the representations of consciousness is verified by results ; 
 and that, by their help, we are enabled "to walk suro- 
 footedly in this life." 
 
 Thus the method, or path which leads to truth, indi- 
 cated by Descartes, takes us straight to the Critical 
 Idealism of his great successor Kant. It is that Idealism 
 which declares the ultimate fact of all knowledge to be a 
 consciousness, or, in other words, a mental phsenomenon ; 
 and therefore affirms the highest of all certainties, and 
 indeed the only absolute certainty, to be the existence of 
 mind. But it is also that Idealism which refuses to 
 make any assertions, either positive or negative, as to 
 what lies beyond consciousness. It accuses the subtle 
 Berkeley of stepping beyond the limits of knowledge 
 when he declared that a substance of matter does not 
 exist; and of illogicality, for not seeing that the ar- 
 guments which he supposed demolished the existence 
 of matter were equally destructive to the existence 
 of soul. And it refuses to listen to the jargon of 
 more recent days about the "Absolute," and all the 
 other hypostatized adjectives, the initial letters of 
 the names of which are generally printed in capital 
 
330 ^ag Sermons, gssatrs, mttr Behrc^s. [xiv 
 
 letters ; just as you give a Grenadier a bearskin cap, to 
 make him look more formidable than he is by nature. 
 
 I repeat, the path indicated and followed by Descartes 
 which we have hitherto been treading, leads through 
 doubt to that critical Idealism which lies at the heart 
 of modern metaphysical thought. But the "Discourse" 
 shows us another, and apparently very different, path, 
 which leads, quite as definitely, to that correlation of all 
 the phenomena of the universe with matter and motion, 
 which lies at the heart of modern physical thought, and 
 which most people call Materialism. 
 
 The early part of the seventeenth century, when Des- 
 cartes reached manhood, is one of the great epochs of the 
 intellectual life of mankind. At that time, physical 
 science suddenly strode into the arena of public and 
 familiar thought, and openly challenged, not only Philo- 
 sophy and the Church, but that common ignorance 
 which passes by the name of Common Sense. The asser- 
 tion of the motion of the earth was a defiance to all 
 three, and Physical Science threw down her glove by the 
 hand of Galileo. 
 
 It is not pleasant to think of the immediate result of 
 the combat ; to see the champion of science, old, worn, 
 and on his knees before the Cardinal Inquisitor, signing 
 his name to what he knew to be a lie. And, no doubt, 
 the Cardinals rubbed their hands as they thought how 
 well they had silenced and discredited their adversary. 
 But two hundred years have passed, and however feeble 
 or faulty her soldiers, Physical Science sits crowned and 
 enthroned as one of the legitimate rulers of the world 
 of thought. Charity children would be ashamed not to 
 know that the earth moves ; while the Schoolmen are 
 forgotten ; and the Cardinals well, the Cardinals are at 
 the (Ecumenical Council, still at their old business of 
 trying to stop the movement of the world. 
 
xiv.] <it gtsrarfes* " gisflmr&e." 333 
 
 As a ship, which having lain becalmed with every 
 stitch of canvas set, bounds away before the breeze 
 which springs up astern, so the mind of Descartes, poised 
 in equilibrium of doubt, not only yielded to the full force 
 of the impulse towards physical science and physical 
 ways of thought, given by his great contemporaries, 
 Galileo and Harvey, but shot beyond them ; and antici- 
 pated, by bold speculation, the conclusions, which could 
 only be placed upon a secure foundation by the labours 
 of generations of workers. 
 
 Descartes saw that the discoveries of Galileo meant 
 that the remotest parts of the universe were governed by 
 mechanical laws ; while those of Harvey meant that the 
 same laws presided over the operations of that portion of 
 the world which is nearest to us, namely, our own bodily 
 frame. And crossing the interval between the centre 
 and its vast circumference by one of the great strides of 
 genius, Descartes sought to resolve all the phsenornena of 
 the universe into matter and motion, or forces operating 
 according to law. 1 This grand conception, which is 
 sketched in the "Discours," and more fully developed 
 in the " Principes " and in the " Trait e de FHomme/' he 
 worked out with extraordinary power and knowledge ; 
 and with the effect of arriving, in the last-named essay, 
 at that purely mechanical view of vital phsenomena 
 towards which modern physiology is striving. 
 
