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 ITS LAW AND CAUSE 
 
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 PEOGEESS: 
 
 ITS LAW AND CAUSE ; 
 
 WITH OTHER DISQUISITIONS, VIZ.: 
 
 THE PUYSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER— ORIGIN AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC— 
 
 THE SOCIAL ORGANISM— USE AND BEAUTY— THE 
 
 USE OF ANTHROPOMORPHISM. 
 
 BY 
 
 HERBERT SPENCER. 
 
 PROGRESS : ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 The current conception of progress is 
 somewhat shiftinj;: and indefinite. Some- 
 times it comprehends little mare tiian simple 
 growth— as of a nation in the number of its 
 members and the extent of territory over 
 which it has spread. Sometimes it has ref- 
 erence to quantity of nmlcrial products— as 
 when the advance of auriculture and manu- 
 factures is the topic. Sometimes the supenot 
 quality o-f these products is contemplated : 
 and sometimes the new or improved appli- 
 ances by which they are produced. When, 
 again, we speak of moral or intellectual prog- 
 ress, we refer to the state of the individual 
 or people exhibiting it ; while, when the 
 progress of knowledge, of science, of art, is 
 commented upon, we have in view certain 
 abstract results of human thought and action. 
 Not only, however, is the current conception 
 of progress more or less vague, but it is in 
 ^eat measure erroneous. It takes in not so 
 
 much the reality of progress as its accom> 
 
 panimenls — not so much the substance as tha 
 shallow. That progress in intelligence seeo 
 during the growth of the child into the man, 
 or the savage into the philosopher, is com- 
 monly regarded as consisting in the greater 
 number of facts known and laws under- 
 stood : whereas the actual progress consists 
 in those internal modifications of which this 
 increased knowledge is the expression. 
 Social progress is supposed to consist in the 
 produce of a greater quantity and variety of 
 the articles required for satisfying men's 
 Wants ; in the increasing security of person 
 and property ; in widening freedom of 
 action : whereas, rightly understood, social 
 progress consists in those changes of struc- 
 ture in the social organispi which have 
 entailed these consequences. The current 
 conception is a teleological one. The phe- 
 nomena are contemplated solely as bearing 
 on human happiness. Only those changes 
 are held to constitute progress which directly 
 or indirectly tend to heighten human happi-
 
 234 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 ness. And they are thought to constitute 
 progress simply because they tend to height- 
 en human happiness. But rightly to under- 
 stand progress, we must inquire what is the 
 nature of these changes, considered apart 
 from our interests. Ceasing, for example, to 
 regard the successive geological modifica- 
 tions that have taken place in the earth, as 
 modifications that have gradually fitted it for 
 tlic habitation of man, and as therefore a 
 geological progress, we must seek to deter- 
 mine the character common to these modifi- 
 calions — the law to whicli they all conform. 
 And similarly in every other case. Leaving 
 out of sight concomitants and beneficial con- 
 sequences, let us ask what progress is in 
 itself. 
 
 In respect to that progress which individ- 
 ual organisms display iti the course of their 
 evolution, this question has been answered 
 by the Germans. The investigations of 
 Wolflf, Goethe, and Von Baer have estab- 
 lished the truth that the series of changes 
 gone through during the development of a 
 seed into a tree, or an ovum into an animal, 
 constitute an advance from homogeneity of 
 structure to heterogeneity of structure. In 
 its primary stage, every germ consists of a 
 substance that is uniform throughout, both 
 in texture and chemical composition. The 
 first step is the appearance of a difference 
 between two parts of this substance ; or, as 
 Hie phenomenon is called in physiological 
 Language, a differentiation. Each of these 
 differentiated divisions presently begins itself 
 to exhibit some contrast of parts ; and by 
 and by these secondary differentiations be- 
 come as definite as the original one. This 
 process is continuously repeated — is simul- 
 taneously going on in all parts of the grow- 
 ing embryo ; and by endless such diffcreu- 
 tations there is finally produced that complex 
 combination of tissues and organs constitut- 
 ing the adult animal or plant. This is the 
 history of 3.11 organisms whatever. It is set- 
 tlcii bei^oud dispute that organic progress 
 consists in a chang;; from the homogeneous 
 to the heterogeneous. 
 
 Now, we propose in the first place to 
 jfciow, tliat this law of organic prrjgress is the 
 law of all progress. Whether it be in the 
 development of the earth, in the develop- 
 ment of life upon its surface, in the develop- 
 ment of society, of government, of manufac- 
 tures, of commerce, of language, literature, 
 science, art, this same evolution of the simple 
 into the complex, through successive dif- 
 ferentiations, holds througiiout. From the 
 earliest traceable cosraical changes down to 
 the latest results of civilization, we shall find 
 that the transformation of the liomogeneous 
 into the heterogeneous, is that in which prog- 
 ress essentially consists. 
 
 With the view of showing that if the 
 nebular hypothesis be true, the genesis of 
 the solar system supplies one illustration of 
 this law, let us assume that the matter of 
 which the sun and planets consist was once 
 in a diffused form ; and that from the grav- 
 
 itation of its atoms there resulted a gradual 
 concentration. By the hypothesis, the solar 
 system in its nascent state existed as an in- 
 definitely extended and nearly horaogencoiii 
 medium — a medium almost homogeneous in 
 density, iu temperature, and in other physi- 
 cal attributes. The first advance toward 
 consolidation resulted in a differentiation lie 
 tween the occupied space which the nebulous 
 mass still tilled, and the unoccupied space 
 which it previously filled. There simultane- 
 ously resulted a contrast in density and a 
 contrast in temperature, between the interior 
 and the exterior of this mass. And at the 
 same time there arose throughout it rotatory 
 movements, whose velocities varied accord- 
 ing to their distances from its centre. These 
 differentiations increased in number and de- 
 gree until there was evolved the organized 
 group of sun, planets, and satellites, which 
 we now know — a group which presents 
 numerous contrasts of structure and action 
 among its members. There are the immense 
 contrasts between the sun and planets, in 
 bulk and in weight ; as well as the subordi- 
 nate contrasts between one planet and 
 another, and between the planets and their 
 satellites. There is the similarly marked 
 contrast between the sun as almost station- 
 ary, and the planets as moving round him 
 with great velocity ; while there are the sec- 
 ondary contrasts between the velocities and 
 periods of the several planets, and between 
 their simple revolutions and the double ones 
 of their satellites, which have to move round 
 their primaries while moving round the sua. 
 There is the yet further strong contrast be- 
 tween the sun and the planets in respect of 
 (.wnperature ; and there is reason to suppose 
 Ihat the planets and satellites differ from 
 each other in their proper heat, as well as in 
 Bie heat they receive from the sun. 
 
 When we bear in mind that, in addition to 
 iiese various contrasts, the planets and satel- 
 lites also differ iu respect to their distances 
 from each other and their primary — in re- 
 spect to the inclinations of their orbits, the 
 inclinations of their axes, their times of rota- 
 tion ou their axes, their specific gravities, 
 and their physical constitutions — we see 
 what a high degree of heterogeneity the solar 
 system exhibits, when compared with the 
 almost comj)lete homogeneity of the nebu- 
 lous mass cut of which it is supposed to have 
 originated. 
 
 Passing from this hypothetical illustration, 
 which must be taken for what it is worth, 
 without prejudice to the general argument, 
 let us descend to a more certain order of evi- 
 dence. It is now generally agreed among 
 geologists that the earth was at first a mass 
 of molten matter ; and that it is still tluid and 
 incandescent at the distance of a few miles 
 beneath its surface. Originally, then, it was 
 homogeneous in consistence, and, in virtue 
 of the circulation that takes place in heated 
 fluids, must have been comparatively homo- 
 geneous in temperature ; and it must have 
 been surrounded by an atmosphere consisting 
 
 Loo^ ^54 7?i 7
 
 <p^^ 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AXD CAUSE. 
 
 286 
 
 partly of the elements of air and water, and 
 partly of those various other elements which 
 assuine a gaseous form at high temperatures. 
 That slow cooling by radiation which is still 
 going on at an inappreciable rate, and which, 
 though originally far more rapid than now, 
 iircessariiy required an immense time to pro- 
 duce any decided change, must ultimately 
 liave resulted in the soliditication of the por- 
 tion most able to part with its heat — namel}', 
 the surface. In the thin crust thus formed 
 we have the first marked differentiation. A 
 still further cooling, a consequent thickening 
 of this crust, and an accompanying deposi- 
 tion of all solidifiable elements contained in 
 the atmosphere, must finally have been fol- 
 lowed by the condensation of the water pre- 
 viously existing as vapor. A second marked 
 differentiation must thus have arisen : and as 
 the condensation must have taken place on 
 the coolest parts of the surface — namely, 
 about the poles — there mu.st thus have re- 
 sulted the first geographical distinction of 
 parts. To these illustrations of growing 
 heterogeneity, which, though deduccii from 
 the known laws of matter, may be regarded 
 as more or less hypothetical, geology ailds an 
 extensive series that have been inductively 
 established. Its investigations show that the 
 earth has been contiuual'y becoming more 
 heterogeneous iu virtue of the miilliplicatiou 
 of the strata which form its crust ; further, 
 that it has been becoming more heterogene- 
 ous in respect of the composition of these 
 strata, the latter of whicli, being made from 
 the detritus of the older ones, are many of 
 them rendered highly complex iiy the mix- 
 ture of materials they contain ; and that this 
 heterogeneity has been vastly increased bj' 
 the action of the eartii's still molten nucleus 
 upon its envelope, whence have resulted not 
 only a great variety of igneous rocks, but 
 the tilting up of sedimentary strata at all 
 angles, the formation of faults and metallic 
 veins, the production of endless dislocations 
 and irregularities. Yet again, geologists 
 teach us that the earth's surface has been 
 growing more varied in elevation — that the 
 most ancient mountain systems are the small 
 est, and the Andes and Himalayas the most 
 modern ; while in all probability there have 
 been corresponding changes in the bed of the 
 ocean. As a consequence of these ceaseless 
 differentiations, we now find that no consid- 
 erable portion of the earth's exposed surface 
 is like any other portion, either iu contour, 
 in geologic structure, or in chemical competi- 
 tion ; and that in most parts it changes from 
 mile to mile in all these characteristics. 
 
 Moreover, it must not be forgotten that 
 there has been simultaneously going on a 
 gradual differentiation of climates. As fast 
 as the earth cooled and its crust solidified, 
 there arose appreciable differences in tem- 
 perature between those parts of its surface 
 most exposed to the sun and those less ex- 
 posed. Gradually, as the cooling progressed, 
 these differences became more pronounced ; 
 until there finally resulted those marked con- 
 trasts between regions of perpetual 
 
 ST'Sl'SQ 
 
 snow, regions where winter and summer 
 alternately reign for periods varying accoid- 
 ing to the latitude, and regions where sum- 
 mer follows summer with scarcely an appre- 
 ciable variation. At the same time the suc- 
 cessive elevations and subsidences of differ- 
 ent portions of the earth's crust, tending as 
 they have done to the present irregular dis- 
 tribution of land and sea, have entailed vari- 
 ous modifications of climate beyond those 
 dependent on latitude ; while a yet further 
 series of such modifications have been pro- 
 duced by increasing differences of elevation 
 in the land, which have in sundry places 
 brought arctic, temperate, and tropical cli- 
 mates to within a few miles of each other. 
 And the general result of these changes is, 
 that not only has every extensive region its 
 own meteorologic conditions, but that every 
 locality in each region differs more or less 
 from others in those conditions, as in its 
 structure, its contour, its soil. Thus, be- 
 tween our existing earth, the phenomena of 
 whose varied crust neither geographers, geol- 
 ogists, mineralogists, nor meteorologists have 
 3'et enumerated, and the molten globe out of 
 which it was evolved, the contrast in hetero- 
 geneity is sufficiently striking. 
 
 When from the earth it.^elf we turn to the 
 plrtnts and animals that have lived, or still 
 live, upon its surface, we find ourselves in 
 some difficulty from lack of facts. That 
 every existing org.-.nism has been developed 
 out of the simph- into the complex, is indeed 
 the first established truth of all ; and that 
 every organism that has existed wassiniilarly 
 developed is an inference which no physiol- 
 ogist will hesitate to draw. But when we 
 piuss from individual forms of life to life iu 
 general, and inquire whether the same law 
 is seen in the ensemble of its manifestations — 
 whether modern plants and animals are of 
 more heterogeneous structure than ancient 
 ones, and whether the earth's present P"'lora 
 and Fauna are more heterogeneous than the 
 Flora and Fauna of the past — we find the 
 evidence so fragmentary that every conclu- 
 sion is open to dispute. Two thirds of the 
 earth s surface being covered by water ; a 
 great part of the exposed land being inacces- 
 sible to, or untravolled by, the geologist ; the 
 greater part of the remainder having been 
 scarcely more than glanced at ; and even the 
 most familiar portions, as England, having 
 been so imperfectly explored that a new 
 series of strata has been added within these 
 four years — it is manifestly impossible for u.s 
 to say with any certainly what creatures 
 have, and what have not, existed at any 
 particular period. Considering the perishable 
 nature of many of the lower organic forms, 
 the metamorphosis of many sedimentary 
 strata, and the gaps that occur among the 
 rest, we shall see further reason for distrust- 
 ing our deductions. On the one hand, the 
 repeated discovery of vertebrate remains in 
 strata previously supposed to contain none 
 — of reptiles where only fish were thought to 
 exist — of mammals where it was believed 
 ere no creatures higher than reptiles
 
 236 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 ^renders it daily more mnuifpst liow small 
 is the value of neirative evidence. 
 
 On tlie otiier liand, tlie wortliiessness of 
 the assumption that we liave discovered the 
 earliest, or anything Hive the eailie.st, organic 
 remains, is becoming etjually clear. That 
 the oldest known .sedimentary roclcs have 
 been greatly changed by igneous action, and 
 that still older ones have been totally trans- 
 formed by it, is becoming undeniable. And 
 the fact that sedimentary strata earlier than 
 any we know have been melted up, being 
 admitted, it must also be admitted that we 
 cannot say how far back in time this destruc- 
 tion of sedimentary strata has been going 
 on. Thus it is manifest that the title. Pa- 
 IcBozoic, as applied to the earliest known fos- 
 siliferous strata, involves a petitio principii ; 
 and that, for aught we know to the con 
 trary, only the last few chapters of the 
 earth's biological history may have come 
 down to us. On neither side, therefore, is 
 the evidence conclusive. Nevertheless we 
 cannot but think that, scanty as they are, 
 the facts, taken altogether, tend to show 
 both that the more heterogeneous organisms 
 have been evolved in the later geologic 
 periods, and that life in general has been 
 more heterogeneously manifested as time 
 had advanced. Let us cite, in illustration, the 
 one case of the vertebrata. The earliest known 
 vertebrate remains are those of tislies ; and 
 fishes are the most homogeneous of the ver- 
 tebrata. Later and more heterogeneous are 
 reptihs. Later still, and more heterogeneous 
 still, are mammals and birds. If it be said, 
 as it may fairly be said, that the Palajozoic 
 deposits, not being estuary deposits, are not 
 likelv' to contain the remains of terrestrial 
 vertebrata, which may nevertheless have ex- 
 isted at that era, we reply that we are merely 
 pointiugto the leading facts, mch as ihey are. 
 
 But to avoid auy such criticism, let us take 
 the mammalian subdivision only. The earli- 
 est known remains of mammals are those of 
 small marsupials, which are tlie lowest of the 
 mammalian type ; while, conversely, the 
 highest of the mammalian type — man — is the 
 most recent. The evidence that the verte- 
 brate fauna, as a whole, has become more 
 heterogeneous, is considerably stronger. To 
 the argument that the vertebrate fauna of the 
 Palueozoic period, consisting, so far as we 
 know, enlireh' of fishes, was less heterogene- 
 ous than the modern vertebrate fauna, which 
 includes reptiles, birds, and mammals, of 
 multitudinous genera, it may be replied, as 
 before, that estuary deposits of the Palasozoic 
 period, could we find them, might contain 
 other orders of vertebrata. But no such 
 reply can be made to the argument that 
 whereas the marine vertebrata of the Pala?o- 
 zoic period consisted entirely of cartilaginous 
 fishes, the marine vertebrata of later periods 
 include numerous genera of osseous fishes ; 
 and that, therefore, the later marine verte- 
 brate faunas are more heterogeneous than 
 the oldest known one. Nor, again, can any 
 such reply be made to the fact that there are 
 far more numerous orders and genera of mam- 
 
 malian remains in the tertiary format ions 
 than in the secondary formations. Did wo 
 wish me ely to make out the best ca.se, wu 
 might dwell upon the opinion of Dr. Carpen- 
 ter, who says that " the general facts of Pa- 
 IfBontology appear to sanction the belief that 
 tlie same plan may be traced out in what nuiy 
 be called thegeiieral life of the globe, as in the 
 individual life of every one of the forms of 
 organized beings which now people it." Or 
 we might quote, as decisive, the judgment of 
 Professor Owen, who holds that the earlier 
 examples of each gioup of creatures sever- 
 ally departed le.ss widely from archetypal 
 generality than the later ones — were severally 
 less unlike the fundamental form common to 
 the group as a whole ; that is to .say — consti- 
 tuted a less heterogeneous group of creat- 
 ures ; and who further upholds the doctrine 
 of a biological progression. But in defer- 
 ence to an authority for whom we have the 
 highest respect, wlio considers that the evi- 
 dence at present obtained does not justify a 
 verdict either way, we are content to leave 
 the question open. 
 
 Whether an advance from the homogene- 
 ous to the heterogeneous is or isnotdisplaywl 
 in the biological history of the globe, it is 
 clearly enough displayed in the progress of 
 the latest and most heterogeneous creature — 
 man. It is alike true that, during the period 
 in which the earth lias been peopled, the 
 human organism has grown more heterogene- 
 ous among the civilized divisions of the 
 species ; and that the species, as a whole, 
 has been growing more heterogeneous in 
 virtue of the multiplication of races and the 
 differentiation of tliese races from each other. 
 
 In proof of the first of these positions we may 
 cite the fact that, in the relative developmeni 
 of the limbs, the civilized man departs more 
 widely from the general type of the placental 
 mammalia than do the lower human races. 
 While often possessing well-developed body 
 and arms, the Papuan has extremely small 
 legs : thus reminding us of the quadrumana, 
 in which there is no great contrast in size 
 between the hind and fore limbs. But in 
 the European, the greater length and ma'^s- 
 iveness of the legs has become very marked 
 — the fore and hind limbs lire relatively 
 more heterogeneous. Again, the greater ratio 
 which the cranial bones l.ear to the facial 
 bones illustrates the same truth. Among the 
 vertebrata in general, progress is marked by 
 an increasing heterogeneity in the vertebral 
 column, and more especially in the verte- 
 brae constituting the skull : the higher 
 forms being distinguished by the relatively 
 larger size of the bones which cover the 
 brain, and the relatively smaller size of those 
 which form the jaw, etc. Now, this char- 
 acteristic, which is stronger in man than in 
 any other creature, is stronger in the Euro- 
 pean than in the savage. Moreover, judging 
 from the greater extent and variety of faculty 
 he exhibits, we may infer that the civilized 
 man has also a more complex or heterogene- 
 ous nervous system than the uacivilized
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 237 
 
 man : and indeed the fact is in part visible 
 in the increased ratio which his cerebrum 
 bears to the subjacent ganglia. 
 
 If further elucidation be needed, we may 
 find it in every nursery. The infant Euro- 
 pean has sundry maikcd poiuts of resem- 
 blance to the lower human races ; as in tlie 
 flatness of the alaj of the nose, the depression 
 of its bridge, the divergence and forward 
 opening of the nostrils, the form of llie lips, 
 the absence of a frontal siuus, the width \ni- 
 tween the eyes, the smallness of the legs. 
 Now, as the developmental process by which 
 these traits are turned into those of the adult 
 European, is a coulinualiou of that change 
 from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous 
 displayed during the previijiis evolution of 
 the embryo, which every physiologist will 
 
 tidmit ; it follows tiiat the parallel develop- 
 uental process by which the like tniits of the 
 liirbarous races have been turned into those 
 of the civilized races, has also been a con- 
 tinuation of the chiinge from the himogeue- 
 ous to the heterogeneous. The truth of the 
 pecond position — that nuitikiud, as a whole, 
 have bttcome more heterogeneous — is sool)vi- 
 ous a-s scarcely to need illustration. Every 
 work on Etiinology, by its divisions and sub- 
 divisions of races, bears testimony to it. 
 Even were we to admit the hypothesis that 
 mankind originated from several sejiamte 
 stocks, it W(.uld still remain true, that as, 
 from each of these slocks, there have sprung 
 many now widely diHerent tribes, which are 
 proved by philological i-vidtnce to have had 
 a comm()U origin, the race as h whole is far 
 less homogeneous than it once was. Add to 
 which, that we have in the Anglo-Ameri- 
 cans an example of a new variety arising 
 within these few generations; and that, if 
 we may trust to the description of observers, 
 we are likeiy soon to have another such ex- 
 ample in Australia. 
 
 On passing from humanity under its indi- 
 vidual form, to huniiuiity as socially em- 
 bodied, we find tlie general law still nii>re 
 variously exemplified. The change from the 
 homogeneous to the heterogeneous is dis- 
 played equally iu the progress of civilization 
 as a whole, and in the progress of every tribe 
 or nation ; and is still going on with increas- 
 ing rapidity. As we see in existing barbarous 
 tril)es, society in its first and lowest form is 
 a homogeneous aggre-gatinn of individuals 
 having like powers and like functions : the 
 only marked difference of function being 
 that which accompanies difference of sex. 
 Every man is warrior, hunter, fisherman, 
 tool-maker, builder ; every woman performs 
 the same drudgeries ; every family is self- 
 sufficing, and save for purposes of aggression 
 und defence, might as well live apart from 
 Ibc rest. Veiy early, however, iu the pro- 
 cess of social evolution, we find an incipient 
 differentiation between the governing and 
 the governed. Some kind of chieftainship 
 seems coeval with the first advance from the 
 state of separate wandering families to that 
 of a nomadic tribe* The authority of the 
 
 strongest makes itself felt among a body bi 
 savages as in a herd of animals or a posse of 
 schoolboys. At first, however, it is indefi- 
 nite.uncertain ; is shared by others of scarcely 
 inferior power ; and is unaccompanied by 
 any difference in occupation or style of liv- 
 ing : the first ruler kills his own game, makes 
 his own weapons, builds his own hut. and 
 economically considered, does not differ from 
 others of his tribe. Gradually, as the tribe 
 progresses, the contrast between the govern- 
 ing and the governed grows more decided. 
 Supreme power liecomes hereditary in one 
 family ; the head of that family, ceasing to 
 provide for his own wants, is served by 
 others ; and he begins to assume the sole 
 oHice of ruling. 
 
 At the same time there has been arising H 
 co-ordinate species of government — that of 
 religion. As all ancient records and tradi- 
 tions prove, the earliest rulers are regarded 
 as divine personages. The maxims and 
 commands they uttered during their lives are 
 held sacred after their deaths, and are en- 
 forced by their divinely-descended succes- 
 sors ; who in their turns are promoted to 
 the pantlienn of the race, there to be wor- 
 shipped and propitiated along with their pred- 
 ecessors : the mo>-t ancient of whom is the 
 supreme god, and the rest subordinate gods. 
 For a long time these connate forms of 
 government— civil and religious — continue 
 closely as.socialed. For many generations 
 the king continues to bethe chief priest, and 
 the priesthood to be members of the royal 
 race. For many ages religious law continues 
 to contain more or less of civil regulation, 
 and civil law topos.sess more or k'ss of relig- 
 ious sanction ; and even among the most ad. 
 vanced nations these two controlling agen- 
 cies are by no means completely differen- 
 tiated from each other. 
 
 Having a common root with these, and 
 gradually diverging from them, we find yet 
 another controlling agency — that of manners 
 or ceremonial usages. AH titles of honor 
 are originally the names of the god-king ; 
 afterward of God and the king ; still later of 
 persons of high rank ; and finally come, 
 some of them, to be used between man and 
 man. All forms of complimentary ad- 
 dress were at first the expressions of submis- 
 sion from prisoners to their conqueror, or 
 from subjects to their ruler, either human 
 or divine — expressions that were afterward 
 used to propitiate subcniiuate authorities, 
 and slowly descended into ordinary inter- 
 course. All modes of salutation were once 
 <ib( isaaces made before the monarch and 
 u>-i d in worship of him after his death. Pres- 
 t miy others of the god-descended race were 
 similaily saluted ; and by degrees some of the 
 salutations have become the due of all. 
 Thus, no sooner does the originally homo- 
 geneous social massdifferentiateintothegov- 
 erned and the governing parts, than this last 
 exhibits an incipient differentiation into re- 
 ligious anfl secular — Church and State ; 
 wliile at the same time there begins to be 
 differentiated from both, that Icps definite
 
 283 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 species of government which rules our daily 
 intercourse — a species of goverrimeiil vviiicli, 
 as we may see in heralds' colieircs, in t)ool<s 
 of the peerai^e, ia masters of ceremonies, is 
 nut without a certain embodiment of Us own. 
 Each of these is itself subject to successive 
 differentiations. In the course of ages there 
 arises, as among ourselves, a higlily com- 
 plex political organization of monarcli, min- 
 isters, lords and commons, with their subor- 
 dinate administrative departments, courts of 
 justice, revenue offices, etc., supplemented 
 in the provinces by municipal governments, 
 county governments, parish or union govern- 
 ments — all of them moie or less elaborated. 
 By its side there grows uj) a highly complex 
 religious organization, with its various giades 
 of oificials, from archbishops down to sex- 
 tons, its colleges, convocations, ecclesiastical 
 courts, etc. ; to all which must be added the 
 ever-multiplying independent sects, each 
 with its general and local authorities. And 
 at the same time there is developed a highly 
 complex aggregation of customs, manners, 
 and temporary fashions, enforced by society 
 at large, and serving to control those minor 
 transactions between man and man which are 
 not regulated by civil and religious law. 
 Moreover it is to be observed that this ever- 
 increasing heterogeneity in the governmental 
 appliances of each nation has been accom- 
 panied by an increasing heterogeneity in the 
 governmental appliances of different nations ; 
 all of which are more or less unlike in their 
 political systems and legislation, in their 
 creeds and religious institutions, in their cus- 
 toms and ceremoniul usages. 
 
 Simultaneously there has been going on a 
 second differentiation of a more familiar 
 kind ; that, namely, by which the mass of 
 the community has been segregated into dis- 
 tinct classes and orders of workers. While 
 the goveraiug part has undergone the com- 
 plex developmeat above detailed, the gov- 
 erned part has undergone an equally com- 
 plex development, which has resulted m that 
 minute division of labor characterizing ad- 
 vanced nations. It is needless to trace out 
 this progress from its first Stages, up through 
 the caste divisions of the East and the incor- 
 porated guilds of Europe, to the elaborate 
 producing and distributing organization ex- 
 isting among ourselves. Political economists 
 have lung since descriljed the evolution 
 which, beginning with a tribe whose mem- 
 bers severally perform the same actions each 
 for himself, ends with a civilized community 
 whose members severally perform different 
 actions for each other ; and they have 
 further pointed out the changes through 
 which the solitary producer of any one com- 
 modity is transformed into a combination of 
 producers who, united under a master, take 
 separate parts in the manufacture of such 
 commodity. But there are yet other and 
 higher phases of this advance from the ho- 
 mogeneous tu the heteioi^entousinthe indus- 
 trial organization of s^jcicty. 
 
 Long after considerable progress has been 
 made in the division oi labor among different 
 
 classes of workers, there is still little or no 
 division of labor among the widely separated 
 parts of the communily ; the nation continues 
 comparatively homogeneous in the resjwct 
 that in each district the same occupations 
 are pursued. But when roads and other 
 means of transit becouie numerous and good, 
 the different districts begiu to assume differ- 
 ent functitms, and to become mutually de- 
 pendent. The calico manufacture locates 
 itself in this county, the woollen-cloth man- 
 ufacture in that ; silks are produced here, 
 lace there ; stockings in one place, shoes in 
 another ; pottery, hardware, cutlery, come 
 to have their special towns ; and ultimately 
 every locality becomes more or less distin- 
 guished from the rest by the leading occupa- 
 tion carried on in it. Nay, more : this subdi- 
 vision of functions shows itself not only 
 among the different parts of the same nation, 
 but among different nations. That exchange 
 of commodities which free-trade promises so 
 greatly to increase will ultimately have the 
 effect of specializing, in a greater or less de- 
 gree, the industry of each people. So that 
 beginniug with a barbarous tribe, almost if 
 not quite homogeneous in the fuuctions of 
 its members, the progress has been, and still 
 is, toward an economic aggregation of the 
 whole human race ; growing ever more 
 heterogeneous in respect of the separate 
 functions assumed by separate nations, the 
 separate functions assumed by the local 
 sections of each nation, the separate func- 
 tions assumed by the many kinds of makers 
 and traders in each town, and the separate 
 functions assumed by the workers united in 
 producing each commodity. 
 
 Not only is the law thus clearly exempli- 
 fied in the evolution of the social organism, 
 but it is exemplified with equal clearuess in 
 the evolution of all products of human 
 thought and action, whether concrete or ab- 
 stract, real or ideal. Let us take Language 
 as our first illustration. 
 
 The lowest form of language is the ex- 
 clamation, by which an entiieidea is vaguely 
 conveyed through a single sound ; as among 
 the lower animals. That human language 
 ever consisted solely of exclamations, and so 
 was strictly homogeneous in respect of its 
 parts of speech, we have no evidence. But 
 that language can be traced down to a form 
 in which nouns and verbs are its only ele- 
 ments, is an established fact. In the gradual 
 multiplication of parts of speech out of these 
 primary ones— in the diffeienliatioa of verbs 
 into active and passive, of nouns into ab- 
 stract and concrete — in the rise of distinc- 
 tions of mood, tense, person, of number and 
 case — in the formation of auxiliary verbs, of 
 adjectives, adverbs, pronouns, prepositions, 
 articles— in the divergence of those orders, 
 genera, species, and varieties of parts of 
 speech by which civilized races express mi- 
 nute modifications of meaning — we see a 
 change from the homogeneous to the hetero- 
 geneous. And it may be remarked, in pass- 
 ing, that it is more especially in virtue of 
 having carried this subdivision of function
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 239 
 
 to a greater extent and completeness, that the 
 Enj^lish hinguage is superior to all others. 
 
 Another aspect under which we may trace 
 the development of language is the diflferen- 
 tiatiou of words of allied meanings. Phi- 
 lology early disclosed the truth that in all 
 languages words may be grouped into fami- 
 lies having a common ancestry. An aborig- 
 inal name a[jplied indiscriminately to each 
 of au extensive and ill-defined class of things 
 or actions, presently luulergoes modifications 
 by which the chief divisions of the class are 
 expressed. These several names springing 
 from the primitive root, themselves become 
 the parents of other names stdl further mod- 
 ified. And by the aid of those systematic 
 modes which presently arise, of making de- 
 rivations and formii-.g compound terms ex- 
 pressing still smaller distinctions, there is 
 linally developed a tribe of words so hetero- 
 geneous in sound and meaning that to the 
 uninitiated it seems incredible that they 
 should have had a common origin. Mean- 
 wiiile from other roots there are being evolved 
 other such tribes, until there results a lan- 
 guage of some sixty thousand or more luilike 
 words, signifying as many unlike objects, 
 qualities, acts. 
 
 Yet ancther way in which language in 
 general advances from the homogcueous to 
 the heterogeneous, is in the multiplication of 
 languages. Wiiethcr, as Max Miiller and 
 Bunsen think, all languages have grown from 
 one stock, or whether, as some philolgists 
 s:iy, they have grown from two or more 
 stocks, it is clear that since large families of 
 languages, as the Indo-European, are of one 
 parentage, they have become distinct through 
 a process of continuous divergence. The 
 same diffusion over the earth's surface which 
 has led to the differentiation of tlie race, has 
 simultaneously led to a differentiation of 
 their speech ; a truth which we see further il- 
 lustrated in each nation by the peculiarities of 
 <lialect found in several districts. Thus the 
 progress of language conforms to the general 
 law, alike in the evolution of languages, in 
 the evolution of families of words, and in the 
 •evolution of parts of speech. 
 
 On passing from spoken to written lan- 
 guage, we come upon several cla-sses of facts, 
 all havins: similar implications. Written 
 language is connate with painting and sculp- 
 ture ; and at fir.'^t all three are appendages of 
 architecture, and have a direct connection 
 with the primary form of all government — 
 the theocratic. Merely noting by the way 
 the fact that sundry wild races, as for ex- 
 ample the Australians and the tribes of South 
 Africa, are given to depicting perscnages and 
 events upon the walls of caves, which are 
 probably regarded as sacred places, let us 
 pass to the case of the Egyptians. Among 
 them, as also amonff the As.syrians, we find 
 mural ptiiutings used to decorate the Itmple 
 of the god and the palace of the king (which 
 were, indeed, originally identical) ; and as 
 such they were governmental af i liances in 
 the same sense that ?t;ite-pageants and relig- 
 ious feasts were. Fiuther. they weie gov- 
 
 ernmental appliances in virtue of represent- 
 ing the worship of the god, the triumphs of 
 the god-king, the submission of his subjects, 
 and the punishment of the rebellious. And 
 yet again they were goveinmental, as being 
 the 'pro^iucts of an art leverenced by the 
 people as a sacred mystery. From the habit- 
 ual use of this pictorial rtpresentation there 
 naturally grew up the but slightly-modified 
 practice of picture-wiiting — a practice which 
 was found still extant among the Mexicans 
 at the time they were discovered. By abbre- 
 viations analogous to those still ^'^oiiiP^ on in 
 our own written and t-poken language, the 
 most familiar of these pictured figures were 
 successively simplified ; and ultimately there 
 grew up a system of symbcla, most of which 
 had but a distant lesemblance to the things 
 for which tliey stood. The inference that 
 the hieroglyphics of the Egyptians were thus 
 produced is confirmed by the fact that the 
 picture-writing of the Mexicans was found to 
 have given birth to a like family of ideo- 
 graphic forms ; and among thtm, as among 
 the Eiiyptians, these had been partially dif- 
 ferentiated into the kiniohfjiad or imitative, 
 and the tropical, or symbc lie : which were, 
 however, used together in the same record. 
 In Egypt, written language underwent a 
 furthe^ differentiation : whence resulted the 
 hieratic and the epiniolof/rajthic or enchorial : 
 both of which are derived from tlie original 
 hieroglyphic. At the same time we find that 
 for the expression of proper names which 
 could not be otherwise conveyed, phonetic 
 symbols were employed ; and though it is 
 alleged that the Egyptians never actually 
 achieved complete alphabetic writing, yet it 
 can scarcely be doubted that these phonetic 
 symbols occa-sioually used in aid of their ideo- 
 graphic ones, were the geims out of which 
 alphabetic writing grew. Once having be- 
 come 8e[>arate from hieroglyphics, alphabetic 
 writing itself underwent numerous differen- 
 tiations — nmltiplied alphabets were pro- 
 duced ; between most of which, however, 
 more or less connection can still be traced. 
 And in each civilized nation there has now 
 grownup, for the representation of one set 
 of sounds, several sets of written signs used 
 for distinct purposes. Finally, through a yet 
 more important differentiation came print- 
 ing ; which, uniform in kind as it was at 
 first, has since become multiform. 
 
 While written language was passing 
 through its earlier stages of development, 
 the mural decoration which formed its root 
 was being differentiated into painting and 
 sculpture. The gods, kings, men, and ani- 
 mals represented were originally marked by 
 indented outlines and colored. In most cases 
 these outlines were of such depth, and the 
 oLijcct they circumscribed so far rounded and 
 marked out in its leading parts, as to form a 
 species of work intermediate between in- 
 taglio and bas-relief. In other cases we 
 see an advance upon this ; the raised spaces 
 between the figures being chiselled off, and 
 the figures themselves appropriately tinted, a 
 painted bas-relief was produced. The re-
 
 HO 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 stored Assyrian architecture at Sydenham 
 exhibits this style of art carried to greater 
 perfection— the persons and thini^s repre- 
 sented, though still barbarously colored, aro 
 carved out with more truth and in greater 
 detail : and in the winged lions and bulls 
 used for the angles of galcways, we may see 
 a considerable advance toward a completely 
 sculptured figure ; which, nevertheless, is 
 btill coloreij, and still forms part of the build- 
 ing. But while in Assyria the production 
 of a statue proper seems to have been little, 
 if at all, attempted, we may trace in Egyp- 
 tian art the gradual separation of the sculp- 
 tured figure from the wall. A walkthrough 
 the collection iu the British Museimi will 
 clearly show this ; while it will at the same 
 time afford an opportunity of observing the 
 evident traces which the independent statues 
 bear of their derivation from ba.s-relief : see- 
 ing that nearly all of them not only display 
 that union of the limbs with the l)ody which 
 is the characteristic of bas-relief, but have 
 the back of the statue united from head to 
 foot with a block which stands iti place cf 
 the original wall. Greece repeated the lead- 
 ing stages of this progress. As in Egypt 
 and Assyria, these twin arts were at first 
 united with each other and with their parent, 
 architecture, and were the aids of religion 
 and government. On the friezes of Greek 
 temples we see colored bas-reliefs represent- 
 ing sacrifices, battles, processions, games — 
 all in some sort religious. <)u the pediments 
 we see painted sculptures more or less united 
 with the tympanum, and having for subjects 
 the triumphs of gods or heroes. Even when 
 we come to statues that are definiti^ly sep- 
 arated from the buildings to which they per- 
 tain, we still find them colored ; and only in 
 the later periods of Greek civilization docs 
 the differentiatum of sculpture from painting 
 appear to have become complete. 
 