 Let us try to understand how Descartes got into this 
 path, and why it led him where it did. The mechanism 
 of the circulation of the blood had evidently taken a 
 great hold of his mind, as he describes it several times, 
 at much length. After giving a full account of it in the 
 
 i u Au milieu de toutes ses erreurs, il ne faut pas me'connaitre une grande 
 ide'e, qui consiste a. avoir tente* pour la premiere fois de ramener tous les 
 phe"nomenes naturels a n'Stre qu'un simple deVelloppement des lois de la 
 m^canique," is the weighty judgment of Biot, cited by Bouillier (Histoire de 
 la Philosophic Cartesienne, t. i. p. 196). 
 
332 l^jr Sermons,' teags, atib gefefos. [xiv. 
 
 "Discourse," and erroneously describing the motion of 
 the blood, not to the contraction of the walls of the 
 heart, but to the heat which he supposes to be generated 
 there, he adds : 
 
 a This motion, which I have just explained, is as much the necessary 
 result of the structure of the parts which one can see in the heart, and 
 of the heat which one may feel there with one's fingers, and of the 
 nature of the blood, which may be experimentally ascertained ; as is 
 that of a clock of the force, the situation, and the figure, of its weight 
 and of its wheels." 
 
 But if this apparently vital operation were explicable 
 as a simple mechanism, might not other vital operations 
 be reducible to the same category ? Descartes replies 
 without hesitation in the affirmative. 
 
 "The animal spirits," says he, "resemble a very subtle fluid, or a 
 very pure and vivid flame, and are continually generated in the heart, 
 and ascend to the brain as to a sort of reservoir. Hence they pass 
 into the nerves and are distributed to the muscles, causing contraction. 
 or relaxation, according to their quantity." 
 
 Thus, according to Descartes, the animal body is an 
 automaton, which is competent to perform all the animal 
 functions in exactly the same way as a clock or any other 
 piece of mechanism. As he puts the case himself : 
 
 " In proportion as these spirits [the animal spirits] enter the cavities 
 of the brain, they pass thence into the pores of its substance, and from 
 these pores into the nerves ; where, according as they enter, or even 
 only tend to enter, more or less, into one than into another, they have 
 the power of altering the figure of the muscles into which the nerves 
 are inserted, and by this means of causing all the limbs to move. 
 Thus, as you may have seen in the grottoes and the fountains in royal 
 gardens, the force with which the water issues from its reservoir is 
 sumcient to move various machines, and even to make them play 
 instruments, or pronounce words according to the different disposition 
 of the pipes which lead the water. 
 
 "And, in truth, the nerves of the machine which I am describing may 
 very well be compared to the pipes of these waterworks ; its muscles 
 and its tendons to the other various engines and springs which seem to 
 move them ; its animal spirits to the water which impels them, of 
 which the heart is the fountain; while the cavities of the brain are 
 
xiv.] it gmmrtes' " giacmirse." 333 
 
 the central office. Moreover, respiration and other such actions as are 
 natural and usual in the body, and which depend on the course of the 
 spirits, are like the movements of a clock, or of a mill, which may be 
 kept up by the ordinary flow of the water. 
 
 " The external objects which, by their mere presence, act upon the 
 organs of the senses ; and which, by this means, determine the cor- 
 poral machine to move in many different ways, according as the parts 
 of the brain are arranged, are like the strangers who, entering into 
 some of the grottoes of these waterworks, unconsciously cause the 
 movements which take place in their presence. For they cannot enter 
 without treading upon certain planks so arranged that, for example, if 
 they approach a bathing Diana, they cause her to hide among the 
 reeds ; and if they attempt to follow her, they see approaching a 
 Neptune, who threatens them with his trident ; or if they try some 
 other way, they cause some monster who vomits water into their 
 faces, to dart out ; or like contrivances, according to the fancy of the 
 engineers who have made them. And lastly, when the rational soul is 
 lodged in this machine, it will have its principal seat in the brain, and 
 will take the place of the engineer, who ought to be in that part ol 
 the works with which all the pipes are connected, when he wishes to 
 increase, or to slacken, or in some way to alter, their movements." * 
 
 And again still more strongly : 
 
 " All the functions which I have attributed to this machine (the 
 body), as the digestion of food, the pulsation of the heart and of 
 the arteries ; the nutrition and the growth of the limbs ; respiration, 
 wakefulness, and sleep ; the reception of light, sounds, odours, flavours, 
 heat, and such like qualities, in the organs of the external senses ; the 
 impression of the ideas of these in the organ of common sense and in 
 the imagination ; the retention, or the impression, of these ideas on the 
 memory ; the internal movements of the appetites and the passions ; 
 and lastly, the external movements of all the limbs, which follow so 
 aptly, as well the action of the objects which are presented to the 
 senses, as the impressions which meet in the memory, that they 
 imitate as nearly as possible those of a real man : 2 I desire, I say, 
 that you should consider that these functions in the machine naturally 
 proceed from the mere arrangement of its organs, neither more nor 
 less than do the movements of a clock, or other automaton, from that 
 
 1 "Traite de THornine" (Cousin's Edition), p. 347. 
 
 2 Descartes pretends that he does not apply his views to the human body, 
 but only to an imaginary machine which, if it could be constructed, would do 
 all that the human body does ; throwing a sop to Cerberus unworthily ; and 
 uselessly, because Cerberus was by no means stupid enough to swallow it. 
 
334 Jfrtjr Sermans, (Essags, atifr IJUfaietos. 
 
 of its weights and its wheels ; so that, so far as these are concerned, it 
 is no necessary to conceive any other vegetative or sensitive soul, nor 
 any other principle of motion, or of life, than the blood and the spirits 
 agitated by the fire which burns continually in the heart, and which 
 is no wise essentially different from all the fires which exist in inani- 
 mate bodies." l 
 
 The spirit of these passages is exactly that of the 
 most advanced physiology of the present day; all that 
 is necessary to make them coincide with our present 
 physiology in form, is to represent the details of the 
 working of the animal machinery in modern language, 
 and by the aid of modern conceptions. 
 
 Most undoubtedly, the digestion of food in the human 
 body is a purely chemical process ; and the passage of 
 the nutritive parts of that food into the blood, a physical 
 operation. Beyond all question, the circulation of the 
 blood is simply a matter of mechanism, and results from 
 the structure and arrangement of the parts of the heart 
 and vessels, from the contractility of those organs, and 
 from the regulation of that contractility by an automa- 
 tically acting nervous apparatus. The progress of phy- 
 siology has further shown, that the contractility of the 
 muscles and the irritability of the nerves are purely the 
 results of the molecular mechanism of those organs ; and 
 that the regular movements of the respiratory, ali- 
 mentary, and other internal organs are governed and 
 guided, as mechanically, by their appropriate nervous 
 centres. The even rhythm of the breathing of every one 
 of us depends upon the structural integrity of a particular 
 region of the medulla oblongata, as much as the ticking 
 of a clock depends upon the integrity of the escapement 
 You may take away the hands of a clock and break up its 
 striking machinery, but it will still tick ; and a man may 
 be unable to feel, speak, or move, and yet he will breathe. 
 
 Again, in entire accordance with Descartes 1 affirmation, 
 
 1 "TraitS de THomme," p. 427. 
 
xiv.] @n iraffes' " isc0wm/' 335 
 
 it is certain that the modes of motion which constitute 
 the physical basis of light, sound, and heat, are trans- 
 muted into affections of nervous matter by the sensory 
 organs. These affections are, so to speak, a kind of 
 physical ideas, which are retained in the central organs, 
 constituting what might be called physical memory, and 
 may be combined in a manner which answers to associa- 
 tion and imagination, or may give rise to muscular 
 contractions, in those "reflex actions'' which are the 
 mechanical representatives of volitions. 
 
 Consider what happens when a blow is aimed at the 
 eye. 1 Instantly, and without our knowledge or wil], and 
 even against the will, the eyelids close. What is it that 
 happens ? A picture of the rapidly advancing fist is 
 made upon the retina at the back of the eye. The retina 
 changes this picture into an affection of a number of the 
 fibres of the optic nerve ; the fibres of the optic nerve 
 affect certain parts of the brain ; the brain, in consequence, 
 affects those particular fibres of the seventh nerve which 
 go to the orbicular muscle of the eyelids ; the change in 
 these nerve-fibres causes the muscular fibres to change 
 their dimensions, so as to become shorter and broader ; 
 and the result is the closing of the slit between the two 
 lids, round which these fibres are disposed. Here is a 
 pure mechanism, giving rise to a purposive action, and 
 strictly comparable to that by which Descartes supposes 
 his waterwork Diana to be moved. But we may go 
 further, and inquire whether our volition, in what we term 
 voluntary action, ever plays any other part than that of 
 Descartes' engineer, sitting in his office, and turning this 
 tap or the other, as he wishes to set one or another 
 machine in motion, but exercising no direct influence 
 upon the movements of the whole. 
 