 In Christian art we may clearly trace a 
 parallel regenesis. All early paintings and 
 sculptures throughout Europe were religious 
 in subject — represented Christs, crucifixions, 
 virgins, holy families, apostles, sainta. They 
 formed integral parts of church architecture, 
 and were among the means of exciting wor- 
 ship ; as in Roman Catholic countries they 
 still are. Moreover, the early sculptures of 
 Christ on the cross, of virgins, of saints, 
 were colored; and it needs" but to call to 
 mind the painted madonnas and crucifixes 
 still abundant in continental churches and 
 highways, to perceive the significant fact 
 that painting and sculpture continue ia 
 closest connection with each other where 
 thej' continue in closest connection with their 
 parent. Even when Christian sculpture was 
 pretty clearly differentiated from painting it 
 was still religious and governmental in its 
 subjects — was used for tombs in churches 
 and statues of kings : while, at the same time, 
 painting, where not purely ecclesiastical, 
 was applied to the decoration of palaces, and 
 besides representing royal personages, was 
 almost wholly devoted to sacred legends. 
 Only in quite recent times have painting and 
 
 sculpture become entirely secular arts. Onljr 
 within these few centuries has )>ainlinK been 
 divided into historical, landscape, marine, 
 architectural, genre, animal, still life, etc., 
 and sculpture grown heterogeneous in re- 
 spect ot the variety of real and ideal subjects 
 with which it occupies itself. 
 
 Strange as it seems, then, we find it no less 
 true, that all forms of written language, of 
 painting, and of sculpture, have a common 
 root in the politico- religious decorations of 
 ancient temples and palaces. Little re.>*em- 
 blance as they now have, the bust that stand* 
 on the console, the landscape that hangs 
 against the wall, and the copy of the Titnes 
 lying upon the table, are remotely akin ; not 
 only in nature, but by extraction. The 
 brazen face of the knocker which the post- 
 man has just lifted, is related not only to 
 the woodcuts of the llluxtrattd London JVcws 
 which he is delivering, but to the characters 
 of the billet-doux which accompanies if. Be- 
 iween the painted window, the prayer-book 
 on which its light falls, and the adjacent 
 m inumcnt there is consangunity. The effi- 
 gies on our coins, the signs over shops, ihe 
 figures that fill every ledger, the coats-of- 
 anns outside the carriage panel, and the pla- 
 cards inside the omnil)us, are, in common 
 with dolls, blue-books, paper-hangings, line- 
 ally descended from tlie rude sculpture-paint- 
 ings in which the Egyptians represented the 
 triumphs and worship of their god-kings. 
 Perhaps no example can be given which 
 more vividly illustrates the multiplicity and 
 heterogeneity of the products that in course 
 of time may arise b}' 6uc(;essive differentia- 
 lions from a common stock. 
 
 Before passing to other classes of facts, it 
 should be observed that the evolution of the 
 homogeneous into the heterogeneous is dis- 
 played not only in the separation of paiuting^ 
 and sctilpture from architecture and from 
 each other, and in the greater variety of sub- 
 jects they embody, but it is further shown in 
 the structure of each work. A modern pic- 
 ture or statue is of far more heterogeneous 
 nature than an ancient one. An Egyptian 
 sculpture-fresco represents all its figures as on 
 one plane — that is, at the same distance from 
 the ej'e ; and so is less heterogeneous than a 
 painting that represents them as at various 
 distances from the eye. It exhibits all objecta 
 as exposed to the same degree of light ; and so 
 is less heterogeneous than a painting which 
 exhibits different objects and different parts of 
 each object as in dificrt'ut degrees of light. It 
 uses scarcely any but the primary colors, and 
 these in their full intensity ; and so is less- 
 heterogeneous than a painting which, intro- 
 ducing the primary colors but sparingly, 
 ernploj's an endless variety of intei mediate 
 tints, each of heterogeneous composition, and 
 differing from the rest not only in quality 
 but in intensity. Moreover, we see in these 
 earliest works a great uniformity of concep- 
 tion. The same arrangement of figures is 
 perpetually reproduced — the same actions, 
 attitudes, faces, dresses. In Egypt the 
 modes of rppreser.tation were so fixed that it
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 341 
 
 ■was sacrilege to introduce a novelty ; and 
 indeed it could liave been only in conse- 
 quence of a tixcd mode of representation 
 thai a syslcm of hieroglyphics became possi- 
 ble. The Assyrian l);itj-reliefs display paial- 
 li'l chiiracter.s. Deities, kings, attendants, 
 winded figures and animals, are severally 
 depicted in like pnsilions, hnldmg like ini- 
 plcuiLUls, doing like things, and with like ex- 
 press-ion or uun-expres^sijn of face. If u 
 palm-grove is introduce;!, all the trees are of 
 the same height, have the same number of 
 leaves, and are equidistant. When water is 
 imitated, each wave is a counterpart of the 
 re.-t ; and the li.sh, almost always of one 
 kind, arc evenly distributed over the surface. 
 The boards of the kings, the gods, and the 
 ■winged figures, are everywhere similar : as 
 are the manes of the lions, and equally so 
 those of the horses. Hair is re[)iesented 
 throughout by one form of curl. The king's 
 beard is quite arcliitecturally built up of 
 compound tiers of uniform cui Is, alternating 
 with twisted tiers i)luci(l in a transverse 
 direction, audarianged with perfect regular- 
 ity ; and the terminal tufts of the bulls' tails 
 are represented in exactly the same nuiuner. 
 Without tracing out analogous facts in early 
 Christian art, in which, though less striking, 
 they are still visible, the advance in hetero- 
 geneity will be sufticicutly manifest on re- 
 nundieriug that in the pictures of our own 
 day the composition is endlessly varied ; thu 
 attitudes, faces, expressions utdike ; the sub- 
 ordinate objects different in size, form, posi- 
 tion, texture ; and more or less of coulrust 
 even in the smallest details. Or, if we com- 
 pare an Egyptian statue, seated bolt upright 
 on a block, with hands on knees, fingers out- 
 spread and parallel, eyes looking etraight 
 forward, and the two sides perfectly sjTn- 
 metrical in every particular, with a statue of 
 the advanced Greek or the modern school, 
 which is as symmetrical in respect of the 
 position of the head, the body, the limbs, the 
 arrangement of the hair, dress, appendages, 
 and in its relations to neishboring objects, 
 we shall see Iho change fronj the homogene- 
 ous to the heterogeneous clearly manifested. 
 In the co-ordinate origin and gradual dif- 
 ferentiation of poetry, music, and dancing, 
 we have another series of illustrations. 
 Rhythm in speech, rhythm in sound, ami 
 rhythm in motion, were in the beginning 
 parts of the same thing, and have only in 
 process of time become separate things. 
 Among various existing barbarous trilK'S we 
 find them still united. The dances of sav- 
 ages are accompanied by some kind of mo- 
 notonous chant, the clapping of hands, the 
 striking of rude instruments : there ate meas- 
 ured movements, measured words, and meas- 
 ured tones ; and the whole ceremony, usually' 
 having reference to war or sacrifice, is of 
 goveiumenlal character. In the early rec- 
 ords of the historic races we similarly find 
 these three forms ot metrical action united in 
 religious festivals. In the Hebrew writings 
 we read that the triumphal ode composed by 
 
 Moses on the defeat of the Egyptians was 
 sung to an accompaniment of dancing and 
 timbrels. The Israelites danced and sung 
 " at the inauguration of the golden calf. 
 Artd an it is generally agreed that this repre- 
 sentation of the Deity was boriowed fioni 
 the mysteries of Apis, it is probable that the 
 dancing was copied frornthat of the Egyptian* 
 on those occasions." There was «n annual 
 dance in Shiloh on the sacred festival ; and 
 Dosvid danced before the ark. Again, iu 
 Greece the like relation is everywhere seen : 
 the original type being there, as probably ia 
 other cases, a simultaneous chanting and 
 mimetic representation of the life and adven- 
 tures of the god. The Spartan dances were 
 accompanied by hymns and songs ; and iu 
 general the Greeks had " no festivals or rtlig- 
 i.)us a.ssemblies but what were accompanied 
 with songs and dances" — both of them 
 being forms of wor.ehip used before altars. 
 Among the Romans, loo, there were sacred 
 dances : the Salian and Lupercalian being 
 named as of that kind. And even in Chris- 
 tian countries, as at Limoges, in compara- 
 tively recent times, the people have danced 
 in the choir in honor of a saint. The incipi- 
 ent separation of these once united arts from 
 each other and from religion, was early vis- 
 ible in Greece. Probably diverging from 
 dances partly religious, parti}' warlike, as 
 the Corybantian, came the war dances 
 proper, of which there were various kinds ; 
 and from these resulted secular dunces. 
 Meanwhile music and poetry, though still 
 united. cam(i to have an existence separate 
 fri m dancing. The aboriginal Greek poems, 
 religious iu subject, were not recited, but 
 chanted ; and tli(,ugh at first the chant of the 
 poet was accomi)anied by the dance of the 
 chorus, it ultimately grew into independence. 
 Later still, when the poem had been differ- 
 entiated into epic and lyric — when it became 
 the custom to sing thu lyric and recite the 
 e|.ic— poetry proper was bom. As during 
 the same period musical instmuRnts were 
 being inultqilied, we may presume that music 
 came to have an existence apart from words. 
 And both of them were beginning to a.ssume 
 other forms besides the religious. Facts 
 having like implications might be cited from 
 the histories of later times and peoples ; as 
 the practices of our own early n instrels, who 
 sang to the harp heroic narratives versified 
 by them>elves to music of their own compo- 
 sition ; thus uniting the now separate offices 
 of poet, compo.ser, vocalist, and instrumen- 
 talist. But, without further illustration, thu 
 common origin and gradual differentiation 
 of dancing, poetry, and music will be suffi- 
 ciently manifest. 
 
 The advance from the homogeneous to 
 the heterogeneous is displayed not only in 
 the separation of these arts from each other 
 and from religion, but also in the multiplied 
 differentiations which each of them after- 
 ward undergoes, Not to dwell upon the 
 numberless kinds of dancing that have, in
 
 242 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 course of time, come into use ; and not to 
 occupy space in detailing the progress of 
 poetry, as seen in the development of the 
 various forms of metre, of rhyme, and of 
 general orguuizutiou, let us confine our at- 
 tention to music as a type of the group. As 
 argued hy Dr. liurney, and as implied by 
 the customs of still extant barbarous races, 
 the first nuisical instruments were, without 
 doubt, percussive — sticks, calabashes, tom- 
 toms— and were used simply to mark the 
 time of the dance ; and in this consluut rep- 
 etition of the same sound we see music in 
 its most homogeneous form. 
 
 Tlie Egyptians had a lyre with three 
 strings. The eaiiy lyre of the Greeks had 
 four, constituting their tetrachord. lu 
 course of some centuries lyres of seven and 
 eight strings were employed. And, by the 
 expiration of a thousand years, they had ad- 
 vanced to their " great system" uf the double 
 octave. Through all which changes there of 
 course arose a greater heterogeneity of mel- 
 ody. Simiitaneously then; came into use the 
 different modes — Dorian, Ionian, Phrygian, 
 ^olian, and Lydian — answering to our keys ; 
 and of these were there ultimately fifteen. 
 As yet, however, there was but little hetero- 
 geneity in the time of their music. 
 
 Instrumental music during this period 
 being merely the accompaniment of vocal 
 music, and vocal music being completely 
 subordinated to woids, the singer being also 
 the poet, chanting his own compositions and 
 making the lengths of his notes agree with 
 the feet of his verses, there luiavoidably 
 arose a tiresome uniformity of measure, 
 which, as Dr. Jiurue}' says, " no resources 
 of melotly could disguise." Lacking the 
 complex rhythm obtained by our etjual bars 
 and unequal notes, the only rhythm was that 
 produced by the (piautity of the syllables, 
 and was of necessity comparatively monoto- 
 nous. And further, it may be observed that 
 the chant thus resulting, being like recita- 
 tive, was much less clearly dififerentiated 
 from ordinary speech than is our modern 
 song. 
 
 Nevertheless, m virtue of the extended 
 range of notes in use, the variety of modes, 
 the occasional variations of time consequent 
 on changes of metre, and the mulliplicatioa 
 of instruments, music had, toward the close 
 of Greek civilization, attained to consider- 
 able heterogeneity — not indeed as compared 
 with our music, but as compared with that 
 which preceded it. As yet, however, there 
 existed nothing but melody ; harmony was 
 unknown. It was not until Christian church- 
 music iiad reached some development that 
 music in parts was evolved ; and then it 
 came into existence through a very unob- 
 trusive differentiation. Difiicult as it may 
 be to conceive d prioriho'W the advance from 
 melody to harnn)uy could take place without 
 a sudden leap, it is uone the less true that it 
 did so. The circumstance which prepared 
 the way for it was the employment of two 
 choirs singing alternately the same air. 
 Afterward it became the practice — very pos- 
 
 sibly first suggested by a mistake — for the 
 second choir to commence before the first 
 had ceased ; thus producing a fugue. 
 
 With the simple airs then in u.se, a par- 
 tially harmonious fugue might not improb- 
 ably thus result : and a very partially har- 
 monious fugue satisfied the ears of that age, 
 as we know from still preserved examples. 
 The idea having once been given, the com- 
 posing of airs productive of fugal harmony 
 would naturally grow up ; as in some way 
 it did grow up out of this alternate choir- 
 singing. And from the fugue to concerted 
 music of two, three, four, and more parts, 
 the transition was easy. Without pointing 
 out in detail the increasing complexity that 
 resulted from from introducing uotes of vari- 
 ous lengths, from the multiplication of keys, 
 from the use of accidentals, from varieties of 
 time, and so forth, it needs but to contrast 
 music as it is witii music as it was, to see 
 how immense is the increase of heterogene- 
 ity. We see this if, looking at music in its 
 eimemble, we enumerate its many different 
 genera and species — if we consider the divi- 
 sions into vocal, instrumental, and mixed ; 
 and their subdivisions into music for differ- 
 ent voices and different instruments— if we 
 observe the many forms of sacred music, 
 from the simple hymn, the chant, the canon, 
 motet, anthem, etc. up to the oratorio ; and 
 the still more numerous forms of secular 
 music, from the ballad up to the serenata, 
 from the instrumental solo up to the sym- 
 phony. 
 
 Again, the .'lame truth is seen on compar- 
 ing any one sample of aboriginal music with 
 a sample of modern music — even an ordinary 
 song for the piano ; wliich we find to be 
 relatively highly heterogeneous, not only in 
 respect of the varieties in the pitch and in 
 the length of the notes, the number of differ- 
 ent notes sounding at the same instant in 
 company with the voice, and the variations 
 of strength with which they are sounded and 
 sung, but in respect of the changes of key, 
 the changes of time, the changes of timbre of 
 the voice, and the many other modifications 
 of expression. While between the old mo- 
 notonous dance-chant and a grand opera of 
 our own day, with its endless orchestral 
 complexities and vocal combinations, the 
 contrast in heterogeneity is so extrenle that 
 it seems scarcely credible that the one should 
 have been the ancestor of the other. 
 
 Were they needed, many further illustra- 
 tions might be cited. Going back to the 
 early time when the deeds of the god-king, 
 chanted and mimetically represented in 
 dances round his altar, were fuither narrated 
 in picture-writings on the walls of temples 
 and palaces, and so constituted a rude litera- 
 ture, we might trace the development of lit- 
 erature through phases in which, as in the 
 Hebrew Scriptures, it presents in one work 
 theology, cosmogony, history, biography, 
 civil law, ethics, poetry ; through other 
 phases in which as in the Iliad, the religious, 
 martial, historical, the epic, dramatic, and 
 lyric elements are similarly commingled ;
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 di3 
 
 down to its present heterogeneous develop- 
 ment, in which its divisions and subdivisions 
 are so numerous and varied as to defy com- 
 plete classification. Or -we might trace out 
 the evolution of science ; beginning with the 
 era in which it was not yet differentiated 
 from art, and was, in union with art, the 
 handmaid of religion ; passing through the 
 era in which the sciences were so few and 
 rudimentary as to be simultaneously culti- 
 vated by the same philosophers ; and ending 
 with the era in which the genera and species 
 are so numerous that few can enumerate 
 them, and no one can adequately grasp even 
 one genus. Or we might do tlie like with 
 architecture, with the drama, with dress. 
 
 But doubtless the reader is already weary 
 of illustrations ; and our promi.se has been 
 amply fulfilled. We believe we have .shown 
 beyond question, that that which the German 
 physiologi.sts have found to be the law cf 
 organic development is the law of all devel- 
 opment. The advance from the simple to 
 the complex, through a process of successive 
 differentiations, is seen alike in the earliest 
 changes of the universe to which we can 
 reason our way back ; and in the earliest 
 changes which we can inductively establish ; 
 it is seen in the geologic and climatic evolu- 
 tion of the earth, and of every single organ- 
 ism on its surfa<-e ; it is seen in the evolution 
 of humanity, whether contemplated in the 
 civilized individual or in the aggregation of 
 races ; it is seen in the evolution of society 
 in respect alike of its political, its religious, 
 and its economical organization ; and it is 
 seen in the evolution of all those endless con- 
 crete and abstract products of human activ- 
 ity which constitute the environment of our 
 daily life. From the remotest past which 
 science can fathom, up to the novelties of 
 yesterday, that in which progress essentially 
 consists, IS the trauHformuliou of th»» homo- 
 geneous into the heterogeneous. 
 
 And now, from this uniformity of proced- 
 ure, may we not infer some fundamental 
 necessity whence it results? May we not 
 rationaliy seek for some all j)ervading prin- 
 ciple which determines this all-pervading 
 process of things? Does not the universality 
 of the law imply a universal cause f 
 
 That we can fathom such cau.ce, noume- 
 nally considered, is not to be supposed. To 
 do this would be to solve that ultimate mys- 
 tery which must ever transcend human intel 
 ligence. But it still may be possible for us 
 to reduce the law of all progress, above estab- 
 lished, from the condition of an empirical 
 generalization, to the condition of a rational 
 generalization. Just as it was possible to 
 interpret Kepler's laws as necessary conse- 
 quences of the law of gravitation ; so it may 
 be possible to interpiet this law of prcgiess, 
 in its multitorm manifestations, as the neces- 
 sary consequence of some similarly universal 
 principle. As gravitation was assignable as 
 the caused each of the groups of jihenununa 
 which Kepler formulated ; so may seme 
 equally simple attribute of things be assign- 
 
 able as the cause of each of the groups of 
 phenomena formulated in the foregoing 
 pages. We maj' be able to affiliate all these 
 varied and complex evolutions of the homo- 
 geneous into the heterogeneous, upon certain 
 simple factsof immediate experience, which, 
 in virtue of endless repetition, we regard as 
 necessary. 
 
 The probability of a common cause, and 
 the possibility of formulating it, being 
 granted, it will be well, before going farther, 
 to consider what must be the general char- 
 acteristics of such cause, and in what direc- 
 tion we ought to look for it. We can with 
 certainty predict that it has a high degree of 
 generality ; seeing that it is common to such 
 infinitely varied phenomena : just in propor- 
 tion to the universality of its application 
 must be the abstractncss of its character. 
 We need not expect to see in it an obvious 
 solution of this or that form of progress ; 
 because it equally refers to forms of progress 
 bearing little api)arent resemblance to them : 
 its association with multiform orders of facts 
 involves its disso( iation frcm any particular 
 order of facts. Being that which dclermines 
 progress of every kind — aslroncmic, geo- 
 logic, organic, ethnologic, social, economic, 
 artistic, etc. — it must be concerned with 
 some fundamental attribute possessed in 
 common by these ; and must be expressible 
 in terms of this fundamental attribute. The 
 only obvious nspect in which all kinds of 
 pi ogress are alike, is, that they arc modes of 
 clutnge ; and hence, in some characteristic of 
 changes in general, the des-ired solution will 
 l)iobably be found. We may suspect d 
 priori that in some law of change lies the ex- 
 planation of this universal transformation of 
 the homogeneous into the heterogeneous. 
 
 Thus much premised, we pass at once to the 
 statement of the law, which is this : Evei-y 
 actite force produce smore than one change — 
 every cause produces more than one effect. 
 
 Before this law can be duly comprehended, 
 a few examples must be looked at. When 
 one body is struck against another, that 
 which we usually regard as the effect is a 
 change of position or motion in one or both 
 bodies. But a moment's thought shows us 
 that this is a careless and very incomplete 
 view of the matter. Besides the visible 
 mechanical result, sound is produced ; or, to 
 speak accurately, a vibration in one or both 
 bodies, and in the surrounding air ; and 
 under some circumstances we call this the 
 effect. Moreover, the air has not only been 
 made to vibrate, but has had sundry currents 
 caused in it by the transit of the bodies. 
 Further, there is a disarrangement of the par- 
 ticles of the two bodies in the neighborhood 
 of their point of collision, amounting in 
 some cases to a visible condensation. Yet 
 more, this condensation is accompanied by 
 the disengagement of heat. In some cases a 
 spur's — that is, light— results, from the in- 
 candescence of a portion struck off ; and 
 sometimes this incandescence is associated 
 with chemical combination. 
 
 Thus, by the ori;jinal mechanical force ex-
 
 214 
 
 rnOGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 pended in the collision, at least five, and 
 often more, different kinds of chanircs have 
 been produced. Take, ag:iin, the lighting of 
 a caudle. Primarily this is a chemical 
 change consequent on a lise of temperature. 
 The process ot combination having once been 
 set going by extraneous heat, tliere is a con- 
 tinued formation of carb(>nic acid, water, etc. 
 — in itself a result more coniplex than the ex- 
 traneous heat that tirst caused it. But ac- 
 compiiuyiug this process of combination 
 there is a production of heat ; thete is a pro 
 duclion of light ; there is an ascending col- 
 umn of hot gases generated ; there are cur- 
 rents estai)lished in the surrounding air. 
 Moreover, the decomposition of one force into 
 many forces does not end here : each of the 
 several changes produced bectimes the parent 
 of further changes. The carbonic ncid given 
 off wdl by and by combine willi sume base ; 
 or under the influence of sunshine give up 
 its carbon to the leaf of a plant. The water 
 will modify the hygromctric state of the air 
 around ; or, if the current of hot gases con- 
 taining it come against n cold body, will bo 
 condensed : altering the temperature, and 
 perhaps the chemical state, of the surface it 
 covers. The heat given out melts tiie sub- 
 jacent tallow, an<t expands whatever it 
 warms. The light, falling on various sub- 
 stances, calls forth from them reactions by 
 which it is modilied ; and so divera colors 
 are produced. Similarly even with these 
 secandary actions, which may be traced out 
 into ever-multiplying ramilications, until they 
 become too minute to be appreciated. And 
 thus it is with all changes whatever. No 
 case can be named in which an active force 
 does not ev ilve forces of several kinds, and 
 each of these, other groups of forces. Uru- 
 versally the effect is more complex than the 
 cause. 
 
 Doubtless the reader already foresees the 
 course of our argument. This multiplication 
 of results, which is displayed in every event 
 of to-day, has been going on from the begin- 
 ning ; and is true of the grandest phenomena 
 of the universe as of the most insigniticant. 
 From the law that every active force pro- 
 duces more than one change, it is an inevi- 
 table corollary that through all time there 
 has been an ever-growing complication of 
 things. Starting with the ultimate fact that 
 every cause produces more thau one effect, 
 we may readily see that throughout creation 
 there must have gone on, and nmst still go 
 on, a never-ceasing transformation of the 
 homogeneous into the heterogeneous. But 
 let us trace out this truth in detail.* 
 
 ♦ A correlative truth which ought also to be taken 
 into account (that the state of homogeneity is one of 
 nustabli- equilibrinm), but which it would greatly en- 
 cumber the argument to exemplify in connection with 
 the above, will be found developed in the es^say on 
 " Transcendental Physiology." 
 
 t The idea that the Nebular Hypothesis has been 
 disproved because what were thought to be exijiting 
 ne!iula> h.ive been resolved into clusters of stars is 
 almost beneath notice. }i. i>riori it was highly im- 
 probable, if not impos'^ible, ihat nebulous mass^es 
 should t^till remain unconden.sed, while others have 
 beiu condensed millions of years ago. 
 
 Without committing ourselves tr) it as 
 more than a speculation, though a highly 
 I)robableone, let us again conunence wiih the 
 evolution of the solar system out of a nebu- 
 lous medium. f From the mutual attraction 
 of the atoms of a diffused mass whose form 
 is unsymmetrical, there results net only con 
 densation but rotation : gravitation einml- 
 taneously generates both the centriiietal and 
 the centrifugal forces. While the cimdensa- 
 tion and the rate of rotation are progressively 
 increasing, the approach of the atoms neces- 
 sarily generates a progressively increasing 
 temperature. As this temperature rises, light 
 begins to be evolved ; and ultimately there 
 restdts a revolving sphere of lluid matter 
 radiating inten.se heat and light — a sun. 
 
 There are goo<l reasons for believing that, 
 in consequence of the high tangential veloc- 
 it}', and consequent centrifugal force, ac- 
 quired by the outer parts of the condensing 
 nebulous mass, there must be a periodical 
 detachment of rotating rings ; and that, from 
 the breaking up of these nel)ulous rings, 
 there must arise masses which in the courso 
 of their condensation repeat the actions of 
 the parent mass, and so produce planets and 
 their satellites— an inference strongly sup- 
 ported by the still extant rings of Saturn. 
 
 Shouhl it hereafter bo satisfactorily shown 
 that planets and satellites were tlms gener- 
 ated, a striking illustration will l)c afforded 
 of the highly heterogeneous effects produced 
 Ity the primary homogeneous cause ; but it 
 will serve our present ptirpose to point to the 
 fact that from the nuitual attraction of the 
 jiarticlcs of an irregular nebulous mass there 
 result condensation, rotation, heat, and light. 
 
 It follows as a corollary from the nebular 
 liypothesis, that the earth must at first have 
 been incandescent ; and whether the nebular 
 hypothesis be true or not. this original in- 
 candescence of the earth is now inductively 
 established — or, if not established, at least 
 rendered so highly probable that it is a gen- 
 erally admitted geological doctrine. Let us 
 look first at the astronomical attributes of 
 this once molten globe. From its rotation 
 there result the oblateness of its form, the 
 alternations of day and night, and (under the 
 influence of the moon) the tides, aqueous and 
 atmospheric. From the inclination of its 
 axis there result the precession of the equi- 
 noxes and the many differences of the seasons, 
 both simultaneous and successive, that per- 
 vade its surface. Thus the multiplication of 
 effects is obvious. Several of the differenti- 
 ations due to the gradual cooling of the earth 
 have been already noticed — as the formation 
 of a crust, the solidification of sublimed ele- 
 ments, the precipitation of water, etc. — and 
 we here again refer to them merely to point 
 out that they are simultaneous effects of the 
 one cause, diminishing heat. 
 
 Let us now, however, observe the multi- 
 plied changes afterward arising from the 
 continuance of this one cause. The cooling 
 of the earth involves its contraction. Hence 
 the solid crust first formed is presently too 
 large for the shrinking nucleus ; and as it
 
 PROGRESS: ITS L.VTT AND CAUSE. 
 
 245 
 
 cannot support itself, inevitably follows the 
 nucleus. But a spheroidal envelope cannot 
 sink down into contact with a smaller inler- 
 nal spheroid without disruption ; it must 
 run into wrinkles as the rind cf an apple 
 does when the bidk of its interior decreases 
 from evaporation. As the cooling progresses 
 and the envelope thickens, the ridges conse- 
 tjuent on these contractions must become 
 i:reater, rising ultimatel}' into hills and 
 mountains ; and the later systems of moun- 
 tains thus produced must not only be higher, 
 as we find them to be, but the3'- mtist be 
 longer, as we also find them to be. Thus, 
 leaving out of view other modifying forces, 
 we see what immense heterogeneity of sur- 
 face has arisen from the one cause, loss of 
 heat — a heterogeneity which the telescope 
 shows us to be parallel on the face of the 
 moon, where aqueous and atmospheric agen- 
 cies have been absent. 
 
 But we have yet to notice another kind of 
 heterogeneity of surface similarly and simul- 
 taneously caused. "While the earth's crust 
 was still thin, the ridges produced by its 
 contraction must not only have been small, 
 but the spaces between these ridges must 
 have restccl with great evenness upon the sub- 
 jacent liquid spheroid ; and the water in those 
 arctic and antarctic regions in which it first 
 condensed must have been evenly distrib- 
 uted. But as fast as the crust grew thicker 
 and gained corresponding strength, the lines 
 of fracture from lime to time caused in it 
 must have occurred at greater distances 
 apart ; llie iulcrnRdiute surfaces must have 
 followed the contracting nucleus with less 
 uniformity ; and there mu.st have resulted 
 larger areas of land and water. If any one 
 after wrapping up an orange in wet tissue 
 paper, and observing not only how small are 
 the wrinkles but how evenly the intervening 
 spaces lie upon the surface of the orange, 
 win then wrap it up in thick cartridge-paper, 
 and note both the greater height of tiie rid/res 
 and themuch largerspacesthrnughout which 
 the paper does not touch the orange, he will 
 realize the fact, that as the earth's solid en- 
 velope grew thicker, the areas of elevation 
 and depression must have become greater. 
 In place of islands more or less homogcnc- 
 <;usly scattered over an all-embracing sea, 
 there must have gradually arisen heterogene- 
 ous arrangements of continent and ocean, 
 such as we now know. 
 
 Once more, this double change in the ex- 
 tent and in the elevation of the lands, in- 
 , volved yet another species of heterogeneity, 
 that of coast-line. A tolerably even surface 
 raised out of the ocean must have a simple, 
 regular sea-margin ; but a surface varied by 
 table-lands and intersected by mountain- 
 chains must, when raised out of tlie ocean, 
 have an outline extremely irregular both in 
 its leading features and in its details. Thus 
 endless is the accumulation of geological and 
 geographical results slowly brought about 
 by this one cause — the contraction of the 
 earth. 
 
 When wc pass from the agency which ge- 
 
 ologists term igneous, to aqueous and at- 
 mospheric agencies, we see the like ever- 
 growing complications of ellects. The de- 
 nuding actions of air and water have, from 
 the beginning, been modifying every exposed 
 surface ; everywhere causing many diHerent 
 changes. Oxidation, heat, wind, frost, rain, 
 glaciers, rivers, tides, waves, have been un- 
 cejvsingly producing disintegration ; varying 
 in kind and amount according to local cir- 
 cumstances. Acting upon a tract of granite, 
 they here work scarcely an appreciable 
 effect ; there cause exfoliations of the surface 
 and a resulting heap of dtbris and boulders ; 
 and elsewhere, after decomposing the feld- 
 spar into a white clay, carry away this and 
 the accompanying quartz and mica, and de- 
 posit them in separate b(ds, fiuviatile and 
 marine. When the exposed land consists of 
 several unlike formations, sedimentary and 
 igneous, the denudation produces changes 
 proportional)ly more heterogeneous. Iho 
 formations being disintegrable in different 
 degrees, there follows an increased irregular- 
 ity of surface. Theare as drained by different 
 rivers l)eing differently constituted, these 
 rivers carry down to the sea different combi- 
 nations of ingredients ; and so sundry new 
 strata of distinct composition are formed. 
 
 And here indeed we may see very simply 
 illustraterl, the truth, which we shall presently 
 have to trace out in more involved cases, that 
 in proportion to the heterogeneity of the ob- 
 ject or objects on which any force expends 
 itself, is the heterogeneity of the results. A 
 continent of complex structure, exposing 
 uiany strata irregularly distributed, raised to 
 various levels, tilted up at all angles, must, 
 under the same denuding agencies, give ori- 
 gin to immensely multiplied results ; each 
 district must be differently modified ; each 
 river must carry down a different kind of 
 detritus ; each deposit must lie differently dis- 
 tributed by the entangled currents, tidal and 
 other, which wash the contorted shores ; and 
 this multiplication of results must manifestly 
 be greatest where the complexity of the sur- 
 face is greatest. 
 
 It is out of the question here to trace in de- 
 tail the genesis of those endless complications 
 described by geology and physical geog- 
 raphy : else we might show how the general 
 truth, that every active force pr(jduccs more 
 tlian one change, is exemplified in the highly 
 involved fiow of the tides, in the ocean cur- 
 rents, in the winds, in the distribution of 
 rain, in tiie (li>lribulion of heat, and so forth. 
 But not to dwell upon these, let us, for the 
 fuller elucidation of this truth in relation to 
 the inorganic world, consider what would be 
 the consequences of some extensive cosmical 
 revolution — say the subsidence of Central 
 America. 
 
 The immediate results of the disturbance 
 would themselves be suflicienlly complex. 
 Besides tlie numberless dislocations of strata, 
 the ejections of igneous matter, the propaga- 
 tion of earthquake vibrations thousands of 
 miles around, the loud explosions, and the 
 escape of gases, there would be the rush of
 
 246 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 the Atlantic aud Pacific Oceans to supply 
 the vacant space, the sa'jsequent recoil of 
 enormous waves, wliicli would traverse both 
 these oceans and i)r()diice myriads of rhangts 
 along their siiores, the corrt'spnndin!^ atmos- 
 pheric waves complicated by tiie currents sur- 
 rounding eacli volcanic vent, and the electrical 
 discharges with wiiich such disturbances are 
 accompanied. But these temporary effects 
 ■would be insignificant compared with the per- 
 manent ones. The complex currents of the 
 Atlantic and Pacific would be altered in di- 
 rection and amount. The distribution of 
 lieat achieved by these ocean currents would 
 be different from wiiat it is. The arrange- 
 ment of the i-sothermal lines, not even on the 
 neighboring continents, but even throughout 
 Europe, would be changed. The tidt-s would 
 liow differently from wiiat they do now. 
 There would be more or less modificalion of 
 the winds in their periods, strengths, direc- 
 tions, qualities. Rain would fall scarcely 
 anywhere at the same times and in the same 
 quantities as at present, in short, the me- 
 teorological conditions thousands of miles 
 off, on all sides, would be more or less revo- 
 lutionized. 
 
 Thus, without taking into account the 
 infinitude of modifications which these 
 changes of climate would produce upon the 
 flora and fauna, bolli of land and sea, the 
 reader will see the immense heterogeneity of 
 the results wrought out by one force, when 
 that force expends itself upon a previously 
 complicated area ; and he will readily draw 
 the corollary that from the beginning the com- 
 plication has advanced at an increasing rate. 
 
 Before going on to show howoriranic prog- 
 ress also depends ui)on the universal law 
 that every force produces more tlian one 
 change, we have to notice the manifestation 
 of this law in yet another species of inor- 
 ganic progress — namely, chemical. The 
 same general causes that have wrought out 
 the heterogeneity of the earth, physically 
 considered, have simultaneouslv wrought out 
 its chemical heterogeneity. Without dwell- 
 ing upon the general fact that the forces 
 "Which have been increasing the variety and 
 complexity of geological formations, have. 
 at the same time, been i)ringing into contact 
 elements not previously exposed to each 
 other under conditions favorable to union, 
 and so have been adding to the number of 
 chemical compounds, let us pass to the more 
 important complications that have resulted 
 from the cooling of the earth. 
 
 There is every reason to believe that at an 
 extreme heat the elements cannot combine. 
 Even under such heat as can be artificially 
 produced, some very strong affinities yield, 
 as for instance, that of oxygen for hydro- 
 gen ; and the great majority of chemical 
 compounds are decomposed at much lower 
 temperatures. But without insisting upon 
 the higldy probable inference, that when the 
 earth was in its first state of incandescence 
 there were no chemical combinations at all, 
 it will suffice our purpose to point to the un 
 (iuestionable fact that the compounds that car 
 
 exist at the highest temperatures, and whictj 
 must, therefore, have been the first that were 
 formed as the earth cooled, are tho.se of the 
 simplest constitutions. The protoxides — in- 
 cUuling under that head the alkalies, earths, 
 etc. — arc. as a class, the most slabl«> com- 
 pountls we know : most of them resisting de- 
 composition by any heat we can generate. 
 The.se, consisting severally of one atom of 
 each component element, are combinations 
 of the simplest order — are but one degree less 
 honiog( iicous than the elements themselves. 
 iVIorc iH't<Togeneous than these, less stable, 
 aud therefore later in the earth's history, are 
 the (leutoxides, tritoxides, peroxides, etc. ; in 
 which two, three, four or more atoms of oxy- 
 gen ate united willi one atom of metal or other 
 element. Higher than these in heterogeneity 
 are the hydrates ; in which an oxide of hy- 
 drogen, united with an oxide of some other 
 clement, forms a !>vd)stancc whose atoms sev- 
 erally contain at least four ultimate atoms 
 of three different kinds. Yet more hetero- 
 geneous and less .stable still are the salts ; 
 which piescnt us willi compound atoms each 
 made up of five, six, seven, eight, ten, twelve, 
 or more atoms, of three, if not more kinds. 
 Then there are the hydrated salts, of a yet 
 greater heterogeneity, which undergo partial 
 decomposition at much lower temperatures. 
 After them come the further complicjited 
 supersalts and double salts, having a stability 
 again decreased ; and so throughout. With- 
 out entering into (pialifications for which we 
 lack space, we believe no chemist will deny 
 it to be a general law of these inorganic 
 combinations that, other things eqiiai, the 
 stability decreases as the complexity in- 
 cre!i.-es. 
 