 Our voluntary acts consist of two parts : firstly, we 
 
 1 Compare "TraitS des Passions," Art. XIII. and XVL 
 
336 gTajr S*rm0tts, (Jssap, mrtr JjLefrtttos. [xiv. 
 
 desire to perform a certain action ; and, secondly, we some- 
 how set a-going a machinery which does what we desire. 
 But so little do we directly influence that machinery, 
 that nine-tenths of us do not even know its existence. 
 
 Suppose one wills to raise one's arm and whirl it round. 
 Nothing is easier. But the majority of us do not know 
 that nerves and muscles are concerned in this process ; 
 and the best anatomist among us would be amazingly 
 perplexed, if he were called upon to direct the succession, 
 and the relative strength, of the multitudinous nerve- 
 changes, which are the actual causes of this very simple 
 operation. 
 
 So again in speaking. How many of us know that the 
 voice is produced in the larynx, and modified by the 
 mouth ? How many among these instructed persons 
 understand how the voice is produced and modified? 
 And what li ving man, if he had unlimited control over all 
 the nerves supplying the mouth and larynx of another 
 person, could make him pronounce a sentence ? Yet, if 
 one has anything to say, what is easier than to say it ? 
 We desire the utterance of certain words : we touch the 
 spring of the word-machine, and they are spoken. Just 
 as Descartes' engineer, when he wanted a particular hy- 
 draulic machine to play, had only to turn a tap, and what 
 he wished was done. It is because the body is a ma- 
 chine that education is possible. Education is the forma- 
 tion of habits, a superinducing of an artificial organization 
 upon the natural organization of the body ; so that acts, 
 which at first required a conscious effort, eventually 
 became unconscious and mechanical. If the act which 
 primarily requires a distinct consciousness and volition 
 of its details, always needed the same effort, education 
 would be an impossibility. 
 
 According to Descartes, then, all the functions which 
 are common to man and animals are performed by the 
 
(fit JBmarfca' '*iWW*&" 337 
 
 body as a mere mechanism, and he looks upon conscious- 
 ness as the peculiar distinction of the " chose pensante" 
 of the " rational soul," which in man (and in man 
 only, in Descartes' opinion) is superadded to the body. 
 This rational soul he conceived to be lodged in the 
 pineal gland, as in a sort of central office ; and, here, by 
 the intermediation of the animal spirits, it became aware 
 of what was going on in the body, or influenced the 
 operations of the body. Modern physiologists do not 
 ascribe so exalted a function to the little pineal gland, but, 
 in a vague sort of way, they adopt Descartes' principle, 
 and suppose that the soul is lodged in the cortical part 
 of the brain at least this is commonly regarded as the 
 seat and instrument of consciousness. 
 
 Descartes has clearly stated what he conceived to be 
 the difference between spirit and matter. Matter is sub- 
 stance which has extension, but does not think ; spirit is 
 substance which thinks, but has no extension. It is very 
 hard to form a definite notion of what this phraseology 
 means, when it is taken in connexion with the location 
 of the soul in the pineal gland ; and I can only represent 
 it to myself as signifying that the soul is a mathematical 
 point, having place but not extension, within the limits 
 of the pineal gland. Not only has it place, but it must 
 exert force ; for, according to the hypothesis, it is com- 
 petent, when it wills, to change the course of the animal 
 spirits, which consist of matter in motion. Thus the 
 soul becomes a centre of force. But, at the same time, 
 the distinction between spirit and matter vanishes ; inas- 
 much as matter, according to a tenable hypothesis, may 
 be nothing but a multitude of centres of force. The 
 case is worse if we adopt the modern vague notion that 
 consciousness is seated in the grey matter of the cere- 
 brum, generally ; for, as the grey matter has extension, 
 that which is lodged in it must also have extension. 
 