 And then when we pass to the compounds 
 of (Jiganu- chenii.slry.we find this general law 
 still further exemplified : we find much 
 greater complexity and much less stability. 
 An atom of albumen, for instance, consists 
 of •l.'S^ ultimate atoms of five different kinds. 
 Fibrine, still more intricate in constitution, 
 contains in each atom, 2!»8 atoms of carbon, 
 40 of nitrogen, 3 of sul()hur, )12S of hydro- 
 gen, and 92 of oxygen — in all, (5G0 atoms ; or, 
 more strictly speaking — equivalents. And 
 these two substances are so unstable as to 
 decompose at quite ordinary temperatures : 
 as that to which the outside of a joint of roast 
 meat is exposed. Thus it is manifest that 
 the present chemical heterogeneity of the 
 earth's surface has arisen by degrees, as the 
 decrease of heat has permitted ; and that it 
 has shown itself in three forms — first, in the. 
 multiplication of chemical compounds ; sec- 
 end, in the greater number of different ele- 
 ments contained in the more modern of these 
 compoimds ; and third, in the higher and 
 more varied multiples in which these more 
 numerous elements combine. 
 
 To say that this advance in chemical hete- 
 rogeneity is due to the one cause, diminution 
 of the earth's temperature, would be to say 
 too much ; for it is clear that aqueous and at- 
 mospheric agencies have been concerned ; 
 and, further, that the aflflnities of the ele-
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 247 
 
 ments themselves are implied. The cause has 
 all aluug been a composite one : the cooling 
 of the earth having been simplj' the most 
 general of the concurrent causes, or assem- 
 blage of conditions. And here, indeed, it 
 may be remarked that in the several classes 
 of facts already dealt with (excepting, per- 
 haps, the first) and still more in those with 
 which we siiall presently deal, the causes 
 are more or less compound ; as indeed are 
 nearly all causes with which we are ac- 
 quainted. Scarcely any change can with 
 logical accuracy be wholly ascribed to one 
 agency, to the neglect of the permanent or 
 temporary conditions under which onl}" this 
 agency produces the change. But as it does 
 not materially affect our argument, we pre- 
 fer for simplicity's sake, to use throughout 
 the ])opuIar mode of expression. 
 
 Perhaps it will be further objected, that to 
 assign loss ot heat as the cause of any 
 changes, is to attribute these changes not to 
 a force, but to the absence of a force. And 
 this is true. Strictly speaking, the changes 
 should be attributed to those forces which 
 come into action when the antagonist force 
 is withdrawn. But though there is an inac- 
 curacy in saying that the Ueer.wj of water 
 is due to the loss of its heat, i; > \ rticticul 
 error arises from it ; nor will a p;u;dlel laxity 
 of expression vitiate our blalemeuls rcspet I- 
 ing the muUiplicat inn of effects. Indeed. Ihc 
 objection serves but to dnxw attcnti.-in to the- 
 fact, that not only does the exertion of a 
 force produce more than one change, but the 
 withdrawal of a force produces more than 
 one change. And this suggests that pcrhajts 
 the most correct statement of our general 
 principle would be its most abstract state- 
 ment—every change is followed by more 
 than one other change. 
 
 Returning to the thread of our exposition, 
 we have next to trace out, in organic 
 I)rogress. this same all-pervading principle. 
 And here, where the evolution of llic homo- 
 geneous into the heterogeneous was first ob- 
 served, the production of many changes by 
 one cause is least easy to demonstrate. The 
 development of a seed into a plant, or an 
 ovum into an animal, is so gradual, while the 
 forces wliich determine it are so involved, 
 and at the same time so unobtrusive, that it 
 is dithcult to detect the multiplication of 
 effects which is elsewhere so obvious. Never- 
 theless, guided by indirect evidence, we may 
 pretty safely reach the conclusion that here 
 too the law holds. 
 
 Observe, first, how numerous are the effects 
 which any marked change wniks upon an 
 adult organism — a human being, for in- 
 stance. An alarming sound or sight, besides 
 the inipres.'^ions on the organs of sense and 
 the nerves, may produce a start, a scream, a 
 distortion of Ibe face, a trembling conse- 
 quent upon a gtui-ral muscular relaxation, a 
 burst of perspiration, an excited action of 
 the heart, a rush of blood to the brain, fol- 
 lowed possibly by arrest of the heart's action 
 and by syncope : and if the system be feeble, 
 an indisposition with its l<,ng train of com- 
 
 phcated symptoms may set in. Similarly in 
 cases of disease. A minute portion of the 
 small-pox virus introduced into the system 
 will, in a severe case, cause, during the first 
 stage, rigors, heat of skin, accelerated pulse, 
 furred tongue, loes of appetite, thirst, epi- 
 gastric uneasiness, vomiting, headache, pains 
 in the back and limbs, muscular weakness, 
 convulsions, delirium, etc. ; in the second 
 stage, cutaneous eruption, itching, tingling, 
 sore throat, swelled fauces, salivation, cough, 
 hoarseness, dyspnaa, etc., and in the third 
 stage, oedematous inflanmiations, pneumonia, 
 pleurisy, diarrhcca, inflammation of the 
 brain, ophthalmia, erysipelas, etc. ; each of 
 which enumerated symptoms is itself more 
 or less complex. >Iedicines, special foods, 
 better air, might in like manner be instanced 
 as producing'multiplied results. 
 
 Now it needs only to consider that the 
 many changes thus wrought by one force 
 upon an adult organism, will be in part par- 
 alleled in an embryo organism, to understand 
 how here also, the evolution of the homo- 
 geneous into the heterogeneous may be duo 
 to the production of many effects by one 
 cause. The external heat and other agencies 
 wliich determine the first complications of 
 the germ, may, by acting upon these, super- 
 induce further complications ; upon these 
 still higher and more numerous ones ; and so 
 on continually : each organ as it is developed 
 serving, b}' its actins and rractinns ur)r,n 
 the rt-st. to initiate new complexities. The 
 first pulsations of the fa?tal heart must simul- 
 taneously aid the unfolding of every jiart. 
 The growth of each tissue, by taking from 
 the blood special proportions of elements, 
 must modify the constitution of the blood ; 
 and .so must modify the nutrition of all the 
 other ti.si.ues. The heart's action, implying as 
 it does a certain waste, necessitates an addi- 
 tion to the blood of effete matteis, which 
 nnist influence the rest of the system, and 
 l)erhaps, as some think, cause the formation 
 of excretory organs. The nervous connec- 
 tions established among the viscera must 
 further multiply their mutual influences : 
 and so continually. 
 
 Still stronger becomes the probability of 
 this view when we call to mind the fact, 
 that the same germ may be evolved into 
 different forms according to circumstances. 
 Thus, during its earlier stages, every embryo 
 is .sexless — becomes either male or female as 
 the balance of forces acting upon it deter- 
 mines. Again, it is a well-established fact 
 that the larva of a working bee will develop 
 into a queen -bee, if, before it is toj late, its 
 food be changed to that on which the larvte 
 of queen-bees are fed. Even more rema.^k- 
 able is the case of certain entozoa. The ovum 
 of a tapeworm, getting into its natural 
 habitat, tlie intestine, unfolds into the wt;il- 
 kmwn form of its parent ; but if carried, as 
 it frequently is, into oth-jr parts of tho sys- 
 tem, it becom(;s a sac-like cieature, called by 
 naturalists the EMn/fOceus—iicrciinna bj ex- 
 tremely different from the tape-worm m as- 
 pect and structure that only after caieful
 
 348 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LA.W AND CAUSE. 
 
 inrestigations has it been proved to have the 
 samrj origin. All wliich instances imply that 
 «ach advance in eml)ryonic complication re- 
 sults from the action of incident forces upon 
 the complication previously existing. 
 
 Indeed, we may Had d priori rea.son to 
 think that the evolution proceeds after this 
 mauuer. For since it is now known that no 
 germ, animal or vegetable, contains the 
 slightest rudiment, trace, or indication of the 
 future organism — now that the microscope 
 has sliown us that the fust process set up in 
 every fertilized germ is a process of re- 
 peated spontaneous tissions, ending in the 
 production of a mass of cells, not one of 
 which exhibits any special character : (here 
 seems no alternative but to suppose that the 
 partial organization at any moment Bui)sist- 
 ing in a growing embryo, is transformed by 
 the agencies acting upon it into the succeed- 
 ing phase of organization, and this info the 
 next, until, through ever increasing com- 
 plexities, the ultimate form is reached. 
 Thus, though the subtilty of the forces and 
 the slowness of the results prevent us from 
 directly showing that the stages of increii.s- 
 ing heterogeneity through which every em- 
 bryo passes, severally arise from the produc- 
 tion ot many changes l)y one force, yet. in- 
 directly, we have strong evidence that they 
 do so. 
 
 We have marked how multitudinous are 
 the effects which one cause may generate in an 
 adult organism ; that a like multiplication of 
 effects must happen in the unfolding organ- 
 ism we have ol)served in sundry illustrative 
 cases ; further, it has been pointed out that 
 the ability which like germs have to origi- 
 nate unlike forms, implies that thesuccessit^e 
 transformations result from the new changes 
 superinduced on previous changes ; and we 
 have seen that structureless as every germ 
 originally is, the development of an organ- 
 ism out of it is otherwise incomprehensible. 
 Not indeed, that we can thus really explain 
 the production of any plant or animal. We 
 are still in the dark respecting those myste- 
 rious properties in virtue of which the germ, 
 when subject to fit intluonces, undergoes the 
 special changes that begin the series of trans- 
 formations. All we aim to show is that, 
 given a germ possessing these mysterious 
 properties, the evolution of an organism 
 from it probably depends upon that multi- 
 plication of effects which we have seen to be 
 the cause of progress in general, so far as we 
 have yet traced it. 
 
 When, leaving the development of single 
 plants and animals, we pass to that of the 
 earth's flora and fauna, the course of our 
 argument again becomes clear and simple. 
 Though, as was admitted in the first part of 
 this article, the fragmentary facts palaeon- 
 tology has accumulated, do not clearly war- 
 rant us in saying that, in the lapse of geo- 
 logic time, there have been evolved more 
 heterogeneous organisms, and more hetero- 
 geneous assemblages of organisms, yel we 
 shall now see that there must ever have been 
 a tendency toward these results. We shall 
 
 find that the production of many effects by 
 one cause, which, as already shown, has 
 been all along increasing the physical hetero- 
 geneity ot the earth, has further involved an 
 increasing heterogeneity in its flora and 
 fauna, individually and collectively. An il- 
 lustration will make this clear. 
 
 Suppose that by a series of upheavals, oc- 
 curring, as they are now known to do, al lung 
 intervals, the East Indian Archipelago were 
 to be, step by step, raised into a continent, 
 and a chain of mountains formed along the 
 axis of elevation. By the first of these up- 
 heavals, the plants and animals inhabiting 
 Borneo. Sumatra, New tf uinea, and the rest, 
 would be subjected to slightly modified sets 
 of conditions. The climate in general w^ould 
 be altered in temperature, in humidity, and 
 in its periodical variations ; while the local 
 differences would be multiplied. These 
 modifications •would affect, perhaps inappre- 
 ciably, the entire flora and fauna of the re- 
 gion. The change of level would produce 
 additional modifications : varying in differ- 
 ent species, and also in different members of 
 the same species, according to their distance 
 from the axis of elevation. Plants, growing 
 only on the sea-shore in special localities, 
 might become extinct. Others, living only 
 in swamps of a certain humidity, would, if 
 they survived at all, probably undergo visi- 
 ble changes of appearance. While still great- 
 er alterations would occur in the jilants grad- 
 ually spreading over the lands newly raised 
 above the sea. The animals and insects liv- 
 ing on these modified plants, would them- 
 selves be in some degree nioditied by change 
 of food, as well as by change of climate ; 
 and the modification would be more marked 
 where, from the dwindling or disappearance 
 of one kind of plant, an allied kind was 
 eaten. In the lapse of the many generations 
 arising before the next upheaval, the sensible 
 or insensible alterations thus produced in 
 each species would become organized — there 
 ■would be a more or less complete adaptation 
 to the new conditions. The next upheaval 
 would superinduce further organic changes, 
 implying wider divergences from the primary 
 forms, and so repeatedly. 
 
 But now let it be observed that the revolu- 
 tion thus resulting would not be a substitu- 
 tion of a thousand more or less modified 
 species for the thousand original species ; 
 but in place of the thousand original species 
 there would arise several thousand species, or 
 varieties, or chauged forms. Each species 
 being distributed over an area of some extent, 
 and tending continually to colonize the new 
 area exposed, its difierent members would be 
 subject to different sets of changes. Plants 
 and animals spreading toward the equator 
 would not be affected in the same way with 
 others spreading from it. Those spreading 
 toward the new shores would undergo 
 changes unlike the changes undergone by 
 those spreading into the mountains. Thus, 
 each original race of organisms would become 
 the root from which diverged several races 
 differing more or less from it and from each
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 d49 
 
 other ; and while some of these might snljse- 
 ((iieully disappear, probably more than cue 
 would survive in the next geologic period : 
 the very dispersion itself increasing the 
 chances of survival. Not only would there 
 Le certain modifications thus caused l)y 
 change of physical conditions and food, but 
 also in some cases other modifications caused 
 by change of habit. The fauna of each 
 inland, peopling, step by step, the newly- 
 raised tracts, would eventually come in con- 
 tact witli the faunas of oilier islands ; and 
 some members of these other faunas would 
 be unlike any creatures before seen. Her- 
 bivores meeting with new beasts of prey, 
 would, in some cases, be led into modes of 
 defence or escape differing from those pre- 
 viously Used ; and simultaneouHly the beasts 
 of prey would modify their modes of pursuit 
 and attack. "We know that when circum- 
 stances demand it, such changes of habit ilo 
 take place in animals ; and we know that if 
 the new l#bits become the dominant ones, 
 they mustXventuallj' in some degree alter the 
 organization. 
 
 Observe, now, however, a further crnsc- 
 queuce. There must arise not simply a tend- 
 ency toward tlie dillcicnliation of each lace 
 of orgaui.sms into several races ; but also a 
 tendency to the occasitmal picduction uf a 
 somewhat higher organism. Taken in the 
 mass these divergent varieties which have 
 been caused by fresh physical cnndilions and 
 liabits of life will exhibit changes quite in- 
 definite in kind and degree ; and clianges 
 that do not necessarily ccnstiiute an advance. 
 I'robably in most cases the modified type will 
 be neither more nor less heteiogeneous than 
 t4ie oiiginal one. In some cases the habits 
 of life adopted being simpler than lieforc, a 
 fcss helerogenecus structure will n suit : 
 there will be a retrogradation. But it mvst 
 now and then occur, that .'•onie division of a 
 tpecies, falling into circunistjinces which 
 give it ralhermore complex cxptritnces, and 
 demand actions tfrnewliat more involved, 
 will have certain of its organs furtlicr differ- 
 entiated in iiroportionately small degrees — 
 will become siightl}' moie heterogeneous. 
 
 Thus, in the natuiai course of things, there 
 will from time to lime arise an increased 
 heterogeneity both of the earth's flora and 
 fauna, and of individual races included, in 
 tliem. Omitting detailed explanations, and 
 allowing lor the qualifications which cannot 
 here be specified, we tliiuk it is clear that 
 geological mutations have all along tended to 
 «omplicate the forms of life, wluther re- 
 garded sepaiately or collectively. The same 
 causes which have ltd to the evolution of the 
 earth's ciust from the simple into the com- 
 ])iex, have simultaneously led to a parallel 
 evolution of the life upon its surface. In 
 this case, as injjrevious ones, we see that the 
 transformation of the homogeneous into the 
 heterogeneous is consequent upon the uni- 
 versal principle, that every active force pro- 
 duces more than one change. 
 
 The deduction here drawn from the estab- 
 lished truths of geology and the general laws 
 
 of life, gains immensely in weight on finding 
 it to be in harmony with an induction drawn 
 from direct cxpctience. Just that diver- 
 gence of many races frc^m one race. Which 
 we inferred must have been continually oc- 
 curring duiing geologic time, we know to 
 have occurred during the prehistoric and 
 historic periods, in man and domestic ani- 
 mals. And just that multiplication of effects 
 which we concluded must hav(? produced the 
 first, we see has produced the las*. Single 
 causes, as famine, pressure of population, 
 war, have periodically led to further disper- 
 sions of mankind and of dependent creat- 
 ures : each such dispersion initiating new 
 modifications, new varieties of type. \V lielher 
 ail the human races be or be not derived 
 from one stock, philology makes it clear that 
 whole groups of races now easily distinguish- 
 able from each other were originally one race 
 — that the diffusion of one race into differ- 
 ent climates and conditions of existence has 
 produced many modified forms of it. 
 
 Similarly with domestic animals. Though 
 in some cases — as that of dogs — comnninity 
 of origin will perhaps be disputed, yet iu 
 other cases — as that of the sheep or the cattle 
 of our own country — it will not be (pies- 
 tioned that local differences of climate, food, 
 and treatment, have transfurnied one original 
 breed into numerous breeds now become so 
 far distinct as to produce unstable hybrids. 
 ^Moreover, through the complications of 
 effects flowing from single causes, we here 
 find, what we before iniferred, not only an 
 increase of general heterogeneity, but also of 
 .special heterogeneity. AVhile of the divergent 
 divisions and subdivisions of the human race, 
 many have undergone changes not constitu- 
 ting an advance ; while in some the type may 
 have degraded ; in others it has become de- 
 cidedly more heterogeneous. The civilized 
 Euroi)ean departs more widely from the ver- 
 tebrate archetype than does the savage. 
 Thus, both the law and the cause of prog- 
 ress, which, from lack of evidence, can be 
 but hypothetically substantiated in respect of 
 the earlier forms of life ou our globe, cau be 
 actually substantiated in respect of the latest 
 forms. 
 
 If the advance of man toward greater 
 heterogeneity is traceable to the production 
 of many cllecls by one cause, still more 
 clearly may the advance of society toward 
 greater heterogeneity be so explained. Con- 
 sider the growth of an industrial organiza- 
 tion. Wnen, as must occasionally happen, 
 some individual of a tribe displays unusu- 
 al aptitude for making an article of gen- 
 eral use — a weapon, for instance — which was 
 before made by each man for himself, there 
 arises a tendency toward the differentiation of 
 that individual into a maker of such weapon. 
 His companions — warriors and hunters all of 
 them— severally feel the importance of having 
 the best weapons that can be made ; and are 
 therefore certain to offer strong inducements 
 to this skilled individual to make weapons 
 for them. He, on the other hand, having 
 not only an unusual faculty, but an unusual
 
 250 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 liking, for malcing sucli weapons (the talent 
 and the desire for any occupatiou being com- 
 monly iis-jociated), is predisposed to fulfil 
 these commissions on the oilorof an adeqiiutj 
 reward : especially as his love of distinction 
 is also gratilied. This first specialization of 
 funcliou, on<;e commenced, tends ever to be- 
 come more decitlcd. On the side of the wea- 
 pon-maker continued practice gives increased 
 skill — increased superiority to his products : 
 on the side of his clients, cessation of practice 
 entails decreased skill. Thus the influences 
 that determine this division of labor grow 
 stronger in both ways ; and the incipient 
 heterogeneity is, on the average of cases, 
 likely to become permanent for that genera- 
 tion, if no longer. 
 
 Observe now, however, that this process 
 not only dilferentiates the social mass int.) 
 two parts, the one monopolizing, or almost 
 monopolizing, the performance of a certain 
 function, and the other having lost the habit, 
 and in some measure the power, of perform- 
 ing that function ; but it tends to imitate 
 other differentiations. The advance we have 
 described implies the introducti m of barter 
 — tlie maker of weapons has, on each occa- 
 sion, to be paid in such other articles as he 
 agrees to taki; in e.^change. But he will not 
 habitually take in e.vchangj one kind of 
 article, but many kinds. He does not want 
 mats only, or skins, or Ashing gear, but ho 
 wants all these ; and on each occixsion will 
 bargain for the particular things he most 
 needs. What follows? If among the mem- 
 bars of the tribe there exist any sliglit 
 differences of skill in the manufacture of 
 these various things, as there are almost sura 
 to do, the weapon-maker will take from each 
 one the thing which that one excels in mak- 
 ing : he will exchange for mats with him 
 whose mats are superior, and will bargain for 
 the fishing gear of whoever has the best. 
 But he who has bartered away his mats or his 
 fishing gear must make other mats or fishing 
 gear for himself ; and in so doing must, in 
 some degree, further develop his" aptitude. 
 Thus it results that the small specialities of 
 faculty possessed by various members of the 
 tribe will tend to grow more decided. If such 
 transactions are from time to time repeated, 
 tliese specializations may become appre- 
 ciable. And whether or not there ensue dis- 
 tinct differentiations of other individuals into 
 makers of particular articles, it is clear tliat 
 incipient differentiations take place through- 
 out the tribe : the one origmal cause produces 
 not only the first dual effect, but a numl)er 
 of secondary dual effects, like in kind, but 
 minor in degree. Tliis process, of which 
 traces may be seen among groups of school- 
 boys, cannot well produce any lasting effects 
 in an unsettled tribe ; but where tiiere grows 
 up a fixed and multiplying community, these 
 differentiations become permanent, and in- 
 crease with each generation. A larger pop- 
 ulation, involving a greater demand for every 
 commodity, intensifies the functional activity 
 of each specialized person or class ; and this 
 renders the specialization more definite 
 
 where it already exists, and establishes it 
 where it is nascent. By increasing the press- 
 ure on the means of subsistence, a larger 
 population again augments these results ; 
 seeing tliat each person is forced more and 
 more to confine himself to that which he can 
 do best, and by which he can gain most. 
 This industrial progress, by aiding future 
 production, opens the way for a further 
 growth of population, which reacts as be- 
 fore : in all which the multiplication of 
 effects is manifest. Presently, under these 
 same stimuli, new occupations arise. Com- 
 peting workers, ever aiming to produce im- 
 proved articles, occiisionally discover better 
 processes or raw materials. In weapons and 
 cutting tools, the substitutirm of brunze for 
 stone entails upon him who first makes it a 
 great increase of demand — so great an in- 
 crease that he i)resenlly finds nil his time 
 occupied in making the bronze for the articles 
 he sells, and is obliged to depute the fashion- 
 ing of these to otheis : and, eventually, the 
 making of bronze, thus gradually differen- 
 tiated from a pre-existing occupation, be- 
 comes an occupation by itself. 
 
 But now mark the ramified changes which 
 follow this change. Bronze soon replaces 
 stone, not only in the articles it was first 
 used for, but in many others— in arms, tools, 
 and utensils of various kinds ; and so affects 
 the manufacture of these things. Further, 
 it affects the processes which these utensils 
 subserve, and the resulting products — modi- 
 fies buildings, carvings, dress, personal dec- 
 orations. Vet again, it sets going sundry 
 m.inufactures which were before impossible, 
 from lack of a material fit for the requisite 
 tools. And all these changes react on the peo- 
 ple — increase their manipulative skill, theii 
 intelligence, their comfort — refine their hab- 
 its and tastes. Thus the evolution of a ho- 
 mogeneous society into a heterogeneous one 
 is clearly consequent on the general piiuciple 
 that many effects are produced by one cause. 
 
 Our limits will not allow us to follow out 
 this process in its higher complications : else 
 might we show how the localization of special 
 industries in special parts ftf a kingdom, ae 
 well as the minute subdivision of labor in the 
 making of each commodity, are s-imilarly 
 determined. Or, turning to a somewhat dif- 
 ferent order of illustrations, we might dwell 
 on the multitudinous changes — material, in- 
 tellectual, moral — cau.sed by printing ; or the 
 further extensive series of changes wrought 
 by gunpowder. But leaving the intermediate 
 phases of social development, let us take a 
 few illustrations from its most recent and its 
 passing phases. To trace the effec.ts of 
 steam-power, in its manifold applications to 
 mining, navigation, and manufactures of all 
 kinds, would carry us into unmanageable 
 detail. Let us confine ourselves to the latest 
 embodiment of steam-power — the locomotive 
 engine. 
 
 This, as the proximate cause of our rail- 
 way system, has changed the face of the 
 country, the course of trade, and the habits 
 of the people. Consider, first, the compU-
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 251 
 
 cated sets of changes that precede the making 
 of every railway— the provisional arrangt- 
 ments, the meetings, the registration, the trial 
 section, the parliamentary survey, the litho- 
 graphed plans, the books of reference, the 
 local deposits and notices, the application to 
 Parliament, the passing Standing Orders 
 Committee, the tirst, second, and third read- 
 ings ; each of which brief heads indicates a 
 multiplicity of transactions, and the devel- 
 opment of sundry occupations — as those of 
 engineers, surveyors, litliographers, parlia- 
 lEootary .igents. share-brokers ; and the crc- 
 aiion t»f sundry others — as those of traffic- 
 takers, reference-takers. Consider, next, 
 the yet more marked changes implied in rail- 
 way construction — the cuttings, embankiugs, 
 / tunnellings, diversions of roads ; the build- 
 ing of bridges and stations ; the laying down 
 of ballast, sleepers, and rails ; the making 
 of engines, tenders, carriages and wagons : 
 which processes, acting upon numerous 
 trades, increase the importation of timber, 
 the quarrj'ing of stone, the manufacture of 
 iron, the mining of coal, the burning of 
 bricks : institute a variety of special nuinu- 
 factures weekly advertised in the liaihruy 
 Times ; and, linally, open tlie way to sundry 
 new occupations, as those of drivers, stokers, 
 cleaners, plate-layers, etc., etc. And then 
 consider the changes, more numerous and 
 involved still, which railways in action pro- 
 duce on the community at large. The organ- 
 ization of every business is more or less mod- 
 ified : ca.se of communication makes it better 
 to do directly what was before done by proxy ; 
 agencies are established where pieviously 
 they would not have paid ; goods are obtained 
 from remote wholesale houses instead of near 
 retail ones, and commodities are used which 
 dist{ince once rendered inaccessible. Again, 
 the rapidity and small cost of carriage tend 
 to specialize more than ever the industries of 
 different districts — to contine each manufac- 
 ture to the parts in which, from local advan- 
 tages, it can be best carried on. Further, 
 the diminished cost of carriage, facilitating 
 distribution, equalizes prices, and also, on 
 the average, lowers prices : tlius bringing 
 divers ai tides within the means of those be- 
 fore unable to buy tlunv, and so increasing 
 their comforts and improving their liabits. 
 At the same time the practice of travelling is 
 immensely extended. Classes who never 
 before thought of it, take annual trips to the 
 sea ; visit their distant relation.^ ; make 
 tours ; and so we are benefited in body, feel- 
 ings, and intellect. Moreover, the more 
 prompt transmission of letters and of news 
 produces further changes — makes the pulse 
 of the nation faster. Yet more, there arises 
 a wide dissemination of cheap literature 
 through railway bookstalls, and of adver- 
 tisements in railway carriages : both of thenj 
 aiding ulterior progress. 
 
 Anei all the innumerable changes here 
 briefly indicated are consequent on the inven- 
 tion of the locomotive engine. The social 
 01 gun ism has been rendered more hetero- 
 geneous in viitue of the many new occupa- 
 
 tions introduced, and the many old ones 
 further specialized ; prices in every place 
 have been altered ; each trader has, more or 
 less, modified his way of eloing business ; 
 and almost every pcison has been affected in 
 his actions, thoughts, emotions. 
 
 Illustrations to the same effect might be 
 indefinitely accumulated. That every influ- 
 ence brought to bear upon society works 
 multiplied effects, and thai increase of hete- 
 rogeneity is due to this multiplication of 
 effects, may be seen in the history of every 
 iraele, every custom, every belief. But it is 
 needless to give additional evidence of this. 
 The only further fact demanding notice is, 
 that we here see still more clearly than ever, 
 the truth before pointed out, that in propor- 
 tion as the area on which any force expends 
 itself becomes heterogeneous, the results are 
 in a yet higher degree multiplied in number 
 and kind. While among the primitive tribes 
 to whom it was first known, caoutchouc 
 caused but a few changes, among ourselves 
 the changes have been so many and varied 
 that the history of them occupies a volume.* 
 Upon the small homogeneous community 
 inhabiting one of the Hebrides the electric 
 telegraph would produce, were it used, 
 scai-cely any results ; but in England the 
 results it produces are multitudinous. The 
 comparatively simple organization under 
 which our ancestors lived five centuries ago, 
 could have undergone but few modifications 
 from an event like the recent one at Canton ; 
 but now the legislative decision respecting it 
 sets up many hundreds of complex modifica- 
 tions, each of which will be the parent of 
 numerous future ones. 
 
 Space permittinL', we could willingly have 
 pursueil the argument in relation to all the 
 subtler results of civilization. As before, 
 we showed that the law of progress to which 
 the organic and inorgauic worlds conform, is 
 also conformed to by language, sculpture, 
 music, etc.; so might wc^ here show that the 
 cause which we have hitherto found to de- 
 termine progress holds in these cases also. 
 We might demonstrate in detail how, in sci- 
 ence, an advance of one division presently 
 advances other divisions — iiow astronom}"" 
 has been immensely forwarded by discoveries 
 in optics, while other optical discoveries have 
 initiated microscopic anatomy, and greatly 
 aided the growth of physiology — how chem- 
 istry has indirectly increased our knowledge 
 of electricity, magnetism, biology, geology — 
 how electricity lias reacted on chemistry, and 
 magnetism, developed our views of light and 
 heat, and disclosed sundry laws of nervous 
 action. 
 
 In literature the same truth might he ex- 
 hibited in the manifold effects of the primi- 
 tive my'stery-play, not only as originating the 
 modern drama, but as affecting through it 
 other kinds of poetry and fiction ; or in the 
 still multiplying forms of periodical litera- 
 ture that have descended from the first uews- 
 
 * " Personal Narrative of the Origin of the Caout- 
 chonc, or India-Kubber Manufacture in JEngland." 
 By Thomas Hancock.
 
 252 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 paper, and which have severally acted and 
 reacted oa other f jrms of literature aad on 
 each otlier. The inlliiencc which a new 
 school of painting — as that of the pre-RufT lel- 
 ites — exercises upon other schools ; tiie hints 
 which all kinds of pictorial art are deriving 
 from pliotograi)hy ; the complex results of 
 new critical doctrines, as those of Mr. Rus- 
 kin, niiglit severally be dwelt upon as dis- 
 playing the like multiplication of etlects. 
 Bat it would needlessly tax the reader's pa- 
 tience to pursue, in their many ramifications, 
 these various changes : here become so in- 
 volved and subtle as to be followed with 
 some dillicuUy. 
 
 Without further evidence, we venture to 
 think our case is made out. The imperfec- 
 tions of statement which brevity lias necessi- 
 tated do not, we b^'lieve, militate against the 
 propositions laid down. The qualifications 
 here and there demandeil would not, it made, 
 affect the inferences. Though in one in- 
 stance, where suthcient evidence is not at- 
 tainable, we have been unable to show that 
 the law of progress applies, yet there is high 
 probabilit}' that the same generalization 
 holds which holds throughout the rest of 
 creation. Though, in tra(;iug the genesis of 
 progress, we have fretpiently spok.'u of com- 
 plex causes as if they were simple ones, it 
 still remains true that such causes are far less 
 complex than their results. Detailed criti- 
 cisms cannot alTect our main position. End- 
 less facts go to show that every kind of prog- 
 ress is from the liomogeneous to the hetero- 
 geneous, and that it is so because each change 
 is followed by many changes. And it is 
 significant that where the facts are most ac- 
 cessible and abundant, there are these truths 
 most manifest. 
 
 However, to avoid committing ourselves to 
 more than is j^t proved, we must be content 
 with saying that such are the law and the 
 cause of all progress that is known to us. 
 Should the nebular hypothesis ever be £S- 
 tablished, then it will become manifest that 
 the universe at large, like every organism, 
 was once homogeneous ; that as a whole, and 
 in every detail, it has unceasingly advanced 
 toward greater heterogeneity ; and that its 
 heterogeneity is still increasing. It will be 
 seen that as in each event of to-day, so from 
 the beginning, the decomposition of every ex- 
 pended force into several forces has been per- 
 petually producing a higher complication ; 
 that the increase of heterogeneity so brought 
 about is still going on, and must continue to 
 go on ; and that thus progress is not an ac- 
 cident, not a thing within human control, but 
 a beneficent necessity. 
 
 A few words must be added on the onto- 
 logical bearings of our argument. Probably 
 ,not a few will conclude that here is an at- 
 tempted solution of the great questions with 
 which philosophy in all ages has perplexed 
 itself. Let none thus deceive themselves. 
 Only such as know not the scope and the 
 limits of science can fall into so grave an 
 error. The foregoing generalizations apply, 
 not to the genesis of things in themselves but 
 
 to their genesis as manifested to the human 
 consciousness. After all that has been said, 
 the ultimate mystery remains just as it was. 
 The explanation of that which is explicable 
 does but bring out into greater clearness the 
 iiiexplicalik'ness of that which remains be- 
 hind. However we may succeed in rediiring 
 the etiuation to its lowest terms, we are not 
 therel)y enabled to determine tlie unknown 
 quantity : on the contrary, it only becomes 
 more manifest that the unknown quantity 
 can never be found. 
 
 Little as it seems to do so, fearless inquiry 
 tends continually to give a firmer basis to all 
 true religion. 'I'he timid sectarian, alarmed 
 at the progress of knowledge, obliged tt 
 abandon one by one the .superstitions of his 
 ancestors, and daily findmg his cherished l>e 
 liefs more and more shaken, secretly fears 
 that all things may some day be explained, 
 and has a corresponding dn-ad of science 
 thus evincing the protoundest of all infidelity 
 — the fear lest the truth be bad. On the other 
 hand, the sincere man of science, content tc 
 follow wherever the evidence leads Jiim, be- 
 comes by each new inquiry more profoundly 
 convinced thai the univer.se is an insoluble 
 problem. Alike in the external and the inter 
 nal worlds, i)e sees himself in the midst of 
 perpetual changes, of which he can discover 
 neither the beginning nor the end. If, 
 tracing back the evolution of things, lie al- 
 lows himself to entertain the hypothesis that 
 all matter once existed in a diffused form, he 
 finds it utterly impossible to conceive how 
 this came to be so ; and equally, if she pecu- 
 lates on the future, he can a.esign no limit to 
 the grand succession of phenomena ever un- 
 folding themselves before him. On the other 
 hand, if he looks inward, he perceives that 
 both terminations of the thread of conscious- 
 ness are beyond his gra.«:p : he cannot remem- 
 ber when or how consciousness conmienced, 
 and he cannot examine the consciousness 
 that at any moment exists ; for only a state 
 of consciousness that is already past can be 
 come the object of thought, and never one 
 which is passing. 
 
 When, again, he turns from the succession 
 of phenomena, external or internal, to their 
 es.seniial nature, he is cciuall}' at fault. 
 Though he may succeed in resolving all prop- 
 erties of objects into manifestations of force, 
 he is not thereby enabled to realize what force 
 is ; but finds, on the contrary, that the more 
 he thinks about it the more he is baffled. 
 Similarly, though analysis of mental actions 
 may finally bring him down to seu.sations us 
 the original materials out of which' all 
 thought is woven, he is none the forwarder ; 
 for he cannot in the least comprehend sen- 
 sation — cannot even conceive how sensation 
 is possible. Inward and outward things he 
 thus discovers to be alike inscrutable in their 
 ultimate genesis and nature. He sees that 
 the materialist and spiritualist controversy is 
 a mere war of words ; the disputants being 
 equally absurd — each believing he under- 
 stands that which it is impossible for any 
 man to understand. In all directions his in-
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 253 
 
 vestigations eventually bring him face to face 
 with tlie unknowable ; and he yver more 
 clearly perceives it to be the unknowable. 
 He learns at once the greatness and the little- 
 ness of liuman intellect.— its power in dealing 
 with all tluit comes within the range of ex- 
 perience ; its impotence in dealing with all 
 that transcends experience. lie feels, wall 
 a vividuebs which no otheis can, the utter in- 
 coraprehensibleness of the simplest fact, con- 
 sidered in itself. He alone tiuly sees that 
 absolute knowledge is impossible. He alono 
 knows that under all things there lies an im- 
 penetrable mystery. 
 
 IL 
 
 THE PHTSIOLOGY OF LAUGHTER. 
 
 Why do we smile when a chiltl puts on a 
 tnan's liat ? or what induces us to laugh on 
 reading that the corpulent Gibbon was un- 
 able to rise from his knees after making a 
 tender declaration '! The usual reply to such 
 questions is, that laughter results from a 
 perception of incongruity. Evm weie tlicre 
 not on this reply the ol)vious criticism that 
 laughter often occurs from extreme i)kiisuie 
 or from mere vivacity, there would s-liil re- 
 main the real problem, How comes a sense 
 of the incongiuous to be followed by these 
 peculiar bodily actions ? Some have alleged 
 that laughter is due to the pleasure of a rela- 
 tive self-elevation, which we feel on seeing 
 the humilialinn of others. But this theory, 
 whatever portion of truth it may contain, is, 
 in the first place, open to the fatal objection 
 that Iheie are various humiliations to others 
 which produce in us anything but laughter ; 
 and, in the second place, it does not iip|)!y 
 to the many instances invvhich no one's dig- 
 nity is implicated : as when we laugh at a 
 good pun. Moreover, like the other, it is 
 merel}' a generalization of ceitaiu conditions 
 to laughter, and not an exjilauation of the 
 odd movements which occur under these 
 conditions. Why, whin greatly delighted, 
 or impressed with cerlnin unexpected con- 
 trasts of ideas, should there be a contraction 
 of particular facial muscles, and jiarlicular 
 muscles of the chest and aijdomen V Such 
 answer to this question as maybe possible, 
 can be rendered only by physii>logy. 
 
 Every child has made the at it nipt to hold 
 the foot still while it is tickled, and has 
 failed ; and probably there is scarcely any 
 one Avho has not vainly tried to avoid wink- 
 ing when a hand has been suddenly passed 
 before the eyes. These examples of muscu- 
 lar movements which occur independently 
 of the will, e)r in spite of it, illustrate what 
 physiologists call reflex action ; as likewis.'; 
 do sneezing and coughing. To this class ot' 
 cases, in which involuutary motions are ac 
 companied by sensations, has to be added 
 another class of cases, in which involuutary 
 motions are unaccompanied by sensations : 
 instance the pulsations of the heart ; the 
 contractions of the stomach during digestion. 
 Further, the great mass of seemuigly volun- 
 tary acts in such creatures asinsecis, worms. 
 
 mollusks, are considered by physiologists to 
 be as purely automatic as is the dilatation or 
 closure of the iris under variations in quan- 
 tity of light ; and similarly exemplify the 
 law, thatan impression on the end of au 
 afferent nerve is conveyed to some ganglionic 
 centre, and is thence usually reflected along 
 an efferent nerve to one or more muscles 
 which it causes to contract. 
 
 In a modifled form this principle holds 
 with voluntary acts. Nervous excitation al- 
 ways (ends to beget muscular motion ; and 
 when it rises to a certain intensity, always 
 does beget it. Not only in reflex actions, 
 whether with or without sensation, do we 
 see that special nerves, when raised to a 
 state of tension, discharge themselves oa 
 special muscles with which they are in- 
 directly eonnected ; but those external ac- 
 tions through which we read the feelings of 
 others, show us that under any considerable 
 tension the nervous system in general dis- 
 charges itself on the muscular system in gen- 
 eral : either with or witliout the guidance 
 of the will. The shivering produced by 
 cold implies irregular muscular contrac- 
 tions, which, though at first only partly 
 involuntary, become, when the cold is ex- 
 treme, almost wliclly involuntary. When 
 you have severely burned your linger, it is 
 very diUicult to preserve a dignilied com- 
 pLiSure : contortion of face or movement of 
 limb is pretty sure to follow. If a man re- 
 ceives good news with neither change of 
 feature nor bodily motion, it is inferred that 
 he is not much pleased, or that he has ex- 
 traordinary self-control — either inference im- 
 plying that joy almost universally produces 
 contraction of the mu.scles ; and so alters the 
 expression, or altitude, or both. And when 
 we hear of the feats of strength which men 
 have performed wlieu their lives were at slake 
 — when we read how, in the energy of despair, 
 evon paralytic ijalieuls have regained for 
 a lime the use of liieir liiiib.s — we see still 
 moie clearly the relations between nervous 
 and muscular excitements. It becomes 
 manifest both that emotions and sensations 
 tend to generate bodily movements, and that 
 the movements are vehement in proportion 
 as the emotious or sensations are inlense.*^ 
 
 This, however, is not the sole direction in 
 which nervous excitement expends itself. 
 Viscesa as well as muscles may receive the 
 discharge. That the heart anil blood-vessels 
 (which, indeed, being all contractile, may in 
 a restricted sense be cla.ssed with the muscu- 
 lar system) are (juickiy affected by pleasures 
 and pains, we have daily proved to us. Every 
 sensation of any acuteness accelerates the 
 pulse ; and how tsensitive the heart is to 
 emotions is testified by the familiar expres- 
 fcious which use heart and feeling Jis convert- 
 ible terms. Similarly with the digestive 
 organs. Without detailing the various ways 
 iu which these may be influenced by our 
 liiental states, it sulUces to mention the 
 
 * For nnmerons lllastrations Bee essay on " The 
 Origin and Function of Mupic."
 
 254 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 maiked benefits derived by dyspeptics, as 
 Weil as other invalids, fiom cheerful society, 
 welcome news, cliange of scene, to show 
 liow pleasurable feeling stimulates the vis- 
 cera in general into greater activity. 
 
 Tliere is still another direction in which 
 any excited portion of the nervous system 
 may discharge itself ; and a direction in 
 which it usually does discharge itself when 
 the excitement is not strong. It may p;iss 
 on the stimulus to some other portion of the 
 nervous system. This is what occurs in 
 quiet thinking and feeling. The successive 
 states which constitute consciousness result 
 from this. Sensations excite ideas and eino 
 tious ; these in their turns arouse other ideas 
 and emotions ; and so, continuously. That 
 is to say, the tension existing in particular 
 nerves, or groups of nerves, wlien tiiey yield 
 us certain sensations, ideas or emotions, gen- 
 erates an ctjuivalent tension in some other 
 nerves, or groups of nerves, wiMi wiiich there 
 is a connection : the tlow of energy passing 
 on, the one idea or feeling dies in producing 
 the next. 
 
 Thus, then, while we are totally unable to 
 comprehend how the excitement of certain 
 nerves should genernte feeling — while in tiie 
 production of consciousness b}' physical 
 agents acting on physical structure, we come 
 to an absolute mystery never to be solved — 
 it is yet quite possible for us to know by ob- 
 servation what are the successive forms 
 which this absolute mysterj"- may take. We 
 see that there are three channels along which 
 nerves in a state of tension may discharge 
 themselves ; or rather, 1 should say, three 
 classes of channels. They may pass on the 
 excitement to other nerves that have no di- 
 rect connections with the budily members 
 and may so cause other feelings and ideas ; 
 or they may pass on the excitement to one 
 or more motor nerves, and so cause muscu 
 iar contractions ; or they may pass on the 
 excitement to nerves which supply the vis- 
 cera, and may so stimulate one or more of 
 these. 
 
 For simplicity's sake, I have described 
 these as alternative routes, one or other of 
 which any current of uerve-furcc must take ; 
 thereby, as it may be thought, impl^'ing 
 that such current will be exclusively con- 
 fined to some one of them. But this is by no 
 means the case. Rarely, if ever, does it hap- 
 pen that a state of nervous tension, present 
 to consciousness as a feeling, expends itself 
 in one direction oniy. Yery generally it maj' 
 be observed to expend itself in two ; and it is 
 probable that the discharge is never abso- 
 lutely absent from any one of the three. 
 There is, however, variety in the proportions 
 in which the discharge is divided among 
 these different channels under different cir- 
 cumstances. In a man whose fear impels him 
 to run, the mental tension generated is only 
 in part transformed into a muscular stimulus : 
 there is a surplus which causes a rapid cur- 
 rent of ideas. An agreeable slate of feeling- 
 produced, say by praise, is not wholly used 
 up in arousing the succeeding phase of the 
 
 teeling, and the new ideas appropriate to it ; 
 but a certain portion overflows into the vis- 
 ceral nervous system, increasing the action 
 of the heart, and probably facilitating diges- 
 tion. And here we come upon a class of con- 
 siderations and facts which open the way to 
 u solution of our special problem. 
 
 For starting with the unquestionable 
 truth, that at any moment the existing quan- 
 tity of liberated nerve-force, which in an in- 
 scrutable way produces in us the state we 
 call feeling, munt exi)end itself in some di- 
 rection — must generate an equivalent mani- 
 festation of force somewhere — it clearly fol- 
 lows that, if of the several channels it may 
 take, one is wholly or partially closed, more 
 nmst be taken b}' the others ; or that if two 
 are closed, the discharge along the remaining 
 one must be more intense ; and that, con- 
 versely, should anything determine an un- 
 usual cfllux in one direction, there will be a 
 diminished ettlux in other directions. 
 
 Daily experience illustrates these conclu- 
 Bions. It is commonly remarked that the sup- 
 pression of external signs of feeling makes 
 feeling more intense. The deepest grief is 
 silent grief. Why? Because the nervous 
 excitement not discharged in muscular action 
 discharges itself in other nervous excitements 
 — arouses more numerous and more remote 
 associations of melancholy ideas, and so in- 
 creases the mass of feelings. People who 
 conceal their anger are habitually found to be 
 more revengeful than those who explode in 
 loud speech and vehement action. Why ? 
 Because, as before, the emotion is reflected 
 back, accumulates, and intensifies. Simi- 
 larly, men who, as proved by their powers of 
 representation, have the keenest apprecia- 
 tion of the comic, are usually able to do and 
 say the most ludicrous things with perfect 
 gravity. 
 
 On the other hand, all are familiar Trith 
 the trutii that bodily activity deadens emo- 
 tion. Under great irritation we get relief by 
 walking about rapidly. Extreme effort in 
 the bootless attempt to achieve a desired end 
 greatly diminishes the intensity of tlie desire. 
 Those who are forced to exert tbemselvca 
 after misfortunes do not suffer nearly so 
 much as those who remain quiescent. If 
 any one wishes to check intellectual excite- 
 ment, he cannot choose a more efficient 
 method t ban running till he is exhausted. 
 Moreover, these cases, in which the pro- 
 duction of feeling and thought is hindered 
 by determining the nervous energy toward 
 bodily movements have their counterparts in 
 the cases in which bodily movements are 
 hindered by extra absorption of nervous 
 energy in sudden thoughts and feelings. If, 
 'when walking along, there flashes on you an 
 idea that creates great surprise, hope, or 
 alarm, you stop ; or if sitting cross legged, 
 swinging your pendent foot, the movement 
 is at once arrested. From the viscera, too, 
 intense mental action abstracts energy. Joy, 
 disappointment, anxiety, or any moral per- 
 turbation rising to a great height will destroy 
 appetite ; or if food has been taken, will ar-
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 235 
 
 rest dit,'estioa ; and even a purely intellectuiil 
 uctivily, when extreme, will do the like. 
 
 Faets, then, fully hear out these a piiori 
 inferences, that the nervous excitement at 
 any moment present to consciousness as 
 feeling must expend itself in some way or 
 other ; that of the three classes of channels 
 open to it, it must take one, two, or moie, 
 according to circumstances ; that the closure 
 or ohstruction of one must increase the dis- 
 charge through the others ; and conversely, 
 that if to answer some demand, the efflux of 
 nervous energy in one direction is unusually 
 great, there must l;e a corre:.;ponding de- 
 crease of the efflux in other diieclious. Set- 
 ting out from these premises, let us now see 
 what interpretation is to be put on the phe- 
 nomena of laughter. 
 
 That laughter is a display of muscular ex- 
 citement, and so illustrates the general law 
 that feeling passing a certain pitch liabitually 
 vents itself m bodily action, scarcx-Iy needs 
 pointmg out. It perhaps needs pointing out, 
 however, that strong feeling of almost any 
 kind produces this result. It is not a sense 
 of the ludicrous, only, which does it ; nor 
 are the various forms of joyous emotion the 
 sole uddilioniil causes. We have, Ijcsides the 
 sardonic laughter and the hysterical laughter, 
 which result from mental distress ; to which 
 must be added certain sensations, us tickling, 
 and, according to Mr. Bain, cold, and some 
 kinils of acute pain. 
 
 Strong feeling, mental or physical, being, 
 then, the general cau.se of laughter, we have 
 to note that the niu.scular actions constituting 
 it are distinguished from m;)st others by this, 
 that they are purposeles.s. In general, bodily 
 motions that are prompted by feelings are di- 
 rected to special ends ; as when we try to es- 
 cape a danger, or struggle to secure a grati- 
 fication. But the movements of chest and 
 limbs which we make when laughing have 
 no object. And now remaik that these 
 quasi-convulsive contractions of the muscles 
 Laving no object, but being results of an un- 
 controlled discharge of energy, we may sec 
 whence arise their special characters — how 
 it happens that ccitain clas^-es of muscles 
 are affected first, and then certain other 
 classes. For an overflow of nerve force, 
 undirected by any motive, will manifestly 
 take first the most habitual routes ; and if 
 these do not sutlice, will next oveiflow into 
 the less habitual ones. Well, it is through 
 the organs of speech that feeling passes into 
 movement with the greatest frequency. The 
 jaws, tongue, and lips are used not only to 
 express strong irritation or gratification ; but 
 that very moderate flow of mental energy 
 which accompanies ordinary conversation, 
 finds its chief vent through this channel. 
 Hence it happens that certain muscles 
 round the mouth, small and easy to move, 
 are the first to contract under pleasurable 
 emotion. The class of muscles which, next 
 after those of articulation, are most con- 
 stantly set in action (or extra action, wc should 
 say) by feelings of all kinds, are those of res- 
 piration. Uuder pleasurable or painful sen- 
 
 sations we breathe more rapidly : possibly 
 as a consequence of the increased demand for 
 oxygenated blood. The sensations that accom- 
 pany exertion also bring on hard-brealhing ; 
 which here more evidently responds to the 
 physiological needs. And emotions, too, agree- 
 able and disagreeable, both, at first, excite 
 i-espiration ; though the last subsequently de- 
 press it. That is to say, of the bodily muscles, 
 the re.spiratory are more constantly implicated 
 than any others in those various acts which our 
 feelings impel us to ; and, hence, when there 
 occurs an undirected discharge of nervous . 
 energy into the muscular system, it happens 
 that, it the quantity be considerable, it con- 
 vulses not only certain of the arliculatory 
 and vocal muscles, but also those which ex- 
 pel air from the lungs. 
 
 Should the feeling to be expended be still 
 greater in amount — too great to find vent in 
 these classes of nuiscles — another class 
 iomes into play. The upper limbs are set in 
 lULtlioa. Children frequently clap their 
 hands in glee ; by some adults the hands are 
 rubbed together , and others, under still 
 greater intensity of delight, slap their knees 
 and sway their bodies backward and for- 
 ward. Last of all, when the other channels 
 for the escape of the surplus nerve force 
 have beeu filled to overflowing, a yet further 
 and less-used group of muscles is spasmodi- 
 cally affected : the head is thrown back and 
 the spine bent inward— there is a slight degree 
 of what medical men call opisthotonos. 
 Tims, then, without contending that the 
 jtheuomeua of laughter in all their details 
 are to be so accounted for, we see that in 
 their cmeitMe tiiey conform to these general 
 principles : that feeling excites to muscular 
 action ; that wheu the muscular action isun- 
 giiided by a purp.ose, the muscles first 
 alluclcd are those which feeling most habit- 
 ually stimulates ; and that as the feeling to 
 be expeu led iucrea.ses in (piantity, it excites 
 an increasing number of nuiscles, in a suc- 
 cession determined by the relative frequency 
 with which they respond to the regulated 
 dictates of feeling. 
 
 There still, however, remains the question 
 with which we set out. The explanation 
 Here given applies only to the laughter pro- 
 duced hy acute pleasure or pain : it does not 
 apply to the latighter that follows certain per- 
 ceptions of incongruity. It is an insufflcient 
 explanation that in these cases laughter is a 
 result of the pleasure wc take in escaping 
 from the restraint of grave feelings. That 
 this is apart cause is true. Doubtless very 
 often, as Mr. Bain says, "it is the coerced 
 form of seriousness and solemnity without 
 the reality that gives us that stiff position 
 from which a contact with triviality or vul- 
 garity relieves us, to our uproarious delight." 
 And in so far as mirth is caused by the 
 gush of agreeable feeling that follows the 
 cessation of mental strain, it further illus- 
 trates the generzd principle above set forth. 
 But no explanation is thus afforded of the 
 mirth which ensues when the short silence 
 between the andante and allegro in one of
 
 256 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSK 
 
 Beethoven's symphonies, is broken by a loud 
 Boeeze. In this, und hosts of like cases, the 
 mental tension is not coerced but spontaneous 
 — not dis;igreoable but agreeable ; and the 
 coming impressions to which the altention is 
 directed promise a gratification that few, if 
 any, desire to escape. Hence, when the un- 
 lucky sneeze occurs, it cannot be that the 
 laughter of the audience is due simply to the 
 release from an irksome attitude of mind : 
 some other cause must be scjugiit. 
 
 This Ciiuse we shall arrive at by carrying 
 our analysis a step farther. "We have but to 
 consider tiie quantity of feeling that exists 
 under such circumstances, and then to ask 
 what are the conditions that determine Iho 
 direction of its discharge, to at once reach 
 a solution. Take a case. You are sitting in 
 a theatre, absorbed in the progress of an in- 
 teresting drama. Some climax has been 
 reached which has aroused your sj^mpathies 
 — say, a reconciliation between the hero and 
 heroine, after long and painful misunder- 
 standing. The feelings excited by this scene 
 are not of a kind from which you seek re- 
 lief ; but are, on the contrary, a grateful re- 
 lief from the painful feelings with which you 
 have witnessed the previous estrangement. 
 Moreover, the sentiments these fictitious per- 
 sonages have for the moment inspired you 
 with, are not such as would lead you to re- 
 joice in any indignity olfered to them ; but 
 rather, such as would make you resent the 
 indignity. And now, while you are contem- 
 plating the reconciliation with a pl.msurable 
 sympathy, there appears from behind the 
 scenes a tame kid, which, having stared 
 round at the audience, walks up to the lovers 
 and sniffs at them. You cannot help joining 
 in the roar which greets this contretemps. 
 Inexplicable as is this irresistible burst on 
 th(; hypothesis of a pleasure in escaping from 
 mental restraint, or on the hypothesis of a 
 pleasure from relative increase of self impor- 
 tance when witnessing the humiliation of 
 others, it is readily explicable if we consider 
 what, in such a case, must become of the 
 feeling that existed at the moment the incon- 
 gruity arose. A large mass of emotion had 
 been produced ; or, to speak in physiological 
 language, a large portion of the nervous sys- 
 tem was in a state of tension. There was 
 also great expectation with respect to the 
 further evolution of the scene — a quantity of 
 vague, nascent thought and emotion, into 
 which the existing quantity of thought and 
 emotion was about to pass. 
 
 Had there been no interruption, the body 
 of new ideas and feelings next excited would 
 have sufficed to absorb the whole of the lib- 
 erated nervous energy. But now, this large 
 amount of nervous energy, instead of being 
 allowed to expend itself in producing an 
 equivalent amount of the new thoughts and 
 emotions which were nascent, is suddenl}^ 
 checked in its flow. The charmels along 
 which the discharge was about to take place 
 are closed. The new channel opened — that 
 afforded by the appearance and proceedings 
 of the kid — is a small one ; the ideas and 
 
 feeling suggested are not numerous and 
 massive enough to carry off the nervou.* 
 energy to be expended. The excess niu.st 
 therefore discharge itself in some other direc- 
 tion ; and in the way already explained, 
 there results an efflux through the motor 
 nerves to various classes of the muscles, pro- 
 ducing the half-convulsive actions we term 
 laughter. 
 
 This explanation is in harmony with the 
 fact, that vvhen, among several persons who 
 witness the .same ludicrous occurrence, there 
 arc some who do mA laugh ; it is because 
 there has arisen in them an emotion not par- 
 ticipated in by the rest, and which is sutficient- 
 ly massive to absorb all the nascent excite- 
 ment. Among the spectators of an awkward 
 tumble, those who preserve their gravity are 
 those in whom there is excited a degree of 
 sympathy with the sufferer, suIVicientiy great 
 to serve as an outlet for the feeling which 
 the occurrence had turned out of its previous 
 course. Sometimes auger carries off the 
 arrested current, and so provenls laughter. 
 An instance of this was lately furnished me 
 by a friend who had been witnessing the 
 feats at Franconi's. A tremendous leap had 
 just been made by an acrobat over a number 
 of horses. The clown, seemingly envious of 
 this success, made ostentatious preparation 
 for doing the like ; and then, taking the pre- 
 limmary run with immense energy, slopped 
 short on leaching the first horse, and pre- 
 tended to wi|)c some dust from its haunches. 
 In the majority of the spectators merriment 
 was excited ; but in my friend, wound up by 
 the expectation of the coming leap to a state 
 of great nervous tension, the effect of the 
 balk was to produce indignation. Experi- 
 ence thus proves what the theory implies — 
 namely, that the discharge of arrested feel- 
 ings into the muscular system takes place 
 only in the absence of other adequate chan- 
 nels — does not lake place if there arise other 
 feelings equal in amount to those arrested. 
 
 Evidence still more conclusive is at hand. 
 If we contrast the incongruities which pro- 
 duce laughter with those which do not, we 
 at once see that in the non-ludicrous ones the 
 unexpecleil state of feeling aroused, though 
 wholly different in kind, is not less in quan- 
 tity or intensity. Among incongruities that 
 may excite anything but a laugli, Mr. Baia 
 instances : " A decrepit man under a heavy 
 burden, five loaves and two fishes among a 
 multitude, and all unfitness and gross dis- 
 proportion ; an instrument out of tune, a fly 
 in ointment, snow in May, Archimedes 
 studying geometry in a siege, and all discor- 
 dant things ; a wolf in slieep's clothing, a 
 breach of bargain, and falsehood in general, 
 the multitude taking the law in their own 
 hands, and everything of the nature of dis- 
 order ; a corpse at a feast, parental cruelty, 
 filial ingratitude, and whatever is unnatural ; 
 the entire catalogue of the vanities given by 
 Solomon are all incongruous, but they cause 
 feelings of pain, anger, sadness, loathing,, 
 rather than mirth." Now, in these cases,, 
 where the totally unlike state of conscious-
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 257 
 
 ness suddenly produced is not Inferior in 
 mass to the preceding one, the conditions to 
 laughter are not fulfilled. As above shown, 
 laughter naturally results only when con- 
 sciousness is unawares transferred from great 
 things to small — onl}' when there is what we 
 call a descending incongruity. 
 
 And now observe, finally, the fact, alike 
 inferable d fiiori and illustrated in expeii 
 ence, that an axcending incongruity not only 
 fails to cause laughter, but woiks on the 
 muscular system an effect of exactly the re- 
 verse kind. "When after sonictliing very in- 
 significant there arises without anticipation 
 something very grtat, the emotion we call 
 wonder results ; and this emotion is accom- 
 panied not by an excitement of the muscles, 
 but by a relaxation of thtm. In children 
 and country people, that falling of the jaw 
 which occurs on witnessing sometliing that 
 is imposing and unexpected, exemplifies this 
 effect. Persons who have been wonder- 
 struck at the production of very striking re- 
 sults by a seemingly inadequate cause, are 
 frequently described as unconsciously drop- 
 ping the things they held in their hands. 
 Such are just the effects to be anticipated. 
 After an average state of consciousness, 
 absorbing but a small quantity of nervous 
 energy, is aroused without the slightest 
 notice, a strong emotion of awe, terror, or 
 admiration ; j()ined with the astonishment 
 due to )in a[)parcnt want of adequate caus- 
 ation. Tliis new state of consciousness de- 
 m:ui(ls far more nervous energy than that 
 which it has suddenly replaced ; and this in- 
 creased absorption of nervous energy in 
 mental changes involves a temporary dimi- 
 nution of the outflow in other directions : 
 whence the pendent jaw and the relaxing 
 grasp. 
 
 One further observation is worth making. 
 Among the several sets of channels into 
 which surplus feeling might be discharged, 
 was named the nervous system of the viscera. 
 The sudden overllow of an arrested mental 
 excitement which, as we have seen, results 
 from a descending incongruity, must doubt- 
 less stimulate not only the muscular system, 
 as we see it does, but also the internal 
 organs ; the heart and stomach must come 
 in for a share of the discharge. And thus 
 there seems to be a good physiological basis 
 for the popular notion that mirlh-cieating 
 excitement facilitates digestion. 
 
 Though in doing so I go beyond the 
 boundaries of the immediate topic, I may 
 fitly point cut that the method of inquiry 
 here followed is one which enables us to 
 understand various phenomena besides those 
 of laughter. To show the importance of pur- 
 suing it, 1 will indicate the explanation it 
 furnishes of another familiar class of facts. 
 
 All know how generally a large amount of 
 emotion disturbs the action of the intellect, 
 and interferes with the power of expression. 
 A speech delivered with great facility to 
 tables and chairs is by no means so easily 
 delivered to an audience. Every schoolboy 
 can testify that his trepidation, when stand- 
 
 ing before a master, has often disabled him 
 from repeating a lesson which he had duly 
 learned. In explanation of this we com- 
 monly say that the attention is distracted — 
 that the proper train of ideas is broken by 
 the intrusion of ideas that are irrelevant. 
 But the question is, in what manner does 
 unusual emotion produce this effect ; and we 
 are here supplied with a tolerably obvious 
 answer. The repetition of a lesson, or set 
 speech previously thought out, implies the 
 flow of a very moderate amount of nervous 
 sxcitement through a comparative!}'' narrow 
 ohannel. The thing to be done is simply to 
 call up in succession certain jireviously- 
 arranged ideas — a process in which no great 
 amount of mental energy is expended. 
 Hence, when there is a largo quantity of 
 emotion, which must be discharged in some 
 direction or other ; and when, as usually 
 happens, the restricted series of intellectual 
 actions to begone through does not sullice to 
 carry it off. there result discharges along 
 other channels besides the one prescribed : 
 there are aroused various ideas foreign to the 
 train of thought to be pursued ; and these 
 tend to exclude from consciousness those 
 which should occupy' it. 
 
 And now observe the meaning of those 
 bodily actions spontaneously set up under 
 these circumstances. The schoolboy saying 
 his lesson, conunonly has his fingers actively 
 engaged — perhaps in twisting about a broken 
 pen, or perhaps squeezing the angle of his 
 jacket ; and if told to keep his hands still he 
 soon again falls into the same or a similar 
 trick. Many anecdotes are current of public 
 speakers having incurable automatic actions 
 of this cla.ss : barristers who perpetually 
 wound and unwound pieces of tape ; mem- 
 bers of parliament ever putting on and tak- 
 ing off their spectacles. So long as such 
 movements are unconscious, they facilitate 
 the mental actions. At least this seems a 
 fair inference from the fact that confusion 
 frequently results from putting a stop to 
 them : witness the case narrated by Sir 
 Walter Scott of his schoolfellow, who became 
 unable to say his lesson after the removal of 
 the waistcoat-button that he habitually fin- 
 gered while in class. But why do they facili- 
 tate the mental actions ? Clearly because 
 they draw off t* portion of the surplus ner- 
 vous excitement. If, as above explained, the 
 quantity of mental energy generated is 
 greater than can find vent along the narrow 
 channel of thought that is open to it ; and 
 if, in consequence, it is apt to produce con- 
 fusion by rushing into other channels of 
 thought ; then by allowing it an exit through, 
 the motor nerves into the muscular system 
 the pressure is diminished, and irrelevant 
 ideas are less likely to intrude on conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 This further illustration will, 1 think, 
 justify the position that something may be 
 achieved by pursuing in other cases this 
 method of psy<;holog.ical inquiry. A com- 
 plete explanation of the phenomena requires 
 us to trace out all the consequences of any
 
 258 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 given state of consciousness ; and we cannot 
 do this without studying the elTects, bodily 
 and mental, as varying in quantity at each 
 other' expense. We should probably learn 
 much if we in every case asked, Where is 
 all the nervous energy gone ? 
 
 111. 
 
 THE ORIOrX AND FUNCTION OF MUSIC. 
 
 When Carlo, standing chained to his 
 kennel, sees his master in the distance, a 
 slight motion of the tail indicates his but 
 feint hope that he is about to be let out. A 
 much more decided wagging of the tail, 
 passing by and by into lateral undulations of 
 the body, follows his master's nearer ap- 
 proach. When hands are laid on his collar, 
 and he knows that he is really to have an 
 outing, his jumping and wriggling are such 
 that it is by uo moans easy lu loose his fast- 
 enings. And when he finds himself actually 
 free, his joy expends itself in bounds, in 
 pirouettes, and in scourings hither and thither 
 iit the top of his spued. Puss, too, by erect- 
 ing her tail, and by every time raising her 
 back to meet the caressing hand of her mis- 
 tress, similarly expresses her gratification by 
 certain muscular actions ; as likewise do the 
 parrot by awkward dancing on Ids perch, 
 and the canary by hopping and lluttering 
 about his cage with unwonted rapidity. 
 Under emotions of an opposite kind, animals 
 equally display muscular excitement. The 
 enraged lion lashes his sides with his tail, 
 knils his brows, i)rotiudes iiis claws. Tlio 
 cat sets up her back ; the d(jg retracts his 
 upper lip ; the horse throws back his cars. 
 And in the struggles of creatures in pain, we 
 see that the like relation lioKls between ex- 
 citement of the muscles and excitement of 
 the nerves of sensation. 
 
 In ourselves, distinguished from lower 
 creatures as we are by feelings alike more 
 powerful and more varied, parallel facts are at 
 once mure conspicuous and more numerous. 
 We may conveniently look at them in groups. 
 We shall find that pleasurable sensations and 
 painful sensations, pleasurable emotions and 
 painful emotions, all tend to produce active 
 demonstrations in proportion to their inten- 
 sity. 
 
 In children, and even in adults who arc 
 not restrained by regard for appearances, a 
 highly agreeable t'usle is followed by a 
 smacking of the lips. An infant will laugh 
 and bound in its nurse's arms at the sight^f 
 a brilliant color or the hearing of a new 
 sound. People are apt to beat time with 
 Lead or feet to music which particularly 
 pleases them. In a sensitive person an agree- 
 able perfume will produce a smile ; and 
 , smiles will be seen on the faces of a crowd 
 f gazing at some splendid burst of fireworks. 
 Even the pleasant Eeusaliou of warmth felt 
 on getting to the fireside out of a winter's 
 storm, will similarly express itself in the 
 face. 
 
 Painful sensations, being mostly far more 
 intense than pleasurable ones, cause muscu- 
 
 lar actions of a much more decided kind. A 
 sudden twinge produces a convulsive .start of 
 the whole body. A pain less violent, but 
 continuous, is accompanied by a knitting of 
 the brows, a setting of the teeth or biting of 
 the lip and a contraction of the features gen- 
 erally. Under a persistent pain of a .severer 
 kind, other muscular actions are adde<l : tho 
 body is swayed to and fro ; the hands clinch 
 anything the}' can lay hold of ; and should 
 the agony rise still higher the sufferer rolls 
 about on the lloor almost convulsed. 
 
 Though more varied, the natural lanpiage 
 of the ple!usu:able emotions comes wilhin the 
 same generalization. A smile, which is the 
 commonest expression of gratified feeling, is 
 a contraction of certain facial muscles ; and 
 when the snule broadens into a laugh, we see 
 a more violent and more general muscular 
 excitement produced by an intenser gratifi- 
 cation. Itubbing together of the liands, and 
 that other motion which Dickens somewhere 
 describes as " washing with impalpftl)Ic eoap 
 in invisiljle water," liave like implications. 
 Chililreu may often be seen to "jump for 
 joy." Even in adults of excitable temper- 
 ament, an action approaching to it is some- 
 times witnes.sed. And dancing has all the 
 world through been regarded as natural to 
 an elevated stale of mind. JIany of tlie 
 special emotions show themselves in special 
 muscular actions. Tho gratification result- 
 ing from success raises the head and gives 
 firmness to the gait. A hearty grasp of the 
 hand is currently taken as indicative of 
 friendship. Under a gush of affection the 
 mother clasps her child to her breast, feeling 
 as though she could squeeze it to death. And 
 so in sundry other cases. Even in that 
 brightening of the eye with which good news 
 is received we may trace the same truth ; for 
 this appearance of greater brilliancy is due to 
 an extra contraction of the muscle which 
 raises the eyelid, and so allows more light to 
 fall upon and be reflected from the wet sur- 
 face of the eyeball. 
 
 The bodily indications of painful emotions 
 are equally numerous, and still more vehe- 
 ment. Discontent is shown by raised eye- 
 brows and wrinkled forehead ; disgust by a 
 curl of the lip ; oilence by a pout. The im- 
 patient man beats a tattoo with his fingers 
 on the table, swings his pendent leg with in- 
 creasing rapidity, gives needless pokings to 
 the fire, and presently paces with hasty strides 
 about the room. In great grief there is 
 wringing of the hands, and even tearing of 
 the hair. An angry child stamps, or rolls 
 on its back and kicks its heels in the air ; and 
 in manhood, anger, first showing itself in 
 frowns, in distended nostrils, in compressed 
 lips, goes on to produce grinding of the teeth, 
 clinching of the fingers, blows of the fist on 
 the table, and perhaps ends in a violent at- 
 tack on the offending person, or in throwing 
 about and breaking the furniture. From 
 that pursing of the mouth indicative of 
 slight displeasure, up to the frantic stiuggles 
 of the maniac, we shall find that menial irri- 
 tation tends to vent itself in bodily activity.
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 369 
 
 All feelings, llun — sensations or emotions, 
 i;leasurable or painful — have this common 
 •characteristic, tliat they arc nuiscular stimuli. 
 Not forgetting the few apparently exoep- 
 ti^^nnl cases in which emotions exceeding a 
 certain intensity produce prostration, we may 
 set it down as a general law that, alike in 
 man and animals, there is a direct connec- 
 tion between feeling and motion, the last 
 growing more vehement as the first grows 
 more intense. Were it allow able here to treat 
 the matter scientifically, we might trace this 
 general law down to tiie principle known 
 among physiologists as tliat of irjlej; action* 
 Without doing this, however, tlie above nu- 
 merous instances justify the gcneralizjttion, 
 that mental excitement of all kinds ends in 
 excitement of the muscles ; and that the two 
 preserve a more or less constant ratio to each 
 other. 
 
 " But what has all this to do with ' The 
 Origin and Function of !Music? ' " abks the 
 reader. Very mutii, as we sliall presently 
 see. All music is originally votal. All vocal 
 sounds are produced by {lis agency of cer- 
 tain muscles. These muscles, in ccnimon 
 Hvith those of the body at large, are excited 
 to contraction by pleasurable and painful feel- 
 ings. And therefore it is that feelings dem- 
 onstrate themselves in sounds as well as in 
 movements. Therefore it is that Carlo barks 
 as well as leaps when he is let out ; that 
 puss purrs as well as erects her tail ; that 
 the canary chirps as well as llutlers. There- 
 fore it is that the angry lion roars while he 
 lashes his sides, and the dog growls whde he 
 retracts his lip. Therefore it is that the 
 maimed animal not only struggles but howls. 
 And it is from this cause thai in human 
 beings bodily suffering expresses itself net 
 only in contortions, but in shrieks and groans 
 — that in anger, and fear, and grief the ges- 
 ticulations arc Mcompanied by shouts and 
 screams— that delightful sensations are fol- 
 lowed by exclamations — and that we Lear 
 screams of J03' and shouts of exiijlatiou. 
 
 We have here, then, a princij)le underlying 
 all vocal phenomena ; including those of 
 vocal music, and by consequence those of 
 p^usic in general. The muscles that move 
 Ihe chest, larynx, and vocal chords, contract- 
 ing like other muscles in pioportion to the 
 intensity of the feelings ; every different 
 contraction of these muscles involving, as it 
 does, a different adjui-tment of the vocal or- 
 igans ; every different adjustment of the vo- 
 cal organs causing a change in the sound 
 emitted ; it follows that variations of voice 
 are the physiological results of variations of 
 feeling ; it follows that each inflection or 
 modulixtion is the natural outcome of some 
 passing emotion or sensation ; and it follows 
 that the explanation of all kinds of vocal ex- 
 pression must be sought in this general re- 
 lation between mental and muscular excite- 
 ments. Let us, then, see whether we cannot 
 
 • Ttose who seek information on this point may find 
 It in an initro.-tiiij; trad l)v Mr. Ale.\auder liain, on 
 "Animal Instinct and Intelligence." 
 
 thus account for the chief peculiarities 
 in the utterance of the feelings ; grouping 
 these peculiarities under the beads of loud- 
 lU'M, quality, or timhi-e, piic?i, intervals, and 
 rat^i of variation. 
 
 Between the lungs and the organs of voice 
 there is much the same relation as between 
 the bellows of an oriran and its pipes. And 
 as the loudness of the sound given out bj' an 
 organ-i)ipe increases with the strength of the 
 blast from the bellows ; so, otlier things 
 equal, the loudness of a vocal sound increases 
 with the strength of the blast from tlie lungs. 
 But the expulsion of air from the lungs is 
 effected by certain muscles of the chest and 
 abdomen. The force with which these mus- 
 cles contract is proportionate to the intensity 
 of the feeling experienced. Hence, a priori, 
 loud sounds will be the habitual results of 
 strong feelings. That they are so we have 
 daily ])roof. Tlie pain which, if moderate, 
 can be borne silently, causes outcries if it 
 becoinas extreme. While a sligiit vexation 
 makes a child whimper, a lit of pas.sion calls 
 forth a howl that disturl)s tlie neighborhood. 
 When the voices in an adjacent room become 
 unusually audible, we infer anger, or sur- 
 prise, or joy. Loudness of applause is sig- 
 nificant of great approbation ; and with up- 
 roarious mirth we associate the idea of high 
 enjoyment. Commencing with the silence of 
 apathy, we find that tiie utterances grow 
 louder as the sensations or emotions, whether 
 pleasurable or painful, gn»w stronger. 
 