 2 
 
338 |^5 S*rm0ns, (Sssmrs, miir IJdwfos. [xiv. 
 
 And thus we are led, in another way, to lose spirit 
 in matter. 
 
 In truth, Descartes' physiology, like the modern physi- 
 ology of which it anticipates the spirit, leads straight to 
 Materialism, so far as that title is rightly applicable to the 
 doctrine that we have no knowledge of any thinking sub- 
 stance, apart from extended substance ; and that thought 
 is as much a function of matter as motion is. Thus we 
 arrive at the singular result that, of the two paths opened 
 up to us in the " Discourse upon Method," the one 
 leads, by way of Berkeley and Hume, to Kant and 
 Idealism ; while the other leads, by way of De La 
 Mettrie and Priestley, to modern physiology and Mate- 
 rialism. 1 Our stem divides into two main branches, 
 which grow in opposite ways, and bear flowers which 
 look as different as they can well be. But each branch 
 is sound and healthy, and has as much life and vigour 
 as the other. 
 
 If a botanist found this state of things in a new plant, 
 I imagine that he might be inclined to think that his tree 
 was monoscious that the flowers were of different sexes, 
 and that, so far from setting up a barrier between the 
 two branches of the tree, the only hope of fertility lay in 
 bringing them together. I may be taking too much of a 
 naturalist's view of the case, but I must confess that this 
 is exactly my notion of what is to be done with meta- 
 physics and physics. Their differences are comple- 
 mentary, not antagonistic ; and thought will never be 
 completely fruitful until the one unites with the other. 
 
 1 Bouillier, into whose excellent " History of the Cartesian Philosophy " 
 I had not looked when this passage was written, says, very justly, that Descartes 
 " a merite le titre de pere de la physique, aussi bien que celui de pere de la 
 inetaphysique moderne " (t. i. j>. 197). See also Kuno Fischer's " Geschichte 
 der neuen Philosophie," Bd. L ; and the very remarkable work of Lange, 
 " Geschichte des Materialismus." A good translation of the latter would be 
 a great service to philosophy in England. 
 
xiv.] n gjestarfcs' "gia^urae." 339 
 
 Let me try to explain what I mean. I hold, with the 
 Materialist, that the human body, like all living bodies, 
 is a machine, all the operations of which will, sooner or 
 later, be explained on physical principles. I believe that 
 we shall, sooner or later, arrive at a mechanical equivalent 
 of consciousness, just as we hcwe arrived at a mechanical 
 equivalent of heat. If a pound weight falling through a 
 distance of a foot gives rise to a definite amount of heat, 
 which may properly be said to be its equivalent ; the same 
 pound weight falling through a foot on a man's hand gives 
 rise to a definite amount of feeling, which might with equal 
 propriety be said to be its equivalent in consciousness. 1 
 And as we already know that there is a certain parity 
 between the intensity of a pain and the strength of one's 
 desire to get rid of that pain ; and secondly, that there 
 is a certain correspondence between the intensity of the 
 heat, or mechanical violence, which gives rise to the pain, 
 and the pain itself; the possibility of the establishment 
 of a correlation between mechanical force and volition 
 becomes apparent. And the same conclusion is sug- 
 gested by the fact that, within certain limits, the inten- 
 sity of the mechanical force we exert is proportioned to 
 the intensity of our desire to exert it. 
 
 Thus I am prepared to go with the Materialists wher- 
 ever the true pursuit of the path of Descartes may lead 
 them ; and I am glad, on all occasions, to declare my 
 belief that their fearless development of the materialistic 
 aspect of these matters has had an immense, and a most 
 beneficial, influence upon physiology and psychology. 
 Nay more, when they go farther than I think they are 
 entitled to do when they introduce Calvinism into 
 
 1 For all the qualifi cations which need to be made here, I refer the reader 
 to the thorough discussion of the nature of the relation between nerve-actior, 
 and consciousness in Mr. Herbert Spencer's "Principles of Psychology/ 
 p. 115 et seq. 
 
340 5ag J5*rm0n:s, (Essajrs, aittr gebbtos. [ XIV 
 
 science and declare that man is nothing but a machine, 
 I do not see any particular harm in their doctrines, so 
 long as they admit that which is a matter of experi- 
 mental fact namely, that it is a machine capable of 
 adjusting itself within certain limits. 
 