 That different 7«(/W/<.y of voice accompany 
 different mental stat(;s, and that under states 
 of excitement the tones are more sonorous 
 than usual, is another general fact admitting 
 of a parallel explanation. The sounds of com- 
 mon conversation have but little resonance ; 
 those of strong feeling have much more. 
 Under rising ill temper the voice acquires a 
 metallic ring. In accordance with her con- 
 slant mood, the ordinary speech of a virago 
 has a piercing (iiiulily quite opposite to that 
 softness indiculive of placidity. A ringing 
 laugh marks an especially joyous tempera- 
 ment. (Jrief unburdening itself uses tones 
 approaching in tinibre to those of chanting : 
 and in his most pathetic passages an eloquent 
 speaker similaily falls into tones more vibra- 
 tory than those common to him. Now any 
 one may readily convince himself that reso- 
 nant vocal sounds can be produced only by a 
 certain muscular effort additional to that or- 
 dinarily needed. If after uttering a word in 
 his speaking voice, the reader, without 
 changing the pitch or the loudness, will sing 
 this word, he will perceive that before he can 
 sing it, he has to alter the adjustment of the 
 vocal organs ; to do which a certain force 
 must be used ; and by putting his fingers on 
 that external prominence marking the top of 
 the larynx, he will have further evidence 
 that to produce a sonorous tone the organs 
 must be drawn out of their usual position. 
 Thus, then, the fact that the tones of excited 
 feeling are more vibratory than those of com- 
 mon conversation, is another instance of the 
 ccauectica between mental excitement and
 
 860 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS L.VW AND CAUSE. 
 
 muscular excitement. The speaking voice, 
 the recitative voice, and the singing voice, 
 severally exemplify one general principle. 
 
 That the pitch of the voice varies according 
 to the action of tlie vocal muscles, scarcely 
 needs saying. All know that the middle 
 notes, in which they converse, are made with- 
 out any a[)prctiablc etlort ; and all know that 
 to make either very liigh or very low notes 
 requires a considerable effort. In either as- 
 cending (^r descending .'rom the pitch of or- 
 dinary speech, we are conscious of an in- 
 creasing nmscular strain, which, at both ex- 
 tremes of the register, becomes positively 
 painful. Hence it follows from our general 
 principle, that while indifference or calmness 
 will use the medium tones, the tones used 
 during excitement will be either above or be- 
 low liicm ; and will rise higher and higher, 
 or fall lower and lower, as the feelings grow 
 stronger. This physiological deduction we 
 also find to be in harmony with familiar facts. 
 The habitual sufferer utters his complaints 
 in a voice raised considerably above the 
 natural key ; and agonizing pain vents itself 
 in either shrieks of groans — in very high or 
 very low notes. Beginning at his talking 
 pitch, the cry of ihe disappointed urchin 
 grows more shrill as it ijrows louder. The 
 "oil !" of astonishment or delight begins 
 several notes below the middle voice, and 
 descends still lower. Anger expresses itself 
 in high tones, or else in "curses not loud 
 but deep." Deep tones, too, are always u.sed 
 in uttering strong reproaches. Such an ex- 
 clamation as " Beware 1" if made dramati- 
 cally — that is, if made with a show of feeling 
 — must be many notes lower than ordinary. 
 Further, we have groans of disapprobation, 
 groans of horror, groans of remorse. And 
 extreme joy and fear arc alike accompanied 
 by shrill outcries. 
 
 Nearly allied to the subject of pitch is that 
 of intervals; and the explanation of them 
 carries our argument a step farther. While 
 calm speech is comparatively monotonous, 
 emotion makes use of fifths, octaves, and 
 even wider intervals. Listen to any one nar- 
 rating or repeating something in which he 
 has no interest, and his voice will not wan- 
 der more than two or three notes above or 
 below his medium note, and that by small 
 steps ; but when he comes to some exciting 
 event he will be heard not only to use the 
 higher and lower notes of his register, but to 
 go from one to the other by larger leaps. 
 Being unable in print to imitate these traits 
 of feeling, we feel some difficulty in fully 
 realizing them to the reader. But we may 
 suggest a few remembrances which will per- 
 haps call to mind a sufficiency of others. If 
 two men living in the same place, and fre- 
 quently seeing one another, meet, say at a 
 public assembly, any phrase with which one 
 may be heard to accost the other — as " Hallo, 
 are you here ?" — will have an ordinary into- 
 nation. But if one of them, after long ab- 
 sence, has unexpectedly returned, the expres- 
 sion of surprise with which his friend may 
 greet him — " Hallo 1 how came you here ?" 
 
 — will be uttered in much more strongly con- 
 trasted tones. The two syllables of the word 
 " hallo" will be the one much liigher and 
 the other much lower than before ; and llie 
 rest of the sentence will similarly ascend and 
 descend by longer steps. 
 
 Again, if, supposing her to be in an ad- 
 joining room, the mistress of the house calls 
 " Alary," the two syllal)Ies of the name will 
 be spoken in an ascending interval of a third. 
 If jklary does not reply, Ihe call will be re- 
 peated probably in a descending fifth ; im- 
 plying the slightest shade of annoyam-e at 
 Mary's inattention. Should Mary still make 
 no answer, the increasing annoyance will 
 show itself by the use of a descendiu'^ oc- 
 tave on the next repetition of the call. And 
 supp jsing the silence to continue, the lady, 
 if not of a very even temper, will show her 
 irritation at Mary's seemingly intentionid 
 negligence by finally calling her in tones still 
 more widely contrasted — the first syllable 
 being higher and the last lower than be- 
 fore. 
 
 Now these and analogous facts, which the 
 rciwler will readily accumulate, clearly con- i 
 form to the law laid down. For to make 1 
 large intervals recjuiresmore muscular action i 
 than to make small ones. But not only is the ^ 
 extent of vocal intervals thus explicable as due 
 to the relation between nervous and mus- 
 cular excitement, but also in some degree 
 their direction, as ascending or descending. 
 The middle notes being lho.se which demand 
 no appreciable effort of muscular adjust- 
 ment, and the effort becoming greater as 
 we either ascend or descend, it follows that 
 a departure from the middle notes in either 
 direction will mark increasing emotion ; 
 while a return toward the middle notes will 
 mark decreasing emotion. Hence it happens 
 that an enthusiastic person uttering such a 
 sentence a.s " It was the most splendid sight 
 I ever saw !" will ascend to the first syllable 
 of the word " splendid" marking the climax 
 on the feeling produced by the recollection. 
 Hence, again, it happens that, under some 
 extreme vexation produced by another's stu- 
 pidity, an irascible man, exclaiming, " What 
 a confounded fool the fellow is !" will begin 
 somewhat below his middle voice, and d< - 
 scending to the word " fool," which he will 
 utter in one of his deepest notes, will then 
 ascend again. And it may be remarked, that 
 the word " fool" will not only be deeper 
 and louder than the rest, but will also have 
 more emphasis of articulation — another mode 
 in which muscular excitement is shown. 
 
 There is some danger, however, in giving 
 instances like this ; seeing that as the mode 
 of rendering will vary according to the in- 
 tensity of the feeling which the reader feigns 
 to himself, the right cadence may not be hit 
 upon. With single words there is less diffi- 
 culty. Thus the " Indeed !" with which a 
 surprising fact is received, mostly begins on 
 the middle note of the voice, and rises with 
 the second syllable ; or, if disaijprobation as 
 well as astonishment is felt, the first syllable 
 will be below the middle note, and the
 
 PIIOGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 261 
 
 second lower still. Conversely, the •word 
 " Alas !" wliich marks not the rise of a juir- 
 oxysiu of grief, but its decline, is ullcred in 
 a cadence descending toward the middle 
 note ; or, if the lirst syllable is in the lower 
 part of tlie rci::ister, the second ascends tow- 
 ard the middle note. In the " Ileigh-ho !" 
 expressive of mental and muscular prostra- 
 tion, we may see the same truth ; and if tlie 
 cadence appropriate to it be inverted, the al)- 
 surditj' of the effect clearly shows liow the 
 meanin^il of intervals is dependent on the prin- 
 ciple we have been illustratini^. 
 
 The remaining cliaracteristic of emotional 
 speech which we have to notice is that of 
 tariability of pitch. It is scarcely possible 
 liere to convey adequate ideas of this more 
 complex manifestation. AVe must be content 
 with simply indicating some occasions on 
 which it may be observed. On a meeting of 
 friends, for instance — as when there arrives 
 a party of mu(;h-wished-for visitors — the 
 voices of all will be heard to undergo 
 changes of pitdi not only greater but much 
 more numerous than usual. If a speaker at 
 a public meeting is interrupted by some 
 squabble among tliose he is adilrestring, liis 
 comparative!}' level tones will l)e in marked 
 contrast with the ra|)idly changing one of 
 the disputants. And among children, whose 
 leeliugs are less under control than tho.se of 
 adults, this peculiarity is still more decided. 
 During a scene of complaint and recrimini- 
 tion between two excitable little girls, tiie 
 voices may be heanl to run up and down the 
 gamut several times in each sentence. In 
 such cases we once more recognize the same 
 law : for muscular excitement is shown not 
 only in strength of contraction but also in the 
 rapidity with which diiferent muscular ad- 
 justments suc-ceed each other. 
 
 Thus We find all the leading vocal phenom- 
 ena to have a physiological basis. They 
 are so man}' manifestations of the general law 
 that feeling is a stimulus to muscular action 
 — a law conformed to throughout the whole 
 economy, not of a man only, but of eveiy 
 sensitive creature — a law, tlierefore, which 
 lies deep in the nature of animal organiza- 
 tion. The expressiveness of these various 
 modifications of voice is therefore innate. 
 Each of us, from babyhood upward, Las been 
 spontaneously making them, when under the 
 various sensations and emotions by which 
 they are produced. Having been conscious 
 of each feelmg at thesanic time that we heard 
 ourselves make the couse(|ueut sound, we 
 have acquired an established association of 
 ideas between such sound and the feeling 
 which caused it. "When the like sound is 
 made by another, we ascribe the like feeling 
 to him ; and by a further consequence we 
 not only as^cribe to him thatfeelin}:, but have 
 a certain degree of it aroused in ourselves : 
 for to become conscious of the feeling which 
 another is experiencing, is to have that feel- 
 ing awakened in our own consciousness, 
 which is the same thing as experiencing the 
 feeling. Thus these various modifications 
 of voice become not only a language through 
 which we understand the emotions of 
 
 others, but also the means of exciting our 
 sympathy with such emotions. 
 
 Have we not here, then, adequate data for 
 a theory of music ? These vocal peculiari- 
 ties which indicate excited feeliug, are those 
 which especially distinyuifih song from ordi- 
 nari/ speech. Every one of the alterations of 
 voice which we have found to be a physio- 
 logical result of pain or pleasure, is carried to 
 its greatest extreme in vocal musir. For in- 
 stance, we saw that, in virtue cf the general 
 relation between mental and nuisciilar excite- 
 ment, one characteristic of passionate utter- 
 ance is loudiics.t. Well, its comparative loud- 
 ness is one of the distinctive marks of song as 
 contrasted with the speech of daily life ; and 
 further, the forte passages of an air are those 
 intended to represent the climax of its emo- 
 tion. We next saw t hat the tones in which emo- 
 tion expresses itself, are, in conformity wilh 
 tliis same law, of a more sonorous timbre than 
 those of calm conversation. Here, too, song 
 displays a still higher degree of the pecu- 
 liarity ; for the singing tone is the most reso- 
 nant we can make. Again, it was shown 
 that, from a like cause, mental excitement 
 vents itself in the higher and lower notes of the 
 register, using the middle notes but seldom. 
 And it scarcely needs saying that vocal 
 inu>.ic is still more distinguished by its com- 
 parative neglect of the notes in which we 
 talk, and its habitual use of those above or 
 below them ; and, moreover, that its most pas- 
 sionate effects are comraonlj' produced at the 
 two extremities of its scale, but especially 
 the upper one. 
 
 A yet further trait of strong feeling, simi- 
 larly accouutKl f »r, was the employment of 
 larger intervals than are employed in com- 
 mon converse. This trait, also, every ijallad 
 and aria carries to an extent beyond that 
 heard in the spontaneous utterances of emo- 
 tion : add to which, that the direction of 
 these intervals, which, as diverging from or 
 converging toward the medium tones, wo 
 found to be ]ihy.siolr)gically expressive of in- 
 creasing or decreasing emotion, may be ob- 
 served to have in music like meanings. Onco 
 more, it was pointed out that not only extreme 
 but also rapid variations of pitch are charac- 
 teristic of mental excitement ; and once more 
 we see in the (piick changes of every melody 
 that song carries the characteristic as far, if 
 not farther. Thus, in respect alike of l<jud- 
 ness, timbre, pitch, intervals, and rate of vari- 
 ation, soug employs and exaggerates the 
 natural language of the emotions ; it arises 
 Irom a systematic combination ot those vocal 
 peculiarities which are the physiological 
 t-ffeclsof acute pleasure and pain. 
 
 Besides these chief characteristics of song 
 as distinguished from common speech, there 
 are sundry minor ones similarly explicable, 
 as due to the relation between mental and 
 muscular excitement ; and before proceed- 
 ing farther these should be briefly noticed. 
 Thus, certain passions, and perhaps all pas- 
 sions when pushed to an extreme, produce 
 (probably through their influence over i he ac- 
 tion of the heart) an effect the reverse of that 
 which has been described : they cause a
 
 262 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 physical prostration, one symptom of wlilcU 
 is a genen;' relaxation of tiie nuiscles, and u 
 consequent trembling. We have the trem- 
 bling of auger, of fear, of hope, of joy ; and 
 the vocal muscles being implicated with the 
 rest, the voice too becomes tremulous. Now, 
 in singing, this tremulousness of voice is 
 very elTectively used by some vocalists in 
 highly pathetic passages ; sometimes, indeed, 
 because of its elfectiveness, too much used 
 by them — as by Tamberlik, for instance. 
 
 Again, there is a mode of musical execu- 
 tion known as the ntarcnto, appropriate to 
 energetic i)assages — to passages expressive of 
 exhilaration, of resolution, of confidence. 
 The action of the vocal muscles which pro- 
 duces this staccato style is analogous to the 
 nuiscular action which produces the sharp, 
 decisive, energetic movements of bod}' indi- 
 catine these slates of mind ; and therefore it 
 is that the staccato st} wj has the meaning wo 
 ascribe to it. Conversely slurred intervals 
 are expressive of gentler and less active 
 feelings ; and are so because they imply the 
 smaller muscular vivacity due to a lower 
 mental cneriry. The dillerence of effect re- 
 sulting fiom difference of tirru in music, is 
 also attributable (o the same law. Already it 
 has been pointed out that the more fretpient 
 changes of pitch whicli ordinarily result 
 from passion are imitated and developed in 
 song ; and here we have to add, that the va- 
 rious rates of such changes, approjiriate to 
 the different styles of music, are further trails 
 having the same derivation. The slowest 
 movements, larfio and adu'jio, are used where 
 such depressing emotions as gritf, or such 
 unexciting emotions as reverence, are to be 
 portrayed ; while the more rapid movements, 
 andante, allegro, prexto, represent succes- 
 sively increasing degrees of mental vivacit}', 
 and do this because they imi)ly that muscular 
 activity Avhich tlows from this mental vi- 
 vacity. Even the r/iythrn, which forms a 
 remaining distinction between song and 
 speech, may not improbably have a kindred 
 cause. Wliy the actions excited by strong 
 feeling should tend to become rhythmical is 
 not very obvious ; but that they do sn there 
 are divers evidences. There is the swaying 
 of the body to and fro under pain or grief, 
 of the leg under impatience or agitation. 
 Dancing, too, is a rli^'thmical action natural 
 to elevated emotion. That under excitement 
 speech acquires a certain rhythm, we maj' 
 occasionally perceive in the highest efforts 
 of an orator. In poetry, which is a form of 
 speech used for the better expressi(m of 
 emotional ideas, we have this rhythmical 
 tendency developed. And when we bear in 
 mind that dancing, poetr^', and music are 
 connate — are originally constituent parts of 
 the same thing — it becomes clear that the 
 measured movement common to them all im- 
 plies a rhythmical action of the whole sys- 
 tem, the vocal apparatus included ; and that 
 so the rhythm of music is a more subtle and 
 complex result of this relation between men- 
 tal and muscular excitement. 
 
 But it is time to end this analysis, which 
 
 possibly, we have already carried too far. It 
 13 not to be supposed that the more special pe- 
 culiarities of musical expression are to be defi- 
 nitely explained. Though probably they may 
 all in some way conform to the principle that 
 has been worked out, il is ol)viously imprac- 
 ticable to trace that principle in its more ram- 
 ified applications. Nor is it needful to our 
 argument that it .should be so traced. The 
 foregoing facts suihcienlly prove that what 
 we regard as the distinctive traits of song are 
 simply the traits of emotional speech inten- 
 si.ied and sj'slematized. In respect of its 
 general characteristics, we think it lias been 
 made clear liuil vocal music, nnd by conse- 
 quence ail music, is an iiiealizalion of the 
 natural langiiaire of jiassiion. 
 
 As tar as il goes, thr scanty evidence fur- 
 nished liy hisiory confirms this conclusion. 
 Note first the fact (not pruperlyan historical 
 one, bill filly grouped with each) that the 
 dance-< iiantsot savatre tril)es are very monol- 
 onous ; and in viitiu-of llieir monotony are 
 mutii more nearly allied t'> oriiinury speech 
 than are Ih" .songs of civilized races. Join- 
 ing with tins liie fact that there are still ex- 
 tant among boatmen and others in the East, 
 ancient chants of a like monotonous charac- 
 ter, we may infer that vocal musii; originallv 
 diverged from emotional speech in a gracf- 
 ual. unol)trusive manner ; and this is the in- 
 f(-r<'iice to which our argument points. Fur- 
 ther evidence to the same effect is supplied 
 by Greek history. The early poems of the 
 Greeks — which, be it remembered, were 
 sacred legenils embodied in that rhythmical, 
 metaphorical language which strong feeling 
 excites — were not recited, but chanted : 
 the tones and the cadences wero mutle musi- 
 cal by the same intluencea which made the 
 speech poetical. 
 
 By those who have investigated the mat- 
 ter, this chanting is believed to have been not 
 what we call singing, but nearly allied to 
 our recitative (far simpler, indeed, if we 
 may judge from the fact that the early Greek 
 lyre, which had hul four strings, was played 
 in unison with the voice, which was there- 
 fore confined to four notes) ; and as such, 
 much less remote from common speech than 
 our own singing is. For recitative or musi- 
 cal recitation, is in all respects intermediate 
 between speech and song. Its average effects 
 are not so loud as those of song. Its tones 
 are less sonorous in timbre than those of song. 
 Commonly it diverges to a smaller extent 
 from the middle notes — uses notes neither so 
 liigh nor so low in pitch. The intertals ha- 
 bitual to it are neither so wide nor so varied, 
 \ls rate of variation \?, wot so rapid. And at 
 the same time that its primary 7-Ay^/mi is less 
 decided, it has none of that secondary 
 rhythm produced by recurrence of the same 
 or parallel musical phras»s, which is one of 
 the marked characteristics of song. Thus, 
 then, we may not only infer, fem the evi- 
 dence furnished by existing barbarous tiibes, 
 that the vocal music of prehistoric times was 
 emotional speech very slightly exalted, but 
 we see that the earliest vocal music of which
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 263 
 
 we have any account differed much lesa 
 from emotional speech than does the vocal 
 music of our days. 
 
 That recitative — beyond which, by the 
 waj', tlie Chinese and Hindoos seem never to 
 have advanced — jriew naturally out of the 
 modulations and cadences of strong feeling, 
 we have indeed still current evidence. There 
 are even now to be met w'th occasions on 
 which strong feeling vents itself in this form. 
 Whoever has been present when a meeting 
 of Quakers was addressed by one of their 
 preachers (whose practice it is to speak onl}' 
 \inder the inliuence of religious emotion), 
 must have been struck by the quite unusual 
 tones, like those of a subdued chant, in which 
 the address was made. It is dear, too. that 
 the intoning used in some churches is repre- 
 sentative of this same mental state, and has 
 been adopted on account of the instinctively 
 felt congruily between it and the contrition, 
 supplication, or reverence verbal)}' expressed. 
 
 And if, as we have good reason to l)elieve, 
 recitative arose by degrees out of emotional 
 speech, 1t becomes manifest that by a con- 
 tinuance of the same process song has arisen 
 out of recitative. Just as, from the orations 
 and legends of savages, expressed in the 
 metaphorical, allegorical style natural to 
 them, there sprung epic poetry, out of which 
 lyric poetry was afterward developcil ; so, 
 from the exalted tones and cadences in \n hich 
 such orations and legends were delivered, camo 
 the chant or recitative nuisic, from whence 
 lyrical music has since grown up. And 
 there has not only thus been a simultaneous 
 and parallel genesis, but there is also a paral- 
 klisni of results. For lyrical poetry (liU'ers 
 from epic poetry just as lyrical music dillers 
 from recitative : each sliU further intensities 
 the natural language of the cmotii^ns. Lyri- 
 cal poetry is more metaphorical, more hyper- 
 bolic, more elliptica!, and adds the rliythm 
 of lines to the rhythm of feet ; just as lyrical 
 music is louder, more sonorous, more extreme 
 in its intervals, and adds the rhythm of 
 phrases to the rhythm of bars. And the 
 known fact that out of epic poetry the 
 stronger passions developed lyrical poetry as 
 their appropriate veliicle, strengthens the in- 
 feience that they similarly developed lyrical 
 music out of recitative 
 
 Nor indeed are we without evidences of the 
 transition. It needs but to listen to an opera 
 to hear the leading gradations. Between the 
 comparatively level recitative of ordinary 
 dialogue, the more varied recitative with 
 wider mtervals and higher tones used in ex- 
 citing .scenes, the still more musical recitative 
 which preludes an air, and the air itself, the 
 successive steps are but small ; anfl the fact 
 that among airs themselves gradations of like 
 nature may be traced, further confirms the 
 conclusion that the highest form of vocal 
 music was arrived at by degrees. 
 
 Moreover, we have some clew to the influ- 
 ences which have induced this development, 
 and may roughly conceive the process of it. 
 As the tones,intervals, and cadences of strong 
 emotion were the elements out uf which son^' 
 
 was elaborated ; so, we may expo jt to And 
 that still stronger emotion produ<:ed the elab- 
 oration ; and we have evidence implying 
 this. Instances in abundance may be cited, 
 Bhowing that musical composers are men of 
 extremely acute sensibilities. The VJo of 
 Mozart depicts him as one of intensely active 
 affections and highly impressionable temper- 
 anient. Various anecdotes represent Bee- 
 thoven as very susceptible and very passion- 
 ate. j\leudels3ohn is described by those who 
 knew him to have been full of tine feeling. 
 And the almost incredible sensitiveness of 
 Chopin has l)eea illustrated in the memoirs 
 of George Sand. An unusually emotional 
 nature being thus the general characteristic 
 of musical composers, we have in it just the 
 agency required for the development of reci- 
 tative and song. Intenser feeling producing 
 inteuser manifestations, any cause of excite- 
 ment will call forth from such a nature tones 
 and changes of voice more marked than 
 those calleil forth from an ordinary nature — ; 
 will generate just those exaggerations which 
 we have found to distiuguisii the lower vocal 
 music from emotional speech, and the higher 
 vocal music from tiie l.-wer. Thus it becomes 
 credible that the four-toned recitative of the 
 early (J reek poets (like all poets, nearly allied 
 to cumposers in the comparative intensity of 
 their feelings), was really nothing more than 
 the slightly exaggerated emotional speech 
 natural to them, which grew by frequent 
 use into an organized form. And it is readily 
 couceivaijle tliat the accumulated agency of 
 siibsecjuent poet musicians, inheriting and 
 adding to the products of those who went 
 before them, sutliced, in the course of the 
 ten centuries which we know it took, to de- 
 velop this four-toned recitative into a vocal 
 music having a ranj-e of two octaves. 
 
 Not only may we so understand how more 
 sonorous tones, greater extremes of pitch, 
 and wider intervals, were gradually intro- 
 duced, but also how there arose a greater 
 variety and com{ilexity of musical expres- 
 sion. For this same passionate, enthusiastic 
 temperament, which naturally leads the 
 musical comi)user to express the feelings pos- 
 sessed by others as well as himself, in ex- 
 tremer intervals and more marked cadences 
 than they would use, also leads him to give 
 musical utterance to feelings which they 
 either do not exiierience, or experience in 
 but slight degrees. In virtue of this general 
 susceptibility which distinguishes him, he 
 regards with emotion events, scenes, con- 
 duct, character, which produce upon most 
 men no appreciable effect. The emotions so 
 generated, compounded as they are of the 
 simpler emotions, are not expressible by in- 
 tervals and cadences natural to these, but by 
 combinations of such intervals and cadences ; 
 whence arise more involved musical phrases, 
 conveying more complex, subtle, and un- 
 usual feelings. And thus we may in some 
 measure understand how it happens that 
 music not only so strongly excites our more 
 familiar feeluigs, but ais3 produces feelings 
 we never had before ; arouses dormant sen- 
 timents of which we had not C!;nc. ived tho
 
 2fi4 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 possibility, and do not knuw tlie meaning ; 
 or, as Ricijter sa3-s, tells us of tbiogs we 
 buve not seen and sliall not see. 
 
 Indirect evidences of several kinds remain 
 to be brielly pointed out. One of tliem is 
 the dillieulfy, not to .say impossibility, of 
 otiierwise accounting for the expressiveness 
 of music. Whence comes it that special 
 combiualions of notes sh(<uld have special 
 elfects upon our emotions ? — that one should 
 give us a feeling of exhilaration, another of 
 melancholy, another of affection, another of 
 reverence ? Is it that these special combi- 
 iiutious have intrinsic meanings apart from 
 the human constitution V — that a ccituin 
 number of aerial waves per second, followed 
 by a certain other number, in the nature of 
 things signify grief, while in the reverse 
 order they signify joy; and similarly with 
 all other intervals, phrases, and cadences ? 
 Few will be so irrational as to think this. 
 Is it, then, that the meanings of these special 
 comljinalions are conventional only? — that 
 we learn tlicir implications, as we do those 
 of word.s, by observing how others under- 
 stand them ? This is an hypothesis net 
 onlydev()idof evidence, bui directly opposed 
 to the experience of every one. How, then, 
 are musical effects to be explained ? If the 
 theory above set forth be accepted, the dilli- 
 culty disappears. If music, taking for its 
 raw material the various modilications of 
 voice which are the physiological results of 
 excited feeling, intensifies, combines, and 
 complicates them — if it exaggerates the loud- 
 ness, the resonance, the pitch, the intervals, 
 and the variability, which, in virtue of an 
 oiganiclaw, are the characteristics of passion- 
 ate speech — if, by carrying out these farther, 
 more consistently, more unitedly, and more 
 sustainedly, in produces an idealized lan- 
 guage of emotion ; then its power over us 
 becomes comprehensible. But in the absence 
 of this theory, the exj)ressivencss of music 
 appears to be inexplicable. 
 
 Again, the preference we feel for certain 
 qualities of sound presents a like difficulty, 
 admitting only of a like solution. It is gen 
 crally agreed that the tones of the human 
 voice are more pleasing than any others. 
 Grant that music takes its rise from the mod- 
 ulations of the human voice under emotion, 
 and it becomes a natural consequence that 
 the tones of that voice should appeal to our 
 feelings more than any others ; and so should 
 be considered more beautiful than any others. 
 But deny that music has this origin, and the 
 only alternative is the untenable position that 
 the vibrations proceeding from a vocalist's 
 throat are, objectively considered, of a higher 
 order than those from a horn or a violin. 
 Similarly with harsh and soft sounds. If 
 the ccniclusiveuess of the foregoing reason- 
 ings be not admitted, it must be supposed 
 that the vibrations causing the last aie in- 
 trinsically better than those causing the first ; 
 and that, in virtue of some pre-established 
 harmony, the higher feelings and natures 
 produce the one, and the lower the other. 
 But if the foregoing reasonings be valid, it 
 
 follows, as a matter of course, that we shall 
 like the sounds that habitually accompany 
 agreeable feelings, and dislike Uiose that 
 habitually accompany disagreeable feelings. 
 
 Once more, the question, How is the ex- 
 pressiveness of music to be otherwise ac- 
 counted for? may be supplemented by the 
 question, How is the genesis of music to be 
 otherwise accounted for? That nuisic is a 
 product of civilization is manifest ; for 
 though savages have their dance-chants, 
 these are of a kinil scarcely to be dignified 
 by the title musical : at most, they supply 
 but the vaguet-t rudiment of music, properly 
 so called. And if music has been by slow 
 steps developed in the course of civilization, 
 it must have been developed out of some- 
 thing. If, then, its origin is not that above 
 alleged, what is its origin ? 
 
 Thus we find that the negative evidence 
 confirms the positive, and that, taken to- 
 gether, they furnish strong proof. "We have 
 seen that there is a physiological relation, 
 common to man and all animals, between 
 feeling and nuiscular action ; that as vocal 
 sounds are produced by muscular action, 
 there is a consequent physiological relation 
 between feeling and vocal sounds ; that all 
 the modifications of voice expressive of feel- 
 ing are the direct results of this physiologi- 
 cal relation ; that music, adopting all these 
 modifications, intensifies them more and 
 more as it ascends to its higher and higher 
 forms, and becomes music sinqdy in virtue 
 of thus intensifying them ; that, from the 
 ancient epic ])Oct chanfing his verses, down 
 to the modern musical composer, men of un- 
 usually strong feelings, prone to express them 
 in extreme forms, have been naturallj' the 
 agents of these successive intensifications ; 
 and that so there has little by little ari.sen a 
 wide divergence between this idealized lan- 
 guage of emotion and its natural language : 
 to which direct evidence we have just 
 added the indirect — that on no other tenable 
 hypothesis can cither the expressiveness or 
 the genesis of music be explained. 
 
 And now, what is thvt /miction of music? 
 Has music any effect beyond the immediate 
 pleasure it produces ? Analogy suggests 
 that it has. The enjoyments of a good din- 
 ner do not end with themselves, but minister 
 to bodily well-being. Though people do not 
 marry with a view to maintain the lace, yet 
 the passions which impel them to marry 
 secure its maintenance. Parental affection 
 is a feeling which, while it conduces to 
 parental happiness, insures the nurture of 
 offspring. Men love to accumulate property, 
 often without thought of the benefits it pro- 
 duces ; but in pursuing the pleasure of 
 acquisition they indirectly open the way to 
 other pleasures. The wish for public ap- 
 proval impels all of us to do many things 
 which we should otherwise not do — to under- 
 take great labors, face great dangers, and 
 habitually rule ourselves in a way that 
 smooths social intercourse : that is, in grati- 
 fying our love of approbation we subserve 
 divers ulterior purposes. And, generally,
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 265 
 
 our nature is such that in fulfilling each tic- 
 sire, we in some way facilitate the fullilnieut 
 of the rest. But the lovu of music seems to 
 exist for its own sake. The delights of 
 melody and harmony do not obviously min- 
 ister to the welfare either of the individual 
 or of society. iMay we not suspect, how- 
 ever, that this exception is ap[)arent only ? 
 Is it net a rational incjuirj', "What are the in- 
 direct hcnelits which accrue from music, in 
 addition to the direct pleasure it gives ? 
 
 But that it would take us too far out of 
 our truck, we should prelude this inquiry by 
 illustrating at some h?ngth a certain general 
 law of progress : the law that alike in occu- 
 j)ations, sciences, arts, the divisions that had 
 a common root, but b}' continual divergence 
 have become distinct, and are now being sep- 
 arately developed, are not truly independent, 
 but severally act and react on each other to 
 their mutual advancement. Merely hin;ing 
 thus much, however, by way of showing 
 that there are many analogies to justify us, 
 we go on to express the opinion that there 
 exists a relationship of this kind between 
 music and speech. 
 
 All speech is compounded of two elements, 
 the words and the tones in which they are 
 uttered — the signs of ideas and the signs of 
 feelings. While certain articulations express 
 the thought, certain vocal sounds express 
 the more or less of pain or pleasure which 
 the thought gives. Using the word cadence 
 in an unusually extended sense, as compre- 
 hending ail modifications of voice, we may 
 say that cmknce is the commenlary of the 
 emotions upon the propositions of tJie intcUect. 
 This duality of spoken language, though nut 
 formally recognized, is recognized in prac- 
 tice by every one ; and every one knows that 
 very often more weight attaches to the tones 
 than to the words. Daily experience sup- 
 plies cases in which the same .sentence of 
 disapproval will be understood as meaning 
 little or meaning much, according to the in- 
 flections of voice which accompanj' it ; and 
 daily experience supplies still more striking 
 cases in which words and tones are in direct 
 contradiction— the first expressing consent, 
 ■while the last express reluctitnce ; and the 
 last being believed rnthcr than the first. 
 
 These two distinct but interwoven ele- 
 ments of speech have been undergoing a 
 Ximultaueous development. We know that 
 in the course of civilization words have been 
 multiplied, new parts of speech have been in- 
 troduced, sentences have grown more varied 
 and complex ; and we may fairly infer that 
 during the same time new modifications of 
 voice have come into use, fresh intervals 
 have been adopted, and cadences have be- 
 come more elaborate. For while, on the one 
 hand, it is absurd to suppose that, along 
 with the undeveloped verbal forms of bar- 
 barism, tnere existed a developed system of 
 vocal inflections, it is, on the other hand, 
 necessary to suppose that, along with the 
 higher and more numerous verbal forms 
 needed to convey the multii)lied and compli- 
 cated ideas of civilized life, there have grown 
 
 up those more involved changes of voice 
 which express the feelings proper to such, 
 ideas. If intellectual language is a growth, 
 so also, without doubt, is emotional language 
 a growth. 
 
 Now, the hypothesis which we have 
 hin ed above is, that beyond the direct 
 pleasure wliich it gives, music hat the indi- 
 rect effect of developing this language of the 
 emotions. Having its root, as we luive en- 
 deavored to show, in those tones, intervals, 
 and cadences of speech which express feel- 
 ing — arising by the combination and intensi- 
 fying of these, and coming finally to havo 
 an embodiment of its own, music has all 
 along been reacting upon speech, and in- 
 creasing its power of rendering emotion. 
 The use in recitative and song of inflections 
 more expressive than ordinary ones, must 
 from the begiuning have tended to develop 
 the ordinary ones. Familiarity with the 
 more varied combinations of tones that 
 occur in vocal music can scarcely have 
 failed to give greater variety of combi- 
 nation to the tones in which wo utter 
 our impressions and desires. The complex 
 musical phrases by wliicu composers have 
 conveyed complex emotions may rationally 
 be supposed to have influenced us in making 
 those involved cadences of conversation by 
 which we convey our subtler thoughts and 
 feelings. 
 
 That the cultivation of music has no effect 
 on the mind, few will be absurd enough to 
 c intend. And if it hiis an ett'ect, what more 
 natural effect is there than this of develop- 
 ing our perception of the meanings of inflec- 
 tions, (pialities, and modulations of voice ; 
 and giving us a correspondiuL'ly increased 
 power of using them? Just as mathematics, 
 taking its start from the phenomena of phys- 
 ics and astronomy, and presently coming to 
 be a separate science, h;is since reacted on 
 phi'sics and Jistronomy to their immense ad- 
 vancement ; just as chemistry, first arising 
 out of the processes of metallurgy and the 
 industrial arts, and gradually growing into 
 an independent study, has now become an 
 aid to all kinds of production ; just as phys- 
 iology, originating out of mjdicine and once 
 subordinate to it, but latterly pursu<,'d for its 
 own sake, is in our daj' coming to be the 
 science on which the progress of medicine 
 depends ; .so music, having its root in emo- 
 tional language, and gradually evolved from 
 it, has ever been reacting upon and further 
 advancing it. Whoever will examine the 
 facts will find this hypothesis to be in har- 
 mony with the method of civilization every- 
 where displayed. 
 
 It will .scarcely be expected that much di- 
 rect evidence in support of this conclusion 
 can be given. The facts are of a kind which 
 it is ditticult to measure, and of which we 
 have no records. Soue suggestive traits, 
 however, may be noted. M^iy we not say. 
 for instance, that the Italians, 'amom: whom 
 modern music was earliest cillivaied. and 
 who have more especially practised and ex- 
 celled in melody (the divis'ou of music with
 
 2G6 
 
 PHOGRKSS: ITS LAW AM) CAUSE. 
 
 which our arcfument is chiefly concernefl)-— 
 
 may we nnl say that these Italians speak in 
 ino'i« varied and expressive inflections and 
 cadences tlian any other nation ? On the 
 other hand, may we not say that, confined 
 almost exclusively as they have hitherto been 
 to their national airs, which have a marked 
 family likeness, and tlierefore accvjstonied to 
 but a limited ranj^o of musical expression, 
 the Scotch are unusually monotonous in the 
 intervals and modulations of their speech ? 
 And again, do we not find among different 
 classes of the same nation, differences that 
 have like implications ? The gentleman and 
 the clown stand in very decided contrast 
 with respect to variety of intonation. List- 
 en to the conversation of a servant -girl, and 
 then to that of a refined, accomplished lad}', 
 and the more delicate and complex changes 
 of voice tised by the latter will i)e conspic- 
 uous. Now, without going so far as to say 
 that out of all the differences of culture to 
 which the upper and lower classes are sub- 
 jected, difference of musical culture is that 
 to which alone this difference of speech is as- 
 cribal)le ; yet we may fairly say that tiiere 
 seems a much more obvious connection of 
 cause and effect between these than between 
 any others. Thus, while the inductive evi- 
 dence to which we can appeal is but scanty 
 and vague, yet what there is favors our po- 
 sition. 
 
 Probably most will think that the function 
 here assigned to music is one of very little 
 moment. But further reflection may lead 
 them to a contrary conviction. In its bear- 
 ings upon human happiness, we believe that 
 this emotional language, which musical cul- 
 ture develops and refines, is only second in 
 importance to the language, of tiie intellect ; 
 perhaps not even second to it. For these 
 modifications of voice produced by feelings 
 are the means of exciting like feelingi* in 
 others. Joined with gestures and expres- 
 sions of fice, they give life to the otherwise 
 dead wojds in which the intellect utters its 
 ideas ; and so enable the hearer not only to 
 understand the state of mind the}' accompany, 
 but to partake of that state. In short, they 
 are the ciiief media of stympathy. And if we 
 consider how much Loth our general welfare 
 and our immediate pleasures depend upon 
 sympathy, we shall recognize the importance 
 of whatever makes this sj'mpathy greater. 
 If we bear in mind that by their fellow-feel- 
 ing men aie led to behave justly, kindly, and 
 considerately to each other— that the "differ- 
 ence between the cruelty of the barbarous 
 and the humanity of the civilized results 
 from the increase of fellow-feeling ; if we 
 bear in mind that this faculty which makes 
 us sharers in the joys and sorrows of others, 
 is the basis of all the higher affections— that 
 in friendship, love, and all domestic pleas- 
 ures it is an essential element ; if we bear 
 in mind how much our direct gratifications 
 are intensified by sympathy ; liow, at the 
 theatre, the concert, the picture gallery. We 
 lose half our enjoyment if we have no one to 
 enjoy with us ; if, in short, we bear in mind 
 
 that for all happiness heyrmd what the un- 
 friended recluse can have we aie indebted 
 to this same sympathy, we shall see tliatthe 
 agencies which communicate it can scarcely 
 be overrated in value. 
 
 The tendency of civilization is more and 
 more to repress the antagonistic elements of 
 our characters and to develop tlie social ones — 
 to curb our purely selfish desires and exercise 
 our unselfisli ones ; to replace private gratifi- 
 cations by gratifications resulting from, or in- 
 volving, the happiness of others. And while, 
 by this adaptation to the .social state, the 
 sympathetic side of our nature is being un- 
 folded, there is simultaneously growing up a 
 language of sympathetic intercourse — a lan- 
 guage throtigh which we communicate to 
 others the luippiness we feel, and are made 
 sharers in their happiness. 
 
 This double process, of which the effects 
 arc already sulBciently appreciable, must go 
 on to an extent of which we can as yet have 
 no adequate conception. The habitual con- 
 cealment of our feelings diminishing, as it 
 nuiat, in proportion as our feelings become 
 such as do not demand couceulmcDt. we may 
 conclude that the exhibition of tlicm will be- 
 come much more vivid than we now dure al- 
 low it to be ; and this implies a more ex- 
 pressive emotional language. At the same 
 time, feelings of a higher and more complex 
 kind, as ytt «'xperienced only by the culti- 
 vated few, will become genend ; and there 
 will be a corresponding development of the 
 emotional language into more involved 
 forms. Just as there has silently grown up 
 a language of ideas, which, lude as it at first; 
 was, now enables us to convey with precision 
 the most subtle and complicated thoughts ; 
 so there is still silently growin;., up a lan- 
 guage of feelings, which, notwithstanding its 
 present imperfection, we may expect will ul- 
 timately enable men vividly and completely 
 to impress on each other all the emotions 
 which they experience from moment to mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Thus if, as we have endeavored to show, it 
 is the function of music to facilitate the de- 
 velopment of this emotional language, we 
 may regard music as an aid to the achieve- 
 ment of that higher happiness which it in- 
 distinctly shadows forth. Tho.se vague feel- 
 ings of unexperienced felicity which music 
 arouses, those indefinite impressions of an 
 unknown ideal life which it calls up, may be 
 considered as a prophecy, to the furalmeut 
 of which nmsic is itself partly instrumental. 
 The strange capacity which we have for 
 being so affected by melody and harmony, 
 may be taken to imply both that it is within 
 the possibilities of our nature to lealize 
 those intenser delights they dimly suggest, 
 and that they are in some way concernt.d in 
 the reali^zation of them. On this supposition 
 the power and the meaning of music become 
 comprehensible ; but otherwise they are a 
 mystery. 
 
 We will only add, that if the probability 
 of these corollaries be admitted, then music 
 must take rank as the highest of the fine
 
 PKOGIIESS; ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 267 
 
 arts — as the one which more Ihan iiny other 
 ministers to liumaii "welfare. Aiul thus, cvcu 
 leaving out of view tlie iniraediale gratifica- 
 tions it is hourly giving, we cannot too 
 much applaud lliat progress of musical cul- 
 ture whicli is becoming one of the character- 
 istica of our age. 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE DEVELOPMKKT IIYPOTIIESIS. 
 
 In a debate upon the development hypoth- 
 esis, lately narrated to me by a friend, one 
 of the disputants was diiscribed as arguing, 
 that as, in all our experience, we know no 
 such phenomenon as transmutation of spe- 
 cies, it is unphilosophical to assume that 
 transmutation of species ever takes place. 
 Had 1 been present, I think that, passing 
 over his assertion, which is open to criti- 
 cism, I should have replied that, as in all 
 our experience we have never known a epe- 
 cies created, it was, by his own showing, un- 
 philosophical to assume that any species ever 
 had been created. 
 
 Those who cavalierly reject the theory of 
 evolution, as not adequately supported by 
 facts, seem quite to forget that their own 
 theory is supported by no facts at all. Like 
 the majority of men who are born to a given 
 belief, they demand the most rigorous proof 
 of any adverse lyilief, but assume that their 
 own needs none. Here we find, scattered 
 over the globe, vegetable and animal organ- 
 isms numbering, of the one kind (according 
 to Humboldt), some ;J2t),000 species, and of 
 the other, some 2,000.000 species (see Car- 
 penter) ; and if to these we add the numbers 
 of animal and vegetable species that have be- 
 come extinct, we may safely estimate the 
 number of species th;.t have existed, and are 
 existing, on the earth, at not less than ten 
 mUlioiis. Well, which is the most rational 
 theory about these ten millions of species ? 
 Is it most likely that there have been ten 
 millions of special creations? or is it most 
 likely that by continual modifications, due 
 to Change of circumstances, ten millions of 
 varieties have been produced, as varieties are 
 being produced stili ? 
 
 Doubtless many will reply that they can 
 mjre easily conceive ten millions of special 
 creations to have takeji place, than They can 
 conceive that ten millions of varieties have 
 arisen by successive modifications. All such, 
 however, will find, on inquiry, that they are 
 under an illusion. This is one of the many 
 cases in which men do not really believe, but 
 rather belkce they belieee. It is not that they 
 can truly conceive ten millions of special 
 creations to have taken place, but that they 
 think (hey can &j so. Careful introspection 
 will show them that they have never yet re- 
 alized to themselves the creation of even one 
 species. If they have formed a definite con- 
 ception of the process, let them tell us how a 
 new species is constructed, and how it makes 
 its appearance. Is it thrown down from the 
 clouds V or must we hold to the notion that 
 it stiuggles up out of the ground? Do its 
 
 limba anl viscera rush together from all tha 
 pi/inls of the compass? or nuist we receivo 
 the old Ilebiew idea, that God takes clay and 
 moulds a new creature ? If they say that a 
 new creature is produced in none of these 
 modes, which are too absurd to be lielieved ; 
 then they are required to describe the mode 
 in which a new creature imnj be produced— a 
 mode which iloes not seem absurd ; and such 
 i\ mode they will find that they neither have 
 conceived nor can conceive. 
 
 Should the believers in special creatioua 
 consider it unfair thus to call upon them tu 
 describe how special creations lake place, 1 
 reply, that this is far les-s than they demand 
 from the supporters of the development hy- 
 pothesis. They are merely asked to point 
 out a conceitiible mode. On the other hand, 
 they ask, not simply for a conceivable mode, 
 but for the actual mode. They do not say. 
 Show us how this imiy take place ; but they 
 say. Show us how this does take place. So 
 far from its being unreasonable to put the 
 above question, it would be reasonable to ask 
 not only for a possible mode of special crea- 
 tion, but for an ascertained mode ; seeing 
 that this is no greater a demand than they 
 make upon their opponents. 
 
 And here wc may perceive how much 
 more defensible the new doctrine is than the 
 old one. Even could the supporters of the 
 development hypothesis merely show that 
 t/ie origination of species by the process of 
 modification is conceivable, they would be ia 
 a better position than their opponents. But 
 they can do much more than this. They caa 
 show that the process of modification has ef- 
 fected, and is effecting, decided changes ia 
 all organisms subject to modifymg iufiueuces. 
 Though, from the imimsdibility of getting at 
 a sufficiency t;f facts, they are unable to trace 
 the many phases through which any existing 
 species has passed in arriving at its present 
 fonn, or to identify the infiuences which 
 caused the successive modifications, yet 
 they can show that any existing species — 
 annnal or vegetable — when placed under 
 conditions different from its previous ones, 
 immediatdy begins to undergo certain changes 
 of structure fitting it for tlce new amdiHona. 
 They can show that in successive generations 
 these changes continue, until ultimately tlio 
 uew conditions become the natural ones. 
 They can show that ia cultivated plants, iu 
 domesticated animals, and in the several 
 races of men, such alterations have takea 
 place. They can show that the degrees of 
 difference so produced are often, as in dogs, 
 greater than tho.se on which distinctions of 
 species are fn other cases founded. They 
 can show that it is a matter of dispute 
 whether some of these modified forms ar6 
 varieties or separate species. They caa 
 show, too, that the changes daily taking 
 place in ourselves — the facility that attends 
 long practice, and the loss of aptitude that 
 begins wlien practice ceases — the strengthen- 
 ing of passions liahilually gratified, and thu 
 weakening of those habitually curbed — tha 
 development of every faculty, bodily, moral.
 
 268 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 or intellectual, accordiup to the use made of 
 it, — are all explicable on this same principle. 
 And thus they can show tiiat throuyliout all 
 organic nature there i.<> at work a modifying? 
 influence of the kind they assign as tlie cause 
 of these specific dillerences : an influence 
 which, Ihoujri) slow in its action, docs, in 
 time, if the circumstances demand it. pro- 
 duce marked changes — an inflaeuce whicli, 
 to all appearance, would produce in tlie mill- 
 ions of years, and under tiic great varielics 
 of condition which geological records inipl^', 
 anv amount of change. 
 
 Which, then, is the most rational hj'poth- 
 esis ? — that of special creations, wlii(;h has 
 neither a fact to sui)port it nor is even defi- 
 nitely coucei7al)le ; or that of modification, 
 ■which is not only definitely cuuceivahle, 
 but is countenanced hy the habitudes of 
 every existing organism ? 
 
 That by any series of changes a protozoon 
 should over become a mammal, seems to 
 those who are not familiar with zoology, and 
 ■who lia"vc not .seen how clear becomes the 
 relationship between the simplest and tiie 
 most complex forms when intermediate 
 forms are examined, a very grotesque notion. 
 Ilabituallj' looking at things rather in their 
 statical than in their dynamical asjicct, they 
 never realize the fact thiit, by small incrc- 
 ments of modification, any amount of modi 
 fication may in time be generated. That 
 surprise wiiich they feel on finding one 
 whom they last saw as a boy, grown into a 
 man, becomes incredulity when the degree 
 of change is greater. Nevertheless, abun- 
 dant instances are at hand of the mode in 
 which we may pass to the most diver.se 
 forms, by iusensii)le gradations. Arguing 
 the matter some time since with a learned 
 professor, I illustrated my position thus : 
 You admit that there is no ajiparcnt relation- 
 ship between a circle and an hyperbola. The 
 one is a finite curve ; the other is au infinite 
 one. All parts of the one arc alike ; of the 
 other no two parts arc alike. The one in- 
 closes a space ; the other will not inclose a 
 space though produced forever. Yet oppo- 
 site as are these curves in all their i>roperties, 
 they may be connected together by a series 
 of Tntermediate curves, no one of which dif- 
 fers from the adjacent ones in any appre- 
 ciable degree. Thus, if a cone be cut by a 
 plane at right angles to its axis we get a 
 circle. If, instead of being perfectly at right 
 angles, the plane subtends with the axis an 
 angle of 8'J^ 59', we have au ellipse, which 
 no human eye, even when aided by an accu- 
 late pair of composses, can distinguish from 
 a circle. Decreasing the angle minute by 
 minute, the ellipse becomes first perceptibly 
 eccentric, then manifestly so, and by and by 
 acquires so immensely elongated a form as 
 to bear no recognizable resemblance to a 
 circle. By continuing this process, the 
 ellipse passes insensibly into a parabola ; and 
 ultimately, by still further diniiuishing the 
 angle, into an hyperbola. Now here we 
 have four different species of curve — circle, 
 ellipse, parabola, and hyperbola — each hav- 
 
 ing its peculiar properties and its separate 
 equation, and the first and last of which are 
 quite opposite in nature, rnrinrctod together 
 as members of one .series, all producii)le by 
 a single process of in.sensible modification. 
 
 But the blindness of those who think it 
 absurd to suppose that comi>lex organic 
 forms may have arisen by successive modifi- 
 cations out of simple ones, beeomes astonish- 
 ing when we remember that complex organic 
 forms arc daily being thus produced. A 
 tree diff<rs from a seed immeasurably in 
 every resp?ct — in bulk, in structure, in color, 
 in form, in specitic gravity, in chemical 
 composition : dilTers so greatly that no visi- 
 ble resemblance of any kind can be pointed 
 out between them. Yet is the one changed 
 in the course of a few j-ears into the other : 
 changed so gradually, that at no moment 
 can it be said, Now the seed ceases to be, 
 and the tree exists. What can be more 
 widely contrasted than a newly-i)orn cliild 
 and the small, semi-transparent, gelatinous 
 si)herule constituting the human ovum '! 
 The infant is so conij)lex in structure that a 
 cycloi)a'dia is needed to describe its constit- 
 uent parts. The germinal vesicle is so 
 simple that it may l)e defined in a line. 
 Nevertheless, a few months suflice to develop 
 the one out of the other ; and that, too, by a 
 series of modifications so small that were 
 the embryo examined at successive minutes, 
 even a microscope would with difiiculty dis- 
 close any sensible changes. That the uned- 
 ucated and the ill-educated should think the 
 hypothesis that all races of being.s, man in- 
 clu.sive, may in process of time have been 
 evolved from the simplest monad, a ludicrous 
 one, is not to be wondered at. Jhit for the 
 physiologist, who knows that every individ- 
 ual being is .so evolved — ■vNho knows further, 
 that in tlu ir earliest condition the germs of 
 all plants awl annuals \\hatever are no sim- 
 ilar, " that there is no appreciable distinction 
 among them which would enable it to be de- 
 termined whether a particular molecule is 
 the germ of a conferva or of an oak, of a 
 zoophyte or of a mau ;" ■* — for him to nuike 
 a difiiculty of the matter is inexcusable. 
 Surely if a single cell u'.ay, when subjected 
 to certain influences, become a man \u the 
 space of twenty years, there is nothing ab- 
 surd in the liypothtsis that under certain 
 other influences a cell may in the course of 
 millions of years give origin to the human 
 race. The two processes are generically the 
 same, and differ only in length and com- 
 plexity. 
 
 We have, indeed, in the part taken by 
 many scientific men in this controversy of 
 " Law versus Miracle," a good illustration of 
 the tenacious vitality of superstitions. Ask 
 one of our leading geologists or physiologists 
 whether he believes in the !Mosaic accoimt 
 of the creation, and he will take the question 
 as next to an insult. Either he rejects the 
 narrative entirely, or understands it in some 
 vague non-natural sense. Yet one part of it 
 he unconsciously adopts, and that, too, liter- 
 ally. For "Whence has he got this notion of
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 2Sd 
 
 " special creations," which he thinks so 
 reasonable, and fights for so vigorously ? 
 Evidently he can trace it buck to no other 
 source than Ibis mylh which he repudiates. 
 He has not a single fiict in nature to quote 
 in proof of it ; nur is he prepared wilh any 
 chain of abstract reasoning by which it may 
 be established. Catechise him, and he will 
 •be forced to confess that the notion was put 
 into his nVmd in childhood as pait of a story 
 which he now thinks absurd. And why, 
 after rejecting all the rest of this story, he 
 should strenuously defend this last remnant 
 of it as though he had received it ou valid 
 authority, he would be puzzled to say. 
 
 THE SOCI.\Ii ORGANISM. 
 
 Siu .Tamks JlACiNTOSir got great credit for 
 the Siiying. that " constitutions are not made, 
 but grow/' In our day the most siguiflcant 
 thing about this saying is, that it was ever 
 thouglit so significant. As from the surprise 
 displayed b/ a man at some faniilij'.r fact, 
 you may judge of his geneial culture ; so 
 from the ailmiration which an age:iccords to 
 a new thought, its average degree of enlight- 
 enment may be inferred. Tliat this apoph- 
 thegm of ,M"acintosl< should have i)een(iuotul 
 and reipinted as it has. shows huw profound 
 has been tiie ignorance of social science. A 
 small ray of liulli lias seemed brilliant, as a 
 distant rushlight looks Hkc a star in the sui- 
 rounding darkness. 
 
 Such a conception could not, indeed, fail 
 to be .startling wlien let fall in the nndst of a 
 system of thought to which it was utterly 
 alien. Universally in ^lacintosh's day. things 
 were explained on tlie hyi)i»lhtsis of manu- 
 facture lather than thai of growth: as in- 
 deed they are, by the majority, in our own 
 day. It was held that the planets were sev- 
 erally projected round the sun from the 
 Creator's hand, with exactly the velocity re- 
 quired to balance the sun's attraction. Tho 
 formation of the earlii, the separation of seu 
 from land, the productiou of animals, were 
 mechanical works from which God rested as 
 a laborer rests. Man was supi)0sed to bo 
 moulded after a manner somewhat akin to 
 that in which a modeller makes a clay-ligurc. 
 And of course, in harmony witii such iileas, 
 societies were tacitly assumed to be arranged 
 thus or thus by direct interposilir.n of Provi- 
 dence ; or by the regulations of lawmakers ; 
 or by both. 
 
 Yet that societies are not artificially put 
 together is a truth so manifest that it seems 
 wonderful men should have ever overlooked 
 it. Perhaps nothing more clearly shows the 
 small value of historical studies, as lliey have 
 been conunonly pursued. You need but to 
 look at the changes going on around, or ob- 
 serve social organization in its leading pecul- 
 iarities, to see that these are neither super- 
 natuial nor are deterndncd by the wills of 
 individual men, as by implication historians 
 commonly teach, but are consequent on 
 general natural causes. The one case of the 
 
 division of labor suffices to show this, tt 
 has not been by couunaud of any ruler that 
 some men have becoms manufacturers whilo 
 otiiers have remained cultivators of the soil. 
 In Lancashire, millions have devoted them- 
 selves to the making of cotton fabrics ; ia 
 Yorkshire, another niillion lives by produc- 
 ing woollens ; and the pottery of SlalTordshire.^ 
 tlje cull ry of SlKllield, the hardware of 
 Birmingham, severally occupy their hundred.-j 
 of thousands. These are large facts ia thu 
 structure of English society ; but we cari as- 
 cribe them neither to miracle nur to legisla- 
 tion. It is u>t by " the hero as king," any 
 more than by " collective wisdom," that men 
 have been segregated into producers, whole 
 sale distributors, antl retail distributors. 
 
 The whole of our industrial organization^ 
 from its main outlines down to its minutest 
 details, has become what it is, not simply 
 witliJiit legislative guidance, but, to a con- 
 suleral)le extent, iu spile of legislative hin- 
 drances. It has arisen under the pressure of 
 human wants and activities. While each 
 citizLU has bee:i pursuing his individual wel- 
 fare, aud none taking thought about division 
 of labor, or, indeed, conscious of the need 
 for it, division of labor has yet been ever be- 
 coming more comiilete. It has been doing 
 this slowly and sdenlly ; scatcely any having 
 obseived it until (piite modern times. By 
 steps so small, that year after year the in- 
 dustrial arrangements have seemed to men 
 just what they were before — by changes ad 
 insensible as tluse through which a seed 
 passes into a tree— society has become tho 
 complex body of mutually -dependent work- 
 ers wiiich we now see. And this economic 
 organi/.ati<m, maik, is the all-essential or- 
 ganization. Tlirough the combination thus 
 spontaneously evolved, every citizen is sup- 
 plied with daily necessaries, while he yields 
 some product or aid to others. That we aro 
 severally alive to-day, we owe to the regular 
 working of this combination during the past 
 week ; an 1 could it be suddenly abolished, a 
 great proportion of us would be dead before 
 another week ended. If these most conspic- 
 uous and vital arrangements of our social 
 structure have arisen without tiie devising of 
 any one, but through the individual efforts 
 of citizens to satisfy their own wanis, wo 
 may be tolerably certain that the less impor- 
 tant arrangements have similarly arisen. 
 
 " But surely," it will be said, " the social 
 changes directly produced by law cannot be 
 classed as spontaneous growths. When 
 parliaments or kings order this or that thing 
 to be done, aud appoint officials to do it, tho 
 process is clearly arliticial, and society to 
 this extent becomes a manufacture rather 
 than a growth." Ko, not even these cliauges 
 arc exceptions, if they be real and permanent 
 changes. The true .sources of such changes 
 lie deeper than the acts of legislators. To 
 take first the simplest instance. We all know 
 that tlie enactments of representative gov- 
 ernments ultimately depend on the national 
 will : thevmay for a time be out of harmony 
 wilh it, but eventually they must conform to
 
 270 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSK 
 
 it. And to say that the national wiH finally 
 determines them ia to say lliat tliei' result 
 from tlie average of individual desires ; or, 
 in other words, from the average of individ- 
 ual natures. A law so initiated, therefore, 
 really grows out of tiie popular character. 
 
 In the case of agovL-rnnient representing a 
 dominant class, the same tiling lidlds, though 
 not so manifest]}'. For tiie very existence 
 of a class monopolizing all power is due to 
 certain sentiments in the coiumonally. But 
 for the feeling ot loyalty on llie part of re- 
 tainers, a feudal system could not exist. "We 
 see in the protest of the Ilighlaudeis against 
 the abolition of hcrilable juiisdiclious, tiiat 
 they preferred that khid of local rule. And 
 if to the popular nature must thus be as- 
 cribed the growth of an irresponsible ruling 
 class, then to the popular nature must be 
 ascribed the social arrangements which that 
 class creates in the pur.suit of its own ends. 
 Even where the government is despotic, the 
 dootiine still lulds. The cliaracler of the 
 people is, as before, the oiiginal source of 
 this political form ; and, as we have abun- 
 dant proof, other forms suddenly created will 
 not act, but rapidly retrograde to the old 
 form. Moreover, such regulations as a des- 
 pot makes, if really operative, are so because 
 of their fitness to the social state. Ilia acts 
 being very much swayed by general opinion 
 — by precedent, by the feeling of his nobles, 
 his priesthood, his army — are in part imme- 
 diate results of the national character ; and 
 when they are out of haimony with the 
 national chaiacter they are soon practically 
 abrogated. 
 
 The failure of Cromwell permanently to 
 establish a new social condition, and the rapid 
 revival of suppressed institutions and prac- 
 tices after his death, show how powerless is 
 a monarch to change the type of the society 
 he governs. lie may disturb, he may retard, 
 or he may aid the natural process of organ- 
 ization ; but the general course of this 
 process is beyond his control. Nay, more 
 than this is true. Those who regard the his- 
 tories of societies as the hisloiies of their 
 great men, and think that these great men 
 shape the fates of their societies, overlook 
 the truth that such great m; n are the prod- 
 ucts of their societies. Without certain an- 
 tecedents, without a certain average national 
 character, they could neither have"beeu gen- 
 erated nor could have had the culture which 
 formed them. If their society is to some ex- 
 tent remoulded by them, they were, b!)th 
 before and after biith, moulded by their so- 
 ciety — were the results of all those inliuences 
 which fostered the ancestral character they 
 inherited, and gave their own early bias, 
 their creeds moials, knowledge, aspirations. 
 So that such social changes as are immedi- 
 ately traceable to individuals of unusual 
 power are still remotely traceable to the so- 
 cial causes which produced these individ- 
 uals, and hence, from the highest point of 
 view, such social changts also are parts of 
 the general developmenial process. 
 
 Thus that which is so cbvitusly true of 
 
 the Industrial structure of society is true of 
 its whole structure. The fact that " const)* 
 tutions are not made, but grow, " is simply a 
 fragment of the much larger fact, that under 
 all its aspects and through all its ramifica- 
 tions, society is a growth and not a manu- 
 facture. 
 
 A perception that there exists some anal- 
 ogy between the body politic and a living in- 
 dividu*! body was early reached, and from 
 time to time reappeared in literature. But 
 this perce|)tion was necessarily vague and 
 more or less fanciful. In the absence of 
 physiological science, and especially of those 
 comprehensive generalizations which it has 
 but recently reached, it was impossible to 
 di.scern the real parallelisms. 
 
 The central idea of Plato's model republic 
 ia the correspondence between the ])arls of a 
 society and the faculties of the human mind. 
 Classifying these faculties under the heads of 
 reason, will, and passion, he classifies the 
 members of liis ideal society under what he 
 regards as three analogous heads : council- 
 lors, who arc to exerciae government ; mili- 
 tary or executive, who are to fulfil their be- 
 hests ; and the commonalty, bent on gain and 
 sellibh graliUciilinn. In other words, the 
 ruler, the warrior, and the craftsman are, ac- 
 cording to him, the analugues of our rellec- 
 live, volitional, and emotional powers. Now 
 even were there truth in the implied assump- 
 tion of a parallelism between the structure of 
 a society and that of a man, this classification 
 would be indefensible. It might more truly 
 be contended that, as the military power 
 obeys the commands of the government, it 
 is the governnunt which answers to the 
 will ; while the military power is simply an 
 agency set in motion by it. Or, again, it 
 might be contended that whereas the will is 
 a product of predominant desires, to which 
 the reason serves merely as an eye, it is the 
 craftsmen, who, according to the alleged 
 analogy, ought to be the moving power of 
 the warriois. 
 
 Ilobbts sought to establish a still more 
 definite parallelism : not, however, between a 
 society and the human mind, but between a 
 society and the ht:man body. In the intro- 
 rl notion to the woik in which he develops 
 this conception, he says : 
 
 " For by art is created that grefit Levia- 
 than called a CoMMONWEAi/rii, or State, in 
 Latin Civitas, which is but an artificial 
 man ; though of greater stature and strength 
 than the natural, for whose protection and 
 defence it was intended, and in which the 
 sovereignity is an artificial soul, as giving life 
 and motion to the whole body ; the magis- 
 trates and ether officers of judicature and ex- 
 ecution, axt'i^c'ial joints ; Tcicard andpunisli- 
 ment, by which, fastened to the seat of the 
 sovereignty, every joint and member is 
 moved to perform his duty, are the nerves, 
 that do the same in the body natural ; the 
 wealth and riches of all the particular mem- 
 bers are the strength ; salus populi, the peo- 
 ple's safety, its bi/siness ; counsellors, by whom 
 all things needful for it to know are su<':-
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 271 
 
 gested unto it, are the memory ; equity and 
 laws,Q.vi artificial reason and to ill ; concord, 
 health ; sedition, sickness ; cidlicnr, death." 
 
 And Hobijes carries this comparison so far 
 as actually to give a drawing of the Levi- 
 athan — a vast liuraan-shaped figure, whose 
 body and limbs are made up of multitudes 
 of men. Just noting that these different 
 analogies asserted i)y Plato and Hobbes 
 serve to cancel each ether (being, as they are, 
 so completely at variance), we may say that 
 on the whole those of Ilubbes are the more 
 plausible. But they are full of mconsisten- 
 C'ies. If the sovcreigntj' is tl:e soul of the 
 body politic, how can it be that magistrates, 
 who are kind of d(put3--soverei{:us, should be 
 comparable to joints? Or, again, how can 
 the three mental functions, memory, reason, 
 and will, be severally analogous, the first 10 
 counsellors, who are a class of public offi- 
 cers, and the other two to equity and laws, 
 which are not classes of officers, but abstrac- 
 tions ? Or, once more, if magistrates are the 
 artificial jomts of society, how can reward 
 and punishment be its nerves? Its nerves 
 miist surely be some class of persons. Re- 
 ward and punishment must, in societies as 
 in individuals, be conditions of the nerves, 
 and not the nerves themselves. 
 
 But the chief errors of these comparisons 
 made by Plato and Ilobbes lie much deeper. 
 Both tliinkers assume that the organization 
 of a society is comparable, not simply to the 
 organization of :i living body in general, but 
 to tiie organization of the human body in 
 particular. There is no warrant whatever 
 for assuming this. It is in no way implied 
 by the evidence ; and is simply one of tho.se 
 fancies which we commonly find mixed up 
 with the truths of early speculation. Still 
 more erroneous are the two conceptions in 
 this, that they construe a society as an ar- 
 tificial structure. Plato's model republic — 
 his ideal of a healthful body politic — is to be 
 consciously put together by men, just as a 
 watch might be ; and I'lato manifestly thinks 
 of societies iu general as thus originated. 
 Quite specifically does Hobbes express this 
 view. "For hy art." he says, "is created 
 that great Levi.\tiian called a Common- 
 WE.VLTn." And he even goes so far as to 
 compare the supposed social contract, from 
 which a society suddenly originates, to the 
 creation of a man by tlie divine fiat. Thus 
 they both fall into the extreme inconsistency 
 of considering a comtnunity as similar in 
 structure to a human being, and yet as pro- 
 duced in the same way as an artificial me- 
 chanism—in nature, an organism ; in history, 
 a machine. 
 
 Notwitlistanding errors, however, these 
 speculations have considerable significance. 
 That such analogies, crudely as they are 
 thought out, should have been alleged by 
 Plato and Hobbes and many others, is a 
 reason for suspecting that some analogy ex- 
 ists. The untenableness of the particular 
 comparisons above instanced is no ground 
 for denying an essential parallelism ; for 
 «arly ideas are usually but vague adumbra- 
 
 tions of the truth. Lacking the great gen- 
 eralizations of biology, it was, as we have 
 said, impossible to trace out the real relations 
 of social organizations to organizations of 
 another order. We propose here to show 
 what are the analogies which modern sci- 
 ence discloses to us. 
 
 Let us set out by succinctly stating the 
 points of similarity and the points of differ- 
 ence. Societies agree with individual organ- 
 isms in four conspicuous peculiarities : 
 
 1. That, commencing as .small aggrega- 
 tions, they insensibly augment in mass ; 
 some of them eventually reaching tea thou- 
 sand times what they originally were. 
 
 2. That while at first so simple in struc- 
 ture as to be considered structureless, they 
 a.ssume, in the course of their growth, a con 
 tinnally-increasing ci)mi)lexity of structure. 
 
 3. That though in their early, undeveloped 
 states there exi.sts in them scarcely any mu- 
 tual dependence of parts, their parts grad- 
 ually acquire a mutual dependence, which 
 becomes at last so gieat that the activity 
 and life of each part is made possible only 
 by the activity and life of the rest. 
 
 •1. That the life and development of a so- 
 ciety is independent of, anil far more pro- 
 longed than, the life and development of any 
 of its comp uent units : who are severally 
 born, grow, work, reproduce, and die, while 
 the body politic composed of them survives 
 generation after generation, increasing in 
 mass, completeness of structure, and func- 
 tional activity. 
 
 Tiie.se four parallelisms will appear the 
 more significant the more we contemplate 
 them. While the points specified are points 
 in which societies agree with individual or- 
 ganisms, they are points in which individual 
 organisms agree with each other, and dis- 
 agree with all things else. In the course of its 
 existence, every plant and animal increases 
 in mass, in a way not paralleled by inor- 
 ganic objects : even such inorganic objects 
 as crystals, which arise by growth, show us 
 no .such definite relation between growth and 
 existence as organisms do. The orderly 
 progress from simplicity to complexity, dis- 
 played l)y bodies politic in common with all 
 living bodies, is a characteristic which dis- 
 tinguishes living l)odies from the inanimate 
 bodies amid which they move. That func- 
 tional dependence of parts which is .scarcely 
 more manifest in animals or plants than na- 
 tions, has no counterpart elsewhere. And in 
 no aggregate except an organic or a social 
 one is there a perpetual removal and replace- 
 ment of parts, joined with a continued integ- 
 rity of the whole. 
 
 Moreover, societies and organisms are not 
 only alike in these peculiarities, iu which 
 they are unlike all other things ; but the 
 highest societies, like the highest organisms, 
 exhibit them in the greatest degree. We see 
 that the lowest animals do not increase to 
 anything like the sizes of the higher ones ; 
 and, similarly, we see that aboriginal soci- 
 eties are comparatively limited in their 
 growth*. In complexity, our large civilized
 
 272 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAAV AXD CAUSE. 
 
 nations as much exceed primitive savage 
 tribes, as a verlot)rate animal does a zooi)liyle. 
 Simple communitie-*, lil<e simple creatiireiJ, 
 iiave so little mutual depeuilence of parts 
 liiat suixlivisiou or mutilation causes but lit- 
 tle inconvenience ; but from complex com- 
 munities, as from complex creatures, you 
 canuot remove auy considerable organ ■with- 
 out producing great disturbance or death of 
 the rest. And in societies of low tj'pe, as in 
 inferior animals, the life of the aggregate, 
 often cut short by division or dissohuion, ex- 
 ceeds in length the lives of the component 
 units, very far less than in civilized commu- 
 nities and superior animals ; which outlive 
 many generations of their component units. 
 On the other hand, the leading dilferenccs 
 between societies and individual organisms 
 are these : 
 
 1. That societies have no specific external 
 forms. This, however, is a point of contrast 
 which loses much of its importance, when 
 "we remember that throughout the vegetal 
 kingdom, as well as in some lower divisions 
 of the animal kingilom, the forms are often 
 verj' indefinite — deliniteness being rather the 
 exception than tlie rule ; and that they are 
 manifestly in part determined by surround- 
 ing physical circumstances, a-* the forms of 
 societies are. If, too, it should eventually be 
 shown, as we believe it will, that the form 
 of every species of organism has resulted 
 from the average play of the externul forces 
 to which it has been sul)ject during its evo- 
 lution as a species, then, that the external 
 forms of societies should depend, as they do 
 on surrounding conditions, will be a further 
 point of community. 
 
 2. That though the living tissue "whereof 
 an individual organism consists forms a con- 
 tinuous mass, the living elements of a society 
 do not form a continuous mass, but arc 
 more or less widely dispersed over some por- 
 tion of the earth's surface. This, which at 
 first sight appears to be a fundamental dis- 
 tinction, is one which yet to a great extent 
 disappears when we contemplate all the 
 facts. For, in the lower divisions of the ani- 
 mal and vegetal kingdoms, there are types of 
 organization much more neatly allied, in 
 this respect, to the organization of a society, 
 than might be supposed — types in which tlie 
 living units essentially composing the mass 
 are dispersed through an inert .substance, 
 that can scarcely be called living in the full 
 sense of the word. It is thus with some of 
 the Protococci and with the jS'ostoccoi, which 
 exist as cells imbedded in a viscid matter. It 
 is so, too, with the ThalamMllw—hodies 
 that are made up of differentiated parts, dis- 
 persed through an undifferentiated jelly. 
 And throughout considerable portions of 
 their bodies, some of the Acalephce exhibit 
 more or less distinctly this type of structure. 
 
 Indeed, it may be contended that this is 
 the primitive form of all organization ; see- 
 ing that, even in the highest creatures, as in 
 ourselves, every tissue develops out of what 
 piiysiologi.sts call a blastema— an unorgan- 
 ized though organ izable substance, through 
 
 which organic points are distributed. Now 
 this is very muc h the case with a society. 
 For we must remember that though the men 
 who make up u society are physically tejta- 
 rate and even scattered, j'et that the surface 
 over which they are scattered is net one de- 
 void of life, but is covered by life of u lower 
 order which ministers to their life. The veg- 
 etation which clothes a country makes pos- 
 sible the animal life in that country ; and 
 only through its animal and vegetal product.^ 
 can such a country support a human socierj'. 
 Hence the members of the body poliiic are 
 not to be regarded as separated by intervals 
 of dead space, but as diffused through a 
 space occuj»ied by life of a lower order. In 
 our conception of a social organism we must 
 include all that lower organic existence ou 
 which human existence, and therefore social 
 existence, depends. And when we do this, 
 we see that the citizens whonuike up a c( m- 
 niunity may be considered as highly vital- 
 ized units surrouniled by substances if lower 
 vitality, frcni which they draw tlieir nutri- 
 ment : much as in the casts above instanced. 
 Thus, wlien examined, this apjtartut distinc- 
 tion in great pait di.sapi)earb. 
 