 I protest that if some great Power would agree to 
 make me always think what is true and do what is right, 
 on condition of being turned into a sort of clock and 
 wound up every morning before I got out of bed, I 
 should instantly close with the offer. The only freedom 
 I care about is the freedom to do right ; the freedom to 
 do wrong I am ready to part with on the cheapest terms 
 to any one who will take it of me. But when the Ma- 
 terialists stray beyond the borders of their path and 
 begin to talk about there being nothing else in the 
 universe but Matter and Force and Necessary Laws, 
 and all the rest of their " grenadiers," I decline to 
 follow them. I go back to the point from which we 
 started, and to the other path of Descartes. I remind 
 you that we have already seen clearly and distinctly, 
 and in a manner which admits of no doubt, that all our 
 knowledge is a knowledge of states of consciousness. 
 " Matter " and " Force " are, so far as we can know, mere 
 names for certain forms of consciousness. " Necessary " 
 means that of which we cannot conceive the contrary. 
 " Law " means a rule which we have always found to hold 
 good, and which we expect always will hold good. Thus 
 ii is an indisputable truth that what we call the material 
 world is only known to us under the forms of the ideal 
 world ; and, as Descartes tells us, our knowledge of the 
 soul is more intimate and certain than our knowledge of 
 the body. If I say that impenetrability is a property of 
 matter, all that I can really mean is that the conscious- 
 ness I call extension, and the consciousness I call resist- 
 ance, constantly accompany one another. Why and 
 
xiv.] <$n gmsrfes' " isr0ttm/' 34i 
 
 how they are thus related is a mystery. And if I say 
 that thought is a property of matter, all that I can mean 
 is that, actually or possibly, the consciousness of exten- 
 sion and that of resistance accompany all other sorts of 
 consciousness. But, as in the former case, why they are 
 thus associated is an insoluble mystery. 
 
 From all this it follows that what I may term legiti- 
 mate materialism, that is, the extension of the conceptions 
 and of the methods of physical science to the highest as 
 well as the lowest phsenomena of vitality, is neither more 
 nor less than a sort of shorthand Idealism; and Des- 
 cartes' two paths meet at the summit of the mountain, 
 though they set out on opposite sides of it. 
 
 The reconciliation of physics and metaphysics lies in 
 the acknowledgment of faults upon both sides ; in the 
 confession by physics that all the phsenomena of nature 
 are, in their ultimate analysis, known to us only as facts 
 of consciousness ; in the admission by metaphysics, that 
 the facts of consciousness are, practically, interpretable 
 only by the methods and the formulae of physics : and, 
 finally, in the observance by both metaphysical and 
 physical thinkers of Descartes' maxim assent to no 
 proposition the matter of which is not so clear and 
 distinct that it cannot be doubted. 
 
 When you did me the honour to ask me to deliver this 
 address, I confess I was perplexed what topic to select. 
 For you are emphatically aod distinctly a Christian 
 body ; while science and philosophy, within the range 
 of which lie all the topics on which I could venture 
 to speak, are neither Christian, nor Unchristian, but are 
 Extrachristian, and have a world of their own, which, to 
 use language which will be very familiar to your ears just 
 now, is not only "unsectarian," but is altogether "secular." 
 The arguments which I have put before you to-night, for 
 
342 JPaa S*rm0ns, (ssiW3, anb Hrfmtos. [xiv. 
 
 example, are not inconsistent, so far as I know, with any 
 form of theology. 
 
 After much consideration, I thought that I might be 
 most useful to you, if I attempted to give you some vision 
 of this Extrachristian world, as it appears to a person who 
 lives a good deal in it ; and if I tried to show you by 
 what methods the dwellers therein try to distinguish 
 truth from falsehood, in regard to some of the deepest 
 and most difficult problems that beset humanity, "in 
 order to be clear about their actions, and to walk sure- 
 footedly in this life," as Descartes says. 
 