 3. Thai while the ultimate living elements 
 of an individual organism, are mostly fixeii 
 in their relative positions, those of the social 
 organism are capable of moving from place 
 to place, seems a marked disagreement. But 
 here, too, the disagreement is much less 
 than would l»e supposed. For while citizens 
 are locrniotive in their private capacities, 
 they are lixed in their public capacities. As 
 farmeis, manufacturers, or traders, mea 
 carry on their business at the same spots, 
 often throughout their "whole lives ; and if 
 they go away occasionally, they leave behind 
 others to di.'^charge their functions in their 
 absence. Each great centre of production, 
 each manufacturing town or district, con- 
 tinues always iu the same place ; and many 
 of the firms in such town or distiict are for 
 generatiuns carried on either by the descend- 
 ants or successors of those who founded 
 them. Just as in a living b(idy, the cells 
 that make up some important organ, severally 
 perform their functions for a time and theu 
 disappear, leaving others to supply their 
 places ; so, in each part of a society, the or- 
 gan remains, though the persons who com- 
 l)Ose it change. Thus, in social life as in the 
 life of an animal, the units as well as the 
 larger agencies formed of them, are in the 
 main stationary as respects the places "nhere 
 the}' discharge their duties and obtain their 
 sustenance. And hence the power of indi- 
 vidual locomotion does not practically affect 
 the analog}'. 
 
 4. The last and perhaps the most impor- 
 tant distinction is, that while in the body of 
 an animal, only a special tissue is endowed 
 with feeling, in a society all the members 
 are endowed with feeling. Even this distinc- 
 tion, however, is by no means a complete 
 one. For in some of the lowest animals, 
 characterized b}' the absence of a nervous 
 system, such sensitiveness as exists is pos-
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 373 
 
 Bessed by all parts. It is only in the more 
 organized forms that feeling is monopolized 
 by one class of the vital elements. Moreover, 
 we must remember that societies, too, are not 
 •without a certain differentiation of this kind. 
 Though the units of a community are all sen- 
 sitiver yet they are so in unequal degrees. 
 The classes engaged in agriculture and labo- 
 rious occupations in general are much less 
 susceptible, intellectually and emotionally, 
 than the rest ; and especially less so than the 
 classes of highest mental culture. Still, we 
 have here a tolerably decided contrast be- 
 tween bodies politic and individual bodies. 
 And it is one which we should keep con- 
 stantly in view. For it reminds us that 
 while m individual bodies the welfare of all 
 other parts is rightly subservient to the wel- 
 fare of the nervous system, whose pleasur- 
 able or painful activities make up the good 
 or evil of life ; in bodies politic the same 
 thing does not hold, or holds to but a very 
 slight extent. It is well that the lives of all 
 parts of an animal should be merged in the 
 life of the whole ; because the whole has a 
 corporate consciousness capable of happiness 
 or misery. But it is not so with a society, 
 since its living units do not and cannot lost* 
 individual consciousness, and since the com- 
 munity as a whole has no corporate conscious- 
 ness. And this is an everlasting reason 
 why the welfare of citizens cannot rightiy be 
 sacrificed to some supposed benefit of the 
 state, but why, on the other haiul, the state 
 is to be maintained solely for the benefit of 
 citizens. The corporate life must hero bo 
 subservient t') tlie lives of the part?, instead 
 of the lives of the parts being subservient to 
 the corporate life. 
 
 Such, then, are the points of analogy and 
 the points of difference, May we mjt say 
 that the points of difference sen'c but to 
 bring into clearer light the points of analogy? 
 "While comparison makes definite the obvious 
 contrasts between organi.sms commonly so 
 called, and the social organism, it shows 
 that even these contrasts are not so decided 
 as was to be expected. The indefiniteness 
 of form, the discontinuity of the parts, the 
 mobility of the parts, and the universal sensi- 
 tiveness, are not only peculiarities of the 
 social organism which have to be stated with 
 considerable qualifications, but they are 
 peculiarities to which the inferior classes of 
 animals present approximations. Thus wo 
 find but little to conllict with the all-impor- 
 lant analogies That societies slowly augment 
 iu mass ; that they progress in complexity of 
 structure ; that at the same time tluir parts 
 become more mutually dependent ; that their 
 living units are removed and replaced with- 
 out destroying their integrity ; and further, 
 that the extents to which they display these 
 peculiarities are proportionate to their vital 
 activities ; are traits that societies have in 
 common with organic bodies. And these 
 traits in which they agree with organic bodies 
 and disagree with all other things — these 
 traits wiiicli in truth specially characterize 
 organic bodies, entirely subordinate the minor 
 
 distinctions : such distinctions being scarcely 
 greater than those which separate one half of 
 the organic kingdom from the other. The 
 principli's of organization are the same ; and 
 the dilforences are simply differences of ap- 
 plication. 
 
 Here euding this general survey of the 
 facts which justify the comparison of a 
 society to a living body, let us look at them 
 in detail. We shall find that the parallelism 
 becomes the more marked the more closely it 
 is traced. 
 
 The lowest animal and vegetal forms — 
 Protor.ihi and I'rolopltyUi — are chiefly in- 
 habitants of the water. They are minute 
 bodies, most of which are made individually 
 visible only by the microscope. All of them 
 are extremely simple in structure ; ami some 
 of them, as the li/u'zopods, almost structure- 
 less. Multiplying, as they ordinarily do, by 
 the spontaneous division of their bodies, they 
 produce halves, which may either become 
 quite sepaiate and move away in different 
 directions, or may continue attached. By 
 the repeliiion of this processof fission, aggre- 
 gations of various sizes and kinds are formed. 
 Among the Protopltijta we have some classes, 
 as the Diatoimicem and the yeast- plant, in 
 which the individuals may be either separate 
 or attached in groups of two, three, four, or 
 more ; other classes in which a considerable 
 number of individual cells are united into a 
 threiul {Conferva, Afouilia) ; others iu which 
 they form a net-work (llydrndidyon) ; otlier.s 
 in which tliey form plates (f7'/»a) ; and others 
 in which they form masses {Luminaria, 
 A'jaricuH) : all which vegetal forms, having 
 no distinction of root, stem, or leaf, are 
 called T/iallogcns. Among the Protozoa we 
 find parallel facts. Immense numbers of 
 AnKubii-Vikti creatures, massed together in a 
 framework of horny fibres, constitute 
 sponge. In the Formninifera, we see smaller 
 groups of such creatures arranged into more 
 definite shapes. Not only do these almost 
 t-tructureless Protozoa unite into regular or 
 irregular aggregations of various sizes, but 
 among some of the more organized ones, as 
 the VorticelUf, there are also produced clus- 
 ters of individuals, proceeding from a com- 
 mon stock. But these little societies of 
 monads, or cells, or whatever el.se we may 
 call them, are societies only in the lowest 
 sense : there is no subordination of j)art3 
 among them — no organization. Each of the 
 com[)onent units lives by and for itself, 
 neither giving nor receiving aid. There is no 
 mutual dependence, save that consequent ou 
 mere mechanical union. 
 
 Now do we not liere discern analogies to 
 the first stages of humun societies ? Among 
 the lowest races, as the bushmen, we find 
 but incipient aggregation — sometimes single 
 families, sometimes two or three families 
 wandering about together. The numiier of 
 associated units is small and variable, and 
 their union inconstant. No division of labor 
 exist? except between the sexes ; and the only 
 kind of mutuiil aid is that of joint attack or 
 defence. We sec ncthing beyond an undif-
 
 274 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 ferentiated group of iDilividuals, formint? the 
 germ of a society ; just as in the homogene- 
 ous grou^)S of cells above described we see 
 only the initial stage of animal and vegetal 
 orgiiuization. 
 
 The comparison may now be carried a step 
 higlior. In the vegetal kingdom we pass 
 from the Thallogens, cousistmg of mere 
 masses of similar cells, to the Acrogetut, in 
 which the cells are not similar throughout 
 the whole mass ; but are here aggregated 
 into a structure serving as leaf, and there 
 into a structure serving as root, thus form- 
 ing a whole in which there is a certain sul)- 
 division of functions among the units, and 
 therefore a certain mutual dependence. In 
 the animal kingdom we tind analogous prog- 
 ress. From mere imorganized groups of 
 cells, or cell-like bodies, we ascend to groups 
 of such cells arranged into parts that have 
 different duties. The common Polype, from 
 whoso substance may be separated individual 
 cells which exhibit, when detached, appear- 
 ances and movements like those of the soli 
 tary Ainvcha, illustrates this stage. The com- 
 ponent units, lliough still showing great 
 community of character, assume somewhat 
 diverse functions in the skin, in the internal 
 surface, and in the tentacles. There is a cer- 
 tain amount of " physiological division of 
 labor." 
 
 Turning to societies, we find theso stages 
 parallel in the majority of aborigiual tribes. 
 When, instead of such small variable groups 
 as are foruK-d by bushmeu, we come to the 
 hirger and more permanent groups formed 
 by savages n it quite so low, W3 begin to tind 
 traces of social structure. Though industrial 
 organization scarcely snows itself, except in 
 the different occupations of the .se.ves, yet 
 there is always more or less of i:overnmenlal 
 organization. While all the men are war- 
 riors and hunters, only a part of them are 
 included in tiie council of chiefs ; and in this 
 council of chiefs some one has commonly 
 supreme authority. There is thus a certain 
 distinction of classes and powers ; and 
 through this slight specialization of func- 
 tions is effected a rude co-operation among 
 the increasing mass of individuals, whenever 
 the society h<vs to act in its corporate capac- 
 ity. Be3'ond this analogy in the slight ex- 
 tent to which organization is carried, there 
 is analogy in the indetiniteness of the organ- 
 ization. In the Hydra, the respective parts 
 of the creature's substance have many func- 
 tions iu common. They are all contractile ; 
 omitting the tentacles, the whole of the ex- 
 ternal surface can give origin to young 
 Hydros, ; and when turned inside out, stomach 
 performs the duties of skin, and skin the 
 duties of stomach. In aboriginal societies, 
 such differentiations as exist are similarly 
 imperfect. Notwithstanding distinctions of 
 rank, all persons maintain themselves by 
 their own exertions. Not only do the head 
 men of the tribe, in common with the rest, 
 build their own huts, make their own weap- 
 ons, kill their own food, but the chief does 
 the like. Moreover, iu the ludcsl of these 
 
 tribes such governmental organization as ex- 
 ists is very inconstant. It is frequently 
 changed by violence or treachery, and the 
 function of ndiug assumed by other mem 
 bers of the community. Thus between the 
 rudest societies and some of the lowest forms 
 of animal life there is analogy alike in the 
 slight extent to which organization is curried, 
 in the indetiniteness of this organization, and 
 in its want of fixity. 
 
 A further complication of the analogy is at 
 hand. From the aggregation of units into 
 organized groups, we pass to the multiplica- 
 tion of such groups, and their coalescence 
 into compound groups. The Hydra, when it 
 has reached a < ertain bulk, puts foith fiom 
 its f-uiface a bud, which, giuwing and grad- 
 ually' assuming the form of the parent, finally 
 becomes detached ; and b\' this process of 
 gemmation the creature peoples the adjacent 
 water with otlicrs like itself. A parallel pro- 
 cess is seen in the multiplication of those 
 lowly-organized tribes above described. One 
 of them having increased 1o a size that is 
 either too great for co-ordination under so 
 rude a structure, or else that is greater than 
 tlie surrounding couutrj' can supply with 
 game and other wild food, there aiises a 
 tendency to divide ; and as in such commu- 
 nities there are ever-occurring quarrels, jeal- 
 ousies, and other causes of division, there 
 soon comes an occasion on which a part of 
 the tribe heparates under tlie leadership of 
 some sul'or(;inate thief, and migiates. Tliis 
 process being fiom time to time repeated, an 
 extensive region is at length occupied with 
 numerous sepaiate tribes descended from a 
 common anttstry. The analogy by no 
 means ends here. Though iu the common 
 Hydra, the j'ouugones that budont from the 
 patent soon become detached and indepen- 
 dent, yet throughout the rest of the class 
 Jlydrozoa, to which this cieature belongs, the 
 like does not generally happen. The succes- 
 sive individuals thus developed continue 
 attached, give origin to other such individ- 
 uals which also continue attached, and so 
 there results a compound animal. As in the 
 Hydra itself, we find an ajigregation of units 
 which, cfinsidered stparaiely, are akin to the 
 lowest I*ioti/zoa ; so here, iu a Zoophyte, we 
 find an aggregation of such aggregations. 
 The like is al.so seen throughout the extensive 
 family of Folyzoa or Moiluncoida. The ascid- 
 ian mollusks, too, in their many varied 
 forms, show us the same thing : exhibiting 
 at the same time various degrees of union 
 subsisting among the ccmponent individuals. 
 For while in the salpa the component indi- 
 viduals adhere so slightly that a blow on the 
 vessel of water in which they are floating 
 will separate them ; in the BotrylUda: there 
 exists a vascular connection between them, 
 and a common circulation. 
 
 Now in these vaiious forms and degrees of 
 aggregation, may we not see paralleled the 
 union of groups of connate tribts into 
 nations? Though in regions where circum- 
 stances permit, the separate tribes descended 
 from some original tribe, migrate in all direc-
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 275 
 
 lions and bfct me far removed and quite sep- 
 arate ; yel. in olber cases, wheie llie teirilory 
 presents Imiriers to distant migration, this 
 di)cs nut happen : tbe small kindred com- 
 miiniiies are held in closer contact, and 
 eventually become more or less united into a 
 nation. The contract belwten the tribes of 
 American Indians and the Scottish clans 
 illustrates this. And a glance at our own 
 early history, or the early histories of conti- 
 nental nations, shows this fusion of s^niall 
 simple communities taking place in various 
 ways and to various extents. As says M. 
 Guizot, in his history of " The Origin of Rep- 
 resentative Government," 
 
 " By degrees, in the midst of tlie chaos of 
 the rising society, small aggregations are 
 formed which feel the want of alliance and 
 union with each other. . . . Sjou in- 
 equality of strength is displayed among 
 neigbboriug aggregations. Tlie strong tend 
 to subjugate the weak, and usurp at Hist the 
 rights of taxation and military service. 
 Thus political authority leaves the aggrega- 
 tions which first instituted it, to take a wider 
 range." 
 
 That is to say, the small tribes, clans, or 
 feudal unions, .spruuir mostly from a comuum 
 stuck, and long held in contact as occupants 
 of adjacent lands, gradually get united in 
 other ways than by mere adhesion of race 
 and proximit}'. 
 
 A further seiies of changes liegins now to 
 take place ; to which, as before, we shall find 
 analogies in individual organisms. Return- 
 ing again to the JIi/dio:o<i,vm oiwerve tbat in 
 the simplest of the compound forms, the 
 connected individuals developed from a com- 
 mon stock, are alike in structure, and per- 
 form like functions : with the exception, in- 
 deed, that here and there a bud, instead of 
 developing into a stomach, mouth, and ten- 
 tacles, becomes an egg-sac. Rut with the 
 oceanic Ilydrozon, this is by no means the 
 case. In the Vali/rophonda:, some of tho 
 polyps growing from the comnioa germ 
 become developed and modified into large, 
 long, sack - like bodies, which by their 
 rhythmical contractions move through tho 
 water, dragging the community of polyps 
 after them. In the Phy><ophorid(t, a vr.riety 
 of organs similarly arise by transformation 
 of the bulding polyps ; so that in creatures 
 like tbe Physalia, commonly known as the 
 "Portuguese man-of-war," instead of that 
 tree-like group of similar individuals form- 
 ing tlie original type of the class, we have a 
 complex mass of unlike parts fulfilling un- 
 like duiic-;. As an individual //.ycZ/'w may be 
 regarded as a gioup of Protozoa which iiave 
 become paaiaby metamorphosed into differ- 
 ent organs, so a Physaliaia, morphologically 
 considered, a group of hydiae of which the 
 individuals have been vai'iously transformed 
 to fit them for various functions. 
 
 This differentiation upon differentiation is 
 just what takes place in the evolution of a 
 civilized society. We observed how, in the 
 sniall communities first formed, tlieie arises 
 u ceiiain simple political organization — there 
 
 is a partial separation of classos liaving dif- 
 ferent duties. And now we have to observe 
 how, in a nation formed by the fusion of 
 such small communities, the several sections, 
 at first alike in structures and modes of activ- 
 ity, gradually become unlike in both — grad- 
 ually become mutually - dependent parts, 
 diverse in their natures and functions. 
 
 The doctrine of tbe progressive division of 
 labor, to which we are here introduced, is 
 familiar to all readers. And further, the 
 analogy between tbe economical division of 
 laborand tbe " physiological division of 
 labor," is so striking, as long since to have 
 drawn the atteniiun of scientific naturalists : 
 so striking, indeed, that tbe expression 
 "physiological division of labor," has been 
 suggested by it. It is not needful, therefore, 
 tbat we should treat this part of our subject 
 in great detail. We shall content ourselves 
 with noting a few general and significant 
 facts, not manifest on a first inspection. 
 
 Throughout tlie whole animal kingdom, 
 from the Cielenierala upward, tbe first stage 
 of evolution is tbe same. Equally in tbe 
 germ of a polyp and in the human ovum, 
 the aggiegated mass of cells out of which tbe 
 creature is to arise gives origin to a periph- 
 eral layer of cells, slightly differing from the 
 rest which they include ; and liiis layer sub- 
 sequently divides into two — the inner, lying 
 in contact with tbe included yelk, being 
 called the mucous layer, and the outer, ex- 
 posed to surrounding agencies, being called 
 tbe serous layer ; or, in the terms used by 
 Professor Huxley, in describing the develop- 
 ment of tbe Ilydrozoa — the endoderm and 
 ectoderm. This primary division marks out 
 a fundamental contrast of paits in the future 
 organism From the mucous layer, or en- 
 doderm, is developed the apparatus of nu- 
 trition ; while from the serous layer, or ecto- 
 derm, is developed tbe apparatus of external 
 action. Out of tbe one arisrC tbe organs by 
 whicb food is prepared and absorbed, oxygen 
 imbibed, and blood purified ; while out of 
 the other arise tbe nervous, muscular, and 
 osseous systems, by whose combined actions 
 the movements of the body as a whole are 
 effected. Though this is not a rigorously 
 correct distinction, seeing tbat some organs 
 involve both of these primitive membranes, 
 yet high authorities agree in staling it as a 
 broad general distinction. 
 
 Well, in the evolution of a. society we see 
 a primary differentiation of analogous kind, 
 which similarly underlies the whole future 
 structure. As alieady pointed out, the only 
 manifest contrast of parts in primitive soci- 
 eties is that between the governing and the 
 governed. In the least organized tribes, the 
 council of chiefs may be a body of men dis- 
 tinguished simply by greater courage or ex- 
 perience. In more organized tribes, the 
 chief-class is definitely se[)arated from tbe 
 lower class, and often regarded as different 
 in nature — sometimes as god descended. 
 And later, we find these two becoming re- 
 spectively freemen and slaves, or nobles and 
 serfs. A glance at their lespective functions
 
 276 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW A^'I> CAUSJIJ. 
 
 makes it obvious that the firt-jit divisions tlius 
 early formed stand to eacli oilier in a rela- 
 tion similar to tliat in wliich llie [)rimary 
 divisions of tlie embryo stand to eacli other. 
 For, from its tirst appearance, tlie class of 
 chiefs is that by which the external acts of 
 tlie society are controlled : alike in war, in 
 negotiation, and in migration. Afterward, 
 wnile the upper class grows distinct from the 
 lower, and at the same time becomes more 
 and more exclusively regulative and defen- 
 sive in its functions, alike in the peisons of 
 kings and subordinate rulers, priests, and 
 military leaders ; the inferior class becomes 
 more and more exclusively occupied in pro- 
 viding the necessaries of life for the com- 
 munity at large. From the soil, with which 
 it conies in most direct contact , the mass of the 
 people takes up and prcpaics for use thefcod 
 and such rude articles of manufacture as are 
 known, while the overl3'ingm;iss of superior 
 men, maintained by the working population, 
 deals with circumstances external to the 
 communil}' — circumstances with which, by 
 position, it is more immediately concerned. 
 Ceasing by and by to have any knowledge 
 of or power over the concerns of the socitty 
 as a whole, the serf class becomes devoted to 
 the processes of alimentation ; while the 
 noble class, ceasing to take any part in the 
 processes of alimentation, becomes devoted 
 to the co-ordinated movcmen'.s of the entire 
 body politic. 
 
 Eijually remarkable is a further analogy of 
 like kind. After the mucous uml serous 
 layers of the embryo have se[iaratcd, thero 
 presently ari.ses between the two, a third, 
 known to physiologists as the vascular layer 
 — a layer out of which are developed the 
 chief blood-vessels. The mucous layer ab- 
 sorbs nutriment from the mass of yelk it in- 
 closes ; this nutriment has to be transferred 
 to the overlying serous layer, out of which 
 the nervo-muscular system is being devel- 
 oped ; and between the two arises a vascular 
 system by which the transfer is effected— a 
 system of vessels which continues ever after 
 to be the transferrer of nutriment from the 
 places where it is absorbed and prepared, to 
 the places where it is needed for growth and 
 repair. Well, may we not trace a parallel 
 step in social progress ? 
 
 Between the governing and the governed, 
 there at first exists no intermediate class ; 
 and even iu some societies that have reached 
 considerable sizes there are scarcely any but 
 the nobles and their kindred on the one hand, 
 and the serfs on the other : the social struc- 
 ture being such that the transfer of com- 
 modities takes place directly from slaves to 
 their masters. But in societies of a higher 
 type there grows up between these two 
 primitive classes another— the trading or 
 middle class. Equally at first as now, we 
 may see that, s[)eaking generally, this middle 
 class is the analogue of the middle layer in 
 the embryo. For all traders are essentially 
 distributors. Whether they be wholesale 
 dealers, who collect into large masses the 
 commodities of various producers, or 
 
 whether they be retailers, who divide out to 
 those wlio want them, the masses ot com- 
 modities thus collected together, all mercan- 
 tile men are agents of transfer from the 
 places where things are produced to the 
 I)laces where tiiey are consumed. Thus the 
 distributing apparatus of a society answers 
 to the distributing apparatus of a living 
 body ; not only in its functions, but in its 
 intermediate origin and subst'(iuent position, 
 and in the time of its appearance. 
 
 Without enumerating. the minor differen- 
 tiations which these three great classes after- 
 ward undergo, we will merely note that 
 throughout they follow the same general 
 law with the differentiations of arr individ- 
 ual organism. In a society, as in a ru(!imeu- 
 tary animal, we have seen that the most gen- 
 eral and broadly contrasted divisions are the 
 first to make their appearance ; and of the 
 subdivisions it continues true in both casts, 
 that they arise in the order of decreasing 
 generality. 
 
 het us observe next, that in the one case 
 as in the other, the si)tcializatiou3 are at first 
 very inconi[)lele, and become nioie com- 
 plete as organization progres.scs. We saw 
 that iu primitive tribes, as iu the nirnplest 
 animals, there remains much community of 
 functii n between the parts that aie nomi- 
 nally different : that, for instance, the class 
 of chiefs long remain industrially the same 
 as the inferior class ; just as in a Ihjdra, the 
 property of contractility is possessed by the 
 units of the eudoderm as well as by those of 
 the ectoderm. We noted also how, as the 
 society advanced, the two great primitive 
 classes partook loss and less of each other's 
 functions. And we have here to remark, 
 that all subse(iuent specializations are at first 
 vague, and gradually become distinct. " In 
 the infancy of society," says M. Guizot, 
 "everything is confused and uncertain; 
 there is as yet no fixed and precise line of 
 demarcation between the different powers iq 
 a state." " Originally kings lived like other 
 landowners, cu the inccmes derived from 
 their own private estates." Nobles were 
 petty kinus, and kings only the most power- 
 ful nobles. Bishops were feudal lords and 
 military leaders. The right of coining money 
 was possessed by powerful sulijects, and by 
 the Church, as well as by the king. Every 
 leading man exercised alike the functions of 
 landowner, farmer, soldier, statesman, judge. 
 Retainers were now soldiers, and now la- 
 borers, as the day required. But by degrees 
 the Church has lost all civil jurisdiction ; the 
 state has exercised less and less control over 
 religious teaching ; the military class has 
 grown a distinct one ; handicrafts have con- 
 centrated in towns ; and the spinning-wheels 
 of scattered farmhouses have disappeared 
 before the machinery of manufacturing dis- 
 tricts. ISot only is all progress from the 
 homogeneous to the heterogeneous, but at 
 the same time it is from the indefinite to the 
 definite. 
 
 Another fact which should not be passed 
 over, is that in the evolution of a large so-
 
 PnOGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 277 
 
 clety out of an aggregation of small ones 
 there is u gradual obliteration of the original 
 lines of sepuratum — a change to ■which, also, 
 we may see analogies in living bodies. 
 Throughout the sub'kingiiom Annuhm this 
 is cleail}' and variously illustrated. Among 
 the lower types of this sub-kingdom the 
 body consists of numerous segments that are 
 alike in nearly every particular. Eacli has 
 its external ring ; its pair of legs, if the creat- 
 ure has legs ; its equal portion of intestines, ■ 
 or else its separate stomach ; its equal por- 
 tion of the great blood-vessel, or, in some 
 cases, its separate heart ; its equal portion of 
 the nervous cord, and, perhaps, its separate 
 pair of ganglia. But in the highest types, as 
 in the large Vrusiaan, many of the segments 
 are completely fu.sed together, and tlie in- 
 ternal organs are no longer uniformly re- 
 peated in all the scgmouis. Now the seg- 
 ments of which nations at first consist lose 
 their separate external and inttrnal structures 
 in a similar manner. In feudal times the 
 minor communities governed by feudal 
 lords, were severally organized in the same 
 rude way, and were held together only by 
 the fealty of their respective rulers to some 
 suzerain. But along with the growth of a 
 central power the demarcations of these 
 local communities disappeared, and their 
 separate organizations merged into the gen- 
 eral organization. Tlie like is seen on a 
 larger scale in the fusion of England, Wales, 
 Scotland, and Ireland ; and, on tlie conti- 
 nent, in the coalescence of provinces iuto 
 kingdoms. Even in the disappearance ot 
 Jaw made divisions, the process is analogous. 
 Among the Anglo-Su.xons Englaud was di- 
 vided iuto tilliiugs, hundreds, and counties : 
 there were county courts, courts of hundred, 
 and courts of titliing. Tiic courts of tithing 
 disappeared first ; then the courts of hun- 
 dred, which have, however, left traces ; while 
 the county jurisdiction still exists. 
 
 But chiefly it is to be noted, that there 
 eventually grows up an organization which 
 has no reference to these original divisions, 
 but traverses them in various directions, as 
 is the case in creatures belonging to the sub- 
 kingdom just named ; and, further, that in 
 both civses it is the sustaining organization 
 which thus traverses old boundaries, wliile 
 in both cases it is the governmental or co-or- 
 dinating organization in which tho original 
 boundaries continue traceable. Thus, in the 
 highest Aanulosa, the exo-skeleton and the 
 muscular system never lose all traces of 
 their primitive segmentation, but throughout 
 a great part of the body the contained vis- 
 cera do not in the least conform to the ex- 
 ternal divisions. Similarly, with a nation, 
 we see that while, for governmental pur- 
 poses, such divisions as counties and parishes 
 still exist, the structure developed f jr carry- 
 ing on the nutrition of society wholly ig- 
 nores these boundaries : our great cotton- 
 manufacture spreads out of Lanca-shire into 
 North Der!)yshire ; Leicestershire anrl Not- 
 tinghamshire have long divided the stocking- 
 trade between them ; one great centre for 
 
 the production of iron and iron-goods in- 
 cludes parts of Warwickshire, Staffordshire, 
 Worcestershire ; and those various speciali- 
 zations of agriculture which have made 
 dififerent parts of England noted for different 
 products show no more respect to county 
 boundaries than do our growing towns to 
 the boundaries of parishes. 
 
 If, after contemplating these analogies of 
 structure, we inquire whether there are any 
 such analogies between the processes of or- 
 ganic change, the answer is. Yes. The 
 causes which lead to increa.se of bulk in any 
 part of the body politic are of like nature 
 with those which lead to increase of bulk in 
 any part of an indi viilual body. In both cases 
 the .tiitecedent is greater functional activity, 
 consequent on greater demand. Each limb, 
 viscus, gland, or other meml)er of an animal 
 is developed by exercise — by actively dis- 
 charging the duties which the body at large 
 requires of it ; and similarly, rmy class of 
 laborers or artisans, any manufacturing cen- 
 tre, or any ollicial agency, begins to enlarge 
 when the community devolves on it an in- 
 crease of work. In each ca.se, too, growth 
 has i»s conditions and its limits. That any 
 organ in a living being may grow by exer- 
 cise there needs a due supply of blood : all 
 action implies waste ; blood brings the mate- 
 rials tor repair ; and before there can be 
 growth, the (luantity of blood supplied must 
 be more than that requisite for repair. 
 
 So is it in a society. If to some district 
 which elaborates for the community partic- 
 ular commodities — say the woollens of York- 
 shire — there comes an augmented demand ; 
 anrl if, in fulfilment of this demand, a cer- 
 tain expenditure and wear of the manufac- 
 turing organization are incurred ; and if, in 
 payment for the extra supply of woollens sent 
 away there comes back only such quantity 
 of commodities as replaces the expenditure, 
 and makes good the waste of life aud ma- 
 chinery, there can clearly be no growth. 
 That there may be growth, the commodities 
 obtained in return must be more than suffi- 
 cient for these ends ; and just in proportion 
 as the surplus is great will the growth bo 
 rapid. Whence it is manifest that what in 
 commercial affairs we call jirofit answers to 
 the excess of nutrition over waste in a living 
 body. ISIoreover, in both cases, when the 
 functional activity is high and tlie nutrition 
 defective, there results not growth, but de- 
 cay. If in an animal any organ is worked so 
 hard that the channels which bring blood 
 cannot furnish enough for repair, the organ 
 dwindles ; and if in the body politic some 
 part has been stimulated into great produc- 
 tivity, and cannot afterward get paid for all 
 its produce, certain of its members become 
 bankrupt, and it decrea.ses in size. 
 
 One more parallelism to be here noted is, 
 that the different [tarts of the social organ- 
 ism, like the different parts of an individual 
 organism, compete for nutriment, and sev- 
 erally obtain more or less of it according as 
 they are discharging more or less dut}'. If a 
 man's braiu be over-excited, it will abstract
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 blood from his viscera and stop digestion ; or 
 digestion actively going on will so alTect the 
 circulation liirougii tiie Ijrain as to cause 
 drowsiness ; or great muscular exertion will 
 determine such n quantity of blood to the 
 limbs as to arrest digestion or cerebral ac- 
 tion, as the case may Itc. So, likewise, in a 
 society, it frequently happens that great ac- 
 tivity in some one direction causes partial 
 arrests of activity elsewhere, b}' abstracting 
 capital, that is commodities : as instance the 
 way in which tlie sudden development of 
 our railway system hampered commercial 
 operations ; or the way in which the raising 
 of a large military force temporarily stops 
 the growth of leading industries. 
 
 The last few paragraplis introduce the 
 next division of our subject. Almost un- 
 awares "we have come upon the analogy 
 ■which exists between the blood of a living 
 body and tlie circulating mass of commodi- 
 ties in the body politic. We have now to 
 trace out this analogy from its simplest to its 
 most complex manifestations. 
 
 In the lowest animals there exists no blood 
 properly so called. Through the small aggre- 
 gation of cells which make up a Ihjdra, per- 
 meate the juices abscjrbed from the food. 
 There is no apparatus for elaborating a con- 
 centrated ami puriticd nutriment, and dis- 
 tributing it among the component units ; 
 but these component units directly imbibe 
 the uni)repared nutriment, cither from tlve 
 digestive cavity or from each other. May we 
 not say that this is what takes place in an 
 aboriginal tribe? All its members severally 
 obtain for themselves the necessaries of life 
 in their crude states, and severally prepare 
 them for their own uses as well as they can. 
 When there aiises a decided differentiation 
 between the goveridng and the governed, 
 some amount of transfer begins betv.'een 
 tho.se inferior individuals, who, as workers, 
 come directly in contact with the products 
 of the earth, and those superior ones who 
 exercise the higher functions— a transfer 
 parallel to that which accompanies the 
 differentiation of the ectoderm from the en- 
 doderm. In the one case, as in the other, 
 however, it is a transfer of products that are 
 little if at all prepared, ami takes place di- 
 rectly from the unit which obtains to the 
 unit which consumes, without enleiiug iulj 
 any general current. 
 
 Passing to larger organisms — individual and 
 social — we find the tirst advance upon this 
 arrangement. Where, as among the com- 
 pound Hydrozoa, there is an aggregation of 
 or many such primitive groups as form 
 Eydrce, or where, as in a Medusa, one of 
 these groups has become of great size, 
 there exist rude channels running through- 
 out the substance of the body ; not how- 
 ever, channels for the conveyance of pre- 
 pared nutriment, but mere prolongations 
 of the digestive cavilj', through which the 
 crude chyle-aqueous fluid reaches the re- 
 moter parts, and is moved backward and 
 forward b}' the creature's contractions. Do 
 we not find in some of the more advanced 
 
 primitive communities an analogous condi- 
 tion ? When the men, partially or fully united 
 into one societ}', become numerous — when, 
 as usually happens, the}' cover a surface of 
 country not everywhere alike in its product.^ 
 — when, more especiall}", there arise consid- 
 erable cla.ssis that are not industiial ; some 
 process of exchange and di.sliibution inevi- 
 tably arises. Traversing here and there the 
 earth's surface, covered by that vegetation 
 on which human life depends, and inwliich, 
 as we say, tiie units ot u .society are im- 
 bedded, there are formed indefinite paths, 
 along whieh some of the necessaries of life 
 occasionally j>ass, to be bartend forotlieis 
 which ptesenii}- come back iiioiig the same 
 channels. Note, however, tlmt at fiist little 
 else but crude commodities are thus trans- 
 ferred — fruits, h«-li, pigs or cattle, skin.-*, 
 lie. : there ate few, if any, manufaclureii 
 jiroduds or ai tides prepared for consump 
 lion. And note Inrllier, tiiat such distribution 
 of these unpiei'aied necessaries of life as 
 tiik( s ])lace is but occasioiial — goes on with 
 a certain slo v. irregular rhythm. 
 
 Ftiillier progress in the ( laboration and 
 distribution of uuliiment or «)f commodities 
 IS a nece.'i.saiy accompaniment of further 
 differentiation of functions in the individual 
 body or in the body politic. As fast as each 
 organ of a living animal becomes confined to 
 a special action, it must become dependent 
 on the rest for all tho.se materials which its 
 position and duty do not permit it to obtain 
 for itself ; in the same way that, as fast as 
 each particular class of a community be- 
 comes exclusively occupied in jjroducing its 
 own commodity, it must become dependent 
 on the rest for the other commodities it 
 needs. And, simultaneousl}', a more per- 
 fectly-elaborated blood will result from a 
 highly-specialized group of nutritive organs, 
 severally adapted to prepare its different ele- 
 ments ; in the same way that the stream of 
 conmiodities circulating throughout a society 
 will be of superior quality in proportion to 
 the greater division of labor among the 
 workers. Observe, also, that in titherca.se 
 the circulating mass of nutritive materials, 
 besides coming gradually to consist of better 
 ingredients, also grows more complex. An 
 increase in the number of the unlike organs 
 which add to the blood their waste matters, 
 and demand from it the different materials 
 they severally need, implies a blood more 
 heterogeneous in composition — an a priori 
 conclusion which, according to Dr. Will- 
 iams, is inductively confirmed by examina- 
 tion of the blood throughout the v.-xrious 
 grades of the animal kingdom. And simi- 
 larly it is manifest that as fast as the division 
 of labor among the classes of a community 
 becomes greater, there must be an incrcasrng 
 heterogeneity in the currents of meichimdise 
 flowing throughout that community. 
 
 The circulating mass of nutritive materials 
 in individual organisms and in social organ- 
 isms becoming alike better in the quality of 
 its ingredients and more heterogeneous in 
 composition, as the type of structure becomes
 
 FKOGKESS: ITS LAW A:NI) CAUSE. 
 
 2TJ 
 
 higher, eveutually has iiddcil to it, in both 
 cases another element, which is not itself nu- 
 tritive, but facilitates the process of nutri- 
 tion. We refer, iu the case of the individual 
 organism, to the blood-dis-ks, and iu the case 
 of the social organism, to niuney. This 
 anal;)g3' has been observed by Jjiebig, who iu 
 his " Familiar Letters on Chemistry," says : 
 
 " Silver aud gold have to perform iu the 
 organization of the state the same function 
 as the blood corpuscles in the human or- 
 ganization. As tliese round disks, without 
 themselves taking an immediate share in (ho 
 nutritive pfocess. are the medium, the essen- 
 tial condition of the change of matter, of the 
 production ot the heat, and of tlie force by 
 whicii tlie temperature of the body is kept 
 up and the motions of the blood aud all the 
 juices are determined, so has gold become 
 the medium of all activity in the life of the 
 state. ' * 
 
 And blood-corpuscles being like money in 
 their functions, aud in the fact that they are 
 not consumed in nutrition, he further poinis 
 out, tliat the number of them which in a 
 cousiderable interval flows through tlie great 
 centres is enormous when compared wUii 
 their absolute number ; just as the (juantity 
 of money wliicii annually passes tiirough the 
 great mercantile centres is enormous when 
 compared with the total quantity of money 
 in the kingdom. Nor is this all. Liebig has 
 omitted the significant circum.stance, that 
 only at a certain stage of organization dees 
 this clement of the circulation make i is ap- 
 pearance. Thioughout extensive divisions of 
 the lower animals, the blood contains no cor- 
 puscles ; and in societies ot low civilization 
 there is no money. 
 
 Thus far we have considered the analogy 
 between the blood in a living body and the 
 consumable and circulating commodities in 
 the body politic. Let us now compare the 
 appliances by which they are respectively 
 distributed. We shall hud in the develop- 
 ment of these appliances, parallelisms not 
 less remarkal)le than those above set fivrth. 
 Already we have shown that, as classes, 
 wholesale and retail distributors discharge in 
 a society the office which the vascular sys- 
 tem discharges in an individual creature ; that 
 they come into existence Liter than the other 
 two great classes, as the vascular layer ap- 
 pears later than the mucous and serous lay- 
 ers ; and that they occupy a like intermedi- 
 ate position. Here, however, it remains to 
 be pointed out that a complete conception of 
 the circulating system in a society includes 
 not only the active human agents who propel 
 the currents of commodities, and regulate 
 their distribution, but includes also the 
 channels of communication. It is the forma- 
 tion and arrangement of these to which we 
 now direct attention. 
 
 Goiug back once more to those lower ani- 
 mals in which there is found nothing but a 
 partial diffusion, not of blood, but only of 
 crude nutritive fluids, it is to be remarked 
 that the channels through which the diffu- 
 sion takes place are mere excavations 
 
 through the half -organized substance of the 
 body : thej' have no lining membranes, but 
 are mere lacunce traversing a rude tissue. 
 Now countries iu which civilization is but 
 commencing display a like cuuditiou : there 
 are no roads properly so called ; but the wil- 
 derness of vegetal life covering the eartii's 
 surface, is piel-ced by tracks, through which 
 the distribution of crude commouliies tukcs 
 place. And while in both casts the ads of 
 distribution occur only at long intervals (the 
 currents, after a pause, now setting toward a 
 general centre, and now away from it), the 
 transfer is in both cases slow aud ditlicult. 
 But among other accompaniments of prog- 
 ress, common to animals and societies, comes 
 the formation of more detinite and complete 
 channels of communication. Blood-vessels 
 acquire distinct walls ; roads are fenced and 
 gravelled. This advance is first seen in 
 those roads or vessels that are nearest to the 
 chief centres of distribution ; while the pe- 
 ripheral roads aud peripheral vessels long 
 continue iu their primitive states. At a yet 
 later stage of developmenl, where comparal ive 
 linish of structure is found tliroughoul the 
 system as well as near the chief centres, 
 there remains in both cases ihe difference, 
 that the main channels are comparatively 
 broad and straight, while the subordinate 
 ones are narrow and tortuous in proportion 
 to their remoteness. 
 
 Lastly, it is to be remarked that there ulti- 
 mately arise in the higher social organisms, 
 as in the higher individual organisms, main 
 channels of distribution still more distin- 
 guished bj' their perfect structures, their 
 comparative straightness, and the absence of 
 those small branches which the minor chan- 
 nels perpetually give off. And in railways 
 we also see, for the lirst time in the social 
 organism, a specialization with respect to 
 the directions of the currents— a system of 
 double channels conveying currents in oppo- 
 site directions, as do the arteries and veins 
 of a well-developed animal. 
 
 These parallelisms in the evolutions and 
 structures of the circulating systems intro- 
 duce us to others iu the kinds and rates of 
 the movements going on through them. In 
 the lowest societies, as in the lowest creat- 
 ures, the distribution of crude nutriment is 
 by slow gurgitations and regurgitations. In 
 creatures tliat have rude vascular systems, 
 as in societies that are beginning to have roads 
 and some transfer of commodities along 
 them, there is no regular circulation in defi- 
 nite courses ; but in.stead, periodical changes 
 of the currents — now toward this point, and. 
 now toward that. Through each part of an 
 inferior moUusk's body the blood flows for 
 a while in one direction, then stops, and 
 flows in the opposite direction ; just as 
 through a rudely-organized society the dis- 
 tribution of merchandise is slowly carried on 
 by great fairs, occurring in different locali- 
 ties, to and from which the currents periodi- 
 cally set. Only animals of tolerably com- 
 plete organizations, like advanced communi- 
 ties, are permeated by constant currents lh»t.
 
 280 
 
 PROGRESS. ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 are definitely directed, la livinp: liodies the 
 local iind variable eurreiUs disappear wiiea 
 tliere grow up great centres of circulation, 
 generating more powerful currents by a 
 rhythm wiiich ends in a quicli, reguhir pul- 
 iation. And when in social l)odies there 
 arise great centres of commercial activity, 
 producing and exchanging large quantities of 
 conunodilies, the rapid and continuous 
 streams drawn in and emitted by these cen- 
 tres subdue all minor and local circulations : 
 the slow rhythm of fairs merges into the faster 
 one of weekly markets, and in the chief cen- 
 tres of distribution weekly markets merge 
 into daily markets ; while in place of the 
 languid transfer from place to place, taking 
 place at first weekl}', then twice or thrice a 
 week, we by and by g'-t daily transfer, and 
 finally transfer many times a day — the orig- 
 inal sluggish, irregular rhythm becomes a 
 rapid, equable pulse. 
 
 Mark, too, that in both cases the increased 
 activity, like the greater perfection of struc- 
 ture, is much less conspicuous at the pe- 
 riphery of the vascular s^ stem. On main lines 
 of railway we have, perhaps, a score trains 
 in each direction daily, going at from thirty 
 to fifty miles an hour ; as, through the great 
 arteries, the blood rushes ra[)idly in succes- 
 sive gushes. Along high roads there move 
 vehicles conveying men and connnodities 
 with much less, though still considerable 
 speed, and with a much less decided rhythm , 
 as, in the smaller arteries, the speed of the 
 blood is greatly diminished, and the pulse 
 less conspicuous. In parish-roads, narrow, 
 less complete, and more tortuous, the rate of 
 movement is further decreased and the 
 rhythm scarcely traceable, as in the ultimate 
 arteries. In those still more imperfect by- 
 roads which lead from these parish roads to 
 scattered farmhouses and cottages, the motion 
 is yet slower and very irregular ; just as we 
 find It in the capillaries. While along the 
 field-roads, which, in their unformed, un- 
 lenccd state, are typical of lacuiue the niove- 
 liieut is the slowest, the most irregular and 
 the most infrequent ; as it is, not only in the 
 primitive lacuuce of animals and societies, 
 but as it IS also in those lacinuje in which the 
 vascular system ends among extensive fam- 
 ilies of inferior creatures. 
 
 Thus, then, we find between the distribut- 
 ing systems of living bodies and the distrib- 
 uting systems of bodies politic, wonderfullj' 
 close parallelisms. In the lowest forms of 
 individual and social organisms there exist 
 ueilher prepared nutritive matters nor dis- 
 tributing appliances ; and in both, these, 
 arising as necessary accompaniments of the 
 differentiation of parts, approach perfection 
 as this differentiation approaches complete- 
 ness. In animals as in societies, the distrib- 
 uting agencies begin to show themselves at 
 the same relative periods, and in the same 
 relative positions. In the one, as in the 
 other, the nutritive materials circulated are 
 at first crude and simple, gradually become 
 better elaborated and more heterogeneous, 
 and have eventually added to them a new 
 
 clement facilitating the nutritive processes. 
 The channels of communication pass through 
 similar pha.scs of development, which bring 
 them to analogous forms. And the direc- 
 tions, ihylhms, and rates of circulation pro- 
 gress by like steps to like final conditions. 
 
 We come at length to the nervous system. 
 Having noticed the primary differentiation of 
 societies into the governing and governed 
 classes, and observed its analogy to the dif- 
 ferentiation of the two primary tissues which 
 respectively develop into organs of external 
 action and organs of alimentation ; having 
 noticed some of the leading analogies be- 
 tween the development of industrial arrange- 
 ments and that of the alimentary apparatus ; 
 and having, above, more fully traced the 
 analogies between the distributing sjslems, 
 social and individual, we have now to com- 
 pare the appliances by which a society, as a 
 whole, is regulated, with those by which the 
 movements of an individual creature are 
 regulated. We shall find here ])arallelisnig 
 equally striking with those already detailed. 
 
 The class out of which governmental' 
 organization originates, is, as we have said, 
 analogous in its relations to the ectoderm of 
 the lowest animals and of embryonic forms. 
 And as this primitive membrane, out of 
 which the nervo-muscular system is evolved, 
 must, even in the fiist stage of its differentia- 
 tion, be slightly distinguished from the rest 
 by that greater impressibility and contractil- 
 ity characterizing the organs to which it 
 gives rise ; so, in that superior class which 
 is eventually transformed into the directo- 
 cxecuiive system of a society (its legislative 
 and defensive appliances), does there exist in 
 the beginning a larger endowment of the 
 capacities required for these higher social 
 functions. Always, in rude assemblages of 
 men, the strongest, most courageous, and 
 most sagacious become mlers and leaders ; 
 and in a tribe of some standing this results 
 in the establishment of a dominant class, 
 characterized on the average by those mental 
 and bodily qualities which fit^them for delib- 
 eration and vigorous ctmibined action. Thus 
 that greater impressibility and contractility, 
 which in the rudest animal types characterize 
 the units of the ectoderm, characterize also 
 the units of the primitive social ectoderm ; 
 since impressibility and contractility are the 
 respective roots of intelligence and strength. 
 
 Again, in the unmodified ectoderm, as we 
 see \i in the Uyclra, the units are all endowed 
 both with impressibility and contractility ; 
 but as we ascend to higher types of organi- 
 zation, the ectoderm differentiates into classes 
 of units which divide those two functions 
 between them : some, becoming exclusively 
 impressible, cease to be contractile ; while 
 some, becoming exclusively contractile, 
 cease to be impressible. Similarly with 
 societies. In an aboriginal tribe, the direc- 
 tive and executive functions are diffused in 
 a mingled form throughout the whole gov- 
 erning class. Each minor chief commands 
 those under him, and, if need be, himself 
 coreces them inlo obedience. The council
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 381 
 
 of chiefs itself carries out on the battle-field 
 its owu decisions. The head chief not only 
 makes laws, but administers justice with his 
 own hands. In larger and more settled com- 
 munities, however.the directive and executive 
 agencies begin to grow distinct from each 
 other. As fast as his duties accumulate, the 
 head chief or king confines himself more and 
 more to directing public affairs, and leaves 
 the execution of his will to others : he de- 
 pules others to enforce submission, to inflict 
 punishments, or to carry out minor acts of 
 offence aud defence ; and only on occasions 
 when, perhaps, the safety of the society and 
 his own supremacy are at stake, does he 
 begin to act as well as direct. As this diifer- 
 enliatiou establishes itself, the characteristics 
 of tlie ruler begin to change. No longer, as 
 in an aboriginal tribe, the strongest and most 
 daring man, the tendency is for him to be- 
 come the man of greatest cunning, foresight, 
 and skill in the management of others ; for 
 in societies that have" advanced beyond the 
 first stage it is chiefly sucli qualities that 
 insure success in gaining siipren)e power, 
 and holding it against internal aud external 
 enemies. Tlius that member of the govern- 
 ing class who comes to be the chief directing 
 agent, and so plays the sanie part that a 
 rudimentary nervous centre does in an un- 
 folding organism is usually one endowed 
 with some superiorities of nervous organiza- 
 tion. 
 
 In those somewhat larger and more com- 
 plex conunuuities possessing, perhaps, a sep- 
 arate military class, a priesthood, and dis- 
 persed masses of population requiring local 
 control, there necessarily grow up subordi- 
 nate governing agents ; who, as their duties 
 accumulate, severally become more directive 
 and less executive in their characters. And 
 ■when, as commonly happens, the king l)e- 
 gins to collect round himself advisers who 
 aid him by communicating information, pre- 
 paring subjects for his judgment, and issuing 
 his orders, we may say that the form of 
 organization is comparable to one very gen- 
 eral among inferior types of animals,in which 
 there exists a chief ganglion with a few dis- 
 persed minor ganglia under its control. 
 
 The analogies between the evolution of 
 governmental structures in societies, and the 
 evolution of governmental structures in living 
 bodies, are, however, more strikingly dis- 
 played during the formation of nations by 
 the coalescence of small communities — a 
 process already shown to be, in several re- 
 spects, parallel to the development of those 
 creatures that primarily consist of many like 
 segments. Among other points of commu- 
 nity between the successive rings which make 
 up the body in the lower Articulata, is the 
 possession of similar pairs of ganglia. These 
 pairs of ganglia, though united together by 
 nerves, are very incompletely dependent on 
 any general controlhng power. Hence it re- 
 sults that when the body is cut in two, the 
 hinder part continues to move forward under 
 the propulsion of its numerous leus ; and 
 that when the chain of ganglia has been 
 
 divided without severing the body, the hind 
 limbs may be seen trying to propel the body 
 in one direction, while the fore limbs are 
 trying to propel it in another. Among the 
 higher Articulata, however, a number of the 
 anterior pairs of ganglia, besides growing 
 larger, unite in one mass ; and this great 
 cephalic ganglion, becoming the co-ordinator 
 of all the creature's movements, there no 
 longer exists much local independence. 
 
 Now may we not in the growth of a consoli- 
 dated kingdom out of petty sovereignties or 
 baronies, observe analogous changes ? Like 
 the chiefs and primitive rulers above de- 
 scribed, feudal lords, exercising supreme 
 power over their respective groups of retain- 
 ers, discharge functions analogous to those 
 of rudimentary nervous centres ; and we 
 know that at first they, like their analogues, 
 are distinguished by superiorities of directive 
 nufl executive organization. Among these 
 local governing centres there is, in early 
 feudal times, very little subordination. They 
 are in frequent antagonism ; tliey are indi- 
 vidually restrained chiefly by the influence 
 cf large parties in their own class, and are 
 but imperfectly and irregularly subject to 
 that most powerful member of their order 
 who has gained the position of head suzerain 
 or king. As the growth and organization of 
 the society progresses, these local directive 
 centres fall more and more under the control 
 of a chief directive centre. Closer commer- 
 cial union between the several segments is 
 accompanied by closer governmental union ; 
 and these minor rulers end in being little 
 more than agents who administer, in their 
 several localities, the laws made by the 
 supreme ruler ; just as the local ganglia 
 above described eventually become agents 
 which enforce, in their respective segments, 
 the orders of the cephalic ganglion. 
 
 The parallelism holds still further. "We 
 remaiked above, when speaking of the rise 
 of aboriginal kings, that in pioportion as 
 their territories aud duties increase, they are 
 obliged not only to perform their executive 
 functions by deputy, but also to gather round 
 themselves advisers to aid them in their 
 directive functions ; aud that thus, in place 
 of a solitary governing unit, there grows up 
 a group of governing units, comparable to a 
 ganglion consisting of many cells. Let us 
 here add, that the advisers aud chief otficers 
 who thus form the rudiment of a ministry, 
 tend from the beginning to exercise a certain 
 control over the ruler. By the information 
 they give and the opinions they express, they 
 sway his judgment and affect his commands. 
 To this extent he therefore becomes a chan- 
 nel through which are communicated the 
 directions originating with them ; and in 
 course of time, when the advice of ministers 
 becomes the acknowledged source of his 
 actions, the king assumes very much the 
 character of an automatic centre, reflecting 
 the impressions made on him from without. 
 
 Beyond this complication of governmental 
 structure many .societies do not progress ; 
 but in some a further development takes
 
 283 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW A^TD CAUSE. 
 
 place. Otir own case best illustrates this 
 further development and its further analo- 
 gies. To kings and their ministries have 
 been added, in England, other great directive 
 centres, exercising a control which, at first 
 small, has been gradually becoming predom- 
 inant : as Mith the great governing ganglia 
 that especially distinguish the highest classes 
 of living beings. Strange as the assertion 
 will be thought, our houses of parliament 
 discharge in the social economy, functions 
 that are in sundry respects comparable to 
 those discharged by the cerebral masses in a 
 vertebrate animal. As it is in the nature of 
 a single ganglion to be affected only by 
 special stimuli from particular parts of the 
 bod}-, so it is in the nature of a single ruler 
 to be swayed in his acts by exclusive person- 
 al or class interests. As it is in the nature 
 of an aggregation of ganglia, connected with 
 the primary one, to convey to it a greater 
 variety of influences from more numeruus 
 organs, and thus to make its acts conform 
 to more numerous re(iuirements, so it is 
 in the nature of a king surrounded by sub- 
 sidiary controlling powers, to adapt his rule 
 to a greater number of public exigencies. 
 And as it is in the nature of those great and 
 latest-developed ganglia which distinguish 
 the higher animals, to interpret and combine 
 the multiplied and varied impressions con- 
 veyed to them from all parts of the system, 
 and to regulate the actions in such way as 
 duly to regard them all ; so it is in the nature 
 of those great and latest-developed legislative 
 bodies which distinguish the most advanced 
 societies, to interpret and combine the wishes 
 and complaints of all classes and localities, 
 and to regulate public affairs as much as 
 possible in harmony with the general wants. 
 
 The cerebrum co-ordinates the countless 
 heterogeneous considerations w^hich affect 
 the present and future welfare of the indi- 
 vidual as a whole ; and the legislature co- 
 ordinates the countless heterogeneous con- 
 siderations which affect the immediate and 
 remote welfare of the whole community. 
 We may describe the office of the brain as 
 that of averaging the interests of life, physi- 
 cal, intellectual, moral, social ; and a good 
 brain is one in which the desires answering 
 to these respective interests are so balanced, 
 that the conduct they jointly dictate, sacri- 
 fices none of them. Similarly, we may de- 
 scribe the office of a parliament as that of 
 averaging the interests of the various classes 
 in a community ; and a good parliament is 
 one in which the parties answering to these 
 respective interests are so balanced, that 
 their united legislation concedes to each class 
 as much as consists with the claims of the 
 rest. Besides being comparable in their 
 duties, these great directive centres, social 
 and individual, are comparable in the pro- 
 cesses by which their duties are discharged. 
 
 It is now an acknowledged truth in psy- 
 chology, that the cerebrum is not occupied 
 with direct impressions from without, but 
 with the ideas of such impressions : instead 
 of the actual sensations produced in the body, 
 
 and directly appreciated by the sensory 
 ganglia or primitive nervous centres, the cer- 
 ebrum receives only the representations of 
 these sensations ; and its consciousness is 
 called vejrreHentative consciousness, to dis- 
 tinguish it from the original or presentatice 
 consciousness. Is it not signiticant that we 
 have hit on the same word to distinguisli the 
 function of our House of Commons V We 
 call it a representative body, because the in- 
 terests with which it deals — the pains and 
 pleasures about which it consults— are not 
 directly presented to it, but represented to it 
 by its various members ; and a debate is a 
 conflict of representations of the evils or 
 benefits likely to follow from a proposed 
 course — a description which applies with 
 equal truth to a debate in the individual con- 
 sciousness. In both cases, too, these great 
 governing masses fake no part in the execu- 
 tive functions. As, after a conflict iu the 
 cerebrum, those desires which finally pre- 
 dominate act on the subjacent ganglia, and 
 through their instrumentality determine the 
 bodily actions ; so the parties which, after a 
 parliamentary struggle, gain the victory, do 
 not themselves carry out their wishes, but 
 get them carried out by the executive divi- 
 sions of the government. The fulfilment of 
 all legislative decisions still devolves on the 
 original directive centres — the impulse pass- 
 ing from the parliament to the ministers, and 
 from the ministers to the king, in whose 
 name everything is done ; just as those 
 smaller, first developed t,Mnglia, which in the 
 lowest vertebrata are the chief controlling 
 agents, are still, in the brains of the higher 
 vertebrata, the agents through which the 
 dictates of the cerebrum are worked out. 
 
 Moreover, in both cases these original 
 centres become increasingly automatic. In 
 the developed vertebrate animal, they have 
 little function beyond that of conveying im- 
 pressions to, ana executing the determina- 
 tions of. the larger centres. In our highly 
 organized government, the monarch has long 
 been lapsing into a passive agent of parlia- 
 ment ; and now, ministers are rapidly falling 
 into the same position. 
 
 Nay, between the two cases there is a par- 
 allelism, even in respect of the exceptions to 
 this automatic action. For in the individual 
 creature, it happens that under circumstan- 
 ces of sudden alarm, as from a loud sound 
 close at hand, an unexpected object start- 
 ing up in front, or a slip from insecure foot- 
 ing, the danger is guarded against by some 
 quick involuntary jump, or adjustment of 
 the limbs, that takes place before there is 
 time to consider the impending evil, and 
 take deliberate measures to avoid it : the 
 rationale of which is, that these violent im- 
 pressions produced on the senses are reflected 
 from the sensory ganglia to the spinal cord 
 and muscles, without, as in ordinary cases, 
 first passing through the cerebrum. In like 
 manner, on national emergencies, calling for 
 prompt action, the king and ministry, not 
 having time to lay the matter before the 
 great deliberative bodies, themselves issue
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AXD CAUSE. 
 
 283 
 
 commands for the requisite movements OT 
 precautions : the pritnitive, and now almost 
 automiUic, directive centres, resume for a 
 moment their original uncontrolled power. 
 And tbon. strangest of all, observe that in 
 either case tliero is an after process of 
 approval or disapproval. The individual 
 on recovering from his automatic start, at 
 once contem[)late3 the cause of his fright ; 
 and, according to the case, concludes 
 that it was well he moved as he did, 
 or condemns himself for his groundless 
 alarm. In like manner, the deliberative 
 powers of the state discuss, as soon as may 
 be, the unauthorized acts of the executive 
 powers ; and. deciding that the reasons were 
 or were not sutttcieut, grant or withhold a 
 bill of indemnitj'.* 
 
 Thus far in comparing the governmental 
 organization of the l)ody politic with tliat»of 
 an mdividual body, we have considered only 
 the respective co-ordinating centres. We 
 have yet to consider the channels through 
 which these co-ordiuatmg centres receive in- 
 formation and convey commands. In the 
 simplest societies, as in the simplest organ- 
 isms, there IS no " internuncial apparatus," 
 as Hunter styled the nervous system. Con- 
 sequently, impressions can be but slowly 
 propagated from unit to unit throughout tho 
 whole mass. The same progress, however 
 which, in animal organization, shows itself 
 in the establishment of ganglia or directive 
 centres shows itself also in the establishment 
 of nerve-threads, through which the ganglia 
 receive and convey impressions, and so con- 
 trol remote organs. And in societies the like 
 eventually takes place. 
 
 After a long period during which the 
 directive centres communicate with various 
 parts of the society through other means, 
 there at last comes into existence an " inter- 
 nuncial apparatus," analogous to that found 
 in individual bodies. The comparison of 
 telegraph-wires to nerves is familiar to all. 
 It applies, however, to an extent not com- 
 monly suppised. We do not refer to the 
 near alliance between the subtle forces em- 
 ployed in the two cases ; though it is now 
 held that the nerve-force, if not literally elec- 
 tric, is still a special form of electric action, 
 related to the ordinary form much as mag- 
 netism is. But we refer to the structural 
 arrangements of our telegraph - system. 
 Thus, throughout the vertebrate sub-king- 
 dt»m, the great nerve-bundles diverge from 
 the vertebrate axis, side by side with the 
 great arteries ; and similarly, our groups of 
 telegraph-wires are carried along the sides of 
 
 • It may he well to warn the reader a^inst an erroi 
 fallen iiuo by one who criiicised this essay on its first 
 uublication— the error of BuppoBJDg that the analogy 
 nure intended to be drawn lu a epecific analogy be- 
 twci-n the ortjanization of society in England and the 
 bnniaii organization. As said at the outset, no such 
 epecitic analogy e.xists. The above parallel is one be- 
 tween the mo8t -developed gyetemij of governineBtal 
 organization, individual and social ; and the vertebratt 
 type is instanced merely as exhibiting this most-de- 
 veloped system. If any specific comparison wer« 
 made', which it cannot rationally be, it would be tc 
 some much lower vertebrate form than the human. 
 
 our railways. The most striking parallel- 
 ism, however, remains. Into each great 
 bundle of nerves, as it leaves the axis of tho 
 body along with an artery, there enters :i 
 branch of the sympathetic nerve ; which 
 branch, accompanying the artery through- 
 out its ramifications, has the function ol 
 regulating its diameter and otherwise con 
 trolling the flow of blood through it accord- 
 ing to the local retiuirements. Analogously, 
 in the group of telegraph wires running 
 alongside each railway, Ihere is one for the 
 purpose of regulating the traffic— for retard- 
 ing or expediting the flow of passengers and 
 commodities, as the local conditions demand. 
 Probably, when our now rudimentary tele- 
 graph-system is fully developed, other anal- 
 ogies will be traceable. 
 
 Such, then, is a general outline of the evi- 
 dence which justities, in detail, the compari- 
 son of societies to living organisms. That 
 they gradually increase in mass ; that they 
 become little by little more complex ; that at 
 the same time their parts grow more mutu- 
 ally dependent, and that they continue to 
 live and grow as wholes, while successive 
 generations of their units appear and disa,p- 
 pear, are broad peculiarities which bodies 
 politic display, in common with all living 
 bodies ; and in which they and living bodies 
 differ from everything else. And on carry- 
 ing out the comparison in detail, we find 
 that these major analogies involve many 
 minor analogies, far closer than might have 
 been expected. To these we would gladly 
 have added others. We had hoped to say 
 something respecting the dillerent types of 
 social organization, and something also on 
 social metamorphoses ; but we have reached 
 our assigned limits. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE USE OF ANTHROPOMOnPniSM. 
 
 That long fit of indignation which seizes 
 all generous natures when in youth they be- 
 gin contemplating human affairs, having 
 fairly spent itself, there slowly grows up a 
 perception that the institutions, beliefs, and 
 forms so vehemently condemned are not 
 wholly bad. This reaction runs to various 
 lengths. In some, merely to a comparative 
 contentment with the arrangements under 
 which they live. In others to a recognition 
 of the fitness that exists between each people 
 and its government, tyrannical as that may 
 be. In some, again, to the conviction that, 
 hateful though it is to us, and injurious as it 
 would l)e now, slavery was once beneficial 
 —was one of the necessary pha.ses of human 
 progress. Again, in others, to the suspicion 
 that great benefit has indirectly arisen from 
 the perpetual warfare of past times ; insur- 
 ing as this did the spread of the strongest 
 races, and so providing good raw material 
 for civilization. And in a few this reaction 
 ends in the generalization that all modes of 
 human thought and action subserve, in the 
 times and places in which they occur, some 
 useful function : that though bad in the ab- 
 stract, they are relatively good — arc the best
 
 284 
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 which tlie thcu existing conditions admit of. 
 
 A starlliug couclusiun to -which this faith 
 in the essenlial beneficence of things com- 
 mits us, is that tiie leiigious creeds tlirongli 
 wliich nianliiud successively pass, are, dur- 
 ing the eras in which they are sevuTally lieid, 
 the best that could be held ; and tlial this is 
 true, not only of the latest and nioht relined 
 creeds, but of all, even to the earliest and 
 most gross. Those who reganl nuri's faillis 
 as given to them from without— as liaving 
 origins either directly divine or diabolicaf, 
 and who, considering their own as the sole 
 example of the one, class all the rest under 
 the other, will liiink this a very hh(;cking 
 opinion. I can imagine, too, that many of 
 those who have al)and.)ned current theologies 
 and now regard religions as so many natural 
 products of human nature— men who, hav- 
 ing lost that aniaL'nnism towaid their old 
 creed which they felt while shaking them- 
 selves free from it, can now see ttiat it was 
 highly beneficial to past generations, and is 
 beneficial still to a large part of mankind ; I 
 can imagine even these hardly pmpared to 
 admit that all religions, down to tlie lowest 
 fetichism, have, in their places, fuKiiied use- 
 ful functions. If such, however, will con- 
 sistently develop their ideas, they will find 
 this inference involved. 
 
 For if it be true that humanity in its cor- 
 popdfe as well as in its individual aspcit, is 
 a growth and not a manufacture, it is ob- 
 vious that during each plia.se men's theolo- 
 gies, as well as their political and social ar- 
 rangements, must be determined into such 
 forms as the conditions require. In the one 
 case as in the other, by a tentative process, 
 things fiom time to time resettle tlmmselves 
 in a way that best consists with national 
 equilibrium. As out of plots and the strug- 
 gles of chieftains, it continually results that 
 the strongest gets to the top, and by virtue 
 of his proved superiority insures a period of 
 quiet, and gives society time to grow ; as out 
 of incidental expedients there periodically 
 arise new divisions of labor, which get per- 
 manently established only by serving men's 
 wants better than the previous arnauge- 
 ments did ; so, the creed which each period 
 evolves is one more in conformity with tlie 
 needs of the time tlian the cjeed which pre- 
 ceded it. Not to rest in general statements, 
 however, let us consider why this must be 
 so. Let us fee wliether, in the genesis of 
 men's ideas of deity, there is not involved a 
 necessity to conceive of deity under the as- 
 pect most influential with them. 
 
 It is now generally admitted that a more 
 or less idealized humanity is the form which 
 every conception of a personal God must 
 take. Anthropomorphism is an inevitable 
 result of the laws of thought. We cannot 
 take a step toward cous4ru'jtiug an idea of 
 God witliout the ascription of human attri- 
 butes. We cannot even speak of a divine 
 will without assimilating tlie divine natuie to 
 our own ; lor we know nothing of volition 
 save as a propertj' of our own minds. 
 
 While this auihioDi.moiphic tendency, or 
 
 rather necessity, is manifested by themselves 
 with sufficient grossness — a grossness that is 
 offensive to those more advanced — Christians 
 are indignant at the still grosser manifesta- 
 tions of it seen among uncivilized men. Cer- 
 tainly, such conceptions as those of some 
 Polynesians, who believe that their gods feed 
 on the souls of the dead, or as those of the 
 Greeks, who ascribed to the personages of 
 their Pantheon every vice, from domestic 
 ( annibalism downward, are repulsive enough. 
 But if, ceasing lo regard these notions from 
 the outside, we more philosophically regard 
 then: from the inside — if we consider how 
 they looked lo believers, and observe the 
 relationships they bore to the natures and 
 needs of such, we shall begin to think of 
 then, with scuiie tolerance. The question to 
 be answeied is, wlielher these beliefs were 
 beneficent in their effecls on those who held 
 them ; not whether they would be beneficent 
 for us, or for perfect men ; and to this ques- 
 tion the answer must be that while absolutely 
 bad, (hey were relatively good. 
 
 For it is not obvious that the savage man 
 will be most elTettiially controlled by his 
 feais of a savage deity '! Must it not happen, 
 that if his nature requires great restraint, the 
 f-upposed consequences of transgression, to 
 be a check upon liim, must be proportion- 
 ately terrible ; and for these to be proportion- 
 ately teriible, must not his god be conceived 
 as proportionately cruel and revengeful ? Is 
 it not well that the tieacherous, thievish, 
 lying Hindoo should believe in a hell where 
 the wicked are boiled in caldrons, rolled 
 down mountains biistling with knives, and 
 sawn asundtr between flaming iron posts? 
 And that there may be provided such a hell, 
 is it not needful that he should believe in a 
 divinity delighting in human immolations 
 and the self torture of fakirs? Does it not 
 seem clear that during the earlier ages in 
 Christendom, wlien men's feelings were so 
 hard that a holy father could describe one of 
 the delights of heaven to be the contemplation 
 of the torments of the damned — does it not 
 i^cem clear that while the general nature was 
 so unsympathetic, there needed, to keep men 
 in order, all the prospective tortures de- 
 scribed by Dante and a deity implacable 
 enough to inflict them ? 
 
 And if, as we thus see, it is weli for the 
 savage man to believe in a savage god, then 
 we may also see the great usefulness of this 
 anthropomorpliie tendency ; or, as before 
 said, necessity. We have in it another illus- 
 tration of that essential beneficence of things 
 visible everywhere throughout nature. 
 From this inability under which we labor to 
 conceive of a deity save as some idealization 
 of ourselves, it inevitably results that in each 
 age, among each people and to a great ex- 
 tent in each individual, there must arise just 
 that concepli»n of deity best adapted to the 
 needs of the case. If being violent and 
 bloodthirsty the nature be one calling for 
 stringent control, it evolves the idea of a ruler 
 still more violent and bloodthirsty, and fitted 
 to afford this control. When by ages of so-
 
 PROGRESS: ITS LAW AND CAUSE. 
 
 385 
 
 dal discipline the nature has been parlially 
 humanized, and the degree of restraint re- 
 quired has became less, the diabolical char- 
 acteristics before ascribed to the deity cease 
 to be so predominant in the conception of 
 him. And gmdualiy, as all need for n. 
 straint disappears, this conception approxi- 
 mates toward that of a purely beneficent 
 necessity. Thus, man's constitution is in 
 this, as in other respects, self adjusting, 
 self-balancing. The mind itself evolves a 
 compensating check to its own movements, 
 varying always in proportion to the require- 
 ment. Its centrifugal and its centripetal 
 forces are necessarily in correspondence, be- 
 cause the one generates the other. And so 
 we find that the forms of both religious and 
 secular rule follow the same law. As an ill- 
 controlled national character produces a de- 
 spotic terrestrial government, so also does it 
 produce a despotic celestial government — the 
 one acting through the senses, the other 
 through the imagination ; and in the con- 
 verse case the same relationship holds good. 
 
 Organic as this relationship is in its origin, 
 no aitificial interference can permanently 
 affect it. Whatever perturbations an exter- 
 nal agency may seem to produce, they are 
 soon neutralized in fact, if not in appearance. 
 1 was recently struck with this in reading a 
 missionary a(;count of the " gracious visita- 
 tions of the Holy Spirit at Vewa, " one of the 
 Fejee Islands. Describing a " penitent 
 meeting," the account says : 
 
 " Certainly the feelings of the Vewa peo- 
 ple were not ordinary. They literally 
 roared for hours together for the disquie- 
 tude of their souls. This frequently leimi- 
 nated in fainting from exhaustion, which 
 was the only respite some of them had till 
 they found peace. They no sooner recovered 
 their consciousness than they prayed them- 
 selves tirst into an agony, then again into a 
 state of entire insensibility." 
 
 Now these Fejee Islanders are the most 
 savage of all the uncivilized races. They 
 are given to cannibalism, infanticide, and 
 human sacrifices ; they are so bloodthirsty 
 and so treacherous that members of the same 
 family dare not trust each other ; and, in 
 harmony with these characteristics, they 
 
 have for their aboriginal god, a serpent. Is it 
 not clear, then, that these violent emoticna 
 which the missionaries describe, these ter- 
 rors and agonies of despair which they re- 
 joiced over, were nothing but the worship of 
 the old god under a new name ? It is not 
 clear that these Fejees had simply under- 
 stoo<l those parts of the Christian creed 
 whitii agree in spirit with their own — the 
 vengennce, the perpetual torments, the dia- 
 bolism of it ; that these, harmonizing with 
 their natural conceptions of divine rule, were 
 realized by them with extreme vividness ; 
 and that the extremity of the fear which 
 made them " literally roar for hours to- 
 gether," arose from the fact that while tkey 
 could fully take in and believe the punitive 
 element, the merciful one was beyond their 
 comprehension ? This is the obvious infer- 
 ence. And it carries with it the further one, 
 that in essence their new belief was merely 
 their old one under a new form— the same 
 substantial conception with a different his- 
 tory and different names. 
 
 However great, therefore, may be the 
 seeming cliange adventitiously produced in 
 a people's leligion, the anthropomorphic ten- 
 dency prevents it from being other than a 
 superficial change — insures such modifica- 
 tions of the new religion as to give it all the 
 potency of the old one — obscures whatever 
 higher elements there may be in it until the 
 people have reached the capability of being 
 acted upon by them : and so, re-establishes 
 the equilibrium between the impuKses and 
 tlie control they need. If any one requires 
 detailed illustrations of this, he will find 
 them in abundance in the history ot the modi- 
 fications of Christianity throughout Europe. 
 
 Ceasing then to regard heathen theologies 
 from the personal point of view, and consid- 
 ering them solely with reference to the func- 
 tion they fulfil where they are indigenous, 
 we must recognize them, in common with all 
 theologies, as good for their time and places ; 
 and this mental necessity which disables us 
 from conceiving a deity save as some idejili- 
 zation of ourselves, we must recogniae as 
 the agency by which harmony is produced 
 and maintained between every phase of hu- 
 Dun character and its religious creed. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. Progress: its Law and Cause 233 
 
 11. The Physiolof y of Laughter 253 
 
 111. The Orijrin and Function of Music 858 
 
 9ABm 
 
 TV. The Development Hypothe*!* 287 
 
 V. The Social Organism 269 
 
 VI. The Use of Anthropomorphism 283
 
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