 It struck me that if the execution of my project came 
 anywhere near the conception of it, you would become 
 aware that the philosophers and the men of science are 
 not exactly what they are sometimes represented to you 
 to be ; and that their methods and paths do not lead so 
 perpendicularly downwards as you are occasionally told 
 they do. And I must admit, also, that a particular and 
 personal motive weighed with me, namely, the desire to 
 show that a certain discourse, which brought a great 
 storm about my head some time ago, contained nothing 
 but the ultimate development of the views of the father 
 of modern philosophy. I do not know if I have been 
 quite wise in allowing this last motive to weigh with me. 
 They say that the most dangerous thing one can do in a 
 thunderstorm is to shelter oneself under a great tree, and 
 the history of Descartes' life shows how narrowly he 
 escaped being riven by the lightnings, which were more 
 destructive in his time than in ours. 
 
 Descartes lived and died a good Catholic, and prided 
 himself upon having demonstrated the existence of God 
 and of the soul of man. As a reward for his exertions, 
 his old friends the Jesuits put his works upon the 
 " Index," and called him an Atheist ; while the Pro- 
 testant divines of Holland declared him to be both a 
 
xiv.] n gwrarfcs' " gisroum." 343 
 
 Jesuit and an Atheist. His books narrowly escaped 
 being burned by the hangman ; the fate of Vanini was 
 dangled before his eyes ; and the misfortunes of Galileo 
 so alarmed him, that he well-nigh renounced the pur- 
 suits by which the world has so greatly benefited, and 
 was driven into subterfuges and evasions which were not 
 worthy of him. 
 
 " Very cowardly," you may say ; and so it was. 
 But you must make allowance for the fact that, in the 
 seventeenth century, not only did heresy mean possible 
 burning, or imprisonment, but the very suspicion of it 
 destroyed a man's peace, and rendered the calm pursuit 
 of truth difficult or impossible. I fancy that Descartes 
 was a man to care more about being worried and dis- 
 turbed, than about being burned outright ; and, like 
 many other men, sacrificed for the sake of peace and 
 quietness, what he would have stubbornly maintained 
 against downright violence. 
 
 However this may be, let those who are sure they would 
 have done better throw stones at him. I have no feelings 
 but those of gratitude and reverence for the man who did 
 what he did, when he did ; and a sort of shame that any 
 one should repine against taking a fair share of such 
 treatment as the world thought good enough for him. 
 
 Finally, it occurs to me that, such being my feeling 
 about the matter, it may be useful to all of us if I 
 ask you, "What is yours? Do you think that the 
 Christianity of the seventeenth century looks nobler and 
 more attractive for such treatment of such a man ?" You 
 will hardly reply that it does. But if it does not, may it 
 not be well if all of you do what lies within your power 
 to prevent the Christianity of the nineteenth century 
 from repeating the scandal ? 
 
 There are one or two living men, who, a couple of 
 centuries hence, will be remembered as Descartes is now, - 
 
344 |t v ag S.ermjcrns, (gssags, attb gabiefos. [xiv. 
 
 because they have produced great thoughts which will 
 live and grow as long as mankind lasts. 
 
 If the twenty-first century studies their history, it will 
 find that the Christianity of the middle of the nineteenth 
 century recognised them only as objects of vilification. 
 It is for you and such as you, Christian young men, to 
 say whether this shall be as true of the Christianity of 
 the future as it is of that of the present. I appeal to you 
 to say " No," in your own interest, and in that of the 
 Christianity you profess. 
 
 In the interest of Science, no appeal is needful; as 
 Dante sings of Fortune 
 
 " Quest' e colei, ch'& tanto posta in croce 
 Pur da color, che le dovrian dar lode 
 Dandole biasmo a torto e mala voce. 
 Ma ella s' & beata, e ci6 non ode : 
 Con 1' altre prime creature lieta 
 
 Volve sua spera, e beata si gode : " l 
 
 so, whatever evil voices may rage, Science, secure among 
 the powers that are eternal, will do her work and be 
 blessed. 
 
 1 "And this is she who's put on cross so much, 
 Even by them who ought to give her praise, 
 Giving her wrongly ill repute and blame. 
 But she is blessed, and she hears not this : 
 She, with the other primal creatures, glad 
 .Revolves her sphere, and blessed joys herself." 
 
 Inferno, vii. 9095 (W. M. Eossetti's Translation) 
 
 THE END. 
 
 VWIKMC! B. CLAT, 6OKS, A TO TAYLOR, PRraTEnfl, BREAD STREET HILL, 
 
